When Truth Becomes Intolerable — A Reflection Inspired by Manto
“Some truths don’t disturb us because they are written well… they disturb us because they are real.”
About thirty years ago, there was a time when I was deeply involved in theatre. We were performing a play — a light-hearted comedy. The play was doing well, and the audience was enjoying it.
During that time, the father of one of my actors, Khalid Siddiqui — Siraj Mohiuddin Sahab — came to meet me. With great simplicity, he said something that stayed with me forever:
“Doing humorous plays is a good thing, but you should also read real literature… especially Urdu and Hindi. Read Saadat Hasan Manto. His stories will open many doors in your heart and mind.”
At that time, I was not in the habit of reading books. To be honest, I hardly read at all. But his words stayed somewhere within me.
Some time later, I went to the Hindi Granth Sangrahalaya in the CP Tank area. There, I came across Dastaavez — a complete five-volume collection of Manto’s works. Without much thought, I bought it… perhaps without realizing how deeply it would change my thinking.
Then I began reading — the first volume, then the second, then the third… and before I knew it, Manto had settled into my heart, my mind, and my consciousness.
His stories were not merely stories — they were mirrors. Mirrors in which society revealed itself without any decoration, without any disguise.
Later, I adapted one of his stories, “Waapsi,” into a stage play, casting Khalid in it. I also made a short film based on his iconic story “Toba Tek Singh,” which was screened in several colleges and schools.
But more than anything else, what stayed with me were his words and his perspective.
Manto never tried to change the world —
he simply showed it as it is.
And perhaps that is why his words still make us uncomfortable today…
because the mirror continues to reflect what we often choose not to see.
The lines below, printed on the back cover of that very collection, have stayed with me ever since — and remain within me even today with the same intensity:
“The age we are passing through right now—if you are unaware of it, then read my stories.
If you cannot tolerate these stories, it means that this age itself is intolerable.
The evils within me belong to this very era.
There is no flaw in my writing. The flaw that is attributed to me is, in fact, a flaw of the existing system.
I am not fond of creating uproar.
I do not wish to provoke agitation in people’s thoughts and emotions.
Why would I strip the cloak of culture and society, when it is already naked?
Nor do I try to clothe it, because that is not my job.
People call me a ‘black pen,’ but I do not write on a blackboard with black chalk.
I use white chalk, so that the darkness of the blackboard becomes even more visible.
This is my distinct style, my way—
which is labeled as obscenity, progressiveness, and who knows what else.
Curse Saadat Hasan Manto —
the poor man isn’t even abused with any refinement…”
— Saadat Hasan Manto
