THE SHROUD (KAFAN)

Introduction

“The Shroud” is one of Munshi Premchand’s most powerful and controversial stories. It presents a harsh picture of extreme poverty and how it slowly destroys human emotions, responsibility, and morality. Through the characters of Ghisu and Madhav, Premchand exposes not just laziness, but a social system that pushes the poor into hopelessness.

Full Story

Ghisu and Madhav were a father and son living in a small village. Their hut stood on the edge of the village, half broken, with mud walls full of cracks and a roof that leaked during the rains. Poverty had been their companion for generations. Hunger, cold, and humiliation were so common in their lives that they no longer shocked them.

Ghisu was old and weak, but clever in excuses. Madhav was young and physically strong, yet he had inherited his father’s habit of avoiding work. Both believed that working hard made no difference because fate would never change their condition. Whenever they found work, they avoided it. Whenever food was available without effort, they accepted it happily.

Madhav’s wife, Budhiya, was the only person in the family who worked sincerely. She labored in fields, cleaned houses, and begged when necessary. Whatever little food came to the hut was because of her hard work. Ghisu and Madhav depended completely on her, yet never respected her.

One winter night, Budhiya was lying inside the hut, screaming in pain. She was in labor. Her cries echoed in the darkness, but no neighbor came forward. Everyone knew that Ghisu and Madhav were useless people. They were sitting outside the hut near a small fire, warming their hands.

“She has been crying since morning,” said Madhav nervously.

“She will be fine,” Ghisu replied casually. “Women are made to suffer.”

“But what if something happens?” Madhav asked.

Ghisu shrugged his shoulders. “If she lives, she lives. If she dies, she dies. What can we do?”

Inside the hut, Budhiya screamed louder. Her voice was filled with pain, fear, and helplessness. But the men outside continued talking about food.

“Do you remember the feast at the landlord’s wedding?” Ghisu said suddenly. “I ate so much puri and kheer that I couldn’t walk.”

Madhav smiled. “Yes, those were good days.”

They laughed quietly, forgetting the woman fighting for her life only a few steps away.

As the night grew colder, Budhiya’s cries slowly weakened. By dawn, there was complete silence. Madhav went inside the hut and came out after a few minutes, his face blank.

“She is dead,” he said.

Ghisu sighed deeply—not in sorrow, but in relief. “At least she is free from suffering now.”

They sat silently for some time. There was no crying, no tears, no regret. Instead, a new problem worried them.

“She will need a shroud,” Madhav said.

“Yes,” Ghisu replied. “Without a shroud, her soul won’t find peace.”

They both knew they had no money. So they decided to go to the village and collect donations. They washed their faces, practiced sad expressions, and walked into the village.

At each house, they told the same story—how Budhiya had been a hardworking woman, how her death had left them helpless, and how they needed money for her funeral. Villagers felt pity. Some gave coins, some gave food, and some cursed their fate.

By evening, Ghisu and Madhav had collected enough money to buy a shroud.

They sat near a market shop. In front of them were hot puris, curry, and a bottle of liquor. Hunger spoke louder than conscience.

“What is the use of a shroud?” Ghisu said thoughtfully. “It will burn with her body anyway.”

“Yes,” Madhav agreed. “The soul doesn’t need clothes.”

They ate greedily, drank liquor, and laughed loudly. When the money was finished, they staggered back to the hut.

Budhiya lay inside, without a shroud, without dignity.

That night, Ghisu looked at the sky and said, “She is surely happy now. God will give her a place in heaven.”

Madhav nodded and slept.

Moral of the Story

Extreme poverty destroys human values and emotions.
A society that allows such poverty is equally guilty.