In the great words of Manto himself, here is what he wanted to have inscribed on his tombstone:
In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful
Here lies Saadat Hasan Manto, and with him lies buried all the secrets and mysteries of the art of short-story writing.
Under tons of earth, he lies, still wondering who among the two is the greater short-story writer: God or He.
Saadat Hassan Manto, arguably one of the greatest writers in the history of the sub-continent, lived a short yet adventurous life. During his short stay in this world — he died aged 43 — he endured multiple court cases against his widely ‘controversial’ writing and faced general exclusion from the larger literary scene in post-partition Pakistan.
As a Muslim writer living in Bombay until the partition of the Indian subcontinent, and even for some time afterward, Manto was preoccupied with concerns about his family's safety. In late 1948, he migrated with his wife and daughters to Lahore in the newly independent Pakistan. This was in spite of his unparalleled love for Bombay wherehis colleagues and close friends lived, and was, in his opinion,
the art center of South Asia. He wrote about the complexities of the largest mass migration in human history at that time, the human rights violations, and the targeted mass killings that occurred on both sides of the arbitrarily drawn borders. As a writer ahead of his time, harboring a progressive voice, he wrote about things that mattered to him and what he believed deserved more attention on both the national and global stage.
Manto's most famous works include short stories like Toba Tek Singh, Thanda Gosht (Cold Meat), Khol Do (Open), and Boo (Smell). Some of his works were published posthumously, further reinforcing the fact that he never wrote for fame nor money. One of these novellas — Thanda Gosht — was tried for profanity in a municipal court of Lahore. A rigorous case was fought, after which Manto was found guilty and charged with a fine and warning. Many great writers of the time testified against him, including editors of some magazines, which greatly disappointed him. When Faiz Ahmed Faiz was called to adjudge whether the content was profane or not, he replied in the negative but added that it was not even worthy enough to be called literature. Manto was especially distraught after hearing this, and went as far as to say that it would have been better if he had called the content profane.
Circling back to the quote Manto wanted on his tombstone, Manto always struggled with the concept of a divine entity. He disagreed with religious clerics on numerous matters and had a secular approach toward most socio-political issues. He said these words in anguish after witnessing the egregious human rights violations around the events of the partition and wondered why God, if such an entity existed, would let these things happen.
As a non-conforming writer who rejected the socio-political structures around him, Manto had a unique ability to boldly tackle taboo topics. Many progressive writers of the time shied away from topics such as prostitution or non-heterenormative stories. For colonial South Asian society, these ideas were relatively unexplored, and the fact that Manto was writing and publishing them for mass readership was a pivotal social breakthrough. As he talked about sexuality, violence, colonialism, and misogyny, he ensured that his works remained timeless and relevant for decades to come. To this day, his work reverberates
across social-justice movements in South Asia.
Moving on to Toba Tek Singh, one of his many novellas published after his death, is said to have been written while he was in a mental asylum during his last days. Due to his excessive drinking habits, he could no longer support his family and was thus moved to an asylum. In 1955, when the migration induced by partition had mostly ended, the incarcerated inhabitants of mental asylums across partition lines were still scattered. The story was about a man in the same asylum as Manto who wanted to go to Toba Tek Singh, a city in Pakistan. Within the story, an Indian van arrived at the asylum to take the people who initially resided on the Indian side of the border. The man went along with them because he told the authorities he wanted to return to his city. However, when the van reached the border, he asked the Indian soldier about Toba Tek Singh, to which he replied that the city he was talking about was now in Pakistan and pushed him back. He went to the Pakistani soldiers, and they replied conversely. The confusion was that Toba Tek Singh was actually an area through which the border had been crafted, and it had been partitioned into two. It was now on both sides of the border, divided.
Like these examples, his stories reflected the complexities and contradictions produced by the partition in the newly independent states without any censorship. Because of this, when court cases were filed against him, he would never give in to the allegations but rather argue that if his content was profane, so was the real world. In addition, these stories were always grounded within the margins of the society because they were representative of those who were ostracized. For example, Thanda Gosht (Cold Meat) tells the story of a prostitute and her interactions with her clientele from her perspective.
This was one of the major reasons many could not appreciate his writings — they presented unpopular views that had been marginalized and thus, ultimately silenced. Saadat Hasan Manto is considered a great writer, but the sad truth is that he was not appreciated in his lifetime. Had Manto's stories touched more hearts back then, one wonders how the world of South Asian literature would have evolved in the centuries to come.
Abdullah Yusuf is a Contributing Writer. Email him at feedback@thegazelle.org