16 Best Saadat Hasan Manto Quotes will Mesmerize You with His Writing

You might never heard about Saadat Hasan Manto in 2018 until Nawazuddin Siddiqui made an announcement that he is portraying great Indian writer of all time in a movie. Saadat Hasan Manto wrote mainly in Urdu language. He written/produced collection of 22 short stories, novel, 5 series of radio plays, 3 collections of essays and 2 collection of personal sketches.  Manto was extremely popular because he writes about society issues during that time when no one dares to talk about it. Saadat Hasan Manto is also known for his stories about the partition of India just after the Independence Day. Toba Tek Singh was the short story by Saadat Hasan Manto where he mentioned beautifully about how he felt regarding the country partition.

Here we are listing few famous Saadat Hasan Manto Quotes which are absolutely honest and defines that Manto was ahead of his time during that era.

If you cannot bear these stories then the society is unbearable. Who am I to remove the clothes of this society, which itself is naked. I don’t even try to cover it, because it is not my job, that’s the job of dressmakers.


In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful
Here lies Saadat Hasan Manto and with him lie buried all the secrets and mysteries of the art of short-story writing….
Under tons of earth he lies, still wondering who among the two is greater short-story writer: God or He.


Hindustan had become free. Pakistan had become independent soon after its inception but man was still slave in both these countries — slave of prejudice … slave of religious fanaticism … slave of barbarity and inhumanity.


If a man has to make a woman the center of his love, why should he integrate animality into this sacred human emotion?…Is love incompelete without it?…Is love the name of physical excersize ?


I feel like I am always the one tearing everything up and forever sewing it back together.


He catches the thieves that lie in the hearts of their pure and respectable wives. And he compares them to the purity in the heart of a whore in a brothel.


Some people kiss as if they were eating watermelon.


You would have realized that it wasn’t Mumtaz, a Muslim, a friend of yours, but a human being you had killed. I mean, if he was a bastard, by killing him you wouldn’t have killed the bastard in him; similarly, assuming that he was a Muslim, you wouldn’t have killed his Muslimness, but him.


Her pores were like those of an orange, its skin filled with juice, which, if you applied the slightest pressure, would squirt up into your eyes. She was that fresh.


War has brought inflation even to the graveyard.


If you find my stories dirty, the society you are living in is dirty. With my stories, I only expose the truth.


For me, remembrance of things past has always been a waste of time, and what’s the point of tears? I don’t know. I’ve always been focused on today. Yesterday and tomorrow hold no interest for me. What had to happen, did, and what will happen, will.


I feel like I am always the one tearing everything up and forever sewing it back together.


A man remains a man no matter how poor his conduct. A woman, even if she were to deviate for one instance, from the role given to her by men, is branded a whore.


I thought that the Hindus and Muslims would busy themselves in this war and their blood, which did not mix in mosque and temple, would finally mingle in Bombay’s drain and gutters.


A little ahead was a shop burnt in the riots. A man now sat inside with two large slabs of ice on the floor. A thought came to me: ‘At last the poor shop has the chance to cool itself.’

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