After spending a dreary quarter plus century in the fauz mostly in moffussil towns of borderland where you are so lonely that you feel a pressing need for a hiatus before you start the next inning . Sometimes a very tiring ennui sets in ; which gnaws at your entrails and it is so overbearing and encompassing its leave you despondent .A very depressing miliue indeed. It was one such gloomy evening in Gangtok when outside leaves of the peepel tree were fluttering in the rain ; while aimlessly rummaging my library I picked up "Manto Ki Badnaam Kahanian " .True to the miliue was the context of the book ,so once again I read the book and what appeal the most to me is the story Boo(smell) , which I will narrate subsequently . As the name suggest it contains lurid tales from the netherworld for which he was despised by the so called page three crowd (recently Punjabi University removed his stories from the curriculum of honours classes). But Manto is the master story teller about the denizens of the flip side of the society,, whose true portraiture of them and the underbelly of the society which is so near so dear but so distant is enough to shake your conscience . We all love that world where all are unpretentious and without the vestige of civility. In his salaciously titled stories like Khol Do, Kali Shalwar , Nangi Awazein , Shikari Aurtein , Thanda Gosht , Upper niche aur darmayan ,Boo ,Toba Tek Singh and Babu Gopi Nath etc.narrates the tales of those who are on the fringes of the society .They are so close to all of us and our alter ego that's why Randhir in boo has no remorse in sleeping with a lowely ghatan girl . In Babu Gopi Nath story Gopinath made no qualms in saying that '' baat asal main yeh hai kee main shuru se hi fakiron aur kanjaron ki sangat main raha hoon mujhe inse mohabbat ho gayee hai main inke bagair nahin reh sakta (The truth is that I have lived with fakirs and vegabonds. I love them and can't live without them) . Randi ka kotha aur Pir ka mazar bas do zagah hai jahan mujhe man ko sakoon milta hai , isliye ki in dono jagahon per farsh se arsh tak dhoka hi dhoka hota hai jo admi apne ko dhoka dena chahe uske liye is se achee zagah kya ho sakti hai (whorehouses and shrines are places where you get peace of mind and from top to bottom it;s all about deception .What better place can be for a person who want to decieve himself ? ) . In the mayhem of partition Isher singh and kulwant kaur of ''Thanda Gosht '' are sexual giants and specially kulwant kaur whom Manto describe as ;;-.kulwant kaur bhare bhare hath pair wali aurat thee chode chakle kulhe thul thul karnewale gosht se bharpur kuch bahut hi zyada udha hua seena tez ankhen uperi honth per surmuyee gubar thodi ki banawat se lagta tha bade dhadhale ki aurat hai !!!!(Kulwant kaur was a big women with generous hips fleshy thighs and unusually high breasts . Her eyes were sharp and bright and upper lip there was a faint bluish down . Her chin suggested great strength and resolution ) .In ecstasy she struck Isher Singh with a sword as she come to know of his sexcpade with the corpse !!!!
Boo or smell I consider as a summum bonum of Manto . In 'boo' Randhir who is feeling very lonely and It was a monsoon day leaves of peepal tree were fluttering in the rain .Randhir came out in the balcony and saw this ghatan girl who was hiding under the tamarind tree to save herself from the rain .Randhir was handsome , fair man and is very fond of christian girls . Hazel was one, who was staying next to him but had joined the women auxilliary force. Every morning while going to duty , she would tease him with her swagger and khaki cap which she put at a rakish angle on her military cut hair. He cleared his throat to draw ghatan's attention and signalled her to come up ;just to even up with Hazel. .It was the same monsoon day when peepal leaves were fluttering in the air. All night they clung to each other . It was a primordial smell from the body of ghatan girl which he recognise but could not describe it,, a strange smell so alluring but repellent . With every breath he took in,, that smell which is coming from every pore of her body from her arm pits her breasts her stomach her hair and it has entered into every fibre of his body and invaded his thoughts .It was without artificiality of perfume but pure and real .it was as real and pure as the story of relation of man and woman . Randhir hated the smell of sweat.It was amazing he kissed the girl's hairy arm pits and was not at all disgusted , but rather found this surprisingly pleasurable.
It was a monsoon day just like today when Randhir had only one teak bed in his room , now there was another one with a dressing table . Sharp aroma of henna hung in the air . His beautiful wife who was fair skinned and beautiful and laying next to him . from her naked body sharp scent of henna is wafting and her body is as soft as dough mixed with butter and milk ,, but Randhir could barely tolerate this noxious gut wrenching acidic smell which comes with acidic burps .He could not get over from that raw smell which he smelled from that ghatan girl's body . His newly married wife who is graduate and daughter of magistrate who was heart throb of thousands could not arouse passion in him , when outside peepal leaves were fluttering in the rain .
It was a Bombay of 30-40s when industrialisation had just begun and a virtual El Dorado for thousands of mill workers who thronged its squalid chawls and slums with families back in villages . Manto wrote about them and raw human passion and he vividly brought out stories of prostitutes ,vegabonds, thieves, recluse and other left overs from the society . Manto was banned and he had to face the trial for obscenity. A maverick genius who migrated to Pakistan and died there due to excessive drinking at the age of 42 .
Boo or smell I consider as a summum bonum of Manto . In 'boo' Randhir who is feeling very lonely and It was a monsoon day leaves of peepal tree were fluttering in the rain .Randhir came out in the balcony and saw this ghatan girl who was hiding under the tamarind tree to save herself from the rain .Randhir was handsome , fair man and is very fond of christian girls . Hazel was one, who was staying next to him but had joined the women auxilliary force. Every morning while going to duty , she would tease him with her swagger and khaki cap which she put at a rakish angle on her military cut hair. He cleared his throat to draw ghatan's attention and signalled her to come up ;just to even up with Hazel. .It was the same monsoon day when peepal leaves were fluttering in the air. All night they clung to each other . It was a primordial smell from the body of ghatan girl which he recognise but could not describe it,, a strange smell so alluring but repellent . With every breath he took in,, that smell which is coming from every pore of her body from her arm pits her breasts her stomach her hair and it has entered into every fibre of his body and invaded his thoughts .It was without artificiality of perfume but pure and real .it was as real and pure as the story of relation of man and woman . Randhir hated the smell of sweat.It was amazing he kissed the girl's hairy arm pits and was not at all disgusted , but rather found this surprisingly pleasurable.
It was a monsoon day just like today when Randhir had only one teak bed in his room , now there was another one with a dressing table . Sharp aroma of henna hung in the air . His beautiful wife who was fair skinned and beautiful and laying next to him . from her naked body sharp scent of henna is wafting and her body is as soft as dough mixed with butter and milk ,, but Randhir could barely tolerate this noxious gut wrenching acidic smell which comes with acidic burps .He could not get over from that raw smell which he smelled from that ghatan girl's body . His newly married wife who is graduate and daughter of magistrate who was heart throb of thousands could not arouse passion in him , when outside peepal leaves were fluttering in the rain .
It was a Bombay of 30-40s when industrialisation had just begun and a virtual El Dorado for thousands of mill workers who thronged its squalid chawls and slums with families back in villages . Manto wrote about them and raw human passion and he vividly brought out stories of prostitutes ,vegabonds, thieves, recluse and other left overs from the society . Manto was banned and he had to face the trial for obscenity. A maverick genius who migrated to Pakistan and died there due to excessive drinking at the age of 42 .
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