Saadat Manto - Bombay Stories

One day I accompanied my friend in his taxi while he was looking for a girl. A pimp friend of his brought out not one but two Dravidian girls. I was confused but my friend immediately said, ‘Don’t worry. What’s the difference between one or two?’

The taxi turned back toward the apartment. After getting back, my film director friend, the two girls wearing kashta saris and I climbed the stairs to the third floor. I opened his apartment’s door and what did I see inside but Nasir sitting in front of my Urdu typewriter, inspecting it. Sitting right next to him was a woman wearing glasses, and when she turned to look in our direction, I recognized her. It was Izzat Jahan.

My film director friend was nervous, but since the two girls had already entered the room it was useless to pretend.

I introduced my friend to Nasir, Nasir introduced us to his wife, and then I sat down next to them. I wanted to say something more about Izzat Jahan to my friend and when I looked at him, I found him lighting a cigarette. ‘This is one of India’s greatest Communist women,’ I said. ‘You must have read her essays.’

But my friend had no interest in Communism, and afterwards I learned he didn’t even know what the word meant. He gestured to the young women that they should go into the other room and then said, ‘Please excuse me. I’ll be back in a minute.’

Izzat Jahan was staring at my friend’s two companions and inspecting their clothes, their comportment, in short everything about them. The girls went into the other room, and my friend brazenly excused himself and closed the door behind him.

Izzat Jahan turned to me and said, ‘I’m very happy to meet you. Every day Nasir used to say, “Let’s go meet Manto, let’s go meet Manto.” But I was very busy then. And …’ Then something broke her train of thought and she started a new line of conversation. ‘You’re going to be living here, right? This house isn’t bad at all!’ She looked around the room and nodded.

‘Yes, it’s nice. There’s a breeze.’

‘It’s breezy and clean.’

‘If you open the middle door, you get a good breeze.’

‘Oh, yes, there was a little earlier.’

We had been chatting for about half an hour about this and that, but I sensed that Izzat Jahan was distracted. She was probably trying to figure out why my friend hadn’t returned as he had promised. Then suddenly she requested a glass of water.

The apartment had two hallways, one in the front and one in the back. I didn’t think it was a good idea to disturb my friend, so I brought the water back by the long way. When I got back to the room, I saw that Nasir and Izzat Jahan were whispering to each other.

Izzat Jahan took the glass. ‘You went to a lot of trouble.’

‘No, it was no trouble at all.’

She drank the water, contracted her eyebrows behind her thick glasses, and in order to make conversation, she noted how the apartment had two hallways.

We chatted again for a while, and when the conversation turned to Communism, both Izzat Jahan and I got excited. I set out to make my views on Communism known.

‘Communism says that all human institutions — religion, history, politics and so on — are rooted in economic conditions. In the present system, with the division between the rich and the poor, the instruments of production are all in the hands of the elite who then use these instruments for their benefit alone. When this order is overturned, according to you, the Communist Age will begin and the tools of production, which determine our economic conditions, will be in the hands of the common people.’

‘Yes,’ Izzat Jahan confirmed.

‘And then there will be a special executive body to represent the people’s power.’

‘Yes.’

‘But it’s worth considering how even under Communism, power will be restricted to a select group. This group, in accordance with the Communist doctrine, will act for the good of all the people and will have nothing to do with personal interests and profiteering. But who can say beyond the shadow of a doubt that this group, which is supposed to be for the people, won’t turn into something capitalistic and seek to oppress others? Won’t they abuse their power? After ruling for a while, won’t these people begin to act out of personal motives?’

Izzat Jahan smiled. ‘You sound like you’re Bakunin’s brother.’

‘I admit that Bakunin always fought with Marx and couldn’t come to accept certain points, and that despite his sincerity he couldn’t develop a logical and organized philosophy of his own. But he said this, and it wasn’t a lie, that even democracy is a euphemism for a government in which a larger group oppresses a smaller one. I’m all for any political system that frees society from all rules and oppression.’

Izzat smiled again. ‘So you want anarchism, which is impractical? Your Bakunin and Kropotkin can’t make it work.’

I interrupted her, ‘Communism was impractical, and people thought it was a crazy dream. But Marx presented it in the form of a practical social system. It’s possible that anarchism, too, will get its Marx.’

Izzat Jahan looked at the closed door, and then as if she hadn’t heard what I had just said, she asked, ‘Why hasn’t your friend returned?’

I decided to tell her the truth. ‘Earlier he was just being polite. He didn’t plan on coming back.’

‘Why?’ Izzat Jahan asked innocently.

I looked at Nasir and smiled. He was beginning to find our conversation interesting.

‘He has two girls with him. Why would he leave them for our boring company?’

‘Are they actresses?’

‘No.’

‘Friends?’

‘He just met them today.’

Little by little I told her everything, including my friend’s views on sex. She listened carefully and then pronounced her verdict, ‘This is the worst kind of anarchism. If everyone thought like your friend, then the world would be depressing. Men and women would see each other only as sexual partners, right? I don’t care who your friend is, what does he think women are? Sliced bread, cake, or biscuits? A warm cup of coffee or tea, so he can drink as much as he likes and toss the rest? Damn those women who put up with this disgraceful behaviour! I can’t understand why some people think sex is so important, or why your friend can’t live without women. Why does he need to sleep with a woman every night?’

I said what I thought, ‘Men have a special need for women. Some feel it more, and some feel it less. My friend is the type that wants to sleep with a woman every night. If food, drink, and sleep are important to him, then a woman is just as important. Maybe he’s wrong to think like this, but at least he doesn’t pretend.’

Izzat Jahan’s tone became even more bitter. ‘Just because he doesn’t hide it, doesn’t make it right. If prostitutes consent to selling their bodies, it doesn’t mean it’s natural. It’s because our way of doing things is wrong and it’s unnatural that there are prostitutes. Your friend’s nervous system isn’t sound. That’s why he can’t tell the difference between women and food. You can’t live without food, but surely you can live without sex!’

‘Sure, you can live,’ I said. ‘But when did it become a matter of life and death? You know, not every man can get a woman, but all those who can, do.’

Nasir wasn’t at all interested in our conversation. ‘Okay, enough of this. It’s late, and we have nineteen miles to go. Let’s go, Izzat, shall we?’

Izzat didn’t listen to Nasir, but said to me, ‘Whatever you say, but, really, your friend is very rude. I can’t believe the three of us were sitting here chatting and in the next room he — lahaul wala quwat!’

Nasir was sleepy. ‘All right, for God’s sake, stop talking about it! Let’s go!’