Nandita Das's Manto celebrates Urdu writer and poet in all his flawed glory

Nandita Das’s Manto needs no preamble. And Das wastes no flourish to introduce the lead, Urdu poet and writer Saadat Hasan Manto. Das’s biopic is told through a reflective literary device, where Manto’s life mimics his writing and his writing is an adaptation of his life’s experiences. 

Sharp-witted, Manto begins with a breathless and exhilarating depiction of the Bombay of 1947. Writers, actors, musicians, lyricists all inhabit the fashionably artistic world of Bombay Talkies, the iconic film studio that was founded in 1934.

For those who have read Manto’s stories, whether forcefully through structured coursework or through some serendipity at the library, the film is guaranteed to give them the chills. For the uninitiated, the chills may be slightly lukewarm, especially when the film depicts Manto’s short stories and afsaane as part of the script. I was almost expecting Das to weave in Manto’s most celebrated stories — Thanda Ghosht, Bu, Toba Tek Singh. These, predictably, are essential bits in the film, but their timing and the on-screen adaptation is in no way predictable or boring. Manto’s stories are particularly special for their spine-chilling visual quality, which the film channelises quite well.

Partition was one of the biggest traumas that his family and his career suffered, but Manto managed to give words to unspeakable atrocities and suffering. On screen, this experience of the Partition trauma is even more heightened. Das has done well to use Manto’s own words from his stories to recreate the man, which would have in itself been a task considering how little is known of him.

Nawazuddin Siddiqui as Manto plays a fitting tribute to the troubled poet. As a Bombay resident, Manto’s stylish glasses and hair are as accurate as his beaten-down persona and rundown attire in Lahore. A party to celebrate India’s independence offers a peek into the world that greats such as Jaddanbai (essayed beautifully by Ila Arun), Naushad, Ashok Kumar, Suraiya and K Asif inhabited. Tahir Raj Bhasin as Manto’s closest friend, actor Shyam Chaddha, is delightfully adorable. But it is Rasika Dugal, who plays the role of Safiya, Manto’s wife, who is the real star of the film. Her subdued acting and pitch-perfect dialogue delivery add significant nuance.

Das deserves special mention for not trying to erase the dark history of Manto’s life, particularly his ruinous alcoholism and his inability to rise above the hubris of a writer. Biopics rarely ever celebrate the fallen hero and Manto steers clear of falling into the pit of saccharine nostalgia, both about its protagonist and the era he belonged to. 

Manto and Safiya’s marriage, a little-known facet of his life, breathes colour into the film. Safiya was not only his wife and the mother of his children, she was also his companion in the truest sense. Theirs was a marriage for the books and whether honest in its depiction or not, it seems like a story worth being told.

Children who grew up listening to their grandparents talk about Partition would be able to find a bond with Manto. The scene where Manto wakes his wife up to celebrate India’s independence reminded me of a conversation with my grandmother. I asked her if it was momentous, if there was some visible shift of power, like I’d read in my history textbooks. She gave me a wry smile and said that all she remembered from July and August of 1947 was fear, fleeing and the floods. When Manto’s family finally occupies Lakshmi Mansion in Lahore, I could hear my grandmother’s voice narrating a story about occupying a house in Panipat where Muslims used to live. 

The film suffers from an uneven pace and slows down, much like Manto’s own life, in the second half. I would have liked to see more of Manto and writer Ismat Chughtai’s friendship. But the pace picks up towards the end and fittingly ends with Toba Tek Singh, the story of a mentally challenged man who belongs to a land that no longer exists. Manto deserves a second view just to recognise and appreciate all the metaphors about religion and society. Like Manto says in court, he wants to show a mirror to society but “buri soorat waalon ko aine se hi shikayat ho toh main kya kahun (if people find fault with the mirror for reflecting their ugliness, what can I say)”.