Before you start hating me for my statement, please hear me out…!!!
I started reading Saadat Hassan Manto about 10 odd years ago or so, and read quite a few of his works, especially his short stories. He was prolific, unapologetic and raw.
If you’ve read his writing, you wouldn’t be surprised that he was charged with obscenity six times, both in India and Pakistan. Manto defended his writing saying, ”If you find my stories dirty, the society you are living in is dirty. With my stories, I only expose the truth.”
Manto was an Indo-Pakistani author who often wrote about societal issues that he believed crippled humanity. His take on the partition was never religion-based, they were always about cruelty versus humanity, and the fact that cruelty exists everywhere and is not religion specific. This, I believe wholeheartedly. As a race, humans are cruel. Of course, the volume of kind-hearted humans are a lot, but that is not a matter of pride, it is high because we humans are increasing in numbers exceedingly, so it is simple math that to every few cruel people there has to be some kind, people, too. But as I said before, as a species, we have cruelty embedded in our nature.
Anyways, I digress…
So I remembered reading a lot of Manto and a few other hard-hitting authors in my early 30s, and then suddenly stopping. I didn’t remember why though; at least not until this weekend.
Nowadays, I prefer reading happy, funny and romantic fiction, in fact, I am writing one too. However, over the weekend, I decided to read something serious and since the world is gaga over Manto, I said to myself, “I wonder why I stopped reading him so suddenly“, and I found one of his short stories online named “Khol Do“.
The story is heartwrenching and so real. People like us, who are born after independence and are privileged enough to have a safe childhood, cannot even imagine the horrors families had to go through during partition, especially young girls.
I couldn’t sleep that night, because every time I closed my eyes, all I could think of was what young Sakina must have gone through in the hands of her “saviours”. Grotesque images filled my head as I was reading, and the remnants of those gory images still linger around as I am writing this piece.
I remembered why I had stopped reading him, or why I hate his writing. His work is too real and has the ability to peel off the layers of fake refinement and pseudo intellect.
Had heard his writing to be Dark, so do I equate dark to reality?
Yes… very much real….
Reminded me of the time when I mowed down all the literature of his that I could get my hands on at one go and have never reverted since. Too much pain related without a shred of self-conscienciousness and, hence, raw
like the scab that won’t heal.
Your post just fired up memories of his tragic writing… you conveyed your resulting insomnia et al so simply. Go easy on him though; the situation is uneasy enough. Stay safe – stay sane.
I am done for the time being… one was more than enough…
It is not easy to understand him, and way to difficult to relate. As a writer he is fluid and brilliant, but I agree that the images he leaves behind in your mind are nothing we would want to carry with us. Unless we lust for morbidity.
Very well written thoughts.
Understanding his work is not the problem, understanding it deeply and then realizing grotesque reality of life is something I am not prepared for…
Your blog reminds me of one movie “Raj Kahini” which indices insomnia in me for almost a week… these authors have the ability to rip the heart… truth is very bitter ….
I agree. The truth is bitter.