Manto or not toe?

I don't know what's your excuse for not learning Urdu but let me remind you that although it's declining in our country, there's no ban on it. The reason why i'm sounding sarcastic is we've becoming this country that shortcuts a solution by spreading blanket ban on a given issue. Coming back to excuses, i'm trying to learn this inherently beautiful language. There are very few things i'm essentially proud of. Whatever i know about Urdu is one of them. There are many more i'd like to add to the list—violin, Kannada, Tamil, French, boxing among others—but it's best not to reveal when or how.

Enough of me.

Let's move over to Manto.

Arguably the greatest writer from the Indian subcontinent belonging to last century. Moreover, the fact that he died at the age of 42 stretches his aura and even a soul like him faced his share of bans. So much so he even wrote a piece in the pre-independence era criticizing—in style, of course—a resolution that was being passed against his literary pursuits. As expected, the writer took out his weapon of mass destruction and wrote the following. In the process, he reminded the world where exactly it is. I've transliterated/translated that very article. Needless to add, there has to be errors and typos and whatever comes in between but this is the finest i could do—for now—with invaluable inputs by Farooque Ansari from Inquilab.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Main arz kar raha hoon ki zamaane ki karvato ke saath adab bhi karvate badalta rehta hai

(I’m espousing that with every passing day, the ways of world are changing too)

  

Aaj usne jo karvat badli hai uske khilaaf akhbaaron mein mazmoon likhna, jalson mein zaher ugalna bilkul bekaar hai

(It’s futile to write articles against it in newspapers or rally on streets, considering the point the change has reached today)

Woh log adab-e-jadeed ka, taraqqi pasand adab ka, fohush adab ka…jo kuch bhi hai ye…khaatma kar dena chahte hain, toh sahi raasta yeh hai ki unn halaat ka khaatma kiya jaaye jo iss adab ke muharrik hain

(Those who want to destroy this culture or progressiveness or erotica—or whatever you wish to call it—should rather find a way to destroy the circumstances that are giving rise to it)

Yeh bhi kaha jaata hai ki aaj kal ke adeebon ke aasaab par aurat savaar hai

(It’s also said that the minds of modern writers are filled with nothing but women)

Sach toh yeh hai ki urooj-e-Adam se lekar ab tak ke har mard ke aasaab par aurat savaar rahi hai

(When in fact, women have been on men’s mind since the day Adam took birth and made way for civilization)

Aur kyun na rahe?

(Besides, why shouldn’t it be so?)

Mard ke aasaab par kya haathi godhon ko savaar hona chahiye?

(Do you expect elephants and horses to dominate a male psyche?)

Jab kabutar kabutarion ko dekh kar ghutakte hain toh mard aurton ko dekh kar ek ghazal ya afsaana kyun na likhe?

(When a male pigeon makes those guttering sounds on noting a female mate, why shouldn’t a man write a poem or a story for his ladylove?)

Aurtein kabutariyon se kahin ziyaada dilchasp, khoobsurat aur fikr-khez hain

(Women are far more interesting, beautiful and inspiring than a she-pigeon)

Kya main jhoot kehta hoon?

(Am I lying?)

Mehmoodabad ke Rajasaab ka aur H’bad ke Shayar Maahir-Ul Qadrisaab ka ya Bambai ke Dawafaros Hakeem Mirza Baigsaab ka iss literature ke khilaaf resolution pass karna bilkul bekaar hai

(Rajasaab of Mehmoodabad or Shayar Maayir-ul Qadrisaab from Hyderabad or Bombay’s Dawafaros Hakeem Mirza Baigsaab's passing a resolution against my literature is baseless)

Jab tak aurato aur mardo ke jazbaat ke darmiyaan ek moti deewar qayam rahegi, tab tak Ismat Chughtai uske choone ko apne tez nakoonon se kuredti rahegi

(…that’s so as long as there’s an ever-increasing wall between the emotions belonging to men and women, Ismat Chughtai will keep on scratching that wall with her sharp fingernails)

Jab tak Kashmir ke haseen dehato mein shaher ki gandagi phaili rahegi, ghareeb Kishen Chander aule aule rota rahega

(As long as the idyllic terrains of Kashmir will be polluted by the influx of urban pollution, poor Kishen Chander will keep crying silently because he loves the rustic life way too much)

Jab tak insanon mein aur khaas taur par Saadat Hasan Manto mein kamzoriyaan maujood hain, woh khurdbeen se dekh dekh kar baahar nikaalta aur dusron ko dikhaata rahega

(Also, as long as humans and Saadat Hasan Manto in particular has weaknesses in him, he’ll continue to observe/analyze them through a microscope and show them to others as well)

Rajasaab Mehmoodabad aur unke humkhayaal kehte hain “Yeh sarasar behoodgi hai, tum jo kuch likhte ho, khurafaat hai..”

(Rajasaab of Mehmoodabad and his fellow thinkers who agree with him keep commenting, “Whatever you write is vulgar and blasphemous…”)

Main kehta hoon, “Bilkul durust hai…is liye kyun ke main behoodgi aur khuraafat ke mutaalliq toh likhta hoon.”

(To which I’d reply, “Yes…because I write on vulgarity and blasphemy..and I don’t deny that either)

Rajasaab Mehmoodabad ek conference ke sadr ban jaayen ya Hakeem Haider Baigsaab khaansi door karne ka mujarrab sharbat ijaad karlen; mujhe unki sadaarat aur unke sharbat se koi dilchaspi nahi

(If Hakeem Haider Baigsaab invents an effective cough syrup or Rajasaab from Mehmoodabad becomes the president of a conference, I have no interest whatsoever either in their presidency or their syrup)

Albatta jab main train mein baitha baitha apna naya khareeda hua keemti pen nikaalta hoon, sirf iss gharaz se ki log dekhen aur mar-oob hon toh mujhe apna siflapan bahut dilchasp maloom hota hai

(But while I’m travelling in a train, I take out my newly bought expensive pen with the sole intention of ensuring that my fellow travellers/people will be impressed by it, I find this meanness of mine fascinating)

Mere pados mein agar ek aurat har roz apne khavind se maar khaati hai, aur fir usi ke joote saaf karti hai toh mere dil mein uske liye zarra barabar humdardi paida nahi hoti

(I don’t feel an iota of sympathy for my neighbouring woman who gets beaten by her husband only to go back and clean his shoes)

Lekin jab mere pados mein koi aurat apne khavind se ladkar aur kudhkushi ki dhumki dekar cinema dekhne chale jaati hai

(But when a woman in my neighbourhood fights with her husband, leaves the house threatening suicide only to go and watch a movie in cinema)

Aur main khavind ko do ghante tak sakht pareshaani ki haalat mein dekhta hoon toh mujhe dono se ek ajeeb-o-gareeb qism ki humdardi paida ho jaati hai

(I feel a weird sense of empathy with both of them while I notice her husband terribly worried back at home)

Kisi ladke ko kisi ladki se ishq ho jaaye toh main usse zukaam ke barabar bhi ahmiyat nahin deta

(If a boy falls in love with a girl, I treat it more negligently than whopping cold)

Lekin woh ladka meri tawajjo ko zaroor kheenchega jo zaahir kare ki uspar saikdon ladkiyaan jaan deti hain

(But that boy will certainly grab my attention who pretends that girls are crazy about him)

Lekin dar-haqeeqat woh pyaar ka utna hi bhooka hai jitna ki bangaal ka faqaazada baashindha

(But in reality, he’s as hungry for love as a famine-ridden Bengali)

Iss ba-zaahir kaamyaab aashiq ki rangeen baaton mein jo tragedy siskiyan bharti hogi, usko main apne dil ke kaano se sunuga aur doosro ko sunaunga

(I’ll listen to those sighs of tragedy that this well-established Casanova’s colourful love story heaves…)

Chakki peesnewali aurat jo din bhar kaam karti hai aur raat ko itmenaan se so jaati hai, woh mere afsaano ki heroine nahi ho sakti

(That woman who grinds flour mill all done long and sleeps peacefully at night can’t be the heroine of my tales)

Meri heroine chakle ki ek takyaai randi ho sakti hai

(My heroine might be that lowly prostitute from red-light area)

Jo raat ko jaagti hai aur din ko sote mein kabhi kabhi yeh daraona khwaab dekhkar uth baithti hai ki budaapa uske darwaaze par dastak dene aaya hai

(Who works hard at night and sleeps during daytime only to wake up abruptly from a nightmare of her old age knocking at her door…)

Uske bhaari bhaari papote jin par barson ki udi hui neenden munjamid ho gayi hai, mere afsaane ka mauzu ban sakte hai

(Her heavy eyelids that have accumulated/frozen years of lost sleep can become the subject of my story)

Uski ghalazat, uski beemariyan, uska chidchidapan, uski gaaliyan, yeh sab mujhe bhaati hain

(Her filth, illnesses, annoyance, expletives…they all enchant me)

Aur main unke mutaallik likhta hoon aur gharelu aurton ke sushta-kalamiyan, unke sehat, unki nafaasat-pasandi ko nazarandaz kar jaata hoon

(And I write about them while the domestic womenfolk with their refine-ness, health, their love for elegance are completely overlooked)

Aiteraaz kiya jaata hai ki naye likhne walon ne aurat aur mard ke jinsi talluqaat ko hi apna mauzu bana liya hai

(It’s often objected that modern writers have made only the sexual relationships between male and female their subject of writing)

Main sabki taraf se jawab nahin doonga

(I won’t reply on everybody’s behalf)

Apne mutaalliq itna kahoonga ke yeh mauzu mujhe pasand hai

(But would clarify on my behalf that I like this subject very much)

Kyun hai?

(Why so?)

Bas hai

(It just is)

Samajh lijiye ki mujh mein perversion hai

(Consider it my perversion)

Aur agar aap aqalmand hain, cheezon ke qawaif acchi tarah jaante hain toh aap samajh lenge ki mujhe yeh bimari kyu lagi hai

(But if you’re intelligent enough and understand the ways of the world, then you must also understand how I contracted this “disease”)

Zamane ke jis daur se hum iss waqt guzar rahe hain

(The era that we are going through right now…)

Agar aap usse nawaqif hain toh mere afsaane padhiye

(…if you’re ignorant about it, do read my stories)

Agar aap inn afsanon ko bardaasht nahin kar sakte hain toh iska matlab yeh hai ki zamana naqabil-e-bardaasht hai

(If you’re unable to tolerate them, that means the society is not tolerable)

Mujh mein jo buraiyaan hain woh iss ahed ki buraiyaan hain

(Whatever ills are present in me are the ills of this era)

Meri tahreer mein koi naqs nahi

(There are no shortcomings in my writings)

Jis naqs ko mere naam se mansoob kiya jaata hai dar-asl maujuda nizaam ka naqs hai

(Whatever shortcoming is dedicated to me is in fact the shortcomings of our system)

Main hungama pasand nahin

(I don’t like to rabble rouse)

Main logon ke khyaalat aur jazbaat mein haijaan paida karna nahin chahta

(I don’t even like to create turmoil in people’s imagination or emotions)

Main tehzeb-o-tamaddan aur society ki kya choli utaaroonga jo hai hi nangi?

(How can I disrobe culture or our society when it’s already naked?)

Main use kapde pehnnane ki bhi koshish nahi karta

(But then, I don’t even try to clothe it)

Log mujhe siyah qalam kehte hain

(People call me writer who uses black ink)

Lekin main takhta-e-siyah par kaali chalk se nahi likhta

(But I don’t write on a blackboard with a black chalk)

Safed chalk ishtemaal karta hoon ki takhta-e-siyah aur bhi numayan ho jaaye

(I use white chalk so that the blackboard is delightfully apparent)

Yeh mera khaas andaz, mera khaas tarz hai, jise fohush-nigaari, taraqqi pasandi aur khudha maloom kya kya kaha jata hai

(This unique style of mine is often labeled as erotica-lover, progressive writer and god-knows-what-else)

Laanat hai Saadat Hasan Manto par!

(Shame on Saadat Hasan Manto!)

Kambakht ko gaali bhi saleeke se nahi dee jaati.

(The unfortunate one doesn’t even get rebuked properly.)