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Unit 9: The Shroud by Munshi Premchand

Madhav went off to the bazaar to buy the shroud. People began to cut bamboo poles and the Notes
soft-hearted women of the village would come and stare at the corpse and shed a few tears
at Budhiya’s misfortune.
What a sad custom, that the woman who didn’t even have rags to cover her body while she
was alive now needed a shroud. After all, the shroud burned with the body. And then what’s
left? If the same 5 rupees had come earlier, there might have been some medicine. Ghisu and
Madhav were trying to gauge each other’s thoughts. They wandered around the bazaar, from
this cloth shop to the next. They looked at all kinds of fabric, from silk to cotton, but nothing
seemed right. Eventually, it became evening. And who knows by what divine inspiration the
pair landed up in front of a bar and, as if they’d planned it earlier, sauntered in. They stood
around uncertainly for a while. Then Ghisu went up to the counter and said, “Mister, give us
a bottle.” Soon, snacks arrived and then some fried fish, and the two of them sat on the porch,
drinking calmly. After knocking back a few rather quickly, their spirits rose.
Ghisu said, “What’s the point of the shroud? It only gets burned, it’s not as if goes with her.”
Madhav looked at the sky, as if calling the Gods to witness his innocence, and said, “It’s the
way of the world. Otherwise, why would people spend thousands feeding brahmins? Who
knows whether you benefit in the other world? Rich people have money, let them blow it.
What do we have to waste? But we’re still answerable to others. They’re sure to ask, ‘Where’s
the shroud?’”
Ghisu laughed. “Let’s say I dropped the money. That we looked and looked but could not find
it anywhere. They won’t believe a word, but the same lot will give again.”

Madhav also laughed at this unexpected good luck. He said, “She was a good woman, poor
thing. She’s dead, but she’s given us food and drink.”
More than half the bottle was gone. Ghisu ordered two rounds of puris and chutneys and
pickles and liver. There was an eating place just in front of the bar. Madhav leapt across and
brought all the food back on two leaf plates. Another one and half rupees well spent. There
was only a little change left. The two of them sat eating their puris, as grandly as if they were
lions hunting in the jungle. They were not afraid of being responsible to anyone, nor did they
worry about their reputations. They had conquered those virtues long ago.
Ghisu said philosophically, “We’re feeling good. She’ll get some credit for that, won’t she?”

Madhav bowed his head piously and said, “Of course. Definitely. Lord, you are present in
each of us, let her go to the highest of heavens. We’re both blessing her from the bottom of
our hearts. The meal we’ve had today! We’ve never eaten like this in our lives.”
A moment later, a tiny doubt rose in Madhav’s mind. He said, “We’ll go there one day, too,
won’t we father?”
Ghisu ignored the naive question. He wasn’t going to ruin the pleasure of the moment with
thoughts of the world beyond.

“She’s there. If she asks us why we didn’t provide her with a shroud, what are we going to
say?”
“We’ll say, go to hell!’

“She’s sure to ask.”
“And you’re sure that she’s not going to have a shroud? You think I’m an ass? You think I’ve
spent 60 years on earth just digging up grass? She’ll have a shroud. And a finer one than this.”

Madhav was still doubtful. He said, “Who’s going to give it? You’ve spent all the money. And
I’m the one she’ll ask, I’m the one that married her.”

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