Nine boys were born to us and we were flat broke, but each time things worked out swimmingly.вЂ™ The very people who are averse to giving us a penny now will rush in to provide. вЂSay, what if she did give birth to a child? Ginger, raw sugar, oil-we have got nothing in the house.вЂ™ If she sees me in her senseless state, she wouldnвЂ™t be able to thrash freely out of modesty.вЂ™ WouldnвЂ™t Budhya be embarrassed seeing me? IвЂ™ve never seen her face without her veil on. вЂWhen my woman lay dying, I didnвЂ™t leave her side for three days.

WhoвЂ™s going to give it to us?вЂ™ДЄfraid that if he went inside Ghisu would polish off most of the potatoes himself, Madhu said, вЂIвЂ™m scared.вЂ™ Looks like some evil spirit has possessed her-yes, evil spirit, a witch. Ghisu yanked out the potatoes from the ashes, started peeling them and told Madhu, вЂCome on now, go inside and see how sheвЂ™s doing. And now the same woman was writhing in deathly labour since the morning, while the two men were perhaps waiting for her to kick the bucket so that they could finally get some peaceful sleep. If anyone offered a job, they audaciously asked for double wages, as if they couldnвЂ™t care less. Her presence had made them even more indolent and slothful. She would do chores for others grind grain or cut grass to earn a little and buy some flour to fill the stomachs of these shameless bums. Ever since her arrival, this woman had put a measure of order and civility in their family. Ghisu had lived through all his sixty years in such ascetic frugality, and Madhu, every bit his fatherвЂ™s son, was following in his footsteps if anything, he had put a gloss on his old manвЂ™s fame. At harvest time, they would steal green peas or dig up potatoes from other peopleвЂ™s fields, bake them and have their fill, or pick a few stalks of sugarcane to suck at night. Despite their abject poverty, people still lent them something, fully aware that none of it was ever coming back. It was a strange life they owned nothing beyond a few clay pots, torn rags to clothe their nakedness-free of wordly deceptions, weighed down by heavy debts, the butt of peopleвЂ™s insults and scorn, and yet not a worry to speak of. Had the two been only sadhus, there would be absolutely no need to seek contentment and trust in God through ascetic self-denial, for these were their innate attributes. People took them on only when necessity drove them to hire two men to do the job of one. Hundreds of jobs were ready for the taking for any hardworking man. It wasnвЂ™t like there was shortage of work in this village of farmers.

For the time the money lasted, the two idled away without a care, until the next bout of starvation overtook them, and the earlier routine of gathering firewood or looking for work kicked in again. When, however, they had to go without food for a couple of times, Ghisu climbed on trees and broke some branches, which Madhu then took to the bazaar to sell. If the house had a fistful of grain, well, that was as good a reason as any not to work at all. ThatвЂ™s why no one felt like hiring these layabouts. And even if he did work for an hour, he spent an equal amount smoking his chillum. Ghisu worked one day and took rest for the next three. Theirs was a family of chamars, and none too liked for its ways throughout the village. вЂI just canвЂ™t bear the sight of her flailing about in utter agony.вЂ™ вЂYou are a heartless manвЂ¦ So unfeeling towards the woman who gave you every comfort of life for an entire year!вЂ™ Madhu replied in a mournful voice, вЂIf die she must, why linger on. Perhaps you should go in and have a look at her.вЂ™ вЂSheвЂ™s been writhing in agony all day long. вЂDoesnвЂ™t look like sheвЂ™ll make it,вЂ™ said Ghisu. The entire village was engulfed in darkness. Inside, Budhya, the sonвЂ™s young wife, kept thrashing about in labour, intermittently sending forth piercing cries of pain that momentarily froze the hearts of the two men. Outside the hut, father and son sat in silence in front of the firepit already gone cold.

Munshi premchand urdu stories