Any celebration of friendship would become bootless without the mention of the peerless friendship between Saadat Hassan Manto and Ismat Chughtai.
Their friendship demonstrates a unique diversion from the usual competition that is usually present between two contemporary writers. They strived together through the grave and unfortunate criticism attracted by their realistic short stories.
They openly defended each other’s work and even faced the trial for the alleged “obscenity” together.
Here is an interesting extract from the court trial where both of them participated together and gave us some serious friendship goals.
An extract from Kaghazi Hai Pairahan (The Lihaf Trial)
…We appeared before the court on the day of the hearing.
The witnesses who had to prove that Manto’s story Bu and my story Lihaf were obscene, were all present there. My lawyer instructed me not to open my mouth till the interrogation began. He would answer the queries as he thought fit.
Bu was taken up first.
‘Is this story obscene?’ Manto’s lawyer asked.
‘Yes,’ answered the witness.
‘Can you put your finger on a word which is obscene?’
Witness: ‘The word “chest”.’
Lawyer: ‘My Lord, the word “chest” is not obscene.’
Witness: ‘No. But here the writer means a woman’s breasts.’
Manto was on his feet instantly and blurted out: ‘A woman’s chest must be called breasts and not groundnuts.’
The court reverberated with loud guffaws. Manto too began to laugh.
‘If the accused shows frivolity a second time he will be turned out or punished for severe contempt of court.’
Manto’s lawyer whispered into his ear and he understood the situation. The debate went on. The witness could find no other word except ‘chest’ and it could not be proved obscene.
‘If the word “chest” is obscene, why not knee or elbow?’ I asked Manto.
‘Nonsense!’ Manto growled.
…The court was crowded the next day. Several people had advised us to tender an apology. They were ready to pay the fine on our behalf. The excitement surrounding the lawsuits was waning.
The witnesses who had wanted to prove Lihaf obscene were thrown into confusion by my lawyer. They were not able to put their finger on any word in the story that would prove their point.
After a good deal of reflection, one of them said: ‘This phrase… “collecting lovers” is obscene.’
‘Which word is obscene: “collect” or “lover”?’ the lawyer asked.
‘Lover,’ replied the witness a little hesitantly.
‘My Lord, the word “lover” has been used by great poets most liberally. It is also used in naats, that is, poems written in praise of the Prophet. God-fearing people have accorded it a very high status.’
‘But it is objectionable for girls to collect lovers,’ said the witness.
‘Because… because it is objectionable for good girls to do so.’
‘And if the girls are not good, then it is not objectionable?’
‘My client must have referred to the girls who were not good. Yes, madam, do you mean here bad girls collect lovers?’
‘Well, this may not be obscene. But it is reprehensible for an educated lady from a decent family to write about such things,’ the witness thundered.
‘Censure it as much as you want. But it does not come within the purview of law.’
The issue lost much of its steam.
‘If you agree to apologize, we’ll pay up the entire expense incurred by you…,’ someone I didn’t know whispered into my ear.
‘Should we apologize, Manto Sahab? We can buy a lot of goodies with the money we’ll get,’ I suggested to Manto.
‘Nonsense!’ Manto growled Manto and his peacock eyes bulged out again.
‘I’m sorry. This madcap Manto doesn’t agree.’
‘But you…why don’t you…?’
‘No. You don’t know what a quarrelsome fellow he is! He’ll make my life miserable in Bombay. I’d rather undergo the punishment than risk his wrath.
The judge called me into the ante-room attached to the court and said quite informally, ‘I’ve read most of your stories. They aren’t obscene. Neither is Lihaf. But Manto’s writings are littered with filth.’
‘The world is also littered with filth,’ I said in a feeble voice.
‘Is it necessary to rake it up, then?’
‘If it is raked up it becomes visible and people feel the need to clean it up.’
The judge laughed.
I was not terribly worried when the suit was filed, neither did I feel elated now that I had won it. Rather I felt sad at the thought that it might be a long while before I got a chance to visit Lahore again.
Translated by M. Asaduddin.
Extract from India Dissents: 3,000 Years of Difference, Doubt, and Argument.
This translated version first got published on The Wire
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