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Articles, EssaysJuly 25, 2013

Recounting Irregular Verbs and Counting She-Goats

By Muhammad Umar Memon

pink-invite1Saadat Hasan Manto’s non-fictional piece Ismat-Faroshi is an impassioned defense of women who practice the world’s oldest profession. He goes into great detail arguing vigorously for prostitution’s similarity to every other profession; hence, deserving of respect. We do not look down on a typist, or even a sweeper woman, so why should we ride roughshod over a bawd? All three do what they do in order to earn a living.

No exceptional intelligence is required to detect that at the back of this almost pathological engagement with prostitutes, is Manto’s defense of himself against frequent charges of obscenity. (I say pathological for good reason: Manto not only wrote a goodly number of stories in which the vashiya occupies center stage, he also revisited her in quite a few of his articles, as if he was obsessed with, indeed fixated on this much maligned being.) The Karachi judge Mehdi Ali Siddiqi, in whose court Manto was tried for Upar, Neeche, aur Darmiyan (upper, lower, and middle), considered him “the greatest Urdu short story writer after Munshi Premchand”  [1]  (p.185), but nevertheless fined him twenty-five rupees for the offence, which raised Manto’s dander. Later, in a friendly meeting, Manto asked the judge how the fine squared with “greatest writer, etc.” The judge replied that he would give him the reason at some later time. And he did. By then Manto was six feet below the ground, perhaps being repeatedly grilled by the inquisitors Munkar and Nakeer of the Divine Supreme Court.

Where Ghulam Abbas could get away by writing his masterly suggestive Aanandi without stepping on the toes of the ever-vigilant law, Manto was dragged to the court on a charge of obscenity for a number of his stories. But, even if one subjected Manto’s so-called “obscene” stories to the harshest scrutiny, one would come away terribly disappointed, unable to find anything remotely smutty. (In Judge Siddiqi’s words, “He hadn’t used a single obscene word in the story [‘Upar’, ‘Neeche’, ‘aur Darmiyan’], which is absolutely true” (p.187)). Such stories do not dwell on the sex act and its titillating details, but simply use lovemaking to underscore some aspect of the character’s mind and personality. Not a whiff of a desire to excite or inflame the reader’s passion is noticeable in the Manto stories characterized as obscene. Take, for instance, Thanda Gosht (literally, cold meat). The language of the back-and-forth between Kalwant Kaur and Eshar Singh might appear to contradict what I have said, but only if the end of the story is thrown overboard. However, the power of the story’s denouement, which does not derive from sex, breaks upon the reader’s senses with such overwhelming force that he can’t even think of anything else. It is the very idea of promiscuity—that raises the hackles of “righteous” people. And the relations of the lawfully married, though they can be as stormy and gratifying as anything with a prostitute—are not something you talk about. You just do it, in the privacy of your bedroom, or wherever else its indomitable force overtakes you. Chances are, God will even reward you for it. (Marry and be fruitful, something like that—remember?)

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One last love letter...

April 24, 2021

It has taken us some time and patience to come to this decision. TMS would not have seen the success that it did without our readers and the tireless team that ran the magazine for the better part of eight years.

But… all good things must come to an end, especially when we look at the ever-expanding art and literary landscape in Pakistan, the country of the magazine’s birth.

We are amazed and proud of what the next generation of creators are working with, the themes they are featuring, and their inclusivity in the diversity of voices they are publishing. When TMS began, this was the world we envisioned…

Though the magazine has closed and our submissions shuttered, this website will remain open for the foreseeable future as an archive of the great work we published and the astounding collection of diverse voices we were privileged to feature.

If, however, someone is interested in picking up the baton, please email Maryam Piracha, the editor, at maryamp@themissingslate.com.

Farewell, fam! It’s been quite a ride.

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