Vignettes from the Holocaust/ Saadat Hassan Manto

Legitimate use

The Pathan felt fortified after firing forty rounds and killing three men.

There was pandemonium all round. People were at each other's throats. They were running helter-skelter. There were violent skirmishes.

The Pathan jumped into the fray with his gun. He wrestled with the crowd for an hour before making good with a thermos.

Nobody was around when the police arrived. Not the Pathan either.

A bullet grazed past his right ear. He took no notice. He held on to the red-coloured thermos firmly; his grip on it tightened.

To friends he displayed his prized trophy with pride. 'What have you brought?' he was asked with a sense of amusement.

Khansaheb was unmoved. He once again gave an approving look at the shimmering lid of the flask. 'Why, what's wrong?'

'Well, don't you know? This flask keeps warm things warm and cold things cold.'

Khansaheb tucked the flask in his big pocket. 'Fine, I'll use it to keep my snuff. It will stay warm in summer and cold in winter.'

The Bane of ignorance

The trigger was pressed; the bullet shot out of the barrel.

A man looking through his window was caught unawares. He collapsed.

The trigger was pressed a second time. Another shot fired.

The water carrier's water-bag burst. He too collapsed. His blood mixed with water started flowing on the road.

Another shot. But this time it was off target. The bullet simply went through a damp wall.

The fourth bullet hit the back of an elderly woman. She died instantly -- without a sound.

Nobody was killed. Nobody was injured. That was the result of the fifth and sixth bullet.

The man was in a rage. Suddenly he spotted a child sprinting across the road. He turned his pistol in his direction.

'What the hell are you doing?' his companion said.

'Why?'

'You have no rounds to fire.'

'You keep shut! How would the little child know?'

Appropriate action

The mohalla was attacked. Some members of the minority community were killed. Those who survived fled for their lives. A couple, however, sought refuge in the cellar of their own house.

Four two days and nights they were seized with fear. But the assailants were nowhere.

Two more days passed. They were no longer haunted by the spectre of death. They longed for food and water.

Four more days went by. By now the couple were no longer afraid of death. Nor were they bothered about their survival.

They came out of hiding.

The man decided to draw the people's attention. 'Please kill us. We have come to surrender,' he said in a feeble voice.

'Killing is a sin in our religion.'

They exchanged glances. Had a pow-wow. They were Jains. And they handed over the fugitive couple to the people of another mohalla for 'appropriate action'.

Miracle

The police started conducting raids to recover stolen goods.

There was panic and fear. Under the cover of darkness people got rid of the stolen goods. Some even put away their own possessions to avoid a possible encounter with the police.

There was one man who was greatly troubled. He had looted two bags of sugar from the local grocer's shop. Somehow he dumped one into the nearby well. While trying to do the same with the other bag he too fell into the well.

People heard the noise. They gathered at the well. Ropes were lowered. Two sturdy men hauled up the man. But he died a few hours later.

Water drawn from the well the next day tasted sweet.

The night candles were lit at the man's grave.

An enterprise

Fire gutted the entire mohalla. The hoarding on the shop that escaped the flames read:

'A complete range of building and construction materials sold here.'

Pathanistan

Khu, speak out immediately. Who are you?'

'I.... I....'

'Son of Satan, speak speak, speak! Are you an Indu (Hindu) or a Muslimeen (Muslim)?'

'Muslimeen.'

'Khu, who is your Prophet?'

'Mohammad Khan.'

'That's right, go.'

A warning

The rioters wrestled hard with the landlord to drag him out of the house. He stood up, brushed his clothes and told them: 'Kill me for all I care. But I warn you not to touch my money -- not a paisa.'

Translated from the Urdu by Mushirul Hasan.

Illustration by Dominic Xavier.

Excerpted from India Partitioned: The other face of freedom, Part I, Lotus collection, Roli books, New Delhi, 1995, Rs 595, with the publisher's permission.