Varljive postelje / Deceitful Beds

Slovenska edicija:

S Shahidom sahibom sem se nastanila v hiši gospoda Aslama. Komaj smo se pozdravili, že je zagnal vik in krik zaradi domnevnih obscenosti v mojem pisanju. Jaz pa sem bila tudi kot obsedena. Shahid sahib me je poskušal obrzdati, toda zaman.

»In kako vulgarne besede ste šele vi uporabili v svojem romanu Gunah ki Ratein! Tudi podrobnosti spolnega odnosa ste opisali samo zato, da bi bralce vzdražili,« sem rekla.

»Moj primer je drugačen. Jaz sem moški.«

»Sem jaz kriva, da ste?«

»Kako to mislite?« V obraz je bil zaripel od jeze.

»Reči hočem, da vas je Bog ustvaril moškega, jaz nisem imela nič pri tem. Mene pa je ustvaril žensko in vi niste imeli nič pri tem. Svobodni ste, da lahko pišete, kar hočete, in ne potrebujete mojega dovoljenja. Prav tako pa tudi jaz ne čutim nobene potrebe, da bi vas morala prositi za dovoljenje, da smem pisati, kot hočem.«

»Izobraženo dekle iz spodobne muslimanske družine ste.«

»Vi ste tudi izobraženi. In tudi iz spodobne muslimanske družine.«

»Vi bi radi tekmovali z moškimi?«

»Nikakor ne. Vedno sem se trudila, da bi dobila višje ocene kot dečki v mojem razredu, in pogosto mi je tudi uspelo.«

(Iz zgodbe Ismat Chughtai V imenu tistih poročenih žensk, prev. Tina Mahkota)

Niso pa bili vsi pacienti nori. Nekateri so bili popolnoma normalni, razen da so bili morilci. Da bi jih rešili pred rabljevo zanko, so jih sorodniki strpali v umobolnico, tako da so podkupili celo vrsto uradnikov. Njim se je menda vsaj približno svitalo, zakaj so razdelili Indijo in kaj je Pakistan. Glede trenutnega položaja pa so bili tudi oni nepoučeni.

(...)

Kje točno leži ta Pakistan, pa norci niso vedeli. Ravno zato ne nori in ne deloma nori niso vedeli povedati, ali so trenutno v Indiji ali v Pakistanu. Če so v Indiji, kje za vraga je torej Pakistan? Če so v Pakistanu, kako je mogoče, da je bil ta še pred kratkim Indija?

Nekega norca je ves ta cirkus o Indiji-Pakistanu-Pakistanu-Indiji tako močno zmedel, da je nekega dne med pometanjem vse skupaj odvrgel iz rok, splezal na najbližje drevo, se ugnezdil na vejo in od zgoraj dve uri razpredal o kočljivi problematiki Indije in Pakistana. Pazniki so mu rekli, naj pride dol; on pa se je povzpel še eno vejo više. Ko so mu zagrozili, da bo kaznovan, je slovesno izjavil: »Ne želim živeti ne v Indiji ne v Pakistanu. Živel bom na tem drevesu.«

Ko so ga končno le prepričali, da je splezal dol, je začel objemati sikhovske in hindujske prijatelje in solze so mu lile po licih, ker je bil prepričan, da ga bodo vsak čas zapustili in odšli v Indijo.

                                                (Iz zgodbe Saadata Hasana Manta Toba Tek Singh, prev. Tina Mahkota)

Angleška edicija:

I went, along with Shahid Sahib, to stay at Mr. Aslam’s house. We had barely exchanged greetings when he began to rant about the alleged obscenity in my writings. I was also like a woman possessed. Shahid Sahib tried to restrain me, but in vain.

‘And you’ve used such vulgar words in your Gunah ki Ratein! You’ve even described the details of the sex act merely for the sake of titillation,’ I said.

‘My case is different. I’m a man.’

‘Am I to blame for that?’

‘What do you mean?’ His face was flushed with anger.

‘What I mean is that God made you a man, and I had no hand in He made me a woman, and you had no hand in it. You have the freedom to write whatever you want, you don’t need my permission. Similarly, I don’t feel any need to seek your permission to write the way I want to.’

‘You’re an educated girl from a decent Muslim family.’

‘You’re also educated. And from a decent Muslim family.’

‘Do you want to compete with men?’

‘Certainly not. I always endeavoured to get higher marks than the boys in my class, and often succeeded.’

(Ismat Chughtai, from ‘In the Name of Those Married Women’, tr. by M. Asaduddin)

Not all inmates were mad. Some were perfectly normal, except that they were murderers. To spare them the hangman’s noose, their families had managed to get them committed after bribing officials down the line. They probably had a vague idea why India was being divided and what Pakistan was, but, as for the present situation, they were equally clueless.

(...)

As to where Pakistan was located, the inmates knew nothing. That was why both the mad and the partially mad were unable to decide whether they were now in India or in Pakistan. If they were in India, where on earth was Pakistan? And if they were in Pakistan, then how come that until only the other day it was India?

One inmate had got so badly caught up in this India-Pakistan-Pakistan-India rigmarole that one day, while sweeping the floor, he dropped everything, climbed the nearest tree and installed himself on a branch, from which vantage point he spoke for two hours on the delicate problem of India and Pakistan. The guards asked him to get down; instead he went a branch higher, and when threatened with punishment, declared: ‘I wish to live neither in India nor in Pakistan. I wish to live in this tree.’

When he was finally persuaded to come down, he began embracing his Sikh and Hindu friends, tears running down his cheeks, fully convinced that they were about the leave him and go to India.

(Saadat Hasan Manto, from ‘Toba Tek Singh’, tr. by Khalid Hasan)