Free WHY I WRITE: ESSAYS BY SAADAT HASAN MANTO by AAKAR PATEL Page A

left home we would carry two caps. A Hindu topi and a Rumi topi. When passing through a Muslim mohalla, we would put on the Rumi topi and when walking through a Hindu mohalla, the Hindu topi. In this riot, we also bought Gandhi topis. These we kept in our pockets to be pulled out wherever needed. Religion used to be felt in the heart, but now, in the new Bombay, it must be worn on the head.
     
    – (Originally published as Batein, in Manto Ke Mazameen, 1954)
     
     

 
    Bombay During Partition
    We are fortunate that Manto brought his skills as a writer and observer to the days of Partition in Bombay. So little is known about the atmosphere and the happenings during those crucial days, obscured by the jubilation of Independence from the British. There is some material in the autobiography of the judge, M C Chagla and in the writings of Rafiq Zakaria. However, Manto brings an immediacy which makes those days come alive. Indians cannot imagine how divided their cities were during that period, and this essay will take them by surprise. Manto then tells us, through his experiences in Pakistan, how silly the whole enterprise was.
    When India was partitioned, I was in Bombay. On the radio I heard speeches made by Quaid-e-Azam Jinnah and Pandit Nehru. And I saw the chaos that came to the city.
    Before this, I had read news about Hindu-Muslim violence in the papers daily. Some days five Hindus would be cut down, other days five Muslims. In any case, it seemed to me that equal blood was drawn and shed by both sides.
    But now, at Partition, it was different.
    Let me tell you how, through this story.
    The newspaper man would throw the Times of India through the kitchen window every morning. One day, it was just after a riot, the newspaper man knocked on the door.
    I was alarmed. I walked out and saw a stranger holding out the paper.
    I asked him: ‘Where’s that man who delivers the paper daily?’
    ‘He’s dead, sir,’ the stranger replied, ‘he was stabbed in Kamathipura yesterday. Before he died, he gave me a list of people to deliver the paper to and collect the money from them.’
    I can’t express what I felt on hearing this, so I won’t try to.
    The next day I was at Claire Road, near my house, when I saw a body near the petrol pump. It was the corpse of an ice-seller, a Hindu, whose cart was next to him. The ice was melting. The drops mingled with the blood that had coagulated around him. It looked like jelly.
    Those were strange days. There was chaos, mayhem, panic everywhere and from the womb of this anarchy were born two nations. Independent India and independent Pakistan.
    Many wealthy Muslims in Bombay took a flight out to Karachi, hoping to see the celebrations of the founding of an Islamic republic.
    The rest cowered in fear, only hoping that nothing terrible would happen to them. The 14th of August arrived.
    Bombay, always beautiful, now looked as gorgeous as a bride. It was glittering with lights, so many that I think the city had never spent so much on power as it did that night.
    The Bombay Electric Supply and Tramway Company, called BEST, had decorated one of their tram cars for the festivities, covering it entirely in lights so that it resembled the Tricolour of the Congress. It roamed the city roads the whole night.
    Many buildings were also lit-up, especially the shops owned by the British, like Whiteways and Ewan Frieze’s.
    Now listen to what was going on in Bhendi Bazaar. This is a famous market area dominated by what are called in Bombay’s language, Miya Bhais — Muslims.
    It has countless hotels and restaurants, some called “Bismillah” and others called “Subhanallah”. The entire Quran is to be found in the names of this place. Bhendi Bazaar is Bombay’s Pakistan. Here, Hindus were celebrating the freedom of their Hindustan and Muslims of their Pakistan.
    I of course had no idea what to make of any of this.
    The few Hindu shops in Bhendi Bazaar displayed the Tricolour. Everywhere else,