Manto: Selected Stories

Licence

Abu the coachman was very stylish and his coach was number one in the city. He only took regulars. He earned ten to fifteen rupees daily from them, and it was enough for him. Unlike the other coachmen, he didn’t have a taste for alcohol but he had a weakness for fashion.

Whenever his coach passed by, its bells jingling, all eyes turned to him. ‘There goes that stylish Abu. Just look at the way he’s sitting. And that turban, tipped to the side like that!’

When Abu heard these words and observed the admiration in people’s eyes, he’d cock his head and his horse Chinni’s stride would quicken. Abu held the reins as though it were hardly necessary to hold them at all, as if Chinni didn’t need its master’s instructions, and would keep his stride without them. At times, it seemed as though Abu and Chinni were one, or rather that the entire coach was a single life force, and who was that force, if not Abu?

The passengers Abu didn’t accept cursed him roundly. Some wished him ill: ‘May the Lord break his arrogance and his coach and horse land in some river.’

In the shadows cast by Abu’s thin moustache, a smile of supreme self-confidence danced. It made the other coachmen burn with envy. The sight of Abu inspired them to beg, borrow and steal so that they, too, could have coaches decorated with brass fittings. But they could not replicate his distinct style and elegance. Nor did they find such devoted clients.

One afternoon, Abu was lying in his coach under the shade of a tree, dropping off to sleep, when a voice rang in his ears. Abu opened his eyes and saw a woman standing below. Abu must have looked only once at her, but her extreme youth instantly pierced his heart. She wasn’t a woman, she was a girl — sixteen or seventeen; slim, but sturdy and her skin dark, but radiant. She wore silver hoops in her ears. Her hair was parted in the middle and she had a pointed nose on whose summit there was a small, bright beauty spot. She wore a long kurta, a blue skirt and a light shawl over her head.

The girl said in a childish voice, ‘How much will you take for the teshan?’

Mischief played on Abu’s smiling lips. ‘Nothing.’

The girl’s dark face reddened. ‘What will you take for the teshan?’ she repeated.

Abu let his eyes linger on her and replied, ‘What can I take from you, fortunate one? Go on, get in the back.’

The girl covered her firm, already well concealed breasts, with her trembling hands. ‘What things you say!’

Abu smiled. ‘Go on, get in then. I’ll take whatever you give me.’

The girl thought for a moment, then stepped onto the footboard and climbed in. ‘Quickly. Come on then. Take me to the teshan.’

Abu turned around. ‘In a big hurry, gorgeous?’

‘You… you…’ The girl was about to say more, but stopped mid-sentence.

The carriage began to move, and kept moving; many streets passed below the horse’s hooves. The girl sat nervously in the back. A mischievous smile danced on Abu’s lips. When a considerable amount of time had passed, the girl asked in a frightened voice, ‘The teshan hasn’t come yet?’

Abu replied meaningfully, ‘It’ll come. Yours and my teshan is the same.’

‘What do you mean?’

Abu turned to look at her and said, ‘You’re not such an innocent, surely? Yours and my teshan really is the same. It became one the moment Abu first set eyes on you. I swear on your life, I’m your slave; I wouldn’t lie.’

The girl adjusted the shawl on her head. Her eyes showed that she understood Abu’s meaning. Her face also showed that she hadn’t taken his words badly. But she was mulling over this dilemma: Abu and her station might well be the same; Abu was certainly smart and dressed sharp, but was he faithful too? Should she abandon her station from which, in any case, her train had long departed, for his?

Abu’s voice made her start. ‘What are you thinking about, fortunate one?’

The horse was prancing along happily; the air was cold; the trees lining the street raced by; their branches swooned; there was no sound except the ringing of bells. Abu, head cocked, was fantasising about kissing the dark beauty. After some time, he tied the horse’s reins to the dashboard and with a jump, landed in the back seat next to the girl. She remained silent. Abu grabbed her hands in his. ‘Put your reins in my hands!’

The girl said only two words. ‘Enough now.’ But Abu immediately put his arms around her. She resisted. Her heart was beating hard and fast, as if it wanted to leave her and fly away.

‘I love this horse and carriage more than life,’ Abu said in a soft, loving voice, ‘but I swear on the eleventh pir, I’ll sell it and have gold bangles made for you. I’ll wear old, torn clothes myself, but I’ll keep you like a princess! I swear on the one, omnipresent God that this is the first love of my life. If you’re not mine, I’ll cut my throat this minute in front of you!’ Then suddenly, he moved away from the girl. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me today. Come on, I’ll drop you to the teshan.’

‘No,’ the girl said softly, ‘now you’ve touched me.’

Abu lowered his head. ‘I’m sorry. I made a mistake.’

‘And will you honour this mistake?’

There was a challenge in her voice, as if someone had said to Abu, ‘Let’s see if your carriage can go faster than mine.’ He raised his lowered head; his eyes brightened. ‘Fortunate one…’ With this, he put his hand on his firm chest and said, ‘Abu will give his life.’

The girl put forward her hand. ‘Then take my hand.’

Abu held her hand firmly. ‘I swear on my youth. Abu is your slave.’

The next day Abu and the girl were married. She was from Gujarat district, the daughter of a cobbler; her name was Nesti. She had come to town with her relatives. They had been waiting at the station even as Abu and she were falling in love.

They were both very happy. Abu didn’t sell his horse and carriage to have gold bangles made for Nesti, but he did spend his savings on gold earrings and silk clothes for her.

His heart danced when Nesti appeared before him, her silk skirt swishing from side to side. ‘I swear on the five pure ones, there’s no one in the world beautiful like you are.’ With this, he would press her against his chest. ‘You’re the queen of my heart.’

The two were immersed in the pleasures of youth. They sang; they laughed; they went on walks; they swore fidelity to each other. A month passed like this when suddenly one morning the police arrested Abu. A kidnapping case was registered against him. Nesti stood by him firmly, unwaveringly protesting his innocence, but despite that, Abu was sentenced to two years’ imprisonment. When the court gave its verdict, Nesti wrapped her arms around Abu. ‘I’ll never go to my mother and father,’ she said as she wept. ‘I’ll sit at home and wait for you.’

Abu gently touched her stomach. ‘Bless you. I’ve given the horse and carriage to Dino. Carry on taking the rent from him.’

Nesti’s parents put great pressure on her, but she didn’t go back to them. Tiring at last, they gave up on her and left her to her lot. Nesti began to live alone. Dino would give her five rupees in the evening, which was enough for her expenses. She also received the money that had accumulated during the court case.

Abu and Nesti met once a week at the jail, meetings which were always too brief for them. Whatever money Nesti saved, she spent on bringing Abu comfort in jail. At one meeting, Abu, looking at her bare ears, asked, ‘Where are your earrings, Nesti?’

Nesti smiled, and looking at the sentry, said, ‘I must have lost them somewhere.’

‘You needn’t take so much care of me,’ Abu said with some anger, ‘I’m alright, however I am.’

Nesti said nothing. Their time was up. She left smiling, but when she reached home, she wept bitterly; she wept for hours because Abu’s health was declining. In this last meeting, she could hardly recognise him. The strapping Abu was a shadow of his former self. Nesti thought his sorrow had consumed him and that their separation had caused his decline. What she didn’t know was that Abu had TB and that the disease ran in his family. Abu’s father had been even sturdier than Abu, but TB soon sent him to his grave. Abu’s elder brother had also been a strapping young man, but the disease had caused him to wither away in the flower of his youth. Abu himself was unaware of this, and taking his last breath in the prison hospital, he said to Nesti in a sorrowful voice: ‘If I had known I was going to die so young, I swear on the one, omnipresent God, I wouldn’t have made you my wife. I’ve done you a great injustice. Forgive me. And listen, my horse and carriage are my hallmark. Take care of them. Stroke Chinni on the head and tell him that Abu sends his love.’

Abu died, leaving Nesti’s world desolate. But she was not a woman to be easily defeated. She withstood her sorrow. The house was deserted now. In the evenings, Dino would come and comfort her. ‘Have no fear, bhabhi. No one walks ahead of God. Abu was my brother. Whatever I can do for you, with God’s will, I will do.’

At first Nesti didn’t understand, but when her mourning period was over, Dino said in no unclear terms that she should marry him. She wanted to kick him out of the house when she heard this, but only said, ‘Dino, I don’t want to remarry.’

From this day on, there was a difference in the rupees Dino gave her. Earlier, he had given her five rupees daily without fail. But now he would sometimes give her four, sometimes three. His excuse was that business was slow. Then he began disappearing for two to three days at a time. Sometimes he said he was sick; other times he’d say some part of the carriage was broken and he couldn’t take it out. He went too far one day and Nesti finally said, ‘Listen, Dino, don’t trouble yourself with it anymore. Just hand the coach and horse over to me.’

After much hemming and hawing, Dino was at last forced to place the horse and coach back in Nesti’s custody. She, in turn, gave it to Maja, a friend of Abu’s. Within a few days, he proposed marriage as well. When she turned him down, his eyes changed; the warmth in them seemed to vanish. Nesti took the horse and carriage back from him and gave it to a coachman she didn’t know. He really broke all boundaries, arriving completely drunk one night to give her the money, and making a grab for her as soon as he walked through the door. She let him have it and fired him at once.

For eight or ten days, the coach was in the stable, out of work, racking up costs — feed on one hand, stable rent on the other. Nesti was in a state of confusion. People were either trying to marry her or rape her or rob her. When she went outside, she was met with ugly stares. One night a neighbour jumped the wall and started making advances towards her. Nesti went half mad wondering what she should do.

One day as she sat at home, she thought ‘What if I were to drive the coach myself?’ When she used to go on rides with Abu, she would often drive it herself. She was acquainted with the routes as well. But then she thought of what people would say. Her mind came up with many rejoinders. ‘What’s the harm? Do women not toil and do manual labour? Here working in mines, there in offices, thousands working at home; you have to fill your stomach one way or the other!’

She spent a few days thinking about it. At last she decided to do it. She was confident she could. And so, after asking God’s help, she arrived one morning at the stable. When she began harnessing the horse to the carriage, the other coachmen were stupefied; some thought it was a joke and roared with laughter. The older coachmen tried dissuading her, saying it was unseemly. But Nesti wouldn’t listen. She fitted up the carriage, polished its brass tackle, and after showing the horse great affection and speaking tender words to Abu, she set out from the stable. The coachmen were stunned at Nesti’s dexterity; she handled the carriage expertly.

Word spread through the town that a beautiful woman was driving a coach. It was spoken of on every street corner. People waited impatiently for the moment when she would come down their street.

At first Nesti shied away from male passengers, but she soon lost her shyness and began taking in an excellent income. Her coach was never idle, here passengers got off, there they got on. Sometimes passengers would even fight among themselves over who had stopped her first.

When the work became too much, she had to fix hours for when the coach would go out — in the mornings, from seven to twelve; in the afternoons, from two to six. This arrangement proved beneficial as she managed to get enough rest as well. Chinni was happy too, but Nesti couldn’t help being aware that her clients often rode in her coach only to be near her. They would make her go aimlessly from pillar to post, sometimes cracking dirty jokes in the back. They spoke to her just to hear the sound of her voice. Sometimes she felt that though she had not sold herself, people had slyly bought her anyway. She was also aware that all the city’s other coachmen thought ill of her. But she was unperturbed; her belief in herself kept her at peace.

One morning, the municipal committee men called her in and revoked her licence. Their reason was that women couldn’t drive coaches. Nesti asked, ‘Sir, why can’t women drive coaches?’

The reply came: ‘They just can’t. Your licence is revoked.’

Nesti said, ‘Sir, then take my horse and coach as well, but please tell me why women can’t drive coaches. Women can grind mills and fill their stomachs. Women can carry rubble in baskets on their heads and make a living. Women can work in mines, sifting through pieces of coal to earn their daily bread. Why can’t I drive a coach? I know nothing else. The horse and carriage were my husband’s, why can’t I use them? How will I make ends meet? My Lord, please have mercy. Why do you stop me from hard, honest labour? What am I to do? Tell me.’

The officer replied: ‘Go to the bazaar and find yourself a spot. You’re sure to make more that way.’

Hearing this, the real Nesti, the person within, was reduced to ashes. ‘Yes sir,’ she answered softly and left. She sold the horse and carriage for whatever she could get and went straight to Abu’s grave. For a moment, she stood next to it in silence. Her eyes were completely dry, like the blaze after a shower, robbing the earth of all its moisture. Her lips parted and she addressed the grave: ‘Abu, your Nesti died today in the committee office.’

With this, she went away. The next day she submitted her application. She was given a licence to sell her body.