Article Written By EIH Researcher And Writer
Devanshi Panda
In 2018, the film Manto, starring Nawazauddin Siddiqui and directed by Nandita Das, was banned in Pakistan due to a violation of the censorship code. Even in his death, Manto struggled to bypass the cold walls of the bureaucracy. During his lifetime, the renowned Urdu writer Saadat Hasan Manto had to run around the court and endure the tedious process of trials in order to defend his works against charges of obscenity. Siddiqui as Manto asserts strongly in the film, says that literary critics may judge his work on the basis of its quality. Still, adab, that is, literature, can never be considered obscene. In real life, Manto applied this thought process to every court summons he received.
Both in British India and post-colonial Pakistan, he was criticized due to the “sexual” overtones of his work. In pre-independent India, he was put on trial for his stories “Bu,” “Dhuan,” and “Kali Shalwar.” Bu, a story about a man’s obsession with the order of a lower-caste woman’s odour and his subsequent disinterest in his newly married wife and her perfumed body, and Dhuan, a story about the sexual awakening of a twelve-year-old boy named Masud, both necessitated that the author travel from Bombay to Lahore for the court case. Bu became the subject of a court case when it was brought to the attention of the War Department in 1944. It was considered objectionable as it painted the Women’s Auxiliary Corps in an unfavorable light. A memo from General Wade said, “The story is certainly most… detrimental to recruiting insofar as it suggests that associations in the W.A.C. (I) may be those of prostitutes [and we] wish to press for prosecution.” During the court case, Manto irritably expressed, “What else did you expect me to call a woman’s breasts—peanuts?”
Kali Shalwar, a story featuring the prostitute Sultana, whose business was failing, was published in 1942 in Adab-i-Latif but was soon after banned under Section 292 of the Indian Penal Code on grounds of obscenity, for which Manto had to travel from Delhi to Lahore three times. The case against Bu was still under judicial consideration when he was tried for the other two stories. The colonial government had been made aware of Manto’s writings by the press. Specifically, by an article in the Lahore Tribune titled “Traffic in Obscene Literature.” Manto’s friend, Ismat Chugtai, featured in the article as well. Both of them were required to personally appear in the Lahore District Court until their acquittal on June 1, 1946. During the trial in November 1946, many in the audience even offered to pay fines on behalf of both writers. For Manto, the court was “a place where every humiliation is inflicted and where it must be suffered in silence.”
Thanda’s Ghost is one of Manto’s most well-known and contentious stories. The story is set against the backdrop of the partition and, through an encounter between Ishar Singh and his lover, reveals the harrowing realities of rape and necrophilia that plagued the landscapes of India and Pakistan. It was published in the brand-new journal of Javed Post Independence, but soon after, the office of the journal was searched, and all available copies of the story were confiscated. The case was brought before the Press Advisory Board, whose convener, Faiz Ahmed Faiz, was not in support of Thanda Ghost’s obscenity charge. Unfortunately, not all members on the panel agreed; some were staunch conservationists who even went on to criticse the journal Javed itself. Chaudhry Mohammad Hussain laid out the central message of the story as such: “We Muslims are so dishonoudishonorable that Sikhs did not even spare one of our dead girls.” The matter was taken to court, and on 16th January 1950, both Manto and the journal’s editor and publisher were found guilty. Manto was sentenced to three months of “rigorous imprisonment” and fined 300 rupees.
If the fine was not paid, Manto would have to serve another 21 days in prison. Manto paid the fine and was then released on bail. After this, his lawyer filed an appeal in the Additional Sessions Court at Lahore. The sessions judge Inayatullah Khan, acquitted Manto of obscenity charges on 10th July 1950. While Khan did not particularly approve of the story, he also did not consider it to be laced with obscenity. He also ensured the remission of all fines. But this was not the end of the Thanda Ghost’s ghost. Ultimately, due to the government’s appeal, Manto had to pay a fine of 300 rupees so as not to spend time in prison.
Manto’s fifth trial, the story of Oopar, neechay aur darmiyan, which talks about people from different social classes who have the same desires, has been described in detail by the author in a series of articles titled Paanchva Muqadma. Oopar, Neechay, aur Darmiyan had been published in Payam-e-Mashriq, a magazine. Soon, a warrant was issued from Karachi. Manto was not home at the time, but when he arrived on the scene, the constables pushed their way into his home and seized his newspaper clippings. The warrant was not just for a search but also for his arrest. He was taken under arrest, then bailed, and then had to return to the monotony of the court. Manto admits to having sent doctors’ letters stating that he was too unwell to attend court cases in the past, but this time, he says, that excuse was over. Manto trudged along with his friend Nasir Anwar, carrying fifteen bottles of beer along on the train journey—the only thing that he admits made the miserable, dust-filled ride bearable for him. The trial at Karachi was a breeze compared to all the hardships Manto had to endure all through the years. The judge treated him with politeness and respect and let him off with only a Rs. 25 fine. Below is an amusing excerpt from his essay, where his poor listening skills actually helped save him from financial trouble:
“ He (the judge) looked at his assistant and said: “What’s the date today?” the assistant said it: Pacchees. I’m a little hard of hearing and thought he had fined me that sum. A Rs 25 fine meant I couldn’t appeal, and the sentence against me would stay. “Sir, a 25-Rupee fine!” I said to him.I think he had actually fined me Rs 500 but when he heard the alarm in my words he smiled and changed it to Rs 25.”
Post the trial, the judge met Manto in a coffee house and expressed his admiration for the writer. Manto was perplexed, why had the judge fined him, then? The judge replied that he would tell him the answer in a year. Unfortunately, Manto passed away soon after, on 18th January, 1955.
We now, however, have access to the judge’s reply, which has been published in the book “ Manto Saheb: Friends and Enemies.”
” The intention of law is not to obstruct literature from fulfilling its objectives and expectations. Law only requires that these objectives be beneficial for human beings. If the sole purpose of writing is not to benefit humankind but only to titillate and sexually excite, and the vocabulary and content are such that they will entangle the weak-willed in the mesh of sexual gratification and degeneration, the law will brand such writing as obscene……. Law also recognizes the fact that instead of appreciating the beauty and nuances of differences that creep into the sexual acts of people from different classes, the majority of people would distort it so such an extent that it would degenerate into mere sexual gratification,” expressed judge Mehdi Ali Siddiqui. To Siddiqui’s pleasant surprise, he found out that Manto had dedicated the collection of stories entitled Upar, Neeche aur Darmiyan to him.
Perhaps it is some solace that Manto’s death was preceded by a more or less pleasant encounter at the court. But the physical and mental toll on an already financially troubled Manto must not have been easy to bear. Manto’s observations, though stemming from a time period we now know as the past, still ring true today.
In one of his works he describes the process of the judicial system as such,
“If you want to procure the copy of a legal document you have to attach ‘wheels’ to your application. If you want to access a legal document for review, then too you need to attach ‘wheels.’ If you need to meet an officer of the court you need to attach ‘wheels.’ If you need to expedite anything the number of required wheels goes up. You don’t need to look hard – as long as you possess sight you will observe that in the district court every application moves on wheels. Four wheels to get from one office to another. Eight wheels from the second to the third office and so on. If you are not a habitual culprit your heart will be seized by the desire that someone attaches wheels to you and thereafter pushes you so that you can speedily exit the district court.”
Obscenity as a crime is a complex matter of subjectivity, but the rampant corruption Manto observedand that many of us still face today is objectively a great injustice that still hasn’t been rectified.
References:
1.Waheed, S. (2020) Anatomy of an obscenity trial, Himal Southasian. Available at: https://www.himalmag.com/anatomy-obscenity-trial/ (Accessed: January 28, 2023).
2.Jalal, A. (2013) The pity of partition: Manto’s life, Times, and work across the India-pakistan divide. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
3.Akhtar, byN., Nair, byJ. and Sharma, byR. (2020) Manto in my Court, Indian Cultural Forum. Available at: https://indianculturalforum.in/2018/09/24/manto-in-my-court/ (Accessed: January 28, 2023).
4.The frivolities of Justice: Manto on the Court of law-living news , Firstpost (2013) Firstpost. Available at: https://www.firstpost.com/living/the-frivolities-of-justice-manto-on-the-court-of-law-593480.html (Accessed: January 28, 2023).
5.Bhalla, A. (2004) Life and works of saadat Hasan Manto. Shimla: Indian Institute of Advanced Study.
6.Siddique, O. (2015) “Capturing obscenity: The trials and tribulations of Saadat Hasan Manto,” NAVEIÑ REET: Nordic Journal of Law and Social Research, (5), pp. 15–40. Available at: https://doi.org/10.7146/nnjlsr.v0i5.111077.
