MOZAIL
by Sādat Hasan Mānṫo, 1950(?)

The 1947 partition of the British colony of India into the two independent states of India and Pakistan is an important event treated in numerous novels and short stories in several Indian literatures. It has been written about especially in Urdu, Hindi, Bengali, and Punjabi, the languages spoken in the areas most profoundly affected by the cataclysmic event. In the wake of partition some 3 million people lost their lives in rioting and in the insurrections growing out of the flight of 15 million people from one side of the border to the other.

Considered one of Sādat Hasan Mānṫo's best short stories, "Mozail" is set against these political events. It was written in the early 1950s, after the author had emigrated from India to Pakistan. The story, first translated into English in Another Lonely Voice in 1979, highlights two of Mānṫo's favorite themes—sex and violence. "Mozail" is told from the point of view of Tarlochan Singh, an orthodox Sikh who lives in Bombay. Like any orthodox Sikh, he has never cut his hair and does not smoke. Because of these traits he is, like all Sikhs, readily recognizable and often the butt of jokes. He meets and falls in love with a highly unconventional Jewish woman, Mozail, a salesperson who, among other things, wears distinctive wooden sandals. She says that she will marry him only if he cuts his hair. He does, and she agrees, but she then unexpectedly meets a former lover, with whom she leaves town.

Though shattered, Tarlochan recovers, and he meets and then proposes to a simple Sikh girl, Karpal, the complete antithesis of Mozail. She and her family live in a Muslim neighborhood, and because communal riots have broken out as a result of partition, Tarlochan worries about her safety. The strictly enforced curfew prevents him from contacting her.

Mozail returns and grows irate when she learns that Karpal and her family are holed up in their apartment in a Muslim neighborhood. She demands that Tarlochan do something to get them out. He is reluctant to go into the neighborhood without his turban for fear of offending the young girl's religious sensibilities, yet if he goes there with a turban, he will be taken for a Sikh and attacked by Muslims. Mozail says that she will help him rescue the girl and her family.

Through bluffing, bribes, and winks, Mozail gets them through the riot-stricken neighborhood and to Karpal's apartment. Because looters are systematically making their way through the building and will be knocking on the apartment door in a few moments, Mozail quickly takes off her caftan, under which she is naked, and makes Karpal put it on, saying that the Muslims will now take her for a Jew and spare her. Mozail says that, when the looters arrive, she will run up the stairs naked; stunned, the looters will go after her, at which time Karpal is to escape. When the looters do come to the door, she throws it open, and as she predicted, they chase after her as she rushes upstairs. She slips on her wooden sandals, however, and falls headfirst on the stairs, causing a mortal gash to her head. As she lies dying, she bluffs further, saying that the turbaned man is her Muslim lover who is so "crazy that I always call him a Sikh." As Tarlochan takes off his turban to cover her nakedness, she refuses the turban by saying, "Take away this rag of your religion. I don't need it." She then dies.

The story derives its power from two sources: the portrayal of Mozail, one of Mānṫo's most bewitching characters, and the Maupassant-style ending. Everything about Mozail is unorthodox, big, and loud. Her hair is cut short in a Western style, and she wears such heavy lipstick that her lips look like "beefsteaks." Her large, loose caftan, under which she wears no undergarments, is cut so low that her large, bouncing breasts are exposed. It also covers "her generous thighs," which she readily scratches and exposes. Her large wooden sandals make a loud clatter. Going out of her way to be a good friend, she sometimes leaves Tarlochan sitting alone in a restaurant or movie while she talks to old friends she has met. Her willingness to accompany Tarlochan into the Muslim neighborhood and even to die protecting him is the ultimate expression of friendship. More overtly sexual than Tarlochan, with the hint that she might be a prostitute on the side, Mozail is unpredictable, uninhibited, and unrefined.

By contrast the Sikh Tarlochan, whom one might expect to be tough and aggressive, even mean, is a laid-back counterpart to Mozail. He is embarrassed that she does not wear undergarments, and he is frightened, while she is not, as they pass through the Muslim neighborhood. She is a free spirit, but he is circumscribed by religious orthodoxy. She is a playful tease; he is a stolid idealist.

The ending of the story is a powerful indictment of the partition. Whereas unspeakable acts are being committed matter-of-factly all around her, Mozail is willing to place herself in jeopardy and even to die for her friend Tarlochan. Her refusal to take his turban to cover her nakedness at the end of the story is masterfully ambiguous. Does she refuse it out of genuine disdain for his religious orthodoxy? (She teases him defiantly about his beard and often blows cigarette smoke into his face.) Or is it one last selfless act that will allow him to appear appropriately attired before his fiancée? The vagueness adds complex dimensions and rich texture to the story.

Critics such as Leslie A. Flemming, in Another Lonely Voice, have referred to "Mozail" as "unrealistic, idealized and romanticized" in its portrayal of the partition. While this may be so, the story remains one of Mānṫo's most popular, and Mozail is one of modern Indian literature's most independent and self-empowered women.

—Carlo Coppola