Best Manto Saadaat hasan story “khol do” written by himself
Manto Saadaat hasan story “khol do” written by himself | Manto Saadaat hasan story “khol do” | Manto story “khol do” best story
The special train left from Amritsar at 2 pm and reached Mughalpura after eight hours. Many men died on the way. Mutaddid were injured and some got lost here and there.
When Sirajuddin opened his eyes at ten in the morning on the cold ground of the camp and saw all around him a floating sea of men, women and children, his powers of thinking became even weaker. He kept gazing at the cloudy sky for a long time. There was noise everywhere in the camp. But old Sirajuddin’s ears were closed. He could not hear anything. If someone saw him, he would think that he was immersed in some deep worry but it was not so. His senses were dull. His entire existence was dependent on space.
While looking towards the cloudy sky without any intention, Sirajuddin’s eyes met the sun. The bright light penetrated every fiber of his being and he woke up. Many pictures flashed through his mind. Loot, fire… Bhagam Bhaag… Station… Bullets… Night and Sakina… Sirajuddin stood up and like a mad man started scanning the sea of people spread around him.
For three hours he kept roaming around the camp calling Sakina Sakina. But he could not find any trace of his young and only daughter. There was chaos all around. Someone was looking for their child, someone was looking for their mother. Some wife and some daughter. Sirajuddin, tired and exhausted, sat down on one side and insisted on Hafeez wondering when and where Sakina separated from him. But while thinking, his mind got fixated on the dead body of Sakina’s mother whose intestines were all out. He couldn’t think of anything beyond this.Sakina’s mother was dead. He died in front of Sirajuddin’s eyes. But where was Sakina, according to whom her mother had said while dying, leave me and run away from here quickly with Sakina.
Sakina was with him. Both were running barefoot. Sakina’s scarf had fallen. He tried to stop to pick her up, but Sakina shouted, “Abba ji… leave it.” But she had picked up the scarf… while thinking this, she looked towards the bulging pocket of her coat and put her hand in it and took out a cloth… it was the same scarf of Sakina… but where was Sakina?
Sirajuddin tried hard on his tired mind but he could not reach any conclusion. Had he brought Sakina with him to the station? Was she riding in the car with him? When the car was stopped on the way and the rebels entered, did he become unconscious and they took away Sakina?
There were only questions in Sirajuddin’s mind, there was no answer. He needed sympathy. But all the people spread around needed sympathy. Sirajuddin wanted to cry but his eyes did not help him. God knows where the tears had disappeared.
After six days, when his senses recovered to some extent, Sirajuddin met those people who were ready to help him. There were eight young men who had a lorry and guns. Sirajuddin gave her millions of blessings and described Sakina’s appearance, “She has a fair complexion and is very beautiful… she was not on me but on her mother… she is around seventeen years old… she has big eyes… Black hair, a big mole on the right cheek… she is my only daughter. Find it, God will do good to you.”
The Razakar youth assured old Sirajuddin with great enthusiasm that if his daughter came alive, she would be back with him within a few days.
All eight young men tried. He went to Amritsar risking his life. They rescued many women, many men and many children and took them to safe places. Ten days passed but they did not find Sakina anywhere.
One day, when he was going to Amritsar in a lorry for the same service, he saw a girl on the road near Chhajharta. Hearing the sound of the lorry, she got scared and started running. The Razakars stopped the motor and everyone ran after him. They caught the girl in a field. I saw that she was very beautiful. There was a thick mole on the right cheek. A boy said to her, “Don’t worry… Is your name Sakina?”
The girl’s complexion became even paler. She did not answer, but when all the boys consoled her, her anger went away and she accepted that she was Sakina, Sirajuddin’s daughter.
Eight Razakar youths wooed Sakina in every possible way. Fed him food, gave him milk and made him sit in the lorry. One of them took off his coat and gave it to her because she was feeling very confused due to the absence of a scarf and was trying unsuccessfully to cover her chest with her arms again and again.
Many days passed… Sirajuddin did not get any news from Sakina. He would roam around various camps and offices throughout the day. But his daughter was not found anywhere. He would remain praying for the success of those Razakar youth for a long time at night. Who had assured him that if Sakina was alive then they would find her within a few days.
One day Sirajuddin saw those young Razakars in the camp, sitting in a lorry. Sirajuddin ran towards him. The lorry was about to leave when he asked, “Son, have you found my wife?”
Everyone said with one voice, “It will be fine, it will be fine.” And drove the lorry.
Sirajuddin once again prayed for the success of those youth and his heart became somewhat lighter.
It was around evening in the camp where Sirajuddin was sitting. Something wrong happened near him. Four men were carrying something. When he investigated, he found that a girl was lying unconscious near the railway line. People have picked him up and brought him. Sirajuddin followed him. People handed over the girl to the hospital staff and went away. For some time he stood like this, leaning against the carved wooden pole outside the hospital. Then he slowly went inside. There was no one in the room. There was a stretcher on which a dead body was lying. Sirajuddin moved towards him taking small steps. The room dimly lit up. Sirajuddin saw the shining mole on the corpse’s pale face and shouted, “Sakina!”
The doctor who had lit the room asked Sirajuddin, “What is it?”
Only this much could come out of Sirajuddin’s throat, “Yes, I… Yes, I… am his father!”
The doctor looked at the dead body lying on the stretcher. Felt his pulse and said to Sirajuddin, “Open the window.”
Jumbish was born in the dead body of Sakina. With lifeless hands she opened the waistband and slid down the shalwar. Old Sirajuddin shouted happily, “She is alive… my daughter is alive…” The doctor was drenched in sweat from head to toe.
