Day of brain fever

‘Today was a day of brain fever. I have decided to write a full length drama on Kalidas, before starting on the novel. Shall set about it tomorrow. Should complete it by the 21st.’ This is from the diary of Mohan Rakesh, a pioneer of modern Hindi literature, born a century ago today. Once written and produced, the work about Kalidas would soon become recognized as the first modern Hindi play.

Rakesh was born as Madan Mohan Guglani on 8 January 1925 in Amritsar (Punjab Province of British India). His father was a lawyer who died when he was 16. He studied for an MA in English and Hindi at Punjab University in Lahore, and earned the title of Shatri in Sanskrit. His professional journey included stints as a postman, teacher, and editor (of the literary journal Sarika) before he dedicated himself fully to writing in 1957.

As a writer, Rakesh excelled in multiple genres, particularly novels and plays. He is credited with writing the first modern Hindi play, Ashadh Ka Ek Din (1958) - about Kalidas, a classical Sanskrit author some claim is ancient India’s greatest poet and playwright. Indeed, Rakesh is also considered to have been one of the pioneers of the Nai Kahani (‘New Story’) Hindi literary movement. His writing often focused on the urban middle class, exploring their struggles and aspirations in post-independence India. His works are said to be characterised by their realistic portrayal of characters and their dilemmas, reflecting the changing social dynamics of the time.

Rakesh married three times: a first marriage in 1950 was arranged and ended in divorce in 1957; a second marriage, to Sudha in 1960, was also short-lived; and in 1963, he married 21 year-old Anita Aulakh. Throughout his career, Rakesh received several accolades, including the Sangeet Natak Akademi Award in 1968. He died in 1972, aged only 47. However, his legacy continues to influence Hindi literature and theatre, with his plays still being performed and acclaimed worldwide. For further information see Wikipedia. 

Rakesh kept a diary for some years. Extracts from this were edited by Sudha and published posthumously as Mohan Rakesh Ki Diary (Rajpal & Sons, 1977). A more modern edition can be sampled online at Googlebooks. Although the bulk of the book is written in Hindi, there are a few passages in English. (Moreover, it is possible, these days, to produce a serviceable English translation by dragging and dropping images of the Hindi text into Google Translate.

22 January 1958

‘I do not know how I feel. Probably I am happy, very happy. M... came this morning, when I was working at my typewriter. She remained here for an hour or so. I said everything to her that I wanted to. She gave me her promise to marry me. I do not know how I feel about it. I feel terribly excited. The day had a real feel of spring in it. The grass looked more green than ever. I felt as if I were the master of the world. Love certainly is a positive sentiment, in spite of all the master of the cynicism of my friends. I love the young girl and it gave me intense pleasure to know that she has this same feeling for me. I am happy, for I took a few glasses of beer just now to enjoy my happiness. Oh! How nice and blissful I feel! I feel as if we are already married!’

9 February 1958

‘A week of hectic life in Delhi. Sharat’s marriage was the main event of the week. Met so many persons. Talked so many things. Returned very tired. Slept till eleven in the morning.

Today was a day of brain fever. I have decided to write a full length drama on Kalidas, before starting on the novel. Shall set about it tomorrow. Should complete it by the 21st.’

13 February 1958

‘Plans are ready for shifting to Delhi. 1st of March is the latest by when I should leave Jullundur. Staying here already seems like living in the past. But I had developed more attachments in this city than in any other city before. I shall carry with me many pleasant and unpleasant memories. And I shall never come back to live here.

I do not yet know what is going to be my major occupation for earning a livelihood in the days to come, writing does not provide a living. It may be anything, but I shall at no cost come back to have a job in this city. I shall try to write out the play on Kalidas during the days that I am here.’

16 February 1958


‘I felt suffocated - extremely so, living at Jullundur. I do not know why I am so sensitive to certain situations. Till yesterday, I was not sure if I shall travel to Delhi. Even till later this morning I did not know. Only felt a certain pain, a piercing agony right within my heart. I could not write. I could not read. I even could not imagine things. I felt as if my heart and brain were being eaten up by worms. I feel so terribly depressed. Now that I am sitting in a train, in the compartment next to the engine, the engine is whistling continuously, doing about 50 miles an hour, I feel if the oppressive burden is being slowly lifted. I like this terrible speed, this maddening push. I hope to feel light and happy in an hour's time.

I shall try to settle down in Delhi. I shall live there. I might probably die there. I am so tired of these shiftings, and yet I cannot help them. My whole system has been poisoned by the bitterness of circumstances. How long I have suffered and how much! Could I ever be relieved of this pain, this sorrow?

The train is going very fast. But I also feel lonely and desolate. How can I help it? As the train steams off from Ambala Cantt, the depression is over. 

New Delhi

A feeling like that of having slept well. A vague sensation of pleasant excitement. Wind is chilly. I feel that it is spring.

I like this mode of living. I like this life. Everything around seems to be pulsating with activity.

I cannot believe that I, myself, have been through all that suffering. I want to believe that it was not reality but a nightmare - a hallucination.’