That Pagli
Summary
“That Pagli” was first published in Pastoral Connections, a collection of short stories by D.R. Sharma, a Panchkula-based writer and retired Professor of English from Punjab University, Chandigarh. Writers Workshop, based in Kolkata, is known for promoting Indian English literature and has published numerous works by Indian authors including “That Pagli”.
“That Pagli” is a heartfelt story about a naughty cow named Pagli and her life in a small Punjab village, told through the eyes of a young boy who loves her. The story captures the village’s colorful life, its people, and a conflict between Pagli and a retired army officer, Subedar Shamsher Bahadur. It’s a mix of humor, love, and sadness, showing how Pagli’s wild spirit changes after a traumatic event.
The story is set in a lively Punjab village where everyone knows each other. When someone dies, men visit the family alone, while women go in groups to mourn together, crying and sharing memories. Important villagers like Kesar (a wise man), Gurcharan (a priest), and Munshiji (a schoolteacher) help during these times. Shops close, especially when someone important passes away.
Pagli is the boy’s family cow, named for her “crazy” behavior. She’s beautiful, with smooth tan skin, sharp horns, and a bushy tail, and the boy adores her. Every evening, Pagli escapes the cowherd Raghbir and the family’s workers to graze in the fields, especially those owned by Subedar Shamsher Bahadur, a retired army officer. She munches on wheat in winter and corn in summer, damaging crops but returning home before dawn to feed her calf and give lots of milk. No one can catch her—she’s too fast and clever, dodging ropes and outrunning everyone, even the boy’s tough worker, Milkhi.
The boy loves Pagli’s wild spirit. On holidays, he visits her in the fields, pets her, and talks to her. His dogs like her too and won’t chase her. Once, the boy tries to walk her home peacefully, but she still runs off to the wild patch near the fields. Though she’s naughty, Pagli is gentle with her calf and the boy’s mother, who milks her and asks her to behave. The boy even tries milking her but can’t, amazed at how much milk his mother gets.
Trouble starts when Subedar Shamsher retires from the army and returns to the village from Lahore. He’s a proud man with a gun, two fierce Alsatian dogs, a white horse, and a commanding attitude. He notices Pagli’s damage to his crops and gets angry. He confronts the boy’s brother, the village headman, warning him to control Pagli or he’ll take action. The boy’s brother admits Pagli is too stubborn to tame.
Subedar decides to stop Pagli himself. He rides his horse, carries his gun, and uses his dogs to scare her. He even asks the village blacksmith to make a sharp javelin to hurt her. His presence frightens the village, and he acts superior, using English words like “yes, yes” and hosting parties with fancy drinks. The boy hears rumors from his friend Balbir about Subedar’s plans to harm Pagli, making him worried.
Pagli doesn’t back down. She keeps sneaking into Subedar’s fields at night, dodging his dogs, who bark but don’t bite her because she uses her horns and legs to defend herself. Subedar grows furious at being outsmarted by a cow. He feeds his dogs spicy food to make them fiercer, but they still can’t catch Pagli.
One night, Subedar’s anger explodes. He and his dogs corner Pagli, and he stabs her multiple times with the javelin, wounding her ribs and back. Pagli escapes to the bushes but is badly hurt. When she returns home early, bleeding, the boy and his family are heartbroken. They clean her wounds with kerosene and give her special food, keeping her home to heal. The boy curses Subedar, wishing him harm.
Pagli’s wounds heal, but she’s not the same. She stops her wild nighttime adventures and becomes the most obedient cow in the herd. Raghbir praises her, saying she follows orders better than kids. She leads the other cows and comes home calmly each evening, spending time with her calf. However, she gives less milk, showing the attack has affected her spirit. The boy and his mother are glad she’s safe but miss her lively nature.
Not long after, Subedar falls ill. The village doctor says his liver and lungs are failing, while others, like Kesar, believe he’s haunted by bad dreams. Subedar suffers for a long time and dies, leaving the village in mourning. Everyone, including the boy’s family, joins the funeral, remembering Subedar’s importance, though the boy feels he was cruel to Pagli.
The boy hopes Subedar’s death will bring back Pagli’s old spark, imagining her grazing freely again. But Pagli stays calm and obedient, her wild days gone. The story ends with a sense of loss—not just for Subedar but for Pagli’s carefree spirit, which was crushed by his cruelty.
“That Pagli” paints a vivid picture of village life in Punjab, with its traditions, gossip, and close-knit community. Through Pagli’s story, it shows how a free spirit can be broken by violence and how revenge can backfire. The boy’s love for Pagli makes the story warm and personal, while the clash with Subedar adds drama. It’s a simple yet deep tale about love, change, and the cost of trying to control others.
Story
Whenever someone died in our village—in upper, middle, or lower mohalla—men streamed individually to the house of the deceased, whereas women called their neighbours and marched together in small groups to condole with their bereaved counterpart. When the dead body was washed and clothed for the last journey to the cremation ground, all the assembled women invariably mentioned the deceased’s name, reminisced about him, and then burst out crying. On all tragic scenes the hapless family was in charge of Kesar the magic-man, Gurcharan the priest and Munshiji who closed the school and shared the grief of survivors. Whereas the other two grocers padlocked their shops whenever death occurred in the village, Dhania pulled the shutters only when someone with clout collapsed.
The day Subedar Shamsher Bahadur died, Dhania was the first grocer to shut his shop and join the mass of mourners. Those who heard the news in the fields immediately returned with their ploughs and bullocks. Munshiji choked while announcing the midday suspension of classes, and Gurcharan was seen rushing with big mats to Subedar’s house. On the way he muttered: ‘Imagine, even the lion is dead.’ Some said the village glory had vanished while others declared that the entire hamlet had been orphaned. Trailing my tote-bag crammed with books, a writing tablet, and a slate, I got home and told my mother what I had heard.
‘It’s both sad and good,’ she said.
‘How?’
‘Sad for his sons, and good for a cow like Pagli.’
‘Will Pagli be all right now?’
‘No, her spirit is crushed.’
Pagli was our naughty cow. Whenever she returned in the evening along with other village cattle, Raghbir the cowherd said his job was over. He took upon himself the nerve-shattering pressure of controlling our problem cow during the day. ‘Yes, if she misbehaves between morning and evening as long as she is in the herd, I’m answerable, but not after I corral her back home,’ he explained his position.
I grew up hearing incredible stories about Pagli’s ingenuity and rebelliousness. Even my headman brother confessed that he had failed to tame the beautiful beast. She defied everyone after the crimson sunset, outran all the three of our handymen; never stopped even once to recognize my mother—whom otherwise she was exceptionally cordial—and romped to the patch of wilderness on the southern rim of ours and Subedar Shamsher’s fields. In the past few years, while Subedar was still in Lahore on active duty with his infantry regiment, Pagli had had a field day. She grazed leisurely at night in the green fields—wheat crop in winter and corn in summer—and returned to her hitching post at the manger in the pre-dawn darkness. First she fed her calf who bleated right on seeing her, and later she filled the jar when my mother milked her. While pressing down Pagli’s teats and directing the high pressure milky sprinkler into the jar, my mother always advised Pagli to stop being naughty. Whenever she said, ‘Don’t be a naughty girl now that you’re a mother,’ Pagli coughed a little, twisted her neck, dilated her eyeballs, swished her tail, and indulgently licked her calf all over. Seemingly she promised to put an end to her waywardness and come back straight home to please her son and my mother. But the moment she saw the bridge and some cowboy ready to lasso her, she just outflew all traps and strategies. Milkhi, our toughest ploughman, first ran almost neck to neck with her, but when she fully rolled her tail into a circle she became an arrow, leaving Milkhi far behind to lament and warn her.
Despite her capricious nature and evening wildness particularly, I loved the crazy cow. Her horns were short and sharp which I loved to fondle and polish every Sunday morning. Her skin was smooth tan, her head high, and her tail long and bushy. In sheer animal beauty she excelled all other cows in the village. Whenever on a holiday I jogged with my dogs towards the mango grove where all the huddled cattle stood or sat to let Raghbir munch his midday meal, Pagli would get up to welcome me. My pets growled in a friendly way when I rubbed her rump, the silky flaps of her ears, and especially the flannel-soft fleshline under her neck. I always saw a twinkle in her eyes when I said: ‘See you in the evening.’ My pets were so fond of her that whenever I commanded them to howl and flush Pagli out of the thicket, they just smiled and wagged their tails but never stirred. Once or twice, after ascertaining that I was the fastest running boy in the village, I tried to barricade Pagli with a larait as soon as she arrived this side of the bridge, but she probably didn’t approve of my contrivance. She just tricked me by swiftly turning aside from the noose and then galloping away towards the forested patch. Once I stood unarmed at the bridge-foot which she obviously appreciated. She pulled herself out of the crowd and came to receive a pat on the rump. Like two good friends we began to walk home-ward: I was exultant at my strategy of non-violence and she was uncommonly cooperative. When we reached the threshold she parted company to go her usual way, and when I held out a shrill threat and tried to catch her, she leaped like a kangaroo and vanished. Thereafter I stopped meddling with her schedule and met her either on holidays at her rest point, or in the mornings at the manger. At times I felt Pagli was as fond of me as of her gambolling calf. Twice or thrice I asked my mother if I could milk Pagli. When she said I could, I tried, but no milk came out of the teats. I didn’t know the technique, and when my mother first pressured and squeezed them, how torrentially they filled the pail! I often crouched beside my mother to receive the milky shower right in my open mouth. When I answered all of Munshiji’s riddles, he wondered and remarked: ‘Surely, Deva, you must be drinking your cow’s milk.’
Pagli fattened on the nocturnal plunder, judiciously damaging Subedar’s crops more than ours. Surjit and Balwinder, Subedar’s sons, couldn’t spend their nights on the vigil. When their father retired on pension and took charge of the fields, he heard with concern the extent of devastation caused by our crafty cow. Trailing his double-barrelled gun one day he stalked to register a virulent protest with my headman brother.
‘You better watch your cow, Nambardar.’
‘She’s beyond our control, Subedar Sahib.’
‘Then I can try.’
‘How?’
‘With this,’ he said with a finger on the trigger.
‘Can a Hindu be a cow-killer?’
‘Not a gutless one; but I’m determined to do something.’
‘We are equally desperate, but Pagli is headstrong.’
‘All right, henceforth I won’t protest but you shall.’
Subedar Shamsher had returned from Lahore with ten steel boxes, one gun, and two Alsatians at whose sight my mongrels straightened their tails, and hid them between their hind legs. A week after arrival he brought a white mare and inspected his fields. When he noted Pagli’s havoc in his two fields adjoining ours, he thundered and fired at the birds. Thereafter he hastened back to devise his savage strategy to paralyse Pagli.
Next morning Balbir came running to tell me that Subedar had asked Banta the ironsmith to forge a special javelin—longer in the handle and sharper in the blade. With that, Balbir said, Subedar had resolved to defend his crops against our pampered and predatory beast.
In a few days, Subedar’s prestige escalated in and around our village. Whenever he rode his mare I saw the gun buckled snugly on his back and his Alsatians sniffing and trotting ahead of him. Since he had lived in Lahore and worked with the fair-skinned British officers, he chose to slight my headman brother on several pretexts. He had picked up a few words of English like ‘yes, yes’ and ‘no, no’ with which he always frightened the illiterate villagers, and my Punjabi-speaking brother. By promising sundowners he later alienated from us constable Bhajan Singh. Instead of cycling to our courtyard the cop began to alight at Subedar’s baithak, a newly thatched hut with brick walls where the pensioner was reported to be hosting his guests.
‘You know with what?’ Balbir asked me.
‘With Amli’s Orange or Jasmine?’
‘No, man, not with hooch but with English stuff.’
‘English?’
‘Yes, Solan from Pathankot’.
In a month or two when Subedar switched to Amli’s Dhatura, Bhajan Singh resumed his earlier schedule of directly riding to our house while working the handle-bell of his Hercules. He didn’t come alone but with tales about Subedar’s pension figures, his rise and retirement from infantry, his vindictive plans to cripple Pagli, his disdainful allusion to the headman, and his orgies with the dung-cleaning and fuel-gathering women of the village.
Subedar’s methodology to disable Pagli soon acquired a sensational proportion. When Kesar heard that he called it barbaric and Gurcharan prayed it didn’t happen. But neither of the two dared dissuade him against a brutal recourse. They said they were scared of his pink skin and uniform, and his insolent Alsatians. Their account made me blue, and whenever I saw Subedar despotically perched on the saddle with gun on his back and javelin in his hand I froze in my shoes. When he appeared like that, fortified like a ferocious bandit, I knew he was on a Pagli-baiting mission.
But poor Pagli refused to be daunted by Subedar’s manoeuvres. She stuck to her evening escapades as meticulously as Subedar clung to his resolution to lame her. Whenever he found her merrily nibbling at his crop, he said ‘yes, yes’ to his hunting monsters who sprang and howled her into stillness. When she noticed the charger with the executioner on its back, she unflapped her ears and dashed to the bushy refuge, wildly kicking back the chasing hounds.
After a few brushes with Pagli, the dogs only barked and whirled around her but never ventured to bite her. Despite repeated ‘yes, yes’ from Subedar they hesitated to tear Pagli’s flesh for at that grim moment of self-defence she made an intelligent use of her pointed horns as well as strong and agile legs.
When Subedar realized his ignominy at the hands of his adversary, he grew nakedly revengeful. As long as he stayed around his fields, Pagli made a meal of sundry leaves but missed the delectable fare of forbidden fodder in Subedar’s fields. The moment he left with his entourage Pagli would cautiously peer through the leaves and then furtively emerge out of the hideout. Despite her vulnerability she returned home at the usual hour, though of late she looked somewhat dazed and exhausted.
Every morning when I was barely through with my taste of the milky fountain or just rubbing the tender nozzle of the calf and the brisket of his mother, Balbir would walk in with his daily diary on the Subedar-versus-Pagli confrontation.
‘You know what he said last night?’
‘No.’
‘He told Dhania that he would act now.’
‘What does he mean? Shooting?’
‘No, spiking.’
Balbir also mentioned Subedar was disappointed with his Alsatians. With his background in the army he knew the importance of diet in shaping one’s temper. ‘This morning he asked his sons to kill wasps and coat them with chilli powder,’ Balbir added.
‘My God! What for?’
‘To sharpen his dogs’ fangs and appetite.’
That day I cut school and made a special trip to meet Pagli. I found her chewing the cud when she got up to feel my hand. ‘You better be careful tonight,’ I said after ascertaining that she was all right. In the evening I repeated the caveat at the bridge, but she abandoned me again at the bifurcation.
That night Pagli was repeatedly spiked. Subedar got her corralled by his frenzied hounds and then charged her militarily with the spear, wounding her ribs. Subsequently followed more stabs on the back till she desperately pierced the thicket.
After the blitz she returned rather early when the calf bleated and I rushed to examine her condition. She was bleeding profusely and repenting the villainy. We disinfected her wounds with kerosene oil and asked her not to worry. We didn’t send her to Raghbir’s herd next morning, for there would be none to swat those flyswarms. We quickly prepared a special meal for her—comprising soggy chaff, wheat flour, and split gram. As she calmly began to sort out the forage, I waved off the winged visitors with a hand fan.
In the evening I saw Subedar in his assault gear riding to the battlefield. I cursed him with the fury of a hermit: ‘Oh, you veritable demon, may Lord Hanuman bust you with his mace!’
Within a few weeks Pagli’s wounds turned into scars, but her total conduct reflected a metamorphosis. In a herd of five hundred cows and buffaloes she became the lead-cattle and gradually rose in the estimation of the cowherd.
‘Whereas several others I have to repeatedly hit to make them understand me this Pagli follows my instructions more obediently than even children. What a cow!’ That is how Raghbir summed up Pagli’s latter-day behaviour and admired her role as the guiding light among dumb beasts. My mother and I often commended her self-reformation, for she returned to post in the evening and serenely waited for her share of the fodder. Now she spent maximum time with her son licking his body or stroking his forehead with her horns. Of course her character improvement failed to fill my mother’s jar to the brim, as she used to do after her triumphant forays in Subedar’s fields.
In less than a year Subedar Shamsher Bahadur’s pink face began to fade. Our village vaid, who wanted everyone to call him a registered medical practitioner, first detected the failure of Subedar’s liver and later of his lungs. Kesar had his own version of the malady: he said Subedar saw ghoulish visions in his sleep and often shouted for help at midnight.
Whatever the ailment, the infantry officer suffered long. Even his commission agent friend from Pathankot, with whom he did some business during the War, failed to check the erosion of Subedar’s physique. After a prolonged agony died the ‘lion’ of our village.
My headman brother immediately left for Subedar’s house, and my mother called Balbir’s mother and then the two walked together to join the sea of mourners. I stayed back waiting for Pagli, hoping that the news would exorcise her fright and defeatism. I dreamed to see her again in her wild passions, defying all that was fresh and green in the fields, and returning home to aggressively fill the pail and lick her calf.
Word Meaning
| Word | English Meaning | Hindi Meaning |
| Deceased | Someone who has recently died | मृत (जो हाल ही में मर गया हो) |
| Condole | Express sympathy | शोक प्रकट करना |
| Bereaved | Someone who has lost a loved one | शोकाकुल व्यक्ति |
| Reminisced | Remembered fondly | पुरानी यादों को ताजा करना |
| Hapless | Unlucky, unfortunate | दुर्भाग्यशाली |
| Clout | Power, influence | प्रभाव, दबदबा |
| Hamlet | A small village | छोटा गाँव |
| Tote-bag | Carry bag | झोला |
| Corral | Enclose animals | बाड़े में बंद करना |
| Ingenuity | Cleverness, inventiveness | चतुराई, कुशलता |
| Incredible | Unbelievable | अविश्वसनीय |
| Handymen | Skilled workers | कुशल मजदूर |
| Defied | Refused to obey | अवज्ञा करना |
| Romped | Ran or played energetically | उछलते-कूदते दौड़ना |
| Field day | An enjoyable or successful time | मौज-मस्ती का समय |
| Manger | Trough for feeding animals | जानवरों का चारा पात्र |
| Teats | Nipples of a cow | थन |
| Dilated | Expanded, widened | फैला हुआ |
| Lasso | Rope to catch animals | फंदा डालना |
| Capricious | Unpredictable, whimsical | चंचल, मनमौजी |
| Fondle | Touch or stroke lovingly | प्यार से सहलाना |
| Tan | Light brown color | हल्का भूरा रंग |
| Rump | Rear part of an animal | पिछला हिस्सा |
| Flannel | Soft cotton fabric | मुलायम सूती कपड़ा |
| Barricade | Block or barrier | अवरोध बनाना |
| Lariat | Rope used for catching cattle | रस्सी (पशुओं को पकड़ने के लिए) |
| Contrivance | Clever device or plan | युक्ति, उपाय |
| Gambolling | Frolicking, jumping playfully | मस्ती में कूदना-फांदना |
| Nocturnal plunder | Night-time destruction | रात का नुकसान |
| Judiciously | Wisely | समझदारी से |
| Vigil | Careful watch, especially at night | सतर्क निगरानी |
| Virulent | Bitter, harsh | कटु, तीव्र |
| Gutless | Cowardly | कायर |
| Alsatian | A German Shepherd dog breed | एलसेशियन कुत्ते की नस्ल |
| Mongrels | Mixed-breed dogs | मिश्रित नस्ल के कुत्ते |
| Javelin | Light spear | भाला |
| Sundowners | Evening alcoholic drinks | संध्या पेय |
| Alienated | Estranged, made distant | अलग-थलग करना |
| Baithak | Sitting room | बैठक |
| Hooch | Illegally made liquor | अवैध शराब |
| Solan from Pathankot | Famous liquor brand | सोलन ब्रांड की शराब (पठानकोट से) |
| Hercules | Bicycle brand | हरक्यूलस साइकिल |
| Vindictive | Revengeful | प्रतिशोधी |
| Orgies | Wild, excessive partying | उन्मादी दावतें, भोग-विलास |
| Made me blue | Made me sad | दुखी कर देना |
| Insolent | Disrespectful | असभ्य, उद्दंड |
| Despotic | Cruel and authoritarian | तानाशाही |
| Delectable | Delicious, delightful | स्वादिष्ट, आनंददायक |
| Entourage | Group of attendants | अनुचर मंडली |
| Furtively | Secretly, stealthily | चुपके से |
| Nozzle | Small projection like a nose | छोटी नली या नाक जैसी आकृति |
| Brisket | Part of animal’s chest near ribs | पसलियों के पास का भाग |
| Spiking | Piercing with something sharp | भेदना, चुभोना |
| Chewing the cud | Cows re-chewing food | जुगाली करना |
| Caveat | Warning | चेतावनी |
| Bifurcation | Division into two parts | द्विभाजन |
| Blitz | Sudden and intense attack | तीव्र आक्रमण |
| Forage | Fodder | चारा |
| Winged visitors | Flies | मक्खियाँ |
| Veritable | Genuine, real | वास्तविक |
| Mace | Heavy club weapon | गदा |
| Metamorphosis | Transformation | कायापलट, रूपांतरण |
| Ghoulish | Ghost-like, horrific | भूत-सा, डरावना |
| Exorcise | Drive out evil spirits | भूत भगाना |
CHARACTERS
The Boy-Narrator
The boy-narrator is a gentle and curious child who tells the story from his point of view. His deep love for Pagli, the cow, is clear from the beginning. He enjoys talking to her, petting her, and watching her run freely. Though he tries to stop her mischief, he never gets angry — instead, he admires her wildness. When Pagli is injured, he feels heartbroken and helpless. Yet, he still hopes she’ll recover and become her old self again. His simple love, emotional reactions, and innocent thoughts make readers feel close to him. Through his eyes, we see both the beauty of the village and the pain caused by cruelty.
Pagli
Pagli, the cow, is the heart of the story. She is bold, clever, and full of life. Instead of behaving like other cows, she runs away every evening to eat from Subedar’s fields. She’s hard to catch and seems to enjoy her freedom. But she’s also loving — especially towards her calf and the boy’s mother. She is admired for her beauty and bravery. However, after Subedar attacks her with a spear, Pagli changes completely. She becomes calm, obedient, and no longer runs to the fields. She gives less milk and loses her spark. Pagli’s story shows how force and punishment can break a free spirit.
Subedar Shamsher Bahadur
Subedar is the villain of the story. He is a retired army officer, full of pride and power. When Pagli damages his crops, he takes it as an insult. Instead of finding a peaceful solution, he brings dogs, rides around with weapons, and finally hurts Pagli badly. Though he seems strong, his actions show insecurity and anger. Later, he becomes sick and dies, which feels like nature’s way of punishing him. Subedar stands for people who try to control others with fear, and his downfall reminds us that cruelty has consequences.
The Boy’s Mother
The boy’s mother is caring, wise, and practical. She handles the cow with love, milks her gently, and treats her wounds with home remedies. She always speaks calmly and supports her family with quiet strength. When Subedar dies, her words — “sad for his sons, good for Pagli” — show that she understands both sides of the situation. She adds emotional depth to the story and shows the strength of a mother in times of difficulty.
The Boy’s Brother (Headman)
The narrator’s elder brother is the village headman. He’s respectful, honest, and wants to keep peace in the village. When Subedar complains about Pagli, he listens calmly and tries to explain that the cow cannot be controlled. But he doesn’t have enough power to stop Subedar’s harsh actions. He represents traditional village leadership, which sometimes feels helpless when faced with aggressive outsiders.
Raghbir (Cowherd)
Raghbir takes care of all the village cattle. He finds Pagli difficult to manage but accepts that she behaves differently. He only looks after her during the day and takes no responsibility for her night-time adventures. After Pagli changes, he praises her for being more obedient than children. Raghbir’s view helps readers see how much Pagli has changed. He represents the hardworking, no-nonsense villagers who quietly do their duty.
Balbir
Balbir is the narrator’s friend and Subedar’s son. He often shares news about his father’s plans to catch or hurt Pagli. Even though his father is strict, Balbir stays friendly and loyal to the narrator. He doesn’t take sides but becomes a bridge between the two families. His innocent excitement adds to the story and increases the tension as events unfold.
Kesar (Magic-Man)
Kesar is an old man in the village known for his mystical wisdom. He doesn’t directly oppose Subedar but calls his actions “barbaric.” He also says that Subedar’s illness may be linked to evil spirits, suggesting that karma is at play. Kesar adds a sense of mystery to the story and reminds readers that wrong deeds often bring their own punishment.
Gurcharan (Priest)
Gurcharan is the village priest. He prays for peace and brings mats during mourning. Though he is religious and respected, he is also afraid of Subedar and avoids confrontation. His fear shows how even spiritual figures feel powerless in front of strong, aggressive people. He adds to the story’s cultural background and shows the emotional mood of the village.
Munshiji (Schoolteacher)
Munshiji is the teacher who supports the narrator and praises his intelligence. He jokes that the boy is smart because he drinks Pagli’s milk. He also shows real emotion when Subedar dies. As a teacher, he represents knowledge and calmness in contrast to Subedar’s aggression. He quietly supports the values of learning, love, and respect.
Dhania (Grocer)
Dhania is a grocer who only shuts his shop when someone powerful dies. He does this when Subedar passes away, showing that he respects status more than fairness. He reflects the social reality of the village, where many people align with the strong and avoid trouble. His behavior adds realism to the story.
D. R. Sharma
D. R. Sharma (born 1937) is an accomplished Indian writer and academic, widely recognized for his contributions to Indian English literature and rural storytelling, especially from Punjab.
Brief Biography
Born: 1937
Origin: Panchkula, Haryana, India
Profession: Writer and retired Professor of English
Affiliation: Department of Evening Studies, Panjab University, Chandigarh
Academic Career
Received a Fulbright-Smithmundt Award in 1970
Served as a Visiting Lecturer at Brigham Young University (USA) for three years
Retired from Panjab University as Professor of English
Authored over 40 research papers and 400 articles in leading journals and newspapers
He is known for his evocative and sensitive storytelling, often centered around rural Punjab. His stories are marked by simplicity, emotional depth, and authentic cultural insight.
Books Authored
Pastoral Connections (1982) – Short stories collection
Traps and Discoveries (1984) – Short stories collection
Miracles Happen (1985) – Novel
Memories and Meditations (1988) – Essays collection
Editorial Work
A Handbook of American Literature
Ideas and Impressions
The Assistant
Themes
1. Freedom vs. Control
The story explores the clash between wanting to be free and others trying to control that freedom. Pagli, the cow, loves running wild at night, eating crops in Subedar’s fields, and dodging everyone who tries to catch her, showing her free spirit. Subedar Shamsher, a bossy retired army man, hates this and wants to stop her to protect his crops and show he’s in charge. He uses his dogs and even stabs Pagli with a spear to force her to behave. When Pagli becomes obedient after getting hurt, it shows how harsh control can crush someone’s freedom, but it comes at a cost—her lively spirit is gone. The boy’s hope that Pagli will be wild again highlights how precious freedom is, even if it’s hard to keep.
2. Love and Loyalty
Love and loyalty shine through the boy’s bond with Pagli and her care for her calf. The boy adores Pagli, petting her, talking to her, and worrying when Subedar threatens her. He’s heartbroken when she’s hurt and tries to protect her, showing his deep love. Pagli, despite her naughtiness, always comes back to feed her calf and lets the boy’s mom milk her, proving she’s loyal to her family. The boy’s mom also shows love by treating Pagli’s wounds and gently asking her to behave. This theme makes the story warm, showing how love ties people and animals together, even in tough times.
3. Cruelty and Its Consequences
The story shows how being cruel can hurt others and come back to haunt you. Subedar’s mean actions, like stabbing Pagli with a spear out of anger, hurt her badly and change her from a fun, wild cow to a quiet, sad one. His cruelty doesn’t just harm Pagli—it makes the boy and others upset, and Kesar calls it “barbaric.” Later, Subedar gets sick and dies, and some, like Kesar, think it’s because of his bad deeds, like a curse. The boy even curses Subedar, wishing him harm. This theme suggests that cruel actions have a price, affecting both the victim and the person who’s mean.
4. Change and Loss
The story is about how things change, sometimes in sad ways. Pagli starts as a mischievous, happy cow but becomes serious and obedient after Subedar hurts her. Her wounds heal, but she gives less milk and loses her spark, showing a big loss of her old self. The boy feels this loss, hoping she’ll be wild again, but she stays changed. Subedar’s death is another change, bringing peace but also sadness for the village. The boy’s mom says it’s “sad for his sons, good for Pagli,” showing how change mixes good and bad. This theme makes the story touching, showing how life’s events can take away things we love.
5. Village Life and Community
The story paints a lively picture of a Punjab village, where everyone is connected through traditions and daily life. When someone dies, men and women mourn in their own ways, and people like Kesar, Gurcharan, and Munshiji help out, showing how the village works together. Dhania, the grocer, only closes his shop for big deaths, showing how status matters. The boy’s brother, the headman, tries to keep peace, while gossip, like Balbir’s news about Subedar, spreads fast. This theme makes the village feel real, with its mix of kindness, rules, and small dramas, grounding Pagli’s story in a colorful community.
STYLE
The style of “That Pagli” by D.R. Sharma is a blend of simplicity, vivid imagery, and emotional resonance, crafted to reflect the rural Punjab setting and the perspective of a young boy-narrator.
Simple and Childlike Narrative Voice
The story is told through the eyes of a young boy, which makes the style feel honest and easy to follow. His voice is curious and full of wonder, describing Pagli’s mischief, Subedar’s meanness, and village life with a kid’s excitement and innocence. For example, he talks about Pagli’s beauty—her “smooth tan skin” and “bushy tail”—like a child admiring a favorite pet. This simple, heartfelt perspective makes Pagli and the village feel close and real, pulling readers into the story with warmth. The boy’s naive attempts to milk Pagli or catch her add a playful, relatable touch, keeping the style light even when things get sad.
Vivid and Colorful Descriptions
Sharma uses bright, detailed descriptions to paint a clear picture of the village and its people, making the story feel alive. The fields, Pagli’s nighttime runs, and Subedar’s grand entrance on his white mare with dogs and a gun are described so vividly you can almost see them. For instance, Pagli’s “sharp horns” and “flannel-soft fleshline” make her stand out, while the village’s mourning rituals—women crying together, men visiting alone—feel real and lively. These images bring the Punjab countryside and its community to life, making every scene pop with color and movement, like a busy village day.
Emotional and Gentle Tone
The story’s tone is warm and emotional, mixing joy, humor, and sadness. The boy’s love for Pagli gives the story a gentle, caring feel, like when he pets her or worries about her getting hurt. There’s humor in Pagli’s clever escapes and the boy’s failed attempts to catch her, keeping things fun. But when Subedar hurts Pagli or when she changes, the tone turns sad, making you feel for her and the boy. Even Subedar’s death has a mix of relief and sorrow, as the village mourns but Pagli stays quiet. This emotional balance makes the story touching without being too heavy, like a heartfelt memory.
Straightforward and Flowing Structure
The story follows a clear, straight path, moving from Pagli’s wild days to her clash with Subedar, her injury, and her change, ending with Subedar’s death. It’s told in a simple, flowing way, like a kid sharing a story, with events unfolding naturally. The boy weaves in village details—like how people mourn or gossip—making the story feel full and connected. There’s no fancy jumping around in time; it’s just one event leading to the next, easy to follow. This structure keeps the focus on Pagli’s journey and the village’s reaction, making the story feel like a complete, cozy tale.
Authentic Punjab Village Flavor
Sharma’s style is soaked in the culture of rural Punjab, making the story feel true to its place. Words like “mohalla” (neighborhood), “baithak” (guest room), and “vaid” (healer) add local flavor, while details like Subedar’s “Solan from Pathankot” wine or Amli’s homemade liquor ground the story in a specific time and place. Village traditions, like women mourning in groups or the headman solving disputes, show how the community works. The boy’s Punjabi world—full of cows, fields, and gossip—feels real, and Sharma’s use of simple English with a hint of local terms makes it accessible but authentic, like a story told by a village kid.
Overall, the style of “That Pagli” is simple, vivid, and emotional, using a child’s voice to tell a heartfelt story about love, freedom, and change in a colorful Punjab village. The clear descriptions, gentle tone, and cultural details make it feel like a warm, real memory you can picture and feel.
Symbolism
Pagli – Symbol of Freedom and Rebellion
Pagli is not just a cow in the story — she represents freedom, wild spirit, and independence. She doesn’t follow the rules like the other cows. Instead, she escapes into the fields at night, eats freely, and returns home at dawn. Her actions show how some beings cannot be controlled. She stands for anyone who wants to live life on their own terms.
Subedar – Symbol of Cruel Power
Subedar Shamsher Bahadur represents authority, pride, and cruelty. When Pagli damages his crops, he becomes angry and wants to punish her. He uses dogs, weapons, and even violence to break her spirit. He shows how powerful people try to control or crush the free ones. But in the end, he becomes sick and dies — showing that cruelty leads to downfall.
The Boy-Narrator – Symbol of Innocence and Love
The boy loves Pagli like a friend. He talks to her, cares for her, and feels sad when she is hurt. He stands for pure love, kindness, and understanding. Through his eyes, we see how special the bond between a human and an animal can be. His sadness when Pagli changes shows the loss of innocence.
The Mother – Symbol of Care and Patience
The mother treats Pagli like part of the family. She feeds her, milks her, and worries for her. Even when Pagli becomes calm after being hurt, the mother understands that her spirit is broken. She represents nurturing, patience, and quiet strength — the kind of love that heals.
The Village – Symbol of Society and Silence
The village and its people show how society often watches wrong things happen but stays silent. The priest and the magic-man don’t stop Subedar, even though they know what he’s doing is wrong. They are afraid. This shows how fear and social position can stop people from doing what is right.
Pagli’s Wounds – Symbol of Lost Spirit
After being attacked by Subedar, Pagli stops running away. She becomes obedient and calm. While others say she is now a “good cow,” the narrator and his mother feel sad — because her wild, joyful nature is gone. Her wounds are a symbol of how cruelty can break the spirit of even the strongest.
The Bridge – Symbol of a Choice or Turning Point
The bridge where Pagli leaves the boy and runs into the fields stands for a border between safety and freedom. It is the place where she chooses her wild life over comfort. It’s also the place where the boy realizes he cannot stop her — only love her as she is.
| Symbol | Represents |
| Pagli | Freedom and wild spirit |
| Subedar | Harsh authority and ego |
| Boy | Innocent love and empathy |
| Mother | Care and quiet wisdom |
| Village | Society that stays silent |
| Wounds | Lost freedom and crushed spirit |
| Bridge | Choice between safety and freedom |
That Pagli by D.R. Sharma Questions and Answers
Very Short Answer Questions
Who is the narrator of the story That Pagli?
A young village boy who loves Pagli, the cow.
What does the name ‘Pagli’ mean?
It means “mad” or “crazy” in Hindi.
What type of animal is Pagli?
Pagli is a cow.
Where does the story take place?
In a Punjabi village.
Who was Subedar Shamsher Bahadur?
A retired army man who owned nearby fields.
Why did Subedar get angry with Pagli?
Because she damaged his crops by grazing in his fields at night.
How did Pagli behave in the evening?
She escaped and ran wildly to the fields.
What was the narrator’s relationship with Pagli?
He was emotionally attached and deeply loved her.
What made Pagli special among other cows?
Her beauty, wildness, and intelligence.
How did the narrator try to stop Pagli?
He tried to catch her with a rope at the bridge.
What weapons did Subedar use to attack Pagli?
A javelin and trained Alsatian dogs.
How was Pagli treated after being wounded?
She was cared for and fed special meals by the narrator’s family.
What change occurred in Pagli after the attack?
She became calm, obedient, and lost her rebellious spirit.
How did the villagers react to the Subedar’s death?
They mourned him deeply, saying the “lion” had died.
What was the boy’s reaction to Pagli’s taming?
He was saddened, feeling she had lost her spirit.
What disease affected the Subedar later?
His liver and lungs failed, and he saw disturbing visions.
What is the main theme of the story?
The conflict between freedom and control.
Who provided updates about Subedar’s plans?
Balbir, a friend of the narrator.
What did the mother say about Pagli after Subedar’s death?
That her spirit was crushed and she wouldn’t be the same.
How does the story end?
With Pagli surviving, but changed, and the Subedar dead.
Short Answer Questions
1. How did the boy-narrator’s mother react to the news of the Subedar’s death?
The narrator’s mother reacted with a mix of sadness and quiet approval. She said it was sad for Subedar’s sons but good for Pagli, implying that Pagli might finally be free from fear. Her response showed compassion but also relief, knowing that the one who hurt Pagli was now gone. She understood the emotional cost Pagli had paid.
2. What was the Subedar’s earlier strategy to control Pagli? Did it succeed?
Subedar first used fear tactics — he brought in Alsatian dogs, patrolled on horseback, and tried to scare Pagli away from his fields. Later, he even had a special javelin made to attack her. Despite all this, Pagli escaped repeatedly and outsmarted his dogs. His earlier strategies failed until he violently injured her, which broke her spirit.
3. Was Pagli mad, as her name suggests?
Though called “Pagli” meaning mad, she was not actually insane. She was energetic, clever, and free-spirited. Her disobedience was not due to madness but her refusal to be tamed. She followed her own instincts and routine, showing independence rather than irrationality.
4. What change did the boy-narrator expect to see in his cow after the Subedar’s death?
The narrator hoped that Pagli would return to her old self — wild, rebellious, and full of energy. He dreamed of seeing her run through the fields again, licking her calf and filling the milk pail. But deep inside, he feared her spirit was already broken and would never return.
5. Describe the ‘sheer animal beauty’ of Pagli.
Pagli had a smooth tan skin, short and pointed horns, a high head, and a long bushy tail. Her ears were silky, and her neck was soft and flannel-like. The narrator admired her elegance and saw her as more beautiful than any other cow in the village. She stood out both in looks and personality.
6. When the narrator answers all of Munshiji’s riddles, what remark does Munshiji make?
Munshiji is surprised by the boy’s intelligence and curiosity. He jokingly remarks that the boy must be drinking his own cow’s milk, implying that the nourishment from Pagli made him sharp and smart. This shows how even the villagers valued the connection between good food and brainpower.
7. Give an account of the ‘nocturnal plunder’ made by Pagli.
Every night, Pagli escaped after sunset and wandered into green fields, especially those of Subedar. She ate wheat in winter and corn in summer. After grazing freely, she returned home by dawn to feed her calf and be milked. This routine allowed her to grow strong and give abundant milk, though it annoyed Subedar.
8. Why couldn’t the Subedar’s Alsatians tear Pagli’s flesh?
Pagli was fast, intelligent, and fiercely defensive when attacked. She used her sharp horns and powerful legs to fight back. Despite Subedar’s commands, the dogs only barked and circled her, afraid to bite. Her bravery and instincts made it difficult for even trained attack dogs to harm her.
9. What first-aid was given to wounded Pagli?
After Subedar spiked Pagli with a spear, she returned home bleeding. The narrator’s family quickly applied kerosene oil to disinfect her wounds. They didn’t send her out the next day and gave her a special meal made of soggy chaff, wheat flour, and split gram. They also used a fan to keep flies away.
10. How did Pagli’s ‘character improvement’ harm the narrator’s family?
Pagli’s new obedient behavior meant she no longer stole food from Subedar’s fields. As a result, her milk supply reduced, and she no longer filled the jar like before. Though she was now peaceful and easy to manage, the family suffered a loss in milk — showing that her wildness once brought hidden benefits.
Long answer questions
Describe the bond between the boy-narrator and the cow in That Pagli.
The bond between the boy-narrator and Pagli, the cow, is one of deep affection, emotional connection, and silent understanding. From the beginning of the story, it is clear that Pagli is not just a domestic animal to the boy — she is a beloved companion, almost like a friend or sibling. The narrator fondly remembers polishing her horns every Sunday, petting her smooth tan skin, and talking to her as if she could understand every word. His love for Pagli is so strong that he often tries to stop her from running away to the fields, not out of anger, but out of concern for her safety.
He admires her wild spirit and beauty, and even though she often outsmarts him and refuses to be caught, he never gets angry. Instead, he continues to cherish her uniqueness. One of the most touching moments is when he crouches beside his mother to drink milk directly from Pagli’s udder or rubs her soft ears and under-neck. These moments reflect the intimacy of their bond, where physical closeness and emotional warmth go hand-in-hand.
After Pagli is wounded by Subedar, the boy is devastated. He fans away flies from her wounds, talks to her gently, and wishes to see her wild spirit return. His sadness when Pagli becomes obedient shows that he misses not just her presence, but her personality — the spark that made her “Pagli.” Their relationship symbolizes the purity of love that doesn’t seek to control but to understand and protect.
This human-animal bond forms the emotional core of the story. It is built not on words but on daily acts of love, trust, and companionship — making it as real and powerful as any human friendship.
Describe Pagli’s behaviour before and after her wounding in That Pagli.
Pagli’s behaviour undergoes a dramatic transformation over the course of the story, and this change forms the emotional core of the narrative. Before her wounding, Pagli is portrayed as a lively, mischievous, and rebellious cow who refuses to conform to the routines expected of domestic animals. Every evening, she would escape from the herd and sprint past the villagers to reach the southern wilderness, where she grazed freely in the fields — especially those belonging to Subedar Shamsher Bahadur. No matter how hard the narrator, the cowherd Raghbir, or others tried to stop her, Pagli always outsmarted them with her speed, cleverness, and spirited energy.
She was fond of her calf and affectionate with the narrator’s mother, yet she never gave up her freedom for anyone. Her behaviour showed signs of intelligence, independence, and a joyful defiance of control. She was admired for her beauty, her tan coat, bushy tail, and expressive eyes — but above all, she was loved for being different, for refusing to live life on a leash.
However, after Subedar cruelly attacked her with a javelin, causing serious injuries to her ribs and back, Pagli’s behaviour changed drastically. She became quiet, obedient, and subdued. She stopped escaping to the fields and began returning home calmly with the herd. Her once-lively eyes dulled, and she no longer filled the narrator’s heart — or his mother’s milk jar — with the same joy. The cowherd, Raghbir, praised her new discipline, but the narrator and his mother saw it for what it truly was: a spirit broken by violence.
This stark contrast in behaviour shows how cruelty can force submission but at the cost of individuality and joy. Pagli’s transformation from a rebellious cow to a calm, tamed animal is not a victory but a tragedy. It reflects a larger truth — that control gained through violence is hollow, and that true vitality, once crushed, cannot easily return.
Analyse the character of the Subedar in That Pagli.
Subedar Shamsher Bahadur is a central character in That Pagli, portrayed as a proud, authoritative, and ultimately tragic figure. A retired army officer, he returns to his village carrying with him not just medals and prestige, but also the rigid discipline and ego associated with military life. He expects unquestioned respect and obedience from the villagers, and when a cow — Pagli — begins grazing in his fields, it becomes not just a matter of damaged crops but of wounded pride.
The Subedar’s character is defined by his need for control. He sees Pagli’s nightly trespasses not merely as animal behavior but as a personal challenge to his authority. Instead of handling the matter with patience or understanding, he escalates it with excessive force. He brings in two Alsatian dogs, arms himself with a javelin, and even has it specially designed by a local blacksmith. His approach reveals a man who responds to defiance — even from an animal — with militaristic aggression.
There’s also a deep irony and insecurity beneath his bravado. Though he is feared in the village, his overreaction to a cow shows an exaggerated sense of importance and fragility. His reputation is built on discipline, but his actions reflect desperation and cruelty. His English phrases like “yes, yes” and “no, no,” along with his attempts to impress villagers with imported liquor and tales from Lahore, expose a man clinging to status symbols to maintain power.
Despite his strong exterior, the Subedar faces a quiet downfall. After his brutal assault on Pagli, he begins to suffer from health issues — first of the liver, then of the lungs — and is haunted by ghostly visions in the night. His physical decline seems to mirror his moral one. Eventually, the “lion” of the village dies, not in battle or honorably, but slowly, defeated by his own bitterness and obsession with dominance.
In the end, the Subedar represents a certain type of authoritarian figure — one who uses fear instead of understanding and whose need to control leads to his own destruction. His character serves as a warning about the consequences of cruelty and pride unchecked by compassion.
What metamorphosis did Pagli undergo after the assault on her in That Pagli?
Pagli, the spirited cow at the heart of the story, undergoes a powerful and heartbreaking metamorphosis after the brutal assault by Subedar Shamsher Bahadur. Before the attack, Pagli is wild, free, and full of life. She defies routines, escapes into the night, grazes in forbidden fields, and outruns every attempt to catch her. Her wild nature is not seen as harmful by her family — in fact, it is admired and celebrated by the narrator and his mother. Pagli becomes a symbol of freedom and natural vitality.
However, everything changes after Subedar violently spears her with a specially made javelin. Wounded and bleeding, Pagli returns home earlier than usual, visibly broken. The narrator and his family tend to her with care and affection, but her spirit has been permanently altered. She no longer runs to the fields or resists the herd. Instead, she begins to return calmly each evening, obedient and subdued.
This transformation marks her metamorphosis — from a rebellious, free-spirited creature to a tamed, restrained animal. While others, like the cowherd Raghbir, praise her new behavior, the narrator and his mother see it as a loss. Pagli is no longer the same vibrant cow; she has been scarred not just physically, but emotionally. Her playful eyes, energetic movements, and daring nature are replaced by quiet submission.
This metamorphosis symbolizes how cruelty and violence can crush the spirit of even the strongest beings. Though she survives, Pagli is no longer wild and joyous. Her transformation is not a triumph of discipline, but a tragic example of how force can destroy freedom. In this way, her story becomes a quiet, powerful reflection on the cost of taming a free soul.
Bring out the humorous instances in the story That Pagli.
While That Pagli deals with serious themes like freedom, cruelty, and transformation, D.R. Sharma skillfully weaves in gentle humor through characters, dialogues, and situations, making the narrative light-hearted and relatable. The humor in the story arises mainly from the quirky behavior of Pagli, the lively narration, and the exaggerated reactions of the villagers to her antics.
One of the most amusing aspects is Pagli’s cleverness in outsmarting humans. Every evening, despite the efforts of three handymen, the cowherd, and even the narrator himself, Pagli would escape to graze in the fields. The narrator describes how she would sprint like an arrow, rolling her tail into a circle as a signal that she was about to run — making even their fastest ploughman Milkhi look foolish. These failed chases and the villagers’ helplessness bring out a sense of rustic comedy.
Another humorous moment occurs when the narrator, filled with excitement, tries to use non-violence to bring Pagli home. He proudly walks alongside her, thinking he has succeeded, only for her to ditch him at the threshold and run away again. His crushed pride and Pagli’s sly trick make the scene comical and endearing.
The character of Balbir also adds humor to the story. He acts like a village reporter, bringing dramatic daily updates about Subedar’s plans. His gossiping tone, exaggerated delivery, and innocent enthusiasm often make serious situations sound funny, like when he describes how the Subedar is feeding chilli-coated wasps to his dogs to make them fiercer.
Even Subedar’s behavior, though threatening, is sometimes presented with irony and satire. His attempts to impress the village with English phrases like “yes, yes” and “no, no,” and his obsession with weapons and authority, are subtly mocked. His effort to tame a cow as if it were a battlefield mission makes him seem pompous and out of touch — a source of quiet humor.
Overall, the humor in That Pagli is not loud or slapstick but gentle, rooted in the simplicity of rural life and the narrator’s affectionate storytelling style. It provides relief from the story’s emotional intensity and helps paint a more rounded picture of the village and its people.
Write a note on the usual countryside scene as depicted in the story That Pagli.
The story That Pagli by D.R. Sharma presents a vivid and realistic picture of rural life in a Punjabi village. Through the eyes of the young narrator, readers are transported into a world filled with natural rhythms, community traditions, and earthy simplicity. The countryside is shown as a place where people live close to nature, animals are part of the family, and emotions run deep beneath daily routines.
One of the key features of the rural scene is the importance of livestock, especially cows like Pagli, which are treated not merely as animals but as vital members of the household. The act of milking the cow, feeding the calf, and watching her movements forms an essential part of daily life. Fields, mangers, threshing grounds, and grazing lands are mentioned naturally, showing how closely the villagers are tied to agriculture and cattle-rearing.
The village community is closely-knit. People gather together in times of mourning or celebration, as seen when everyone comes to grieve the Subedar’s death. Traditions are strong — men go individually to condole, while women move in groups. There are also symbolic roles assigned to people like Munshiji (the schoolmaster), Kesar (the magic-man), Gurcharan (the priest), and the cowherd Raghbir, all of whom reflect the different layers of rural society.
The countryside is also marked by gossip, superstition, and humor, often shared in casual conversation. People exchange news over visits, and minor events quickly become stories told across the village. The arrival of Subedar with his English phrases, Alsatians, and imported drinks adds a satirical contrast to the simplicity of village folk.
Finally, nature itself is a strong presence — the evening escapes of Pagli, the moonlit fields, the wheat and corn crops, and the bridge and thicket — all paint a rich countryside atmosphere. The tone is affectionate and nostalgic, making the countryside feel both real and emotionally alive.
In essence, the story beautifully captures the sights, sounds, people, and emotions of typical Indian village life, making the countryside more than just a setting — it becomes a living character in the story.
Critical Overview
Introduction
That Pagli is a sensitive and richly textured short story by D.R. Sharma, an Indian writer and academic known for his poignant depictions of rural Punjab. Originally part of the short story collection Pastoral Connections (1982), the story captures the bond between a boy and his cow, Pagli, while also reflecting on deeper themes of freedom, control, cruelty, and transformation. Through its gentle tone and rural setting, That Pagli becomes a timeless tale of love, loss, and the consequences of power.
Plot Summary
The story is narrated by a young boy from a Punjabi village who shares a close bond with a mischievous cow named Pagli. Unlike other cows, Pagli escapes every evening to graze freely, often in the fields of Subedar Shamsher Bahadur, a proud and retired army officer. Her nightly defiance becomes a personal insult to the Subedar, who launches a series of harsh measures to punish her, including the use of trained dogs and a spear. Eventually, Pagli is severely wounded. Though she survives, her spirit is broken, and she becomes obedient. The Subedar later falls ill and dies. The narrator and his mother grieve the loss of Pagli’s lively nature more than they do the Subedar’s death.
Themes
1. Freedom vs. Control
The story explores the conflict between Pagli’s wild freedom and Subedar’s attempt to control her. Pagli’s defiance represents freedom, while Subedar’s harsh actions to stop her show the cost of control, which ultimately crushes her spirit.
2. Love and Loyalty
The deep love and loyalty between the boy and Pagli are central to the story. The boy’s affection for Pagli and her devotion to her calf highlight the emotional bonds that connect humans and animals, even in tough times.
3. Cruelty and Its Consequences
Subedar’s cruelty to Pagli leads to her transformation and his eventual downfall. His harsh actions cause harm not only to Pagli but to himself, showing how cruelty comes with consequences.
4. Change and Loss
Pagli’s transformation from a wild cow to an obedient one symbolizes the theme of change and loss. The boy’s hope for her return to her old self reflects the sadness that comes with the loss of something precious.
5. Village Life and Community
The story portrays a vibrant village community where people are connected through tradition, roles, and daily life. The interactions among villagers like the grocer, priest, and headman show how community life shapes individual experiences.
Characters
Pagli: A cow symbolic of rebellion, freedom, and innocence. Her transformation reflects the damage caused by cruelty.
Boy-Narrator: Sensitive and observant, he embodies love, innocence, and emotional depth.
Subedar Shamsher Bahadur: A proud ex-army man representing cruelty, ego, and the abuse of authority.
Narrator’s Mother: A nurturing figure who understands both love and loss, especially in Pagli’s transformation.
Supporting Characters: Villagers like Balbir, Raghbir, Kesar, and Gurcharan reflect rural community life and passive societal roles.
Structure and Style
The story follows a linear narrative structure, told in the first person, giving it a personal and emotional tone. D.R. Sharma uses simple, lyrical language rich in imagery and rural idioms, creating a vivid picture of Punjabi village life. The tone is affectionate, often laced with gentle humor, satirical undertones, and deep pathos. Sharma’s storytelling relies on small, emotionally resonant moments rather than dramatic events, making the transformation of Pagli feel both intimate and tragic.
Historical Context
Written during a time when India was transitioning socially and economically in the post-independence era, the story reflects the clash between tradition and change. The Subedar, with his military background and urban influence, contrasts with the simplicity of rural life. The tension between old power structures and emerging individual agency — even through the metaphor of an animal — reflects broader societal shifts in India during the late 20th century.
Critical Reception
That Pagli has been appreciated in academic and literary circles for its emotional depth, cultural authenticity, and symbolic richness. It is frequently included in university curricula as a representative of Indian English rural fiction. Critics have praised Sharma’s ability to handle delicate themes with restraint and realism, while readers often find themselves emotionally connected to Pagli’s story. Its moral undertones, combined with its warmth and simplicity, give it lasting appeal.
Conclusion
That Pagli is more than just a story about a cow; it is a powerful tale about the human condition, the struggle for freedom, and the silent suffering that often goes unnoticed. Through the lens of a village boy and his cow, D.R. Sharma explores deep emotional truths, societal flaws, and the complex balance between love and control. The story’s charm lies in its subtlety — it touches the heart without shouting its message, leaving the reader moved, thoughtful, and quietly transformed.
