reform. One incident has brought this lack of harmony. True. But we must now be rid of its fallout.
Where is our humanity? Where are its keepers?
– (Originally published as Qatal-o-Khoon Ki Surkhiyan )
God is Gracious in Pakistan
If ever there was a prophetic piece on Pakistan it is this. Manto sketches an apocalyptic, Mad Max type future for Pakistan in this essay, as he began to recognize its Orwellian trajectory. Who can say he had it wrong? As they blow themselves up in acts of piety, taking offense to blasphemy, infidelity, apostasy and heresy, Pakistan is acting out its laws on its streets. It has moved along the cultural path that Manto saw it taking. There is no chance that something like this can be published in Pakistan again.
God is gracious, ladies and gentlemen.
There was once that time of barbarism when we had police stations in every neighbourhood. We had the high courts. There were government offices and chowkis. There were jails filled with prisoners.
There were clubs where people gambled, and where they could get a drink or two. There were dance bars and discotheques. There were cinema halls and art galleries.
There was all of that nonsense.
But now, praise god! We can find neither poet nor musician. Allah help us, their music was the most debased thing. Are humans meant to sing? Sitting with their tanpuras and wailing away. And singing what?
Malkauns and Darbari Kannada and Miyan ki Todi and god alone knows what.
Someone should have asked: ‘Look, what benefit has ever come to mankind from your raags? Do something that people will remember you by, that you’ll be blessed for. That will make you feel less fearful of the grave.’
But god is all grace, ladies and gentlemen. These vulgarities are all gone now. Abolished. And, if god is gracious enough, this vulgar existence of being will also be taken away from us slowly.
I mentioned poets — what strange people they were. Neither mindful of Allah nor fearful of His Prophet. Forever referring to their lovers, some Rehana, some Salma.
And, Allah forbid! All this stuff about praising hair and cheeks. All this dreaming of “union”. How filthy their minds were! Hai aurat (Oh woman)! they went all the time.
But now, by the grace of god, we’ve got fewer women among us, or at least it seems that way, because the ones we have are secure inside their homes. And the poets are gone.
Ever since Pakistan has been cleansed of poets, the very air around us has become pure and unpolluted.
I forgot to say — in the last days of poets we had those who wrote, instead of love and their women, of labour and labourers. Instead of hair and skin, they praised sickles and hammers. Thank god, we’re now rid of them and their labourers. Bastards wanted revolution, you know? To overthrow governments, to get rid of the State. To take over the economy and religion.
God’s grace ensured that we were delivered from these barbarians misleading innocent people. They kept demanding, illegally I might add, their rights as human beings. With their ridiculous flags in hand, they wanted to instal a secular government. God be praised, none of them is now among us. And, a thousand praises to Allah, now Pakistan is an Islamic State ruled by mullahs. Every Thursday night we treat them to halwa. You will be disturbed to know that in those days the very existence of halwa was under threat. The poor mullahs — may god give them a thousand lives in heaven! — used to pine for it. And every hair of their lustrous beards demanded the banishing of razors. God be praised! Their prayers were answered. Now, try as you might, you cannot find a razor anywhere.
But halwa, the religious nourishment of our mullah representatives, can be found anywhere you want.
God be praised, nobody sings thumri or dadra any longer. Film songs are gone too. The funeral of music has been led out, and it has been buried with such thoroughness that no messiah can resurrect it.
What a curse
Where is our humanity? Where are its keepers?
– (Originally published as Qatal-o-Khoon Ki Surkhiyan )
God is Gracious in Pakistan
If ever there was a prophetic piece on Pakistan it is this. Manto sketches an apocalyptic, Mad Max type future for Pakistan in this essay, as he began to recognize its Orwellian trajectory. Who can say he had it wrong? As they blow themselves up in acts of piety, taking offense to blasphemy, infidelity, apostasy and heresy, Pakistan is acting out its laws on its streets. It has moved along the cultural path that Manto saw it taking. There is no chance that something like this can be published in Pakistan again.
God is gracious, ladies and gentlemen.
There was once that time of barbarism when we had police stations in every neighbourhood. We had the high courts. There were government offices and chowkis. There were jails filled with prisoners.
There were clubs where people gambled, and where they could get a drink or two. There were dance bars and discotheques. There were cinema halls and art galleries.
There was all of that nonsense.
But now, praise god! We can find neither poet nor musician. Allah help us, their music was the most debased thing. Are humans meant to sing? Sitting with their tanpuras and wailing away. And singing what?
Malkauns and Darbari Kannada and Miyan ki Todi and god alone knows what.
Someone should have asked: ‘Look, what benefit has ever come to mankind from your raags? Do something that people will remember you by, that you’ll be blessed for. That will make you feel less fearful of the grave.’
But god is all grace, ladies and gentlemen. These vulgarities are all gone now. Abolished. And, if god is gracious enough, this vulgar existence of being will also be taken away from us slowly.
I mentioned poets — what strange people they were. Neither mindful of Allah nor fearful of His Prophet. Forever referring to their lovers, some Rehana, some Salma.
And, Allah forbid! All this stuff about praising hair and cheeks. All this dreaming of “union”. How filthy their minds were! Hai aurat (Oh woman)! they went all the time.
But now, by the grace of god, we’ve got fewer women among us, or at least it seems that way, because the ones we have are secure inside their homes. And the poets are gone.
Ever since Pakistan has been cleansed of poets, the very air around us has become pure and unpolluted.
I forgot to say — in the last days of poets we had those who wrote, instead of love and their women, of labour and labourers. Instead of hair and skin, they praised sickles and hammers. Thank god, we’re now rid of them and their labourers. Bastards wanted revolution, you know? To overthrow governments, to get rid of the State. To take over the economy and religion.
God’s grace ensured that we were delivered from these barbarians misleading innocent people. They kept demanding, illegally I might add, their rights as human beings. With their ridiculous flags in hand, they wanted to instal a secular government. God be praised, none of them is now among us. And, a thousand praises to Allah, now Pakistan is an Islamic State ruled by mullahs. Every Thursday night we treat them to halwa. You will be disturbed to know that in those days the very existence of halwa was under threat. The poor mullahs — may god give them a thousand lives in heaven! — used to pine for it. And every hair of their lustrous beards demanded the banishing of razors. God be praised! Their prayers were answered. Now, try as you might, you cannot find a razor anywhere.
But halwa, the religious nourishment of our mullah representatives, can be found anywhere you want.
God be praised, nobody sings thumri or dadra any longer. Film songs are gone too. The funeral of music has been led out, and it has been buried with such thoroughness that no messiah can resurrect it.
What a curse
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