Category Archives: Tributes

My Angelic Grandmother

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Picture: Mohammad Farooq

Eternal beauty has its facets, charms, and uniqueness. However, inner beauty possesses the density and depth which leaves a lasting impact. The distinctiveness of inner beauty does not subside, lose its sheen/shine over a period. Its reflection remains eternal and never fades away until the time of mortality runs out. Having witnessed the inner beauty of Zakia nano over thirty-five years, its existence and refreshment retains its aura and continue to be enchanting. Her presence bears a hallmark of elegance, dignity, contentment filled with bloom on that beaming smile of hers leaves you in awe.

It isn’t less than a blessing to be in the presence of such a benevolent lady, who has not only showered us with love but exhibited examples of virtuousness, mercy, kindness in every given way. Having spent a considerable amount of time in her presence, I have nothing but profound respect for her. Since childhood, I have received her love, care, and warmth, which has always left me clamouring for more. Not only her charisma but her towering personality has influenced us in every given way. I never saw my real grandmother; she died a few years before my birth. However, Zakia nano filled that void I never felt the absence of my maternal grandmother. While growing up and being a frequent visitor to 6 Nisar Road for over three decades, there has not been a single moment that I haven’t cherished and enjoyed in her presence. Her deft touch, softness and innocence always melt our hearts retain that magnetism. Moreover, Zakia nano has never differentiated between her real grandchildren and me and has always treated us equally and fairly. She has doted on all of us, and we can never pay back the love we have received except for praying for her health.

Zakia Hamid Jalal with her sister Safia Manto

Rarely do we find true blessings in our lifetime in any form, but God has granted Zakia nano with it in abundance. I have a lot of anger deep resentment which she somehow can interpret and decipher. Whenever I have faced such a situation, her words of wisdom and kindness to be steadfast in times of adversity and to remain calm have always helped me. There are no holds barred with her in my case There are no holds barred with her in my case. She has always listened to my grievances, offered guidance, advice in exchange. She gleams and blooms of an angelic presence, bestowed to her by God. Whenever I felt dejected, she has always raised my spirits with her gentleness and kindred spirit, which evokes a spirituality that I am devoid of. In her presence, you feel soothed and relaxed, with no sense of ever being overawed or overwhelmed.  She somehow figures out whenever I feel troubled or disturbed. She has such a profound sensitivity coupled with a beautiful soul that has always filled us with joy.

Her heart is full of love and affection for everyone and neither does it harbour any malice or bias towards anyone. The principles she instilled in her children and the generosity they exhibited throughout their respective lifetimes towards countless people bear her imprints. Never has she glorified herself; despite possessing such a beautiful heart and soul. Her observance and keenness at this age are exemplary. Her nature is subdued, and calmness personified. You can see the frown upon her face for the things she dislikes and disapproves of. Whenever I misbehave in front of her, she politely tells me to lower my tone and behave properly instead of scolding or rebuking me. Lastly, I can never say no to any request put forth by her. She encourages me to pursue my passion for reading and write as much I can.

The solitude and sublimity in her eyes have always been reassuring. It not only gives us strength but provides lessons of forbearance and sustenance in times of adversity. She remains the foremost example of humanity that I have come across in my entire life. From childhood till adulthood, I have looked forward to seeing my beloved Zakia nano. A visit to her house over the weekend has been a ritual for our family for decades. In her presence, I have always felt enlightened. She has fulfilled her role of the family patriarch with dignity and honour. The respect she has earned over her lifetime speaks volumes about her virtuosity. Not only is she forthright but retains that aura of simplicity and down to earth demeanour for which she is renowned. She is a model of excellence and learning from whom we all have drawn a lot of inspiration. Neither has she ever devoured things like so many people do, but her frugality remains exemplary.

No words can capture the essence and pay tribute to a woman of Zakia Nano’s calibre. She has filled the void of my late maternal grandmother, who I never saw. To have lived in the shadow of my angelic grandmother has been nothing short of a revelation. I consider myself not only lucky but privileged to have had the distinction of spending years with such a compassionate, kindred, and humane lady. Not only is being her grandson a badge of honour, but I also feel blessed that God gave me such a doting and loving grandmother. Our entire family owes a debt of gratitude to Zakia nano for bestowing us with so much affection we pray that God grants us her with an abundance of good health.

A man for all seasons: Shahid Jalal

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Image Credit: Ayesha Jalal

There are few places like home where you find yourself mystified by its aura of artistic and literary beauty. These places are not only visuals and spectacles of it but are vestiges of those who have lived there, made their presence felt and left an indelible impact. Their permanent imprints not only remain etched in our mind but are explorable around us.

Such an artist and painter extraordinaire, Shahid Jalal left us yesterday for the heavenly abode. A larger than life character, whose persona not only evoked his soft but outspoken demeanour, but who was also an intellectual, avid reader, a successful chartered accountant, but last and foremost a brilliant painter. He was a humble man, jovial, cheerful, and empathetic human being who was least candid about his achievements but was very approachable unlike other maestros of the art. He was an all-rounder, with a swathe of hobbies which included cooking, travelling, watching movies, and ingratiating with different cultures without any recourse to judgement. His simplicity unlike many of his other contemporaries coupled with a sharp intellect and intuition were hallmarks of his personality. Equipped with an unbelievable sense of humour, Mr Jalal could share tales from yesteryears and astound you with his sharp memory. Born on August 13th, 1948 to Hamid Jalal and Zakia Hamid Jalal, he was the eldest of three siblings which include his sisters Sabiha and the renowned historian Dr Ayesha Jalal.

I was privileged enough to have seen and witnessed him from close quarters courtesy the bond and the close relationship he shared with my mother Nuzhat Manto, who is also his aunt, cousin, and sister-in-law. Mr Jalal’s father was also the nephew of the legendary Urdu short story writer Saadat Hassan Manto and was married to his youngest daughter Nusrat. Married to Nusrat (my aunt) in 1972, both complemented each other and brought the best out of each other. Not only did they share an impeccable bond, but their understanding was exemplary. The fusion of both was reflective in the affection and love they shared for each other. Having virtually grown up seeing Shahid Jalal, I remained in awe of him and the manner, he conducted himself. There was not a hint of materialism in him despite his achievements and successes throughout his life. Honest to the core, but as he once told us that he was extremely ambitious, something we failed to notice personally. Not only was he easy-going, but devoid of any hang-ups, was outspoken and blunt to the core. I observed no notion of pride or ego in him, he was driven by his sociable and charitable causes with The Citizens Foundation with whom he was closely aligned for many years.

Image Credit: Ayesha Jalal

Familial bonds are driven by closeness and love, Mr Jalal ensured he helped those around him whether it was family members or his domestic help, he was always present irrespective of the situation. Morally upright and his honesty remained a highlight of his life, whose credentials could never be questioned. Much akin to his father, Hamid Jalal he shared his traits of empathy and kindness but emulated him in many other ways which would have made him proud. His artistic lineage and legacy remain alive and distinct with the contrasting visual aesthetics which were represented in his paintings. The sprightliness and brightness of his paintings, those contrasting colours his observant eyes captured were representative of who he was. His paintbrushes weaved magic and stroked the contours and beauty of nature’s sumptuousness in his artistic canvas. His paintings were a visual delight to see and left you stunned with his repertoire of skills he possessed. Imbued with multiple talents, not only was he a food connoisseur but he was so well-read and well versed in many facets of life, it was nigh unbelievable.

Image: Mohammad Farooq
Shahid Jalal’s paintings exhibition circa March 2017

Shahid Jalal’s paintings exhibition circa March 2017
Shahid Jalal’s paintings exhibition circa March 2017

I recall a trip as an eight-year-old in the summers of 1992 to Shogran, Naran and Kaghan in Khyber-Pakthunkhwa. His sense of adventure and passion knew no bounds; he genuinely knew how to enjoy holidays. He took us for long walks in the mountainous terrain around Shogran, we passed forests and our sense of foreboding knew no bounds. His keenness of exploration and revelling in those long walks, having food from a roadside Dhaba and introducing us to exotic new foods was his speciality. Around him, you could never feel bored but his candidness and frankness of tolerating guests for long periods was not his forte. Being an early riser, he was meticulous about his routine which included taking his dog Brandy for a walk, eating healthy food intermittently before lunch which was inculcated by my aunt Nusrat. Also, he used to go for painting early morning to capture the spirit of what he observed and saw before sketching it on his canvas. The Jalal household legendary for cherishing its afternoon sleep was also in-built in him and he derided those who visited or called in the afternoon. He was disciplined in his way and never imposed his will or thoughts on others. Equipped with a sharpness of mind, he never advised anyone of us unless we sought his counsel. Magnanimous at heart and frugal, Mr Jalal never exhibited any materialistic tendencies but evoked humanity and equality throughout his chequered life. A self-made man who rose through the ranks with sheer hard work and diligence, his career and life were an example for all of us on how to climb the ladder of success but not to lose sight of who we are and where we come from.

Embedded with a keen curiosity, he was a joy to interact with. It would be a disservice to not mention my aunt Nusrat, who as Mr Jalal’s wife and foremostly a friend complimented each other throughout their married life. The two individuals could not be more different; Mr Jalal a brash, outspoken, and frugal individual, on the contrary, is my aunt Nusrat, very principled, methodical, and quiet but with a mind of her own. However, I always felt that they were the ideal couple, not only did they have telepathy but the level of understanding and respect they developed for each other was unmatched. As my mother Nuzhat says, both were able to take the best of qualities of each other and forged them to the point of fruition. It is a testimony to the fact that my beloved uncle Shahid was unlike any other individual in our family, he was unique and special to all of us.

Rather than mourn my beloved uncle’s loss, I would like to celebrate his life which was full of accolades personally and professionally. He left an indelible impact on all of us, with his enthusiastic and positive approach towards life. As a father, husband, son, and brother, he vested his duties with genuineness and heartfelt love and retained no bitterness or grudges against anyone. He was like the changing seasons, who was always blossoming, bringing diversity and contrasts to our lives. His happy disposition, charisma, compassion, empathy, and kindness will keep illuminating our lives and those memories that he left behind will keep being cherished, remembered by every one of us. May God bless his soul. Amen.

Why does Manto arouse antagonism amongst the intelligentsia?

14 Friday Jun 2019

Posted by in Biography, History, Literature, Psychological Issues, Saadat Hassan Manto, Society, Tributes

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There are writers who run amok, and their stingy criticism is deployed to devastating effect which shames societal practices and exposes the dim realities of life we so much try to avoid. Manto is amongst those rare breeds of writers, whose stories evoke and stigmatize societal hypocrisies, lays bare the truth and makes it evidently difficult to absorb.

A column published in a leading weekly magazine in March, the writer said, “Exquisite short stories are mixed in with works that are at best hurried and slapdash, at worst incomprehensible.” He goes onto add, “Most of this is, no doubt, a result of the life that Manto lived: a life marred by poverty, alcoholism and mental illness.”

The columnist is a much-respected psychiatrist who has also done an exegesis on the famous Urdu short-story writer entitled “The Touch of Madness: Manto as a Psychiatric Case Study.” The writer seems to have stumbled upon Manto as an exhibit of mental psychosis and eccentricity for his research purposes and stamped his opinion about him being mentally ill.

He further stated: “In and of itself, this is of no moment. After all, an artiste is free to create and propagate his or her work any way he likes. But the continuing attention on Manto has had the result of perhaps diverting attention away from a number of other gifted writers some of whom were his contemporaries and some who came later. Writers like Upendranath Ashk, Krishan Chander and even the great Munshi Premchand. In addition, later writers like the exquisitely subdued Ghulam Abbas and Muhammad Hasan Askari have not received the kind of attention or accolades that have accrued to Manto.”

Interestingly, much to my consternation, a column about Manto and Faiz’s connection had an apparent disconnect to it, why would the contributor raise questions over his alcoholism and then express his apparent jealousy as to why he seems to be center of attraction and be so much in the mainstream? As per my observation, the interest Manto has garnered since his post-centenary celebrations is largely a consequence of his fanbase which has grown organically and keeps on increasing.

Is Manto to be blamed for the aforementioned literary luminaries not getting the accolades or attention reserved for Urdu’s greatest short story writer? Has anyone stopped people from exploring the writings of Krishan Chander, Munshi Premchand or Upendranath Ashk and researching about them? No one has cajoled people into reading Manto since his works aren’t for everyone to read, he is still ostracized by many and retains that aura of controversy that plagued him when he was alive and continues unabated to this day.

Manto’s repertoire and skills were unparalleled as a writer, his intellectual arrogance a well-known fact. He made more friends than enemies during his lifetime and never minced words. The spectre of Manto’s presence bears an overlying reality for his critics; they tend to fear him even six decades after his demise.

The movies made in Pakistan and India by Sarmad Khoosat and Nandita Das respectively were due to their love for Manto, the theatre plays, translations and other research are a consequence of his writings evoking the human sensibility. His popularity isn’t a result of marketing machinations or outpouring of investment but largely because of Manto’s loyal fanbase which has ensured that his legacy and works live on.

According to Mujahid Eshai, who has translated several works of Manto in two volumes published by Sang-e-Meel told, “The writer does not quote an example of such works. Again, no reference to any of Manto’s essays and Letters to Uncle Sam has been provided. The writer seems to have been impressed by Khoosat’s travesty of Manto’s life as reflected in the so-called biopic”.

Manto’s daughter Nuzhat Manto refuting his father was mentally ill-explained, “After his migration from Bombay (now Mumbai) in January 1948, the opportunities available for writers were limited. In the aftermath of partition, Lahore’s film industry was in shambles and had been ravaged by the exit of leading Hindu and other investors, which deprived many writers of earning a livelihood.”

She elaborated, “The conditions in a newly-formed state were minuscule, my father didn’t write for many months after his arrival which he mentioned in one of his write-ups. Also, his outright refusal to be associated with any movement, whether the progressive writers or others landed him in trouble with his fellow peers”.

“It is pertinent to note; my father wrote openly about his chronic alcoholism and his nephew’s sketch Uncle Manto shares the ignominy of those struggles and how it distressed the family. Court cases, his avenue to earn a livelihood shrunk as his peers boycotted him out of spite and growing societal opposition to those short stories on partition which drew the ire from all segments of society,” adds Ms. Nuzhat.

“To this day, the profound hatred continues. However, my father irrespective of all his flaws and intellectual arrogance, was not mentally ill. He himself requested his nephew Hamid Jalal to have him taken to the mental asylum for rehabilitation and get cured of his alcoholism,” she said.

Unfortunately, most of the focus on Manto has been surrounded around his penmanship of what transpired during partition were masterpieces. Ironically, his satirical pieces like Hindustan ko Leaderon Sai Bachao, Shaheed Saaz, Dekh Kabeera Roya, Upar Neechay aur Darmayan, Mootri, Mujhay Shakayat Hai, Letters to Uncle Sam and many other eminent works remain unexplored.

The writer has termed Manto’s stories at best ‘hurried and slapdash’. This is irreverently an indication that he hasn’t explored the iconic Urdu short story writer works in full and is at best a halfhearted attempt to malign Manto’s reputation. Irrespective, such efforts have not stopped people from reading his works or neither will it deter them now much to the dismay of his critics and those jealous of him.

In a session at the Lahore Literature Festival (LLF) in February, eminent historian and his niece Dr Ayesha Jalal said Manto was a social critic and a walking spectator to history. She stated the reason for Manto being a constant source of irritation was due to him writing about things which one isn’t “supposed to write or talk about”.

Manto remains a paradox sixty-four years after his death. Moral policing in a society polarized by opinions and influence will continue unabated and in case of Manto, such regressive measures will only elevate his status further considering that his works have reached as far as Croatia, in whose language his stories were translated in 2016.

“People call me black penned, but I don’t write on the blackboard with black chalk; I use white chalk so that the blackness of the board becomes even more evident,” said Manto in a lecture at Jogeshwari College, Bombay in the mid-1940s.

 

 

 

 

A legendary architect: Zaheer ud Deen Khawaja

21 Monday May 2018

Posted by in Architecture, Biography, General, History, Humanity, Pakistan, Struggle, Tributes

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“Travelling is the best way of getting acquainted/accustomed to other cultures, which teaches us a lot about their customs and values said Zaheer-Ud-Deen Khwaja to me, one of the most renowned architects produced by Pakistan almost 20 years ago.” These words, were like pearls of wisdom for me along with many other exchanges with him, that helped transform my thoughts into something more diverse than they may have turned out to be. He had played a pivotal role as an architect who was internationally recognized and won many accolades/awards within his own capacity for Pakistan, but the selflessness this man had displayed throughout his life is worth exploring.

For me, having personal access to him was trivial courtesy of him being my mother’s mamo and brother of Safia Manto, my grandmother. I called him Zaheer Nana, out of sheer love and respect for a man who was revered by the whole family for his wisdom, knowledge, balance and impeccable honesty which may be unbelievable to my readers currently. He has been forgotten with time, achievements of his groundbreaking in many aspects, languishing and largely written off.

I discerned a few decades ago, the role of architects in that era wasn’t as celebrated and given equivocal footing, as say someone who was a writer, an actor or a poet for example. But, what Zaheer-Ud-Deen-Khwaja achieved was unprecedented at a time when broadcast media and the internet did not exist.

Zaheer-Ud-Deen Khwaja, was born in Kenya in the early 1920’s where his father Qamar-Ud-Deen was employed as Public Prosecutor in Zanzibar a British protectorate in those days. His father had originally settled in Karatina, about a hundred miles from Nairobi so due to rudimentary schooling available, the area was majorly populated by traders from Gujrat, India who ran the primary school there. So, his initial instruction medium of education was hence in Gujrati. Qamar-Ud-Deen, his father who was serving in Zanzibar as a Public Prosecutor, headed by an Arab Sultan died an untimely death when he was assassinated for being mistaken as a British Police officer due to his fair complexion in 1936.

The rather unforeseen seen death of his father, must have been a major catastrophic event in their lives, but their mother who was uneducated but a towering personality in her own right took over the family reins. Thanks to the representation of his uncle, Shams-Ud-Deen, a member of the Legislative council and an influential person in his own right, ensured that the widow of Qamar-Ud-Deen was provided financial help by the British Colonial Government, a pension for the entirety of her life, bursaries for the four sons till the age of eighteen and completion of their education.

Also, allowances were allotted for his three sisters till they got married. Considering these events, Miss Qamar-Ud-Deen took the momentous decision of migrating to Bombay (now Mumbai), India. After arriving in Bombay, aged 14 he found himself to be the head of the family, but his mother as mentioned earlier was a woman of virtue and considerable intellect who had an immense influence on her children, which left an everlasting impact on all of them during their respective lifetimes.

Restarting his education, he completed his High School from St. Mary’s High School, Bombay and decided to pursue Architecture on the advice of his cousin Zafar-Ud-Deen, although as per his memoirs he barely scraped through Art as a subject in his Senior Cambridge examinations!  He took admission in the renowned Sir J.J School of Art where he pursued his architecture. It was a time he remembered rather fondly, with his initial struggles in the first two years at university and the development of a close bond with his Professor Claude Batley who was the Head of the Department of Architecture too. During the third and fourth years, all the students were encouraged to visit the northern and southern parts of India, to get abreast of the finest traditional architecture and diversity it had to offer. By the fifth year, doing an apprenticeship was mandatory in a firm of architects and he was attending of 2 hourly classes in the morning.

He then appeared for an external exam of the Royal British Institute of British Architects, as the diploma offered by the college he attended was not accepted internationally back then. After successfully passing the external exam, he applied for a post-graduate scholarship on offer by the Government of India, which he received for a degree in Civic Design at the University of Liverpool, UK. While aboard the ship to the UK in October 1946, he was also accompanied by a future Nobel Laureate and renowned Physicist Professor Abdus Salam, Aslam Raza who later became the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Pakistan and Ikramullah Niazi, a P.W.D engineer and the father of iconic cricketer turned politician Imran Khan.

Besides completing his post-graduation at the University of Liverpool, he also got the opportunity to travel around the whole of UK and visited a host of other countries in Europe for which the Government of India generously provided financial assistance. By 1948, after being elected as a certified member of the Royal Town Planning Institute, he made his way back to Pakistan in October of the same year.

Upon his return to Pakistan, the scholarship he had been awarded by the Government of India contained a clause or a surety bond which bound him to serve them in an individual capacity to the field he was linked with. Apparently, at that point of time he was ironically one of the only qualified architect and town planners available within Pakistan! While job hunting for a few months, he landed up a job in East Pakistan (Now Bangladesh) as Assistant Government architect in Chittagong at a salary of Rs 800. The time spent there was remembered fondly, along with this comradeship and close bonding with his Bengali colleagues of that time who never forgot him for his sincerity and kindness he had meted them with. After his marriage to his beloved wife Tahira, in December 1950 and with whom he shared a beloved bond of almost 55 years till her death in July 2005.

After a year’s stint in Chittagong and Dhaka, he was offered an important position of Architect and Town planner of Thal Development Authority (TDA) in West Pakistan to oversee a multi-million regional planning covering an area of six million acres of desert which he graciously accepted. As he narrated it in his memoirs, the five years spent involved in the development of this region was one of the golden periods which included designing of the Quaidabad hospital by him as well.

The Thal Development project is listed by the Britannica Encyclopedia is listed as one of the most important development projects in the world. After his association with TDA for five years, he embarked upon taking charge of Pakistan P.WD  in the then capital city, as Chief Town Planner and Architect on the direct orders of the then Prime Minister Huseyn Suhrawardy who wished to enlist his services in end of 1957.

Also in 1957, a Quaid-e-Azam’s Mausoleum Architectural Competition to build a budding memorial to the founding father of the nation was held for which he was assigned to select a jury of assessors for this momentous project. In a rather unfortunate turn of events, the design awarded as the winning one was not acceptable to Mohtarma Fatima Jinnah and she hired an architect of her own choice from India who designed the current mausoleum built in honour of Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah. During 1958, as the architect-in-chief of the P.W.D and later with the Karachi Development Authority (KDA), he was actively involved in the planning and execution of the Korangi township, and various other projects during the time spent there. In his period spent there, he dealt with the growing developmental issues of Karachi which was experiencing rapid urbanization due to being the economic hub of Pakistan and remains to this day.

Also, in an interesting incident narrated in his book with the founder of Dawood Hercules, Ahmed Dawood is shared in this snapshot:

capture

His achievements remain unprecedented, but he was a family man, a principled father, a dutiful husband to his beloved wife Tahira and a doting grandfather to his granddaughters Mahvash, Sarah, Anam and Alizeh.

Chronicling Safia Manto

22 Tuesday Sep 2015

Posted by in Biography, Humanity, Inspiration, Life, Love, Tributes

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Chronicling Safia Manto, my grandmother would be no mean feat. A woman who lived in the shadow of her beloved husband and renowned short story writer, Saadat Hassan Manto, her story went largely untold till the recent release of Manto: The Film. She has only lived in the folklore of my dreams, I being born 6 years after her untimely demise in November 1977. As much I have heard from familial sources about her magnanimity, humility as a human being besotted with a kindred heart and soul I cannot even fathom what I missed out on. Sometimes fate and destiny are so closely intertwined, that we seem powerless to change the impact it can leave. Missing her out was somewhat destined to happen, her absence being filled in by her youngest sister Zakia Hamid Jalal who has been equally affectionate, loving and caring towards all her grandchildren till date. Safia Manto, had an impact on the lives of many, ranging from her husband, daughters to all the family members that have nothing but fond memories of a lady who showered nothing but love and affection towards them.

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*Safia with her sister Zakia Hamid Jalal*

Chartering through the life of Safia Manto, is like a woven fabric broken from one end but repaired from the other. Her struggles, compassion and challenges she faced throughout her life were immense. Immersed in a period of happiness to downright abject pain, she lived through life smiling and spreading only love all around her peers. Her personality didn’t have many facets besides it was interwoven with simplicity, innocence and forbearance to the core. All throughout her life she bore a hallmark of patience and sustenance, and her large heartedness was particularly striking. Even her proclivity in the light of abject financial stress didn’t hamper her hospitality in any given manner. Safia’s relationship with Manto, was an emotional bond that transcended everything else. In the immediate aftermath after their marriage, Manto documented the commonalities that they shared which included a Kashmiri origin, both wore spectacles, the first letter in their names started from S, and their birthdays were on the 11th of May. Manto’s vicissitudes must have been a tough proposition for Safia to handle. The ingenuity at play with Manto, coupled with streaks of intellectual arrogance and his tenuous relationships with his co-workers must have made things difficult for her. Although his alcoholism wasn’t limited to social circles during his days in Bombay and Delhi, but that period also corresponded to some of his best days in financial terms. As her middle daughter Nuzhat shared, she rarely mentioned about the first 16 years spent in Kenya, but her fond remembrance for Bombay remained etched within her memories for ever.

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*Safia with her husband Saadat Hassan Manto & her sister Zakia Hamid Jalal*

The period Manto spent working after his marriage to Safia in Delhi and Bombay had its share of highs and lows. In 1940, they both were blessed with a son they named Arif. It was a period of elation for the couple, especially Manto who showered all his love towards his newborn and tenderly took care of all his needs. But that happiness proved to be short-lived as Arif died prematurely within a year a few days shy of his first birthday. That was a rudimentary shock to the couple, left Manto devastated and broke him down completely. The worsening alcoholism of Manto, tempered with bouts of depression during those dark days must have tested Safia’s resolve deeply. Her pain threshold must have been alarmingly high, and the patience a testimony of the nerves she possessed. Safia’s loss as a mother must have been unbearable and unimaginable to the extent that her daughter Nuzhat recently disclosed that she never made even a scant mention about the loss of her first born, Arif. Probably the reason for not disclosing this was to reduce the pain she may have suffered as a mother, and in hindsight Manto’s depressiveness must have forced to act as a calming and strengthening force during that period.

14 Safia Khala

Safia’s influence and significance in Manto’s life cannot be underestimated in any regard. She was the love of Manto’s life in absolute terms of the word. His dedication and loyalty he owed to his beloved life was beyond any description. The extent to which Safia’s hold on Manto can be gauged from the fact that he published short stories like Hameed aur Hameeda which were penned in her name. Manto’s pinnacle as a writer financially reached its zenith in Bombay while he was working in the film industry in the mid 1940’s. Manto’s literary circle evolved and expanded in those days, giving Safia a glimpse of the present and future stars in the Hindi film industry of those days. For example, as mentioned in Ayesha Jalal’s book Pity of Partition, Safia became good friends with Ashok Kumar’s wife and went shopping with her on a few occasions where the shopkeepers went out of the way to favour them both. Safia also shared a very close relationship with Nargis, the renowned film actress who was making her way up the ladder in the film industry during those days. After migrating to Pakistan in the aftermath of Partition, Manto’s financial woes only increased, persecution and a lack of work opportunities took its toll on him. That had obvious ramifications, he became a chronic alcoholic affecting his relationship with Safia who was upset at him being unable to provide financial support for her and their 3 daughters, two of whom were born after Partition. There came a time when Safia contemplated leaving Manto due to a variety of issues at play, unimaginable even for a serene woman like her. The duress associated with Manto’s dwindling earning power turning nil, must have also influenced Safia to take this gigantic step. Thanks to a response penned by her beloved elder brother, Bashir Deen to the letter she sent, he advised Safia that since Manto was a sick man it wasn’t feasible to consider leaving in this situation. So she reconsidered her options and decided against it.

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*Safia with her husband Saadat Hassan Manto*

Safia used to accompany Manto to all the mushaira’s or public readings of his stories. This stands as a testing ground for her immeasurable support for a man who courted controversy and persecution within his wake to wherever he went. She had the tenacity and courage to face the wrath or applause of the public at large in context of the controversy Manto normally generated. This also highlights the immense love and affection that accompanied their relationship which may have had its share of acrimonious moments but never stalled in any given manner. The support and resilience of Safia is worth commending considering the frailties of her husband which she embraced with great courage. In Bombay, Safia’s simplicity augured Manto to act as her stylist and took it upon himself to ensure that his wife would indulge in the latest of fashions. From getting the most precious of Sari’s made; he ironed them and then stylishly photographed her.  The close proximity and intimacy in their relationship, was a culmination of the understanding between the two and they complemented each other. Manto’s delusions in the last few years of his life, his fading health must have taken an emotional toll on Safia, who couldn’t see the misery of her beloved husband.

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After the death of Manto, the financial situation obviously didn’t improve in any regard. Thanks to the unending support of her mother, Mama Jee a towering personality in her own right, and also Hamid Jalal who helped her to raise their daughters up. Interestingly, as shared with me by Shahid Jalal, my maternal uncle, Safia due to her financial distress, she used to buy fruit at night time take the backdoor exit from her home and go to Beadon road to procure it. At her home in Lakshmi Mansion at any given moment of time it was a standard for 10-15 people to dine at her place inspite of all the financial hardships. As her daughters recall, she was a doting but protective mother a disciplinarian yet a bastion of truth and encouragement for them. She hardly ever received any financial aid from the government after the death of Manto in order to help bring up her daughters, royalty payments were scant to say the least. People kept commoditizing Manto knowing well that Safia was alive and kept publishing his works without paying any heed to the copyright laws. Financial compensation was hard to come by and a lack of adequate resources, guidance hardly ever came to her mind. Safia was a contented woman, by standing all the adversities she may have come across her iron resolve kept weeding it out till her dying breath. She had no materialistic aspirations, never got married after the death of Manto, considering she was almost 39 when she became a widow. Safia’s lifestyle was simplistic a reflection of her persona and practices she cherished the most. She hardly ever complained about her problems, confined them to herself totally. Safia Manto breathed her last in Karachi after suffering a cardiac arrest of the heart on November 23rd 1977.

 

Image Credits: Ayesha Jalal is the legal copyright holder of all these photographs and they must not be used in any way without her express permission. 

Books used for research: Uncle Manto by Hamid Jalal from Black Milk, A Pity of Partition by Ayesha Jalal, Princeton Press 2013.