Manto was not great; Manto was Manto

My first introduction to Manto and his writings was through a book my brother gave me which he had finished reading. My first thought after reading few of the stories was very obvious, (obvious because everyone who ever read Manto must have thought this); I found the content to be very explicit. Since I was reading an English translation of the stories it somehow seemed more acceptable than it would have in Urdu (just like abusing in English seems cool but all despicable in Hindi), I was a bit embarrassed to be reading it in front of my brother knowing he must have read all that too. This was years ago and I was much younger that time but I still remember being startled by the honesty of few stories. I vividly remember being shaken by one story about a minor prostitute who was pimped by her own mother and how she thought that it was perfectly normal what she was doing and all other girls of her age did the same.

Manto definitely, like he claimed, wrote about how the world was, without any cover whether it was the premise of the story or the language he used. Both are capable of surprising you to the limit where you deny what you read and do not wish to accept that our society is stranger than fiction. Reading Manto now is definitely revolutionizing for my mind. At this age when I am aware of the atrocities of life, I have seen ups and downs and the entire emotional trauma, Manto makes more sense than ever. Now even I fall in the category of those who consider him a great writer, no matter if initially I loathed him.

I understand now that it is not just an open or liberal mind that is necessary to understand Manto but a certain level of courage where you are open to see the society stark naked, without the cover of fancy language or words which could make its savagery subtle.  

I read a letter which Ismat Chughtai wrote to a Pakistani publishing house, who wanted to commemorate Manto on his 20^th death anniversary; the letter was not less than tragic summary of the writer’s life; though she claimed she did not intend to do that. I was crying by the end of it. I have never read anything more powerful and fitting reply to all those who want to put up a spectacle of hypocrisy by doing something they do not believe in. We always tend to loath and ignore the ones who are not like us or think like us. If Manto was alive today I am sure the death threat which he received then would have been committed already. I was hurt when I read that he had to leave Mumbai because of the communal hatred which engulfed the country post-partition. For a humanist it is the tragedy of the worst kind. I am sure he did not look for any sort of social confirmation but also didn’t expect what he got – persecution.

Today he is great; great writer, great thinker, reformist and humanist. However if suddenly Manto comes alive and start writing again he would face the same persecution. I feel people find him great now because he wrote in the past and does not write now to show people the mirror of reality.  There are probably few like Manto today who people hate to read and listen because their reality does not match the illusion they live in.

Manto was not great, Manto was Manto, and he was no philosopher, not a thinker or a reformist. He was simply an honest courageous man who did not fear writing what he felt. If only the world then and now could respect people who have that courage and not have to suffer segregation or seclusion and die tragically only to become great and famous later.

Ismat Chughtai couldn’t have put it better when she wrote, “Look carefully to see if there is any Manto among you. Is there anyone among you who talks nonsense, who is extremely sensitive, who makes lots of silly mistakes and blunders, and who says things that no one understands? Is there anyone among you who thinks that no one understands him, who goes on showing his obstinacy, who sticks like a thistle on the hem of every passerby until he becomes unbearable? Is there anyone among you who thinks he's a great writer, but nobody is willing to admit it, a pauper or beggar who asks for money, properly and improperly, someone people try to avoid because he is alone? Beware of such a fraud, for if he dies tomorrow, you might have to bow your heads before him. You might be compelled to write articles; you might be compelled to hold gatherings in his honor.”

Certainly you cannot make Manto great if you cannot accept people telling you things the way they are or telling you the naked truth of the society and if you still think he is great then you are just a hypocrite.