The Dog of Tithwal

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The Dog of Tithwal

Saadat Hasan Manto 1987

Author Biography

Saadat Hasan Manto was a storyteller who took risks. Born on May 11, 1912, in Samrala, India, Manto was the son of Ghulam Hasan Manto, a judge, and Sardar, a widow. He wrote in the Urdu language, the primary language of Muslims in Pakistan and northern India and now the official language of Pakistan, but many of his works have been translated into other languages, including English. He wrote in many genres but is best known for his short stories. He chose controversial topics and was often on the receiving end of public disapproval. Two of his stories, “Colder than Ice” and “The Return,” were deemed indecent by Pakistani censors. He was twice prosecuted for obscenity, once in the early 1940s and again in 1948.

Growing up, Manto was not a dedicated student; he later dropped out of college. When Manto was about twenty-one, his mentor, Bari Aligue, a writer who advocated socialism in India, introduced him to the editorial staff of Masawat, a weekly film publication. In 1937, Manto became an editor of the monthly film magazine Mysawwir.

Manto became part of the Progressive Writers’ Movement in Urdu literature. This movement began in 1935 with Indian students who were urging political and social revolution. Manto used a matter-of-fact style to portray the problems of what he considered to be a materialistic world. Studying the works of nineteenth-century French and Russian realists, Manto portrayed the lower class as having sterling qualities that others lacked. One issue that appears in many of his stories is the mistreatment of women by men who are nevertheless thought of as respectable members of society.

Another frequent topic in Manto’s writing is the suffering caused in 1947, when India was partitioned into India and Pakistan. “The Dog of Tithwal” is one of many of Manto’s stories that revolve around the partition and its aftermath. Manto knew something of the pain of partition himself. He was living in Bombay at the time, a city he loved. As a well-known Muslim, however, he was increasingly unhappy and uncomfortable in Hindu India and moved to Pakistan in 1948. He never felt at home in Pakistan and missed India, especially Bombay.

Some of Manto’s works include Aao, a collection of satirical plays; Manto ke Numainda Asfane, short stories translated as Kingdom’s End; and Manto Ke Mazameen, nonaction writings. For most of his life, Manto found that earning money was difficult. A prolific writer, he sold individual stories to various publications. Some of these later became well known, such as “Toba Tek Singh,” a story about inmates in an insane asylum, and “Thanda Ghosht,” about the violence of 1947.

In addition to plays, radio scripts, and more than two hundred fifty short stories, Manto wrote film scripts. Among his prominent films were Eight Days, Chal Chal Re Naujawan and Mirza Ghalib. Manto also was known for his profiles of Indo-Pakistani film and music personalities.

Manto was married and had three daughters as well as a son who died as an infant. Manto himself died on January 18, 1955, when he was not yet forty-three years of age. The cause was diagnosed as cirrhosis of the liver. Manto was widely said to have knowingly drunk himself to death, and he wrote his obituary a year before his death.

Plot Summary

Indian Camp

“The Dog of Tithwal” begins with Indian and Pakistani soldiers entrenched in their positions along the nations’ border in a mountainous area. Neither side has the advantage in the war; no air forces are involved, and heavy artillery is not in their armaments. It is more a standoff than a battle. The peace of the mountains pervades in spite of the tension. Flowers are in bloom, birds are singing, and clouds are scudding lazily through the skies. Manto compares nature to a symphony that plays beautifully and the men with their guns to discordant notes.

The action begins in the Indian camp, with Jamadar Harnam Singh on night watch. At two O’clock, he wakes Ganda Singh to take over the watch and lies down to sing a romantic song about a pair of shoes with stars on them. Banta Singh joins in with a song about love and tragedy. The soldiers feel sadness creeping over them; perhaps they are reminded that life should be about love rather than about war.

The barking of a dog interrupts this pensive scene. Banta Singh finds the dog in the bushes and announces that his name is Jhun Jhun. The soldiers are in a good humor and pleased to see the dog, until Harnam Singh decides that the dog cannot eat if it is a Pakistani dog. The other soldiers think he is joking, but he then declares that all Pakistanis will be shot, even Pakistani dogs. The dog recognizes something in his tone and reacts with fear, which seems to please Harnam Singh. Another soldier responds by leading the men in a declaration of “India Zindabad!” (an expression of nationalistic fervor).

Banta Singh makes a sign with the dog’s name on it, along with the information that it is an Indian dog, and hangs it around the dog’s neck.

Pakistani Camp

The next morning the dog appears in the Pakistani camp. It turns out that it had spent a few days with the Pakistani soldiers before it went to the Indian camp. Like the Indian soldiers, the Pakistanis are tired of the war that has been dragging on for months. As Subedar Himmat Khan twirls his moustache and studies a map of the Tithwal sector of India, Bashir begins to sing a song about where a lover spent the night.

When the dog appears, Subedar Himmat Khan turns the lines of the song into an accusation against Jhun Jhun. “Where did you spend the night?” he screams. Bashir takes this as a joke and sings his song to the dog, but Subedar Himmat Khan throws a pebble at Jhun Jhun.

Bashir discovers the sign around the dog’s neck. The soldiers ponder the sign to see if it could be in code; Subedar Himmat Khan reports the incident to his platoon commander, who ignores the report because he finds it meaningless. While the commander is correct that the report is not of tactical significance, it is implied that his failure to investigate indicates a lack of discipline in the ranks. The soldiers are bored and seem to feel that their presence here is meaningless.

The Pakistani soldiers rename Jhun Jhun and put a sign around his neck saying that he is Shun Shun, a Pakistani dog. Subedar Himmat Khan then sends Jhun Jhun back to his “family,” urging him to take the message to the enemy. The dog trots off, and Subedar Himmat Khan fires in the air. Feeling bored, he decides to fire at the Indians. For half an hour, the two sides exchange fire, after which Subedar Himmat Khan orders a halt. As he combs his hair, he wonders where the dog has gone.

Death

When Jhun Jhun comes around the hill where the Pakistani are entrenched, it seems to infuriate Subedar Himmat Khan. He shoots at the dog, hitting some stones. Jhun Jhun continues to run toward him, and Subedar Himmat Khan continues to shoot at the dog. Meanwhile, Harnam Singh fires. The two opposing soldiers enjoy scaring the terrified dog until Harnam Singh wounds the dog.

Still, Subedar Himmat Khan will not let Jhun Jhun return to the Pakistani camp. Khan tells the dog it is his duty to continue going toward the enemy camp. It is clear that, in Subedar Himmat Khan’s mind, fanaticism has overcome any rationality.

When the wounded dog drags himself toward Harnam Singh, Jamadar Harnam Singh shoots and kills him. While the Pakistani Subedar Himmat Khan compares the killing to martyrdom, Harnam Singh says that Jhun Jhun “died a dog’s death.”

Characters

Bashir

A soldier in the Pakistani army, Bashir sings the song, “Where did you spend the night, my love, my moon?” Subedar Himmat Khan, fellow soldier, turns the song into an accusation of treachery against Jhun Jhun. Bashir is the soldier who reads the sign around Jhun Jhun’s neck that gives the dog’s name as written by the Indian army. Bashir is also called Bashirey.

Bashirey

See Bashir

Jhun Jhun

Jhun Jhun is a dog, trusting and very friendly. Unable to grasp the hatred between the Pakistani and Indian soldiers, Jhun Jhun greets both with equal enthusiasm. Jhun Jhun, perhaps demonstrating more wisdom than the men, treats them not as Indian and Pakistani, but as humans. Since the men have decided, however, that they are different, they expect the dog to choose sides.

In his innocence, Jhun Jhun represents the refugees and other victims of the partition of India. His death is a reflection of their deaths; even though his death is in reality senseless, the soldiers treat it as if it belongs to a cause. Subedar Himmat Khan of the Pakistani army says that Jhun Jhun has been “martyred” because he was killed by a member of the Indian army.

Subedar Himmat Khan

As a member of the Pakistani army, Subedar Himmat Khan watches over the Tithwal sector in India in an almost possessive way. He has a large mustache that he twirls, perhaps demonstrating his vanity. With his fixation on what is Pakistani and what is Indian, Subedar Himmat Khan represents unreasoning divisiveness and hatred. He sends Jhun Jhun into the enemy camp, refusing to let him come back. By firing at the dog, Subedar Himmat Khan means to scare him. He thinks that Jhun Jhun’s terror is amusing and does not allow him to return even when the dog is injured.

Subedar Himmat Khan demonstrates the disregard for life that comes with blindly following a cause.

Banta Singh

The youngest of the Indian soldiers, Banta Singh has a sweet voice. He sings a lovelorn verse that inspires sadness in the others. Banta Singh is also the soldier who finds Jhun Jhun in the bushes and gives him a name. He does not see the dog as an enemy, nor does he wish to make the dog take sides; he sees the dog as a “poor refugee.” He represents a viewpoint that is more rational than that of his fellow soldier, Jamadar Harnam Singh, who wants to make the dog a point of contention between the two armies.

Ganda Singh

A member of the Indian army, Ganda Singh is the first to be awakened by Jamadar Harnam Singh, who is on night watch. He, along with the other soldiers, is affected by the melancholy words of Jamadar Harnam Singh’s song.

Jamadar Harnam Singh

A member of the Indian army, Jamadar Harnam Singh is the first character introduced in the story. He is on night watch and wakes the others. As he lies down, he sings a sentimental song. In some ways, he serves as a counterpoint to Bashir, the soldier in the Pakistani army who also sings a song. With his Punjabi folk song, Jamadar Harnam Singh underscores the similarities between the groups and the futility of their fight. But he also represents fanaticism when, before feeding Jhun Jhun a cracker, he demands to know if the dog is an Indian.

Jamadar Harnam Singh seems to lack compassion. He is the one who, for sport, shoots and injures Jhun Jhun. He is also the one who kills Jhun Jhun and then says that Jhun Jhun has “died a dog’s death.”

Themes

Darkness and Light

Manto uses images of darkness and light to demonstrate the difference between the men and the natural world around them. Darkness represents the men, blindness, and what is negative, and light represents nature, sight, and what is positive. During the night, the soldiers light huge fires in an attempt to ward off darkness. Yet they are able to overcome neither the darkness of night nor their own blindness. The biggest fires they can build can only illuminate a small patch of ground and do not enable them to see their enemies or to see within themselves. By contrast, Manto writes, “The morning broke ... as if someone had switched on a light in a dark room. It spread across the hills and valleys.” Nature is capable of producing an all-illuminating brightness that the men do not have.

Unity and Disunity

The Pakistanis and the Indians see themselves as separate from each other. There is no common human feeling between them, even though they both sing songs of romance and long for better days. The stream zigzagging down in the valley is like a literal line in the sand that emphasizes the division that the men are maintaining. Unlike the other elements of nature in the mountains, which move lazily, the stream moves furiously, like a snake. This

Topics for Further Study

Write either an alternate ending for the story or an epilogue that tells what happens next.
Compare and contrast the characters of Subedar Himmat Khan of the Pakistani army and Jamadar Harnam Singh of the Indian army. What do you think the author meant to convey through their similarities and differences? Why did he draw these characters as he did?
Both songs in “The Dog of Tithwal” are about love. Why do you think the author chose to use songs in this story, and why do you think he chose songs about love?
Research current relations between India and Pakistan. Prepare a report on your findings and include your thoughts about how the partition of India in 1947 continues to influence the relationship between the two countries.

seems to represent the energy the soldiers dedicate to lashing out at each other. They prefer disunity to unity. Other landmarks in nature also seem to draw attention to this disunity, such as the valley that separates the two hills behind which the opposing forces sit.

While the soldiers exhibit signs of common humanity, such as singing and cooking breakfast at the same time, they do not see or acknowledge these signs of underlying unity. Jhun Jhun, the one creature that ignores the fact that they are adversarial groups and points out their sameness, is put to death.

Warlike Humans versus Peaceful Nature

The mountains of Tithwal are calm and cheerful, but the soldiers are determined to kill. While it would be natural for them to adapt to their peaceful surroundings, the soldiers remain combative. At the time that Jhun Jhun enters the story, the soldiers have been inactive for some weeks, with no progress having been made on either side. The mood is one of dangerous idleness, a harbinger of the death to come. Though there is nothing to gain from exchanging fire, the opposing sides let off ritual shots daily. Unable to destroy each other, the soldiers destroy a harmless dog that is an element of nature. Because he is the only victim available, Jhun Jhun becomes a casualty of the soldiers’ need to satisfy their bloodlust. Humankind’s brutality is visited upon nature. It is not enough merely to scare the dog and make him run in terror; they need to destroy him. Though Subedar Himmat Khan first wounds Jhun Jhun, to him the dog’s death proves that the Indian forces are killers. Jamadar Harnam Singh, whose shot kills the dog, seems, even so, to blame the Pakistani forces. The two sides do not recognize that both have acted cruelly and absurdly. There is no regret for the killing, as there might be in peacetime, because it is seen as an act of war.

The difference between nature and humankind is underscored by the fact that the seasons are changing as the story takes place. The change is occurring gently; the days and nights are mild. While some literature depicts the seasons in conflict, Manto’s story shows that in nature even oppo-sites such as summer and winter flow peacefully into each other. “It seemed as if summer and winter had made their peace,” Manto writes. The men, on the other hand, although they are very much alike, cannot accept each other.

Style

Pastoral Setting

Pastoral literature portrays nature as being idyllic, peaceful, and free of the constraints and struggles of human society. Pastoral settings often allow human characters to find solace and peace that are not possible in a human-made setting.

The story is set in the mountains of Tithwal during temperate and pleasant days in late September. There is peace in the mountains, but, instead of escaping to the innocence of nature, the soldiers bring war with them. The men cannot enjoy the pleasant surroundings because they are not there to enjoy life but to kill.

Journalistic Style

Manto uses a direct, succinct style, almost like an unbiased reporter writing of an actual incident. There is no diatribe; Manto does not tell his readers what to think but lets the facts speak for themselves. His use of dialogue to tell the story further contributes to the journalistic style.

Tension and Foreshadowing

The contrast between the pleasant natural surroundings and the camouflaged soldiers creates tension and a mood of suspense that subtly foreshadow the tragedy to come. Tension builds as Manto describes the soldiers’ boredom and melancholy. When the dog enters the Indian camp, Jamadar Harnam Singh does not greet him in a friendly manner, even though the other soldiers seem amused by his arrival. Jamadar Harnam Singh’s mean treatment of the dog as a potential enemy is further foreshadowing. Subedar Himmat Khan repeats the harsh treatment in the Pakistani camp. As the story builds, the soldiers treat Jhun Jhun both as a potential enemy and as an informant being sent to the enemy camp—neither of which bodes well for the dog. The doom that has been hinted at throughout the story culminates when the dog, scrambling from one side to the other, can find no safe haven. Jhun Jhun’s pitiful end is foreshadowed by the increasingly irrational and brutal behavior of the soldiers, which is emphasized by its contrast to their peaceful setting.

Historical Context

Partition of India

The historical context for “The Dog of Tithwal” is the Indian-Pakistani conflict that arose after the partition of India in 1947. The partition came after India won its independence from British rule on August 14, 1947. India was divided into two countries formed on the basis of religion, with Pakistan as a Muslim state and India as a secular nation ruled by the Hindu majority. Boundary issues and religious disputes brought about terrorism, war, and continuing disharmony between India and Pakistan. Even the imposition of official boundaries did not cause the conflict to cease.

The decision to partition India resulted in barbaric treatment of citizens who happened to be living in the “wrong” nation after the boundaries were drawn. By law, people were required to live in the new nation that “matched” their religion— Muslims in Pakistan, Hindus and Sikhs in India— regardless of where they lived before the partition. Sixteen million refugees streamed across the borders, hoping to make homes in regions entirely foreign to them. The entire region dissolved into disarray.

Since there was no experienced government to effectively deal with the chaos and violence, it fed on itself. In addition to more than half a million deaths, looting and rape were commonplace. In particular, the Hindus and the Muslims used women to intimidate each other: “ghost trains” filled with severed breasts of women were sent from each country to the other.

Decades after the partition, Indian and Pakistan are still in conflict, and individuals and families are still affected by the material, psychological, and financial losses of partition and its aftermath.

British Rule

To understand the reasons for the partition, it is necessary to look at the history of India. Starting in the late thirteenth century and continuing for more than three hundred years, Muslims ruled the subcontinent under the Mughal Empire. Then India became part of the British Empire under Queen Elizabeth I. Over a period of three hundred and fifty years, the British consolidated their power in India. The British treated the Muslims and Hindus almost as if they were residents of two different nations and ruled them separately. Even in the census, the British categorized Indians according to religion.

As the British Empire expanded, so too did the land it held in India. By World War II, the British held a large area that was subject to Hindu and Muslim conflicts. The Muslims, who were not interested in learning English, were at a disadvantage to Hindus when it came to holding positions in government. The Muslims resented the fact that Hindus held better jobs, especially since, formerly, Muslims had been in power. Meanwhile, the Hindus had not forgotten Muslim rule. They tried to replace Urdu, a Muslim language, with Hindi as the official national language.

In an attempt to reduce conflict, British and Indian leaders decided to divide the subcontinent of India so that Muslims would have their own nation. The resulting partition, in 1947, carved Pakistan out of India. Part of Pakistan was on the west side of India, near the Indus River, and another part was to

Compare & Contrast

1940s: The end of British colonial rule of India comes in 1947. India is split, with two regions of Pakistan divided by India. Muslims are to live in Pakistan; Hindus and Sikhs in India.
Today: Celebrations of the partition—though not of its violence—take place in 1997 as fifty years of Indian and Pakistani independence are commemorated. Yet even in the celebrations, there is disagreement. Bangladesh marks its anniversary of independence not from 1947 but from February 21,1952, called “Martyr’s Day” to commemorate the first people to die in eastern Pakistan’s struggle for nationhood.
1940s: Immediately after partition, those responsible for it declare its success, whereas those who actually live through it suffer immeasurably. It is not until the 1970s that the true story of the partition and its aftermath is widely known.
Today: There is still a division between people who believe that partition was worthwhile—or at least necessary—and others who condemn it. Some say that India and Pakistan have stabilized; others say that instability, corruption, and conflict between the two nuclear-armed nations are worse than ever.
1940s: The social order in which religious groups coexist is abruptly changed under a separatist policy that religious groups must remain apart. According to Tai Yong Tan and Gyanesh Kudaisya in The Aftermath of Partition in South Asia, the violence that follows deepens differences between groups and increases persecution of minority groups. Hindu, Muslim, and Sikh fanatics loot property, kill the young and defenseless, and commit brutal acts in the name of God and country. Millions of refugees lose their homes and have to relocate to a foreign land. The economic stability of the area declines as normal activities are disrupted.
Today: Animosity still exists between Indian and Pakistani peoples, and they prefer to remain separate even when they emigrate to live abroad. India Abroad notes that Indians and Pakistanis are forming a new “partition” in Britain, with Indians settling in the south of England and Pakistanis in the north. In 2001, out of a total of 540,000 Pakistanis in England, 229,000 (more than half) live in the north. In the south of England, Indians dominate.

the east. (The eastern region is now the nation of Bangladesh.) More than one thousand miles of Indian territory separated the two regions of Pakistan—yet another challenge to the new country’s inexperienced leaders.

Critical Overview

Manto’s writings are among the few Urdu works that have been translated into English. Translators of Manto’s work include Khushwant Singh and Khalid Hasan.

Manto is known for being part of Urdu literature’s Progressive Writers Movement. The Progressive Writers Movement (1935-1960) was launched when three Indian students, Sajjad Zaheer, Mulk Raj Anand, and Mohammad Deen Taseer, issued a manifesto on the decadence and feudalism that they believed pervaded Indian society and influenced others to rebel by speaking out against the established order. As a spokesman for social reform, Manto often depicted characters from low stations in life.

Manto’s writings explore sexuality, exploitation, and the human condition without regard for conventional restrictions. His essays, screenplays, and short stories received varied receptions. Some

works were received well, but others were considered obscene or sensationalist. His use of direct language resulted in his being prosecuted for obscenity several times. In reviewing Manto ’s World, a collection of Manto’s fiction and nonfiction translated by Khalid Hasan, Sarwat Ali of News International wrote that Manto had “a fresh, no holds barred approach which insisted on calling a spade a spade.”

“The Dog of Tithwal” was first published in English in a collection of Manto’s stories entitled Kingdom’s End and Other Stories, translated by Khalid Hasan. In a review of Kingdom’s End and Other Stories, a critic for Publishers Weekly wrote that Manto has a “talent for vivid description and narrative momentum” but that because his writings on the partition are relatively remote from the modern Western reader in culture, time, and place, he is not likely to find a large readership in the West.

Although during his lifetime he was criticized for his undeviating portrayal of humanity’s underside, Manto continued to write about the world around him as he saw it. After his death in 1955 at the age of forty-two, Manto gradually became more widely accepted in literary circles so that now he is, according to Ali, “the most popular story writer of Urdu” and even “something of a cult figure.”

Criticism

Candyce Norvell

Norvell is an independent educational writer who specializes in English and literature. She holds degrees in linguistics and journalism. In this essay, Norvell discusses why Manto’s use of a dog as the victim in his story is effective and gives the story a universality it otherwise would not have.

Manto’s choice of a dog to be the innocent victim of brutality in “The Dog of Tithwal” is appropriate and effective in many ways. Although the story’s subject matter is remote from the experience of contemporary Western readers, Manto’s use of the dog gives the story universal impact.

The relationship between dogs and humans is, of course, unique. With no other animal have humans formed a bond so close and complex. In most cultures, the dog is esteemed and even loved, though in a few parts of the world dogs are shunned by humans. The vast majority of human beings respond to dogs as innocents and as members of a species with which humans have entered into a mutual

What Do I Read Next?

A translator of Manto’s work and an author himself, Khushwant Singh also writes on the horrors of the Indian partition. His book Train to Pakistan (1990) is a fictional story, based on real events about a train full of dead Sikhs that arrives in a small village on the frontier between India and Pakistan in 1947. The train’s arrival stirs up animosity against the Muslims in the village, and a gangster is the unlikely hero who must try to save them.
The Vintage Book of Indian Writing (1947–1997), published in 1997 and edited by Salman Rushdie and Elisabeth West, chronicles fifty years of Indian writing translated into English. Manto’s short story “Toba Tek Singh,” included here, underscores the senselessness of the partition by showing the confusion of Sikh and Hindu mental patients being transferred to India. A memorable incident that demonstrates the madness of the partition occurs when a patient decides to take up residence in a tree so that he does not have to live in either India or Pakistan.
“The Old Banyan” and Other Stories (Pakistan Writers Series) (2000), is a collection written by Ahmad Nadim Qasmi and translated by Faruq Hasan. The fifteen stories by Qasmi, a contemporary Urdu writer who follows the principles of the Progressive Writers Movement, have mostly rural settings and feature realistic narration of dilemmas in the lives of the characters.
An Evening of Caged Beasts (1999), edited by Asif Farrukhi and translated by Farrukhi and Frances W. Pritchett, is a selection of works by contemporary Urdu poets. The volume includes poems by Afzal Ahmed Syed, Azra Abbas, Sarwat Hussain, Sara Shagufta, Zeeshan Sahil, and others. The poems portray the pain and passion of today’s Pakistan.
Stars from Another Sky: The Bombay Film World in the 1940s (1998), by Manto, is a collection of thirteen profiles, translated by Khalid Hasan, of prominent people of the 1940s film world in Bombay. The work deals with the linguistic identity of Punjabi-speaking film workers and their struggle to fit into the modern world.

agreement of trust and harmlessness. Human treachery and cruelty toward dogs, therefore, is seen as especially repugnant.

In many cultures, including the modern Western one, the dog is not only a beloved companion but also a symbol of loyalty, protection, and nobility. In some cultures, such as that of the ancient Greeks, the dog has been considered a messenger and a guardian of passageways. Hinduism’s perspective can be summed up in a story from the Mahabharata, the great epic of Hinduism. Near the end of the epic, a noble hero, Yudhishthira, approaches the gates of heaven with his faithful dog. When he is told that he may enter heaven but must leave his dog behind, Yudhishthira replies that he will not abandon the dog who has been so faithful to him and who has come to trust and depend on him, even for the joys of heaven. The gatekeeper repeatedly tries to convince Yudhishthira that it would not be cruel to abandon the dog, even saying that the dog is an unclean animal and has no soul. Yudhishthira’s final response is:

I do not turn away my dog; I turn away you. I will not surrender a faithful dog to you.... Whoever comes to me from fright or from disaster or from friendship—I never give him up.

The heavenly gatekeeper tells Yudhishthira that this has been one last test of his goodness, and the dog is revealed to be Dharma, the god of justice, in disguise. Accordingly, in Hindu culture dogs are considered unclean animals, yet all creatures are deemed to deserve compassionate treatment. Dogs that are companions of warriors and hunters are especially esteemed. In Islamic culture, however, the dog is a symbol of impurity and is considered a positive presence only in the role of guard dog.

Consciously or not, Manto has constructed his story in such a way that all these human views of Jhun Jhun’s species are demonstrated. The Muslim (Islamic) soldiers, indeed, respond to Jhun Jhun as if he is impure. Subedar Himmat Khan, far from seeing the dog as loyal, distrusts him because he left the camp during the night. Jhun Jhun did not act as a guard dog for the Pakistanis, and so they have no affection toward him, only suspicion. Although Subedar Himmat Khan’s treatment of Jhun Jhun is extreme in its cruelty, his attitude toward the dog is grounded in his religious and cultural background.

The Indian soldiers in the story are Sikhs, not Hindus, as indicated by the designation “Singh” after their names. Sikhism is a blend of elements of Hinduism and Islam. Appropriately, the Sikh soldiers have a mixed reaction to Jhun Jhun. It is an Indian soldier—a warrior, as Yudhishthira was— who befriends the dog; it is also an Indian soldier who kills him.

In these depictions of the soldiers’ responses to Jhun Jhun, Manto has drawn from his characters’ cultural realities and has made his story authentic. But Manto himself emphasizes, in Jhun Jhun, the qualities that Western cultures attribute to dogs. Both groups of soldiers make Jhun Jhun a messenger, and he is also a guardian—or at least a traverser— of the passageway between the two hills and the two camps. Each side hangs around Jhun Jhun’s neck a message for the other and sends him into the no-man’s land that serves as a passage between the camps.

But it is the qualities of loyalty and nobility that make Jhun Jhun and, in turn, the story so effective and affecting. Jhun Jhun’s loyalty is not to one camp or the other, as the soldiers would have it. It is a loyalty of a higher order: to all humans and to the bond between the two species. Whereas the two groups of soldiers see only differences between themselves, Jhun Jhun sees only similarity. As the men have certain culturally based expectations of Jhun Jhun, the dog has certain inbred expectations of the men. He expects them to behave as humans are supposed to behave toward dogs, according to that age-old agreement between the two. He expects that his friendly, trusting approach to all men will be recognized as a signal of harmessless and loyalty. Jhun Jhun conveys, “I know about the agreement between us. I intend to abide by it.”

“Jhun Jhun shows the reader, more effectively than any human character could, how debased these men are, Jhun Jhun’s death shows that, in the name of religion and country, these men have sunk beneath the level of beasts.”

When the men torture and kill Jhun Jhun, they are not just killing a dog; they are breaking a longstanding and sacred trust between humans and dogs. Men, having long ago tamed the dog’s viciousness and engendered its trust and loyalty, now turn on the dog with a senseless cruelty that even a wild creature could neither comprehend nor anticipate. This is the most despicable kind of brutality.

Terrified and wounded, Jhun Jhun, to the end, honors the relationship that the men disregard. In this, he shows the nobility attributed to his kind. There is only one thing more heart-rending than seeing an innocent treated cruelly, and that is seeing the victim remain noble in the face of betrayal and death. Jhun Jhun does not growl, threaten, or attack. As men show themselves absolutely inhuman, Jhun Jhun remains harmless and submissive; he remains true to the nature that better men have bred into him.

In Jhun Jhun, Manto has created the ideal foil for his human characters. Jhun Jhun shows the reader, more effectively than any human character could, how debased these men are. The dog, with its inability to comprehend cruelty and with loyalty and nobility that surpass that of many humans, shows by its death that, in the name of religion and country, these men have sunk beneath the level of beasts.

Western readers may feel a distance between themselves and the issues and events of partition. They may even feel a distance between themselves and the human victims of partition, because those people were remote in time, place, and culture; it is a fact of human nature that people have more empathy for others who are like them. But Jhun Jhun is not remote. Any reader who has known any dog immediately grasps this dog’s nature. Every reader is aware of that eons-old agreement and bond between Jhun Jhun’s species and human beings. Thus, every reader feels the magnitude of the crime committed against Jhun Jhun. The shock waves of that wrong reverberate across time, place, and cultures, much as the shock waves of partition still pulse through India and Pakistan.

Source: Candyce Norvell, Critical Essay on “The Dog of Tithwal,” in Short Stories for Students, The Gale Group, 2002.

Susan Sanderson

Sanderson holds a master of fine arts degree in fiction writing and is an independent writer. In this essay, Sanderson examines Saadat Hasan Manto ’s use of contrasts and similarities to highlight the absurdities of war and national conflict in his short story.

Much of Saadat Hasan Manto’s work reflects the pain, anguish, and brutality resulting from the 1947 creation of Pakistan out of parts of India, a division made on religious grounds. Pakistan became a Muslim state and India became a secular country controlled by Hindus but accepting Sikhs. Violence quickly ensued; many Muslims in India were attacked, as were Hindus who remained in what is now Pakistan. Manto often wrote about the result of the 1947 partition of the two countries, focusing on the absurdity of the situation as well as on the plight of those caught in the middle of a decision not of their making.

“Dog of Tithwal” offers a snapshot of the military aftermath of India and Pakistan’s bloody partition and the effect these events have had on all parties to the conflict. Just as the artificial line drawn across the subcontinent to delineate India and Pakistan was evidence of human conflicts imposed on the natural world, Manto involves nature in the contrasts and similarities he draws in the story. However, he is careful in his technique to show no preference or favoritism for either the Indian or the Pakistani characters, making it clear that everyone and everything involved in the conflict has been equally damaged. Manto’s use of contrasting features and peculiar similarities reflects the conflict between the Pakistani and Indian people provoked by the events of 1947 and highlights the absurdity and senselessness of that situation. Manto’s story pushes forth the question: How meaningful are nations, borders, and nationalities when a group of men can decide one day that all the people on one side of an artificially and capriciously drawn line have suddenly lost their citizenship?

Though the story begins with an immediate image of soldiers who have been “entrenched in their positions for several weeks,” Manto paints a romantic canvas of the lushness of a countryside deep in the contentment of a fall day. He notes that the air around the soldiers “was heavy with the scent of wild flowers” and the “bees buzzed about lazily.” This is a relaxed scene, a moment of repose after the energy and intensity of spring and summer. Briefly, the story reads as if the men in this pastoral setting are ready for a picnic. Their real goal—to kill each other—is as disguised as they are by the mountain’s rocks and bushes. In fact, Manto’s placing the story in the fall, “the end of September, neither hot nor cold,” is a portent of the death to come. As suddenly as the first storm in winter can transform a beautiful fall afternoon, the story moves in a very few paragraphs to a place where death is the reigning motif and two groups of men see evil in a friendly dog.

The story starts not only imbued with a romantic quality but also as if its omniscient narrator is looking at the soldiers and their positions from an elevated vantage point. In the first paragraph, nature is portrayed as a nearly sentient creature, “following its course, quite unmindful of the soldiers hiding behind rocks and camouflaged by mountain shrubbery.” Manto presents his story’s world first from a distance, so that man is but a small and somewhat insignificant part of the landscape. Nature is the ruling presence. As the story progresses, however, the narration moves closer to the human scale and becomes more involved with the actions of the individual men on the ground. In this way, Manto has immediately created tension and contrast in his story. Nature is at peace with itself but, with a closer look, man can be seen causing havoc.

Manto develops an interesting aspect within the story that goes against expected contrasts. Even though the two armies are battling each other (although with little enthusiasm), the author portrays them as having numerous similarities. Many of the actions and behaviors of the Indians are echoed in those of the Pakistanis, and vice versa. For example, in both camps soldiers sing bittersweet songs about love, and both of their songs are interrupted by the appearance of Jhun Jhun, the “ordinary mongrel” dog. Both armies are similarly equipped and “at night, they would light huge fires and hear each others’ voices echoing through the hills.” In the morning, both camps prepare breakfast in a similar fashion, as the Indian soldier Harnam Singh notes through his binoculars. Manto also highlights the universal human feature of vanity on both sides when he has a Pakistani soldier admire and care for his “famous moustache” and an Indian soldier comb his long hair and look at himself in the mirror. The two camps are similar even in their tactical positions, for, as the narrator notes in the story, “no one side had an advantage,” with each occupying a hill of equal elevation. The two camps being near perfect mirrors of each other stresses Manto’s message that the 1947 partition damaged all parties involved, no matter their position or nationality.

With the similarities of the two armies made clear, Manto has exposed a world in which absurdity rules. Not only does he have two sides that look and sound alike fighting each other, but they are also equally armed and positioned. This has created a standoff in which gunfire is “ritually exchanged” on a regular basis; in fact, so regular is the daily burst of brief gunfire that when the Pakistani soldier Subedar Himmat Khan lets off a shot to encourage the dog back to the Indian side, the Indians are confused and surprised at the break in the anticipated pattern of hostilities. “[I]t was somewhat early in the day for that sort of thing,” notes the story’s narrator, as though casually describing someone having a drink before the cocktail hour. For the next thirty minutes, however, because the Indian soldiers are feeling bored, the two sides exchange gunshots, “which, of course, were a complete waste of time.”

Meaninglessness and absurdity put the soldiers into a situation in which it seems perfectly normal that they should exchange ineffectual gunfire at preappointed times and, as well, demand that a dog claim a nationality. When the Indian soldier Harnam Singh demands that the dog, Jhun Jhun, prove his nationality, one unnamed soldier observes, “Even dogs now will have to decide if they are Indian or Pakistani.” Manto’s use of the dog points to the plight of the refugees caught between India and Pakistan, struggling in a world where differences between people are much more important than any similarities they may share. In fact, the very features of dogs that have placed them so firmly within human communities—that they recognize no differences between humans concerning national boundaries or religious distinctions and offer affection and loyalty toward whomever they are with—are the ultimate reasons for Jhun Jhun’s death.

“The border this dog crosses is meaningless to him, as he sees the soldiers not as Pakistanis or Indians but as humans who have sometimes been kind to him.”

Throughout the story, the soldiers work to demarcate and draw contrasts between themselves and nearly everything around them, including the dog. Jhun Jhun must be either an Indian or Pakistani dog, not simply the “mongrel” he is. Just before Jhun Jhun reappears at the Indian camp, Banta Singh muses that “Dogs can never digest butter” according to a “famous saying”—an almost surreal effort to distinguish Jhun Jhun from humans and make the subsequent and casual efforts to shoot him somehow easier to manage for the soldiers.

Even in the waning moments of the story, Manto continues to stress similarities and contrasts between the soldiers to highlight the painful absurdity of the partition. The Indian soldier Harnam Singh and the Pakistani soldier Himmat Kahn both shoot at Jhun Jhun at the same time, and both find the “game” between them a source of great humor. They shoot at the dog for very different reasons, however, which are reflected in the words each says when Jhun Jhun is finally dead. Himmat Kahn shoots at the dog to encourage him to complete his “mission” and do his “duty” in delivering the message to the Indians that Jhun Jhun is, according to the sign they have attached to him, “a Pakistani dog.” According to Himmat Kahn, Jhun Jhun dies a martyr’s death. Harnam Singh, on the other hand, shoots at Jhun Jhun because he is seen as an enemy dog approaching the Indian camp from the “Pakistani hill.” He portrays the dog as a traitor and declares that Juhn Juhn “died a dog’s death.”

Not only do the contrasts and peculiar similarities highlight the absurdities of war, but they ultimately allow Manto to question what constitutes a nation. Manto challenges the meaning and value of nationality when he has the soldiers claim that a stray dog can hold Pakistani or Indian citizenship. The border this dog crosses is meaningless to him, as he sees the soldiers, not as Pakistanis or Indians, but as humans who have sometimes been kind to him. There are no contrasts for Jhun Jhun, only similarities. From the vantage point of the story’s beginning, above the ground and looking down on the scene, there are no obvious lines clearly showing where one country ends and another begins. The natural world is enduring and seamless and shows no false borders that impulsively restrict the movements of birds or rivers. “The birds sang as they always had,” notes the narrator, indicating a certain timelessness to natural events and nature’s disregard for such erratic events as war. The story’s soldiers, on the other hand, are part of the species that insists on creating and defending artificial borders to separate and isolate large numbers of people from one another. By creating these named divisions between people, humans in “Dog of Tithwal” have constructed distinctions—the ultimate contrast between “us” and “them”—where there are none naturally occurring, and the result is certain pain and death.

Source: Susan Sanderson, Critical Essay on “The Dog of Tithwal,” in Short Stories for Students, The Gale Group, 2002.