When Mrs Kapoor suddenly died, everyone was frightened and disturbed. One minute she was alive, cooking up some delectable dish or other in the kitchen, and the next, she had collapsed from a stroke. Of course, the Mehras, the Singhs and the Sharmas were immediately there for Mr Kapoor. Since the Kapoors didn’t have any children, their friends made sure Mr Kapoor was taken care of. Until the day Mr Kapoor suddenly disappeared without a word.
Everyone had their own theory about Mr Kapoor: maybe he needed to be around family; maybe he needed to get out of town; maybe he just needed time. But then, a month later, Mr Kapoor returned with a new—and French!—wife and none of his friends knew how to react.
How one reacts to unexpected situations usually tells a lot about a person’s character. The French Wife by Nergis Dalal is an interesting perspective on human behaviour and why we do the things that we do.
It was a day just like today—the leaves of the peepul tree outside his window were drenched in the rain—and yet Randheer knew, today was nowhere close to the day he was desperately trying to hold on to.
What is it about memories and the way our bodies remember things? Why is it that just the absence of one thing—her smell—can change everything about a day that seems exactly how he remembers it? Do we shape our memories or do our memories shape us?
Every bit as evocative as it is lyrical, Smell is what happens when excellent prose tells the story of intriguing characters. Read on to experience a masterpiece by the master of short fiction, Manto.
I don’t think I can put up with you any more. Please divorce me.’
With this begins yet another argument between a woman and her husband. As is the case with most disputes, it starts off with one thing but soon ends up focusing on something entirely different.
One can always make out the relationship two people share from the arguments they have. As a fly on the wall, observing this heated exchange between a man and his wife is as fascinating as it is revealing.
A story told entirely through dialogue, Green Sandals has Manto’s genius shining through every insult—and affectation—that the couple throws at one another. Read on.
Ever since the Hindi-Urdu debate has been raging, Manto has tried to understand what the fuss is about. And while Maulvi Abdul Haq Sahib, Dr Tara Singh and Mahatma Gandhi seem to know all there is to know, the matter remains as elusive as ever to Manto.
As Manto struggles to understand a seemingly pointless debate, what follows is an imagined conversation between Munshi Narain Parshad and Mirza Muhammad Iqbal who are arguing about the merits of lemon water over soda water.
If anyone knows how to pack a punch and be tongue-in-cheek at the same time, it’s Manto. Hilarious and brilliant, Hindi-Urdu is a fine example of the shape short fiction can take in the hands of a prolific writer like him.
A conversation, a litany, a prayer—one of these three will usually bail you out of a tricky situation. But there are times when all the three combined don’t hold enough power to keep the inevitable at bay.
Even as the woman offers all that she can, deep down she knows that what’s done is done. Her cries will disappear into a void just like everything else. She doesn’t know what else to do. What else can she do?
Manto’s genius lies in presenting the most complex characters and their circumstances in the simplest manner, and nowhere is this more evident than in By the Roadside. While the story was written more than half a decade ago, this powerful take on women in our country is still as relevant today.
Shahbaz Khan had only one problem with Hamzah Khan, the new employee at the restaurant: his looks. Hamzah was dedicated, knew how to get the coal at the best prices, treated the customers right, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was ugly. But Hamzah Khan—or Gilgit Khan as everyone had come to call him—didn’t mind this much because he had found a companion in a puppy outside the restaurant. While Shahbaz Khan thought that the dog was even more unsightly than Gilgit Khan, the latter had never been happier.
The thing about love—even it is for an animal—is that you don’t realize its intensity until you venture too deep. Once you are aware of it, it is too late to do anything. Will it be too late by the time Gilgit Khan experiences his moment of realization?
Many of Manto’s characters display logical, but entirely human, contradictions. Whether it’s Shahbaz Khan’s piousness against his bigotry or Gilgit Khan’s kindness in the shadow of his crudeness, Manto elevates the art of storytelling. Read on to find out what lies in store for Gilgit Khan and his beloved Tan-Tan.
They were all mujahids, God’s valiant soldiers who didn’t know anything about fighting but were ready to jump into the battlefield at the first opportunity. The issue at hand was grabbing Kashmir at any cost. As the discussion continued, Haneef showed great enthusiasm for the cause but Manto could tell that something was bothering his friend. Perhaps there was something wrong at home?
But when Haneef reveals the truth, Manto realizes that it is a weight that now belongs to him too.
Only Manto’s writing has the power to make a political statement using an incredibly personal story. Beautifully layered and heart-wrenchingly poignant, I’m No Good for You! is a masterpiece.
People take pleasure in winning. But it was losing that gave him a greater thrill, especially when it came in the wake of winning.’
Bombay has always been a land of opportunities—to earn money, fame and whatever else one desires. And while Seth knows how to grab each opportunity, he has always revelled in the pleasure of losing it all. In fact, he would seize opportunities only for the pleasure of squandering all that he earned.
Strange as it was, it was a pattern that he was happily living by. Until one day, on his way to his favourite gambling den, he meets Gangu Bai, an old prostitute. Striking unusual deals was his habit but who would have known that a harmless little deal with Gangu Bai would prove to be the biggest decision he ever took.
Manto’s speciality lies in his characters that defy the norm in almost every way possible. Pleasure in Losing is an example of precisely this.
If there is one thing that Manto has always wanted to understand, but never has, is this: why is that singles—men not interested in getting married, ever—are so unnaturally obsessed with empty bottles and cans. Be it his fifty-year-old relative, his friend who is a reader at the high court, or the retired Colonel Sahib, all of them have one thing in common: a collection of empty bottles and cans spread all over their homes.
Manto wishes to make sense of this fascination, but it isn’t something that can be explained easily in psychological terms. Until, one day, he meets Ram Saroop, the superstar, who is not just single but has an entire room full of empty rum bottles and cigarette packs in his small flat by the sea at Shivaji Park. Will Ram Saroop finally help Manto solve this bizarre mystery?
One of the lighter stories from Manto’s repertoire of short fiction, Empty Bottles, Empty Cans is an interesting take on the concept of emptiness and a generation of single men experiencing it.
When the riots first broke out, everyone in Amritsar, including retired sub-judge Mian Abdul Hayy, thought they wouldn’t last long. They were expected to die down soon. But Sughra, Mian Sahib’s daughter, was worried, and rightly so because the situation only seemed to be getting worse. In fact, it got so bad that when Mian Sahib suffered a stroke and was critical, the family couldn’t call a doctor to see him.
But Mian Sahib didn’t lose hope. Even as he heard loud, insistent knocks on his door on Chhoti Eid, Mian Sahib didn’t let his faith waver. Surely no harm could befall his family on Chhoti Eid?
If there’s anyone who can narrate a Partition story that is as tender as it is powerful, it is Manto. Sometimes the smallest arm packs the mightiest punch and The Testament of Gurmukh Singh is a fine example of this.
