A Journal of Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya
A Journal of Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya A Journal of Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya
I wanted to say, ‘History never dies’, but I don’t know what made me keep my silence. It was past four now. Now we were in a poor colony inhabited by the minority, where there stood mud and thatched huts of labourers or those who kept draught horses. Dogs were still barking. Morning was already there for some of those houses. In some house kitchen-fire was alive. Some children were also seen in front of a few houses... the women were seen doing something and going and coming out of their huts... And suddenly that accident occurred... a terrible accident. There happened to come in front of the car a little minority boy, and also a little calf, at one and the same moment. To Manto, who was driving in a carefree mood, it was the very time to take a decision within a flash of time. No. If you prefer you may leave the story here. I won’t ask you to continue reading... for what you are going to read now is impractical, loathesome and violating the Human Rights as well. In the last fraction of the second as I was shutting my eyes in desperation I chanced to catch a glimpse of the young calf bolting away. ...Manto had steered the car towards the minority boy... No. I repeat. Please separate the cruel words said here presently from the story. We were back home. Manto was standing near the window bars. His spectacles were soiled with dust. He was smoking recklessly. ‘You could have saved the boy,’ I shrieked out. ‘Only one—either the boy or the calf.’ Manto shrieked out more vehemently. ‘The casualty of a minority boy will be forgotten within two hours. But, do you know what the accidental death of a calf in that locality means?’ Manto turned. He tore the papers on the table into little bits and threw them into the dustbin. Manto disappeared, but the chair on which he had been sitting was still rocking. Musharraf Alam Zauqui describes himself as an obsessive, compulsive writer in Hindi and Urdu. He has written numerous short stories and a novel ‘bayaan’ which centres round the tragedy of the Babri Masjid’s fall. He is also involved with television and cinema. He lives in Delhi. Shyamji Mishra, a teacher by profession, translates from Hindi to English. 132 :: January-March 2012
Discourse WOMEN’S LIBERATION : UTOPIA VS. REALITY Rajeev Ranjan Giri Translated by Manpreet Kaur She ran away many times Saw the same dream, each night, many times Lest she forget the will to freedom Keep alive the dream, even in bondage Keep alive the effort, even in inertness Dream – A Hindi poem by Arun Kamal. The woman protagonist in this poem keeps running away from her in-laws’ house. Battered. Sometimes, spends hours on any temple’s stairs. Then, returns when it’s dark. Sometimes, lodges a few odd days at an acquaintance’s or a distant relative’s house. Sometimes, goes back to her parents’ place (naihar). But, reverts, tired, to the same place, be it in a week or month. It would be more apt to say that she has to return to the same place. This is her compulsion. It must be kept in mind that everytime she runs away after being beaten, she is beaten up everytime on her return. Does the woman then not know of her tragic fate? The poem says that she knows January-March 2012 :: 133
- Page 81 and 82: pat the other’s back, and with he
- Page 83 and 84: tea break, it would also be a break
- Page 85 and 86: There was a mouth organ in Raka Mas
- Page 87 and 88: He was watching me in a strange man
- Page 89 and 90: and bowed before the engine. I saw
- Page 91 and 92: Climbing down the slope, that girl
- Page 93 and 94: filled their buckets without saying
- Page 95 and 96: clamp of the sounds is gripping him
- Page 97 and 98: The speaker fell silent all at once
- Page 99 and 100: That day, he came down from the off
- Page 101 and 102: sizes of boats of their respective
- Page 103 and 104: in the night?’ ’Yes, you take i
- Page 105 and 106: sound coming from all the flats. He
- Page 107 and 108: got up and came in the balcony. A d
- Page 109 and 110: “Who’s playing on the piano, Nu
- Page 111 and 112: “No, none-none that I know of. Sa
- Page 113 and 114: you are three years older than me.
- Page 115 and 116: He thinks we are fools and will nev
- Page 117 and 118: “Good evening. You may take this
- Page 119 and 120: I want to make sure that everything
- Page 121 and 122: When I went to meet the sisters thr
- Page 123 and 124: do not want to starve to death befo
- Page 125 and 126: admired and appreciated. In the 70s
- Page 127 and 128: there, Nishant invited all of us to
- Page 129 and 130: Short Story MANTO IN MY DREAM Musha
- Page 131: such scenes on TV screen happening
- Page 135 and 136: woman is repeatedly beaten up, be c
- Page 137 and 138: to an extent, altered it, and allow
- Page 139 and 140: liberation from this ‘gender’.
- Page 141 and 142: at several levels. Instances of vis
- Page 143 and 144: of women’s emancipation will real
- Page 145 and 146: Pursuing rigidly, A fixed desire. I
- Page 147 and 148: Poetry FIVE POEMS Chandrakant Deota
- Page 149 and 150: Why spurn their appeal hidden in, M
- Page 151 and 152: IN A CONFLICTING WORLD Far…far be
- Page 153 and 154: And make it a part of our very bein
- Page 155 and 156: The warning bell does not ring once
- Page 157 and 158: The cremation ground too became sad
- Page 159 and 160: them. The author belongs to an army
I wanted to say, ‘History never dies’,<br />
but I don’t know what made me keep my<br />
silence.<br />
It was past four now. Now we were in<br />
a poor colony inhabited by the minority,<br />
where there stood mud and thatched huts<br />
<strong>of</strong> labourers or those who kept draught<br />
horses.<br />
Dogs were still barking. Morning was<br />
already there for some <strong>of</strong> those houses. In<br />
some house kitchen-fire was alive. Some<br />
children were also seen in front <strong>of</strong> a few<br />
houses... the women were seen doing something<br />
and going and coming out <strong>of</strong> their<br />
huts... And suddenly that accident occurred...<br />
a terrible accident. There happened<br />
to come in front <strong>of</strong> the car a little<br />
minority boy, and also a little calf, at one<br />
and the same moment. To Manto, who was<br />
driving in a carefree mood, it was the very<br />
time to take a decision within a flash <strong>of</strong> time.<br />
No. If you prefer you may leave the<br />
story here. I won’t ask you to continue<br />
reading... for what you are going to read<br />
now is impractical, loathesome and violating<br />
the Human Rights as well.<br />
In the last fraction <strong>of</strong> the second as I<br />
was shutting my eyes in desperation I<br />
chanced to catch a glimpse <strong>of</strong> the young<br />
calf bolting away. ...Manto had steered the<br />
car towards the minority boy...<br />
No. I repeat. Please separate the cruel<br />
words said here presently from the story.<br />
We were back home.<br />
Manto was standing near the window<br />
bars. His spectacles were soiled with dust.<br />
He was smoking recklessly.<br />
‘You could have saved the boy,’ I<br />
shrieked out.<br />
‘Only one—either the boy or the calf.’<br />
Manto shrieked out more vehemently. ‘The<br />
casualty <strong>of</strong> a minority boy will be forgotten<br />
within two hours. But, do you know what<br />
the accidental death <strong>of</strong> a calf in that locality<br />
means?’<br />
Manto turned. He tore the papers on<br />
the table into little bits and threw them into<br />
the dustbin.<br />
Manto disappeared, but the chair on<br />
which he had been sitting was still rocking.<br />
Musharraf Alam Zauqui describes himself as an obsessive, compulsive writer<br />
in <strong>Hindi</strong> and Urdu. He has written numerous short stories and a novel<br />
‘bayaan’ which centres round the tragedy <strong>of</strong> the Babri Masjid’s fall. He<br />
is also involved with television and cinema. He lives in Delhi.<br />
Shyamji Mishra, a teacher by pr<strong>of</strong>ession, translates from <strong>Hindi</strong> to English.<br />
132 :: January-March 2012