A punch is thrown which touches nobody. But it sends a couple of villains flying onto the roof.
It’s a blazing hot day, but the camera has a red filter and, lo, it’s now cool moonlight. If a zebra is not to be found, a donkey is painted. All of this, over and over again, was, as we say in English, the straw that broke the camel’s back.
I observed myself in the cinema hall actually cheering loudly with the crowds when I should have known better.
What an effective fraud is this business of films, that it should have also defrauded the one who helped make it.
And so, this is why, in case you had asked me, I don’t watch movies.
— (Originally published as Main Film Kyon Nahin Dekhta)
* one of the most impenetrable couplets by Mirza Ghalib
Virtuous Women in Cinema
Despite his protestations in the previous essay, Manto loved Bollywood, and was always ready to jump to its defense. He wrote this piece at a time when only a certain class of women entered the film industry. Entertainment in general and films in particular were not seen as the sort of place where women from respectable families should be. The reason was that the connection between the tawaif, her kotha and the movies was strong and at a time when skilled dancers were not from the middle class. Manto wrote this during his early phase in the movie industry.
From the time that Hindustani films and working in them has come to prominence, the greater part of society has debated this question. Should women of virtue work in movies or not?
Some gentlemen, who want this profession to be cleansed of its image and association with women of the street, want women of good virtue to enter films.
There are other gentlemen for whom this association with cinema is not only off-putting, but a crime. These guardians of morality forget that though they seek to erase the stain of immorality from one set of faces, it will of course remain on another set.
Removing the women of the street from the film set will not mean that the market for the sale of women’s bodies for pleasure will end.
Those who oppose the presence of fallen women in cinema, whose skill at acting and singing otherwise brings them entertainment and relief, forget that these women were once not fallen.
If a woman from a brothel should leave it and find work in cinema, then we have little right to oppose her. Prostitutes are really the products of society. Then why do we raise the demand for putting an end to them, when they form a legitimate part of our culture? If they are to be reformed, then we must also reform all other work that is associated with the body.
A clerk in an office spends his day writing and inspecting books of accounts. Similarly, the seller of alcohol spends his day making a living his way. Both for the same reason. Only their methods are different.
It’s possible that our office clerk, should he have no other option, might also turn to selling alcohol. We would not hate him for this, even if we dont like those who drink. What reason could there be for such hatred to be shown only when a woman offers to sell what she has of value — her body?
The circumstance of such a woman is surely not deserving of hatred or contempt. The good women of our good families are the way they are, so fragrant to us, because of the social conditions in which they were brought up. From the security of their home, they enter the financial safety of their husband’s home. They are at all times distant from the rough ways of the world.
The woman who didn’t have a father’s shelter, had no education, who had to feed herself with her own devices, such a woman is like a broken pebble from a pavement.
Prostitutes are not born, they are made. Or they make themselves.
If a thing is in demand, it will always enter the market. Men demand the body of women. This is why every city has its red light area. If the demand were to end today, these areas would vanish on their own.
Our classification of women, this naming and branding them as prostitutes is in itself wrong. A man remains a man no matter how poor his conduct. A woman, even if she were to deviate for one instance, from the role given to her by men, is branded a whore.
She is viewed with lust and contempt. Society closes on her doors it leaves ajar for a man stained by the same ink. If both are equal, why are our barbs reserved for the woman?
It is being demanded that the entry of prostitutes into studios be forbidden. Does this not tell us that man is incapable of controlling himself? That he is in fact much weaker than the woman?
To those men who say that women from “good families” must come into the world of cinema, I have this question:
What is it that you mean by “good?”
A woman, who honestly puts her wares on display, and sells them without an intention to cheat, is such a woman not virtuous?
To these men, who want actresses to be women of virtue, I ask: is it fine for a man who acts to be not virtuous? I would say it is necessary for both actors and actresses not to be virtuous, but familiar with the emotions they portray. I say that a woman unfamiliar with the pain of separation from her lover cannot enact it properly. The woman unacquainted with sadness will not be able to show us melancholy.
The facts are before us, we cannot run away from them. If it is the quality of movies we make that concerns us, we must correct our vision. Flaws in character are personal to every individual. They have nothing to do with the talent of the person, which is the aspect that interests us. Our films, whether acted in by women of virtue or fallen virtue, must reflect reality.
I clarify here that I don’t necessarily think of prostitution as a fine thing. I don’t want prostitutes to be given entry into studios for the fact of them being prostitutes alone. What I want to say, and what I have said, is clear enough. If an actress has no memory of pain, no idea of sorrow, she will never be a quality actress.
To be an actress, a woman must be familiar with the fine and the less fine aspects of life. Whether she is from a brothel or from an eminent family, to me an actress is an actress.
Her morality, or her immorality, doesn’t really interest me.
Her talent and art are not related to the kind of human being she otherwise might be.
— (Originally published as Sharif Aurtein
Aur Filmi Duniya)
A Review of Saigal’s Zindagi
So far as I know, this is the only film review Manto ever wrote. The film was called Zindagi, and it starred K L Saigal who sang some of his biggest hits, “So ja rajkumari” and “Main kya janu kya jadu hai.” The film was directed by P C Barua and released in 1940. This means Manto wrote the review when he was twenty-eight. This was not an easy piece to translate. For one, there were many glancing references to scenes from a movie which I had not, and most readers of this translation may not have seen. I rewrote bits of it here and there to make it more readable in English.
The colourful glass bangles jangled and said: “Am I prettier than you?”
While the smoke rose from the fire-bed, troubled
It spiraled as a snake and asked: “Are you the secret that burns within me or am I?”
And the angels drifted in the bright air of the heavens
The spring cloud opened out autumn’s fist, and began to whisper to the mighty oaks.
The sun’s mad rays sent darkness fleeing in terror
Still waters asked the bubbling brook — “Why the impatience?”
Meanwhile, waiting behind her veil, the virgin flashed now this emotion, now that.
These lines are quite representative of poetry today. They squeeze the essence of human existence into a few words. They have life and a sense of mischief. They have anticipation, like the trembling of that awaiting virgin.