Saadat Manto - My Name Is Radha

She turned around abruptly. . a masked man with a drawn dagger was standing before her, poised as if to attack. As soon as she turned around, a scream shot from the attacker’s throat. The dagger fell from his hand. In utter confusion, he moved this way and that to find a way out. . Finally he found an opening and bolted.

She ran after him, screaming, calling, ‘Wait. . wait, I won’t say anything. . wait!’

But the intruder paid no attention to her. He bounded over the perimeter wall and slipped clean away. Disappointed, she retreated inside. The intruder’s dagger was lying on the threshold. She picked it up and went in. . Suddenly her eyes fell on the mirror. Over her heart she had painted a leather-coloured sheath. She placed the dagger on it and looked. The sheath was a bit too small. She threw the dagger away, took four or five swigs straight from the wine bottle and started pacing back and forth, back and forth. . She’d already been through several bottles and hadn’t eaten at all.

After prolonged pacing she returned to the mirror. She saw that she was wearing a scarf around her neck which resembled a drawstring with fairly big tassels. She had painted it with her brush.

All of a sudden she felt the scarf begin to tighten, digging deeper, and still deeper into her neck. . She stood quietly before the mirror, staring at her eyes which were popping out as the scarf was tightening. . after a while the veins in her neck began to swell. She let out a big scream and fell face down on to the floor.

The Hindi — Urdu dispute has been raging for some time now. Maulvi Abdul Haq Sahib, Dr Tara Singh and Mahatma Gandhi know what there is to know about this dispute. For me, though, it has so far remained incomprehensible. Try as hard as I might, I just haven’t been able to understand. Why are Hindus wasting their time supporting Hindi, and why are Muslims so beside themselves over the preservation of Urdu? A language is not made, it makes itself. And no amount of human effort can ever kill a language. When I tried to write something about this current hot issue, I ended up with the following conversation:

MUNSHI NARAIN PARSHAD: Iqbal Sahib, are you going to drink this soda water?

MIRZA MUHAMMAD IQBAL: Yes, I am.

MUNSHI: Why don’t you drink lemon?

IQBAL: No particular reason. I just like soda water. At our house, everyone does.

MUNSHI: In other words, you hate lemon.

IQBAL: Oh, not at all. Why would I hate it, Munshi Narain Parshad? Since everyone at home drinks soda water, I’ve sort of grown accustomed to it. That’s all. But if you ask me, actually lemon tastes better than plain soda.

MUNSHI: That’s precisely why I was surprised that you would prefer something salty over something sweet. And lemon isn’t just sweet, it has a nice flavour. What do you think?

IQBAL: You’re absolutely right. But. .

MUNSHI: But what?

IQBAL: Nothing. I was just going to say that I’d take soda.

MUNSHI: Same nonsense again. I’m not forcing you to drink poison, am I? Brother, what’s the difference between the two? Both bottles are made in the same factory after all. The same machine has poured water into them. If you take the sweetness and flavour out of the lemon, what’s left?

IQBAL: Just soda. . a kind of salty water. .

MUNSHI: Then, what’s the harm in drinking the lemon?

IQBAL: No harm at all.

MUNSHI: Then drink!

IQBAL: And what will you drink?

MUNSHI: I’ll send for another bottle.

IQBAL: Why would you send for another bottle? What’s the harm in drinking plain soda?

MUNSHI: N. . n. . no harm.

IQBAL: Here, then, drink the soda water.

MUNSHI: And what will you drink?

IQBAL: I’ll get another bottle.

MUNSHI: Why would you send for another bottle? What’s the harm in drinking lemon?

IQBAL: N. . n. . no harm. And what’s the harm in drinking soda?

MUNSHI: None at all.

IQBAL: The fact is that soda is rather good.

MUNSHI: But I think that lemon. . is rather good.

IQBAL: Perhaps. . If you say so. Although I’ve heard all along from my elders that soda is rather good.

MUNSHI: Now what’s a person to make of this: I’ve heard all along from my elders that lemon is rather good.

IQBAL: But what’s your own opinion?

MUNSHI: What’s yours?

IQBAL: My opinion. . hmm. . my opinion. My opinion is just this. . but why don’t you tell me your opinion?

MUNSHI: My opinion. . hmm. . my opinion is just this. . but why should I give it first.

IQBAL: I don’t think we’ll get anywhere this way. Look, just put a lid on your glass. I’ll do the same. Then we’ll discuss the matter leisurely.

MUNSHI: No, we can’t do that. We’ve already popped the caps off the bottles. We’ll just have to drink. Come on, make up your mind, before all the fizz is gone. These drinks are worthless without the fizz.

IQBAL: I agree. And at least you do agree that there’s no real difference between lemon and soda.

MUNSHI: When did I ever say that? There’s plenty of difference. They’re as different as night and day. Lemon is sweet, flavourful, tart — three things more than soda. Soda only has fizz, which is so strong it just barges into the nose. By comparison, lemon is very tasty. One bottle and you feel fresh for hours. Generally soda water is for sick people. Besides, you just admitted yourself that lemon tends to be tastier than soda.

IQBAL: Well, that I did. But I never said that lemon is better than soda. Tasty doesn’t mean that a thing is also beneficial. Take achaar, it’s very tasty, but you already know about its harmful effects. The presence of sweetness and tartness doesn’t prove that something is good. If you were to consult a doctor he would tell you the harm lemon does to the stomach. But soda, that’s something else. It helps digestion.

MUNSHI: Look, we can settle the matter by mixing the two.

IQBAL: I have no objection to that.

MUNSHI: Well then, fill this glass halfway with soda.

IQBAL: Why don’t you fill half the glass with your lemon? I’ll pour my soda after that.

MUNSHI: Makes no sense. Why don’t you pour your soda first?

IQBAL: Because I want to drink soda — lemon mixed.

MUNSHI: And I want lemon — soda mixed.

[My publisher refused to print this story, which made me squirm up, down and in the middle quite a bit. The thing was that a lawsuit had been brought against it in Karachi and I was fined twenty-five rupees. To find some amends, I wanted to squeeze another twenty-five rupees out of my publisher, but he didn’t give in. I fidgeted around a lot and somehow scraped together some funds to have this story published so that it might reach you. Surely you’ll welcome it because you’re my reader, not my publisher.

Saadat Hasan Manto]

MIAN SAHIB: Ah, a chance to finally be together after quite a long time!

BEGUM SAHIBA: That’s right.

MIAN SAHIB: Oh, these umpteen responsibilities the nation expects me to shoulder. . For the sake of our people I can’t shirk them. . Oh, I can hardly breathe.

BEGUM SAHIBA: You know what your problem is — you’re far too compassionate. . just like me.

MIAN SAHIB: Yes, yes, I’m kept abreast of your social activities. If you can find a free moment, do send me copies of the speeches you made on different occasions recently. I want to read them in my spare time.

BEGUM SAHIBA: Well, all right, I will.

MIAN SAHIB: So, Begum, what about it. . I mean. . you know?

BEGUM SAHIBA: What about what?

MIAN SAHIB: Oh, maybe I didn’t mention. . By chance, I ended up in our middle son’s room yesterday. Would you believe it, he was reading Lady Chatterley’s Lover !