A letter to Sahadat Hassan Manto

 

Originally written in Balochi by: Waleed Wafa

Translated to English by: Uzair Mehr

 

 

Manto!

 

I am holding a cigarette in my hand, but tell me from where can I bring its fire? You have carried away the fire along with yourself and that’s why it’s been a long time I’m employing the only stick of cigarette. Whenever I impinge on the solitude, I take out the stick of cigarette from my pocket and hold it in my hand. After the relaxation of awhile, I again put into my pocket.

 

Manto!

 

How sweet it would be, if this city was blind like your short story “Aankhen” (The Eyes). Let it could be uneasy for having on its dress at least then it might have been a story for the storytellers of the society.

 

 

Manto!

 

I am dreaming a lot nowadays. I don’t know why. I sometimes ponder that it might be a blessing for me, at least I can dream in dreams. There are many beings who have just read the word dream, but they were deprived of its aureate pattern. Yes, I’m talking about the dreams which you have seen, dancing naked outside your windows at nights. Dreams are still like that, yet it’s better to say that the jacks, thumpers and gluttons of dreams have stepped up. Thus, as Atta Shad astoundingly enunciated it:

 

For seeing, needs a fair eye.

For hearing, requires a noble ear.

 

 

Manto!

 

I need a drib of alcohol, not for myself, but for this society to be bibulous, I guess it would be better at least, it can tell the truth to itself.

 

 

Manto!

 

It’s my great wish to visit your city, Mumbai, once in my lifetime, and to be able to imbibe the pretty fragrance of beloved’s streets within myself.

 

Manto!

Neither there is a newspaper which can be indebted to you nor is there any speck of Mumbai that gives you the right of freedom of speech so that your restless soul gets an ephemeral peace.

 

Manto!

 

Nowadays, people are so solitary here, that they can’t even discern their solitude. I just want to consecrate the solitude of this very moment for you.  Do me only one favor, send me a pair of specs I make it wear to the city so that it can see itself.

 

 

 

Manto!

 

Condone me! Pardon me that I didn’t write 786 at the beginning of the letter, however, I want to tell you, that while writing this very letter, I’m holding a pencil in my hand, and I’m writing this letter to you, by a pencil.