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Unit 9: The Shroud by Munshi Premchand

The two of them sat there, gorging themselves on the puris, in the manner of the Lord of the Notes
Jungle feasting on a prize catch. Neither fear of accountability nor concern for scandal worried
them at this moment. They had long since triumphed over such finer feelings.
Ghisu spoke in a philosophic tone, ‘If, because of her, our souls arc gladdened, won’t it bring
her God’s grace?’

Madhav bowed his head with respect and agreed, ‘Absolutely. God, you are omniscient. Take
her to heaven, please. Both of us are praying for her from the depths of our hearts. I had never
tasted such food as 1 have eaten today in my entire life.’
A minute later, a doubt rose in Madhav’s mind. He said, ‘Say, Father, won’t we also be going
there some day or the other?’

Ghisu forebore to answer such a naive query. He didn’t want thoughts of the other world to
intrude upon his present state of bliss.
‘Suppose she asked us there why wc didn’t give her a shroud, what’ll we say?’

‘We’ll tell her to get lost!’
‘She’s sure to ask us!’
‘What makes you think she won’t get a shroud? Do you take me for a complete dunce? Do you
think I have learnt nothing the past sixty years of my life? She’ll get a shroud and very nice
one too.’
Madhav found this hard to believe. He said, ‘But who will give it? You have polished off all
the money. She is going to ask me, not you. I was the one who married her; 1 put the
vermillion in her hair to mark her as my wife.’
Ghisu answered in a heated voice, ‘I tell you, she will get the shroud. Why don’t you believe me?’
‘But who will give it? Why don’t you tell me?’
Those who gave it before. Though, this time we won’t get the chance to lay our hands on the
money.’
As the night wore on and the stars shone brighter, the excitement inside the toddy-house
increased palpably. Someone started singing, another was busy boasting about his exploits and
someone else was clinging about the neck of his companion. One man was urging a friend to
drink from his cup.
There was intoxication in the atmosphere; the very air was redolent with headiness. There were
some who got high on just one mouthful. The air in that room, more than any potent brew, made
a man feel drunk. The worries of their lives attracted them to this place and once there, men
forgot for a while whether they were dead or alive. Or neither dead nor alive, for that matter.
The father and son were still busy guzzling down their drink. Everyone had their eyes trained
on them. What a pair of lucky devils! With a whole bottle between them.

After the two had eaten their fill, Madhav gave the leftover puris to a beggar who had been
eyeing them hungrily. And, for the first time in his entire life, experienced the pride, the pleasure
and the happiness of giving.
Ghisu said, ‘Go on, take it... eat your fill and give your blessings. She whose earning this is,
is dead, but your blessings will certainly reach her. You ought to bless her from every fibre
of your being; this is hard-earned money!’
Madhav again looked up at the sky and said, ‘She will certainly go to heaven; she will live
like a queen in heaven.’
Texts and their Worlds I

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