{"product_id":"the-dog-of-tithwal-isbn-9781953861009","title":"The Dog of Tithwal","description":"\u003cb\u003e“[Manto’s] empathy and narrative economy invite comparisons with Chekhov. These readable, idiomatic translations have all the agile swiftness and understated poignancy that parallel suggests.\" ---Boyd Tonkin, \u003ci\u003eWall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eStories from \"the undisputed master of the modern Indian short story\" encircling the marginalized, forgotten lives of Bombay, set against the backdrop of the India-Pakistan Partition (Salman Rushdie)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBy far the most comprehensive collection of stories by this 20th Century master available in English.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eA master of the short story, Saadat Hasan Manto opens a window onto Bombay’s demimonde—its prostitutes, rickshaw drivers, artists, and strays as well probing the pain and bewilderment of the Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs ripped apart by the India-Pakistan Partition.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eManto is best known for his dry-eyed examination of the violence, horrors, and reverberations from the Partition. From a stray dog caught in the crossfire at the fresh border of India and Pakistan, to friendly neighbors turned enemy soldiers pausing for tea together in a momentary cease fire—Manto shines incandescent light into hidden corners with an unflinching gaze, and a fierce humanism.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eWith a foreword by Pulitzer Prize–winning poet Vijay Seshadri, these stories are essential reading for our current moment where divisiveness is erupting into violence in so many parts of the world.\"Saadat Hasan Manto has a good claim to be considered the greatest South Asian writer of the 20th century. In his work, written in Urdu, he incarnated the exuberance, the madness, the alcoholic delirium of his time, when the country he loved cleaved into two and set upon each other\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e--The New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"An endlessly fertile storyteller, Manto charmed even his accusers . . . Many of his stories drench the murderous absurdities of intercommunal strife in bitter irony . . . His empathy, obliquity and narrative economy invite comparisons with Chekhov. These readable, idiomatic translations have all the agile swiftness and understated poignancy that parallel suggests.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--Boyd Tonkin,\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eWall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"\u003ci\u003eThe Dog of Tithwal\u003c\/i\u003e brings the streets of Bombay to life.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--Tammy Tarng,\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Few fiction writers have captured the trauma of India’s partition as powerfully as Saadat Hasan Manto . . . Manto writes boldly yet concisely, as seen in these crisp translations, and his ability to create vivid characters is matched by a knack for building cinematic momentum . . . [a] splendid collection.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--Murali Kamma, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Journal of Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Manto, widely regarded as the foremost Urdu short story writer of the 20th century, writes tales of brutality, possession, and innocence. These translations of his work by Hasan and Memon illustrate the writer’s ability to regard everyone—crooks, the upper class, politicians, soldiers, housewives, and prostitutes—with an eye trained on humanity . . . A substantial collection from an important writer.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e--Kirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A substantial, posthumously published collection of stories from a celebrated Urdu writer.\"\u003cb\u003e \u003cbr\u003e--Laurie Muchnick\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"This sardonic collection from Manto . . . reflects the ruptures in India during the Partition . . . Throughout, the author’s clever use of irony and dark humor speaks truth to power and to the characters’ flimsy received notions. Manto’s stories succeed as surprising reflections on the human condition.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e--Publishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"In the era of the Indian independence movement and the murderous and terrifying sectarian conflicts that led to the Partition of the Subcontinent into India and Pakistan, two major figures retained their moral balance, transcended their circumstances, and illuminated their world. One was Gandhi, a politician and maybe a saint. The other was Saadat Hasan Manto, an Urdu short-story writer who was anything but a saint.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e-- Vijay Seshadri, from the introduction\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Manto's irony and humanity raise him on par with Gogol.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--Anita Desai\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\"...visionary. A writer of special interest for anyone who cares about  Pakistan, where so many forms of random-seeming violence crowd the  news.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--Ali Sethi, \u003ci\u003eThe New Yorker\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\"It feels both astonishing and inspiring that such a modern writer was alive at the very birth of Pakistan.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--Sarfraz Manzoor, \u003ci\u003eThe Guardian\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\"The most extraordinary feature of Manto's writing is that, for all his feeling, he never judges. Instead, he urges us to try to understand what is going on in the minds of all his characters, the murderers as well as the murdered...\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--William Dalrymple, \u003ci\u003eThe New Yorker\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\"An errant genius.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e--The Hindu\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\"Manto painted the women of Bombay in a way that few South Asian writers have been able to since.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e--PopMatters\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I would travel anywhere with Manto. . . . He is magnificently immortal.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--Nadeem Aslam, author of \u003ci\u003eMaps for Lost Lovers\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I read him 40 years ago and I meet kids who are reading Manto for the first time - you can actually see the light in their eyes. You can see their jaws dropping and they say, 'What is this? Who is this guy?'\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--Mohammed Hanif in \u003ci\u003eThe Guardian\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"There is still no literary rival to Manto. . . . [And] as communalism, religious intolerance and enmity between India and Pakistan continue to grow, his stories are still highly relevant.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e--The Independent\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Manto makes us care about all the victims, and about the killers as well as the killed – it is only by caring, by empathizing with them, that we can learn to overcome our prejudices and to sublimate our desire for revenge. Reading these stories with an open heart, we are enabled to transcend our political biases – which is perhaps the most radical stage of political development.” --\u003cb\u003eDaniyal Mueenuddin\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\"Manto frequently expands his exploration of power to an international level, showing how the wishes and desires of individuals are crushed by the unrelenting press of history and the inner conflict induced by the need to project a religious or cultural identity. These are plainly written but powerful stories, which often lead us to uncomfortable and uncertain realisations.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--Declan O'Driscoll,\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Irish Times\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"Manto’s writing recalls that of Joseph Roth, whose portraits of Germany’s interwar underclass anticipated the madness to come more fully and accurately than any sociological study . . . Manto skillfully portrays what happens when people lack control over their fates, when the earth shakes and smoke rises, when life becomes easily bought and more easily discarded.\"\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e--Brian O'Neill, \u003ci\u003e\u003ci\u003eNecessary Fiction\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The tales in this volume are addictive, excellent portraits of a place and a time.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--Ananya Bhattacharyya,\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eWashington Independent Review of Books\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\"Manto is an outlier, a freakish occurrence at a freakish time in South Asia. At the same time, this iconic enfant terrible is ageless because the world from which alcohol was for him the only escape . . . is still intact. In all his photographs, he looks absurdly boyish, his large eyes always wide open as if missing nothing, but incredulous at what he was seeing.\"\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e--Mukund Belliappa,\u003c\/b\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003ci\u003eFull Stop\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eSaadat Hasan Manto\u003c\/b\u003e wrote more than twenty collections of short stories, five radio dramas, three essay collections, one novel, and a handful of film scripts. A Muslim living in Bombay at the time of the India-Pakistan Partition, Manto was forced to migrate with his family to Lahore, where he wrote his most wrenching Partition stories. When asked why he sought to humanize the grit of Bombay and the upheaval of Partition, Manto retorted, “If you cannot bear my stories, it is because we live in unbearable times.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eBorn in Kashmir, journalist, author, and translator \u003cb\u003eKhalid Hasan\u003c\/b\u003e is best remembered for his translations of the poetry of Faiz Ahmad Faiz and Saadat Hasan Manto's short fiction.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eMuhammad Umar Memon\u003c\/b\u003e was a critic, short story writer, and translator. He edited \u003ci\u003eThe Annual of Urdu Studies\u003c\/i\u003e at the University of Wisconsin.Kingdom’s End\u003cbr\u003eThe telephone rang. Manmohan, who was sitting beside it,\u003cbr\u003epicked up the receiver and spoke into it. ‘Hello, this is 4457.’\u003cbr\u003eA delicate female voice came from the other end. ‘Sorry, wrong\u003cbr\u003enumber.’\u003cbr\u003eManmohan hung up and returned to the book he was reading.\u003cbr\u003eHe had read this book nearly twenty times already, even though its\u003cbr\u003elast pages were moth-eaten; not because it was especially interesting, but\u003cbr\u003ebecause it was the only book in this barren office.\u003cbr\u003eFor the past week he had been the sole custodian of this office. Its\u003cbr\u003eowner, a friend of his, had gone away somewhere to arrange some credit.\u003cbr\u003eSince Manmohan had no place of his own, he had moved here temporarily\u003cbr\u003efrom the streets. During this one week he had read the book nearly\u003cbr\u003etwenty times over.\u003cbr\u003eIsolated here, he bided his time. He hated any kind of employment.\u003cbr\u003eOtherwise, had he wanted it, the job of director in any film company was\u003cbr\u003ehis for the taking. But working for someone was slavery and he didn’t\u003cbr\u003ewant to be a slave. Since he was a sincere, harmless person, his friends\u003cbr\u003esaw to his daily needs, which were negligible: a cup of tea and a couple\u003cbr\u003eof pieces of toast in the morning, two phulkas and a little bit of gravy for\u003cbr\u003elunch, and a pack of cigarettes that lasted the whole day – that’s all.\u003cbr\u003eManmohan had no family or relatives. He liked solitude and was\u003cbr\u003einured to hardship. He could go without food for days on end. His friends\u003cbr\u003edidn’t know much about him, except that he had left home while still very\u003cbr\u003eyoung and had found himself an abode on the Bombay pavements for\u003cbr\u003equite some time now. He only yearned for one thing in life: the love of a\u003cbr\u003ewoman. He would say, ‘If I’m lucky enough to find a woman’s love, my\u003cbr\u003elife will change completely.’\u003cbr\u003e‘Even then you won’t work,’ his friends would say.\u003cbr\u003e‘Work?’ He would answer with a big sigh, ‘Oh, I’ll become a workaholic.\u003cbr\u003eYou’ll see.’\u003cbr\u003e‘Well then, fall in love with someone.’\u003cbr\u003e‘No, I don’t believe in love that is initiated by the man.’\u003cbr\u003eIt was almost time for lunch. Manmohan looked at the wall clock\u003cbr\u003eopposite him. Just then the phone rang. He picked up the receiver, ‘Hello,\u003cbr\u003ethis is 4457.’\u003cbr\u003eA delicate voice asked, ‘4457?’\u003cbr\u003e‘Yes, 4457,’ Manmohan confirmed.\u003cbr\u003e‘Who are you?’ the female voice asked.\u003cbr\u003e‘I’m Manmohan. What can I do for you?’\u003cbr\u003eWhen there was no answer, Manmohan asked, ‘Whom do you want?’\u003cbr\u003e‘You,’ said the voice.\u003cbr\u003e‘Me?’ he asked, somewhat surprised.\u003cbr\u003e‘Yes, you. Do you have an objection?’\u003cbr\u003eManmohan was flummoxed. ‘Oh no, none at all.’\u003cbr\u003eThe voice smiled, ‘Did you say your name was Madan Mohan?’\u003cbr\u003e‘No. Manmohan.’\u003cbr\u003e‘Manmohan.’\u003cbr\u003eSilence ensued. After some moments, he asked, ‘You wanted to chat\u003cbr\u003ewith me?’\u003cbr\u003e‘Yes,’ the voice affirmed.\u003cbr\u003e‘Well then, chat.’\u003cbr\u003eAfter a slight pause, the voice said, ‘I don’t know what to say. Why\u003cbr\u003edon’t you start?’\u003cbr\u003e‘Okay,’ Manmohan said, and thought for a while. ‘I’ve already told\u003cbr\u003eyou my name. I’m temporarily living in this office. Before, I used to sleep\u003cbr\u003eon the pavement, but now I sleep on the desk here.’\u003cbr\u003eThe voice smiled, ‘Did you sleep in a canopied bed on the pavement?’\u003cbr\u003eManmohan laughed. ‘Before I go any further, let me make one thing\u003cbr\u003eclear. I’ve never lied. I’ve been sleeping on pavements for a long time.\u003cbr\u003eBut, for about a week now, I’ve had this office all to myself, and I’m having\u003cbr\u003ethe time of my life.’\u003cbr\u003e‘Doing what?’\u003cbr\u003e‘I found a book here. The pages at the back are missing. All the same,\u003cbr\u003eI’ve read it . . . oh, about twenty times. If I ever get hold of the whole\u003cbr\u003ebook, I’ll find out what became of the hero and heroine’s love.’\u003cbr\u003eThe voice laughed. ‘You’re an interesting fellow.’\u003cbr\u003e‘Thank you,’ he said with mannered formality.\u003cbr\u003eAfter a pause, the voice asked, ‘What’s your occupation?’\u003cbr\u003e‘Occupation?’\u003cbr\u003e‘I mean your work. What do you do?’\u003cbr\u003e‘What do I do? Nothing, really. An idle man has no work to do. I loaf\u003cbr\u003earound all day and sleep at night.’\u003cbr\u003e‘Do you like your life?’\u003cbr\u003e‘Give me a few moments,’ Manmohan started to think. ‘The truth is,\u003cbr\u003eI’ve never thought about it. Now that you’ve put the question to me, I’m\u003cbr\u003easking myself whether I do or not.’\u003cbr\u003e‘So did you get an answer?’\u003cbr\u003eManmohan took some time to reply, ‘No, I didn’t. But since I’ve been\u003cbr\u003eliving it for so long, I suppose I must like it.’\u003cbr\u003eThe voice laughed.\u003cbr\u003eManmohan said, ‘You laugh beautifully.’\u003cbr\u003e‘Thank you,’ the voice intoned shyly and hung up.","brand":"Archipelago","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304556122341,"sku":"NP9781953861009","price":24.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781953861009.jpg?v=1767739051","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-dog-of-tithwal-isbn-9781953861009","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}