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A fan and an avid writer pens down an open letter to MANTO!

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There are many films that Bollywood has made on the lines sports, warriors or love stories; it’s the very first time Bollywood has come up with a very strong biopic that too on Urdu writer Manto, which is directed by Nandita Das.


Ever since the trailer of the film was out, the social media went berserk with mixed responses, some likes it some went unabashed. However the film is released today which stars Nawazzudin Siddhique, Rashika Dugal, Divya Dutta.


The critics and fans who have watched the film are going gaga over the execution of the film. Well those who arnet aware about who Manto was, he was a Pakistani writer born in Ludhiana during British India. He mainly wrote in Urdu language, he produced 22 collections of short stories, a novel, five series of radio plays, three collections of essays, two collections of personal sketches. Manto was known to write about the hard truths of society that no one dared to talk about. He is best known for his stories about the partition of India immediately following independence in 1947.


Well, so much of love and appreciation that the film has got, one of the budding writer Rajveer Singh who has penned a book names’Destined Lives,’ he is a huge fan of Manto’s writings and deeply incorpotes his woirds and thoghts in his own personal blogs.


Rajveer’s http://rajveerspace.blogspot.com/2018/07/blog-post.html poems are something every generation would relate to!
As Manto has hit the screens today, Rajveer penned down his thoughts on how Manto has no home of his own, and he awaits certain answers which are haunting him.

Here is an open letter to Manto.

Dear Heavenly Manto,
Why don’t you just die!

Since partition, it’s been 70 years and you are still alive like a shameless creature. People were right about you, you have no modesty. If you had any, you would have died just like other modest people of your generation, who, a long ago, had turned dust due to shame. Manto, your country was Hindustan, the undivided India! Do you still belong to it? If yes, then tell me where it is? Pakistan & Bharat is what I have inherited. I haven’t seen your country called Hindustan! Although, in the books written by you and your fellow writers, I have read about your country that once existed in time. Manto, aren’t you a refugee, with no belonging to either side! India could accept you nor did Pakistan give any respect. After partition your time was marked by calumny. Despite that like a shameless creature you have been roaming either side of the line seeking a permanent refuge. Manto, why does nobody give you a home, have you ever thought?


Home belongs to those who are well informed of the distinction between his people and others. But you never knew how to split, so how could you get a home. You just picked up the pen and tore down clothing of society without a sense of divide between people who are yours and who are not. Manto you should have been little considerate! Now tell me why these stark naked stripped people should offer you a place in their homes or they let you have your own home in their society. Being homeless is what you have written in your own destiny by your own pen. They are not guilty of it. Manto, those lawsuits filed against you, you deserved them! Not because you unveiled the intimacy of two humans or your choice of language was vulgar. The real reason was your act of unveiling that had exposed the baseness in humans and its degenerated society. Had you stopped there, damage could have been reined. But you didn’t and what you did after was unacceptable. You had drawn the lucid image of depraved human morality with the pencil that no eraser could ever erase. This had terrified the so called well-wishers and the keepers of the society, who were then forced to cover, what you had uncovered, by all means possible. A million times they tried to reason you but you were bull-headed. Eventually you were brought to the courtroom where the accused themselves were sitting on high chair of Justice. Yet, the crime belonged to you, hence you paid the fine. You were spared of life and jail but respect and reputation was snatched away. The permanent seal of scandal & dishonour was stamped to your name…. Saadat Hasan Manto, a sensationalist vulgar story writer. Such an upsurge in your reputation had forced the Progressive Writer’s Association to shun you. Manto, your name is Saadat which means Blissfulness but your writing is filled with sorrow and insolence for Society.


When Sakeena untied the waistband of her own Shalwar your conscious didn’t shake! When bullets riddled the dog of Teethwaal your pen didn’t stop! When cold meat killed all sorts of hunger in Ishwar Singh you did not snap your pen! Why? Were you not disgusted by your own pen? At least while writing ‘Smell’ you must have felt the reek, or is it that with society you too had rotten to an extent where you couldn’t get the sense of your own stench! No doubt, whatever you had written was and is the state of society. But tell me one thing, what did you get after writing those heart-shattering stories, Manto? When you were alive, neither people respected nor any country awarded you. However, after 57 years of so-called death, in the year 2012 you were awarded by Pakistan government with Nishan-e-Imtiaz, but all in vain. In 1955, you had left the world in an awful state, and after these many years it’s appalling. I think, would have been better if they had not awarded you like this, instead they had organized a gathering at the dilapidated Kotha of an old Tawaif of Lahore’s HeeraMandi or Bombay’s Kamathipura and served all invitees with cheap butt-less cigarettes and inexpensive whiskey. While savouring, they would hurl abuses at you just like the characters of your stories. Then, trust me it would have made you so happy that you would have thanked everyone by calling them your own people who speak your language.I feel pity for the characters of your stories who are orphan now and their pain is restricted to the pages of your books. With the opening of the book, they become alive and die at the closing of it. They have turned ghost, Manto! Often they emerge in my dream and ask about your well-being. Now, you tell me what I should say to them.


Disclamier: Glamsham.com is not responsible for the thoughts; it’s the writer’s opinion

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