Jul 31 2014 : Mirror (Pune)
The great raconteur
When I don't write I feel as if I am unclothed, like I haven't had a bath. Like I haven't had my first drink: Manto punemirror.feedback@gmail.com
Describing the squalid chawl in which he lived in Bombay, Saadat Hasan Manto writes, “The place was so full of bed bugs that they fell from the roof like rain.“ Nor were his working conditions any better. Mr Nazir, he says, hired him for a salary of forty rupees a month. “After he discovered that I was sleeping in the office, he began cutting two rupees from my salary towards rent every month. When he got me another job alongside, as a munshi at the Imperial Studios, on a salary of forty rupees, Mr Nazir cut my salary from “Musawwar“ by half to twenty rupees.“This extract is from The Story of My Wedding in Manto's Why I Write, a lively collection of his non-fiction, translated and edited by Aakar Patel. (Tranquebar 2014). Patel writes, “It is difficult to think of better literature in our languages than his... Living and working in Bombay was the happiest phase of Manto's life. If it had not been for Partition, he would have lived and worked here till he died...It isn't surprising that he left Bombay, given his young family and the barbarism of those days, but the story of why he didn't return remains a mystery.“
The editor tells us that most of the pieces in the book were written for newspapers, and, possibly except for two, none have been translated before. He adds, “I have edited, clipped, trimmed and rewritten a few of them, perhaps more than I should have. For this, Manto will forgive me.“ This is an intriguing comment. In what way did he rewrite?
Nevertheless, for the most part the editor's comments on individual stories and on Manto's life are informative and incisive, and add to our understanding of an extraordinary person and writer. “Manto accepts the fault and the culpability of his co-religionists first.
This is something very few of us can still do in the subcontinent.“
In Pakistan, Manto was surprised to find himself preside over the annual Iqbal Day.
“Surprising because he had no love for the Islamic State... But the one thing he had in com mon with the man he was eulogising was that they were both persecuted. Iqbal for his heresies (he wrote a complaint against god, a great poem called Shikwa) and Manto because he rejected conventionalism of every sort... Both men ... became heroes after their death. Iqbal for those who loved Pakistan and Manto for those who hated it.“
Some of Manto's fiercest pieces, such as God is gracious in Pakistan were deeply anti-fundamentalist. “But now, praise god! We can find neither poet nor musician. Allah help us, their music was the most debased thing. Are humans meant to sing? Sitting with their tanpuras and wailing away. And singing what?... Ever since Pakistan has been cleansed of poets, the very air around us has become pure and unpolluted...Pictures of naked women and statues of them sculpted in those days...'Mr Artist, sir! How well you have reproduced the female form...These breasts...' Lord have mercy, what did I just say.
Please excuse me while I wash my mouth.“
So why does Manto write? “The most important reason is that I'm addicted to writing, just as I am to drinking. When I don't write I feel as if I am unclothed, like I haven't had a bath. Like I haven't had my first drink.“
The editor, Aakar Patel has worked in the textile industry and in journalism, and has edited newspapers in English and Gujarati, and oversaw the Urdu daily Inquilab. He also writes columns for papers from Pakistan.
The editor tells us that most of the pieces in the book were written for newspapers, and, possibly except for two, none have been translated before. He adds, “I have edited, clipped, trimmed and rewritten a few of them, perhaps more than I should have. For this, Manto will forgive me.“ This is an intriguing comment. In what way did he rewrite?
Nevertheless, for the most part the editor's comments on individual stories and on Manto's life are informative and incisive, and add to our understanding of an extraordinary person and writer. “Manto accepts the fault and the culpability of his co-religionists first.
This is something very few of us can still do in the subcontinent.“
In Pakistan, Manto was surprised to find himself preside over the annual Iqbal Day.
“Surprising because he had no love for the Islamic State... But the one thing he had in com mon with the man he was eulogising was that they were both persecuted. Iqbal for his heresies (he wrote a complaint against god, a great poem called Shikwa) and Manto because he rejected conventionalism of every sort... Both men ... became heroes after their death. Iqbal for those who loved Pakistan and Manto for those who hated it.“
Some of Manto's fiercest pieces, such as God is gracious in Pakistan were deeply anti-fundamentalist. “But now, praise god! We can find neither poet nor musician. Allah help us, their music was the most debased thing. Are humans meant to sing? Sitting with their tanpuras and wailing away. And singing what?... Ever since Pakistan has been cleansed of poets, the very air around us has become pure and unpolluted...Pictures of naked women and statues of them sculpted in those days...'Mr Artist, sir! How well you have reproduced the female form...These breasts...' Lord have mercy, what did I just say.
Please excuse me while I wash my mouth.“
So why does Manto write? “The most important reason is that I'm addicted to writing, just as I am to drinking. When I don't write I feel as if I am unclothed, like I haven't had a bath. Like I haven't had my first drink.“
The editor, Aakar Patel has worked in the textile industry and in journalism, and has edited newspapers in English and Gujarati, and oversaw the Urdu daily Inquilab. He also writes columns for papers from Pakistan.
