SAADAT HASAN MANTO, HINDI, KAHANIYAN. IdentifierManto-Kahaniyan- Hindi. Identifier-arkark://t1sf86t1f. OcrABBYY FineReader. सआदत हसन मंटो का जन्म- 11 मई, को समराला, पंजाब में हुआ था। आप कहानीकार और लेखक थे। मंटो ने फ़िल्म और रेडियो. The contains top Afsanas of Sadat Hasan Manto-one of the controversial short stories writer. he talked about sex workers and drug peddlers- the topics that.

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Manto kahanian by Saadat Hassan Manto Literature Books, Poetry Books, Loud Speaker by Saadat Hasan Manto Urdu Afsana PDF Free Urdu Afsanay Free. Manto Ki Bees Kahaniyan Was Written By Saadat Hasan Manto. Manto Ki Bees Kahaniyan By Saadat Hasan Manto (download pdf). Ahmed 4 years ago Novels & Fiction, Urdu Books. Book: Manto Ki Bees Kahaniyan.

Now he begun asking where Toba Tek Singh was to go. But nobody seemed to know where it was. Those who tried to explain themselves got bogged down in another enigma: Sialkot, which used to be in India, now was in Pakistan.

At this rate, it seemed as if Lahore, which was now in Pakistan, would slide over to India. Perhaps the whole of India might become Pakistan. It was all so confusing! And who could say if both India and Pakistan might not entirely disappear from the face of the earth one day?

The hair on the Sikh lunatic's head had thinned and his beard had matted, making him look wild and ferocious. But he was a harmless creature.

In fifteen years he had not even once had a row with anyone. The older employees of the asylum knew that he had been a well-to-do fellow who had owned considerable land in Toba Tek Singh.

Then he had suddenly gone mad. His family had brought him to the asylum in chains and left him there. They came to meet him once a month but ever since the communal riots had begun, his relatives had stopped visiting him. He did not know what day it was, what month it was and how many years he had spent in the asylum. Yet as if by instinct he knew when his relatives were going to visit, and on that day he would take a long bath, scrub his body with soap, put oil in his hair, comb it and put on clean clothes.

She was now a comely and striking young girl of fifteen, who Bishan Singh failed to recognize. She would come to visit him, and not be able to hold back her tears. Nobody could tell him. Now even the visitors had stopped coming. Previously his sixth sense would tell him when the visitors were due to come.

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But not anymore. His inner voice seemed to have stilled. He missed his family, the gifts they used to bring and the concern with which they used to speak to him. He also had the feeling that they came from Toba Tek Singh, his old home. One of the lunatics had declared himself God. As was his habit the man greeted Bishan Singh's question with a loud laugh and then said, "It's neither in India nor in Pakistan.

In fact, it is nowhere because till now I have not taken any decision about its location. But 'God' seemed to be very busy other matters. Had you been a Sikh God, you would have surely helped me out. He had never visited him before. On seeing him, Bishan Singh tried to slink away, but the warder barred his way. Fazal Din placed his hand on Bishan Singh's shoulder.

Your family is well and has gone to India safely. I did what I could to help. Fazal Din continued: "Your family wanted me to make sure you were well. Soon you'll be moving to India. Tell Balbir that Fazal Din is well.

The two brown buffaloes he left behind are well too. His characterization is so raw and realistic that you connect with them even in the short lived stories that he writes. The stories are simple, captivating, one that leave you pondering over the tales for long after you've finished them. Your heart breaks a little at the end of every story because the end is just too close to reality.

This was my first and surely not the last. Now I am in search of a yet bigger collection of his stories. Oct 13, Archies rated it really liked it. Manto has always been special for me. His stories are fantastic.

I can imagine what might have happened during that time. Dec 22, Ravi Prakash rated it it was amazing. Sep 30, Konain rated it liked it Shelves: To be fair to Manto, I'm not much into short stories. Probably minus one star for that. Having said that, the stories were a mixed bag, ranging from pathetic IMHO to outright excellent. I'll specially mention the ones wherein he described the chaotic times that were the partition of India.

The times when men from both the sides left their humanity much behind and seemed to have sold their souls to the devil. The pathos which Manto created in those stories and gave an account of the destruction To be fair to Manto, I'm not much into short stories. The pathos which Manto created in those stories and gave an account of the destruction all around is surreal. A good read if you are a fan of short stories, if you are not Sep 15, Aisha Ash marked it as to-read.

Dec 18, Pankaj rated it it was amazing. This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here. It's very nice book. Mohammad Wasim rated it it was amazing May 07, Amit Kumar rated it it was amazing Oct 04, Geetika rated it really liked it Sep 24, Aakash rated it liked it Mar 03, Bhumika Soni rated it it was amazing Dec 20, She was wearing a loose white gown whose open collar revealed a generous view of her breasts, large and marked with blue veins.

Her upper arms, which were bare, were covered with a dusting of extremely fine hairs as though she had just come from a beauty salon where during her haircut these hairs had fallen onto her arms to stick like crushed nuts on sweets. Trilochan was walking toward his door when Mozelle came out from her apartment wearing wooden sandals.

Trilochan heard their sound and stopped. Through her disheveled hair, Mozelle looked at him and laughed, and this unnerved Trilochan. He took the key from his pocket and quickly started toward his door, but as they passed each other Mozelle slipped and fell on the slick cement.

Before Trilochan realized it, Mozelle was lying on top of him with her long gown at her waist and her naked, fleshy legs on either side of him. Panting, Trilochan apologized earnestly. Trilochan thought it might not be easy to get to know Mozelle, but she opened up to him very quickly. And yet she was very self-centered, and she gave no weight to what he said or did. He bought her food and drinks, treated her to movies, and stayed with her all day when she went swimming at Juhu Beach.

But when he wandered beyond her arms or lips, she scolded him.

He became so subservient that he waited on her hand and foot and catered to her every whim. Trilochan had never been in love. In Lahore, Burma, and Singapore, he had gone to prostitutes, but he had never imagined that as soon as he reached Bombay, he would fall deeply in love with a careless, self-centered Jewish girl.

Whenever he asked her to the movies, she would immediately get ready. On other occasions they would be at a restaurant, and Trilochan would order a huge spread just for Mozelle.

But if she saw one of her close friends, she would leave in the middle of eating, and Trilochan could only watch and fume. Mozelle would often infuriate him when she would callously leave him to go out with her close friends and then not come back for days, sometimes on the excuse of a headache, and sometimes an upset stomach, although Trilochan knew hers to be as strong as steel.

Your ex-lovers? Who told you we were together? Mozelle had become his big weakness, and he always wanted to be with her. And yet she often humiliated him, and in front of worthless Christian boys, she would embarrass him. Many times he made himself forget what she said and forgive her for how she acted. For two years he suffered like this.

He flew into a rage. He strode forward, brusquely drew Mozelle to him, and pressed his lips against hers. Mozelle took out a small mirror from her purse and looked at her lips where she saw scratches on her thickly laid lipstick. It could really clean my Navy blue skirt. He sat down calmly on the sofa, and Mozelle came and sat beside him.

She let down his beard, sticking the pins one by one between her teeth. Trilochan was beautiful. Before his beard had started to grow, people always mistook him for a striking young girl. But now his beard hid his features beneath its bushy mass.

He knew it obscured his beauty, but he was obedient and respected his religion. I was wrong to say it could clean my Navy blue skirt. I want to marry you. Quickly she came up to Trilochan, kissed him on his beard, and left, grimacing. It is impossible to describe how much Trilochan suffered that night as he thought about getting his hair cut. The next day in a Fort barber shop he got his hair cut and beard shaved. He kept his eyes clamped shut throughout the proceedings.

When the business was finally over, he opened his eyes and stared for a long time in a mirror—now he would draw the attention of even the most beautiful girls in Bombay! He began to pace back and forth on the terrace over to where there were a number of water pipes and tanks.

The second day he sent a note to Mozelle through his servant saying he was sick and asking if she could come by for a moment. Mozelle came. Seeing Trilochan, she stopped short.

She was so emotional that her nose began to run. He smiled and drew her to his chest. It was decided that the wedding would be in Pune. This was a legality.

Scent of a woman: Sa'adat Hasan Manto's 'Smell'

Pune was the best place for the marriage as it was close and Trilochan had some friends there. They decided to leave for Pune the very next day.

Mozelle was a salesgirl in a store in the Fort. There was a taxi stand near her store where she asked him to wait. The next day he learned that she had left for Deolali with an old friend who had just bought a brand-new car and that she was going to stay there for a while. What happened then to Trilochan? That is a very long story. The short version is that he drew up his courage and resolved to forget her. Soon after that, he met Kirpal Kaur and fell in love with her. Then he realized that Mozelle was nothing more than a wild girl with a cold heart who jumped from here to there like a bird.

Despite this he would think about Mozelle from time to time. Regardless, it was painful for Trilochan to think that she was living with someone other than him, but at the same time such behavior was nothing but in character. He had spent not just hundreds but thousands of rupees on her. She liked cheap things. They would spend hours kissing, and he would run his hands all over her body.

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But she never let him go further. I hate you. If she had, she would never have agreed to spend time with him. Mozelle made up her own mind about things. On many occasions Trilochan had stressed their absolute necessity and even tried to shame her into wearing them, but she never reformed her ways. If you get offended, close your eyes. I know you wear those silly baggy underpants.

You should be ashamed. Then, after getting his hair cut, he was overcome by the feeling of how much time he had wasted carrying around his heavy mess of hair. He cursed Mozelle and forced himself to stop thinking about her.

Kirpal Kaur, pure and innocent Kirpal Kaur, whom he loved, was in danger. She lived in a neighborhood full of the most violent sort of Muslims and already two or three incidents had taken place. The problem was that there was a forty-eight-hour curfew in effect. And yet who really cared about that?

Muslims living in her building could very easily kill her and her parents at any time. Concentrating on this, Trilochan sat down on a large water pipe. His hair had grown out, and he was sure that in under a year it would look as though he had never cut it. His beard had grown fast as well. He stroked his long, soft hair and sighed deeply.

He was about to get up when he heard the hard slap of wooden sandals.Guys, look—the one in the blue sari. What happened then to Trilochan? In exasperation he grabbed the two ends and tugged at them so vigorously that the knot came undone. And who could say if both India and Pakistan might not entirely disappear from the face of the earth one day? Hasan Khan rated it did not like it Sep 30, Sarita was blissfully free from worry.

He roundly abused all the Hindu and Muslim leaders who had conspired to divide India into two, thus making his beloved an Indian and him a Pakistani. Her father was paralyzed.

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