Bombay Stories (Vintage International)
Language: English
Pages: 304
ISBN: 0804170606
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A collection of classic, yet shockingly contemporary, short stories set in the vibrant world of mid-century Bombay, from one of India’s greatest writers.
Arriving in 1930s Bombay, Saadat Hasan Manto discovered a city like no other. A metropolis for all, and an exhilarating hub of license and liberty, bursting with both creative energy and helpless despondency. A journalist, screenwriter, and editor, Manto is best known as a master of the short story, and Bombay was his lifelong muse. Vividly bringing to life the city’s seedy underbelly—the prostitutes, pimps, and gangsters that filled its streets—as well as the aspiring writers and actors who arrived looking for fame, here are all of Manto’s Bombay-based stories, together in English for the very first time. By turns humorous and fantastical, Manto’s tales are the provocative and unflinching lives of those forgotten by humanity.
Lonely Planet South India & Kerala (8th Edition)
You’re eyeing it and I’m eyeing it. And what have you done to your hair?’ With one finger, Saugandhi flicked off Madho’s hat. He didn’t like this at all. ‘Saugandhi!’ Saugandhi took out a handkerchief from Madho’s pocket, smelled it, and threw it on the floor. ‘This is a rag, a rag! Aghh, it smells awful! Pick it up and throw it outside.’ ‘Saugandhi!’ ‘No—fuck off with your “Saugandhi this and Saugandhi that”! Does your mother live here that she’s going to give you fifty rupees? Or are you.
Babu Gopi Nath and I sat down in chairs next to the bed. In a very serious manner, Babu Gopi Nath said, ‘Manto Sahib! I love this woman very much. She has been with me for two years. I swear by the saint Hazrat Ghaus-e-Azam Jilani that I’ve never had reason to complain. Her sisters, I mean other prostitutes, robbed me with both hands, but she’s never taken more than a reasonable amount. If I went off and stayed for weeks at some courtesan’s house, this poor soul would pawn her jewellery in order.
‘What did you say?’ he asked. Babu Har Gopal repeated his question, ‘Say something, will you?’ Then he lowered his voice. ‘I don’t like her that much.’ Hamid got angry. He looked at her again. Youth itself was sitting before him in its purest form—fresh, stainless youth wrapped in silk—and he could have her, not just for one night but for many, as once he paid for her, she would be his. And yet this thought saddened him. He didn’t know why such things happened—this girl should never be sold.
On. Vankatre recounted how Chaddah had fallen unconscious on the ride over and how Mummy had just left to get a doctor. Hearing this last bit of news, he visibly relaxed. In fact the three of them looked relieved, as though Mummy’s involvement had absolved them of their responsibility for Chaddah’s ill health. They rubbed Chaddah’s feet and put ice packs on his forehead in accordance with Mummy’s instructions, and by the time she returned with the doctor, Chaddah had regained some degree of.
Was thinking about how I might meet him when suddenly I got the flu so bad I began to fear for my health. One Arab Alley doctor told me there was a danger it would worsen into pneumonia. I was all alone. The man living next door had got a job in Pune and wasn’t around. My fever was roasting me alive, and despite how I drank water continuously, my thirst never slackened. I am a very tough person. Usually I don’t need anyone to take care of me, but I didn’t know what kind of fever it was—the flu,.