Thanda Gosht By Saadat Hassan Manto. Topics vvvv. Collectionopensource. Language Community Texts. Uploaded by Urdu Shairi on January 6, Thanda Gosht is a fiction short story written by Saadat Hasan Manto. The book was first Thanda Gosht. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Jump to navigation Jump to search. "Thanda Gosht". Author, Saadat Hasan Manto. Language, Urdu. THANDA GOSHT By Saadat Hasan Manto Translated from Urdu Soon as Eesher Singh entered the room, Kalwant Kaur.
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Read Book Thanda Gosht by Saadat Hasan Manto on Rekhta Urdu books library. Navigate to next page by clicking on the book or click the arrows for previous. Read the best Urdu creativity by Saadat Hasan Manto. It also contains urdu nasr, urdu articles, urdu novels, urdu essay by leading urdu writers, at one place. Thanda Gosht Afsaana - Free download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online for free. This is one of the famous short story of the time by the writer Sa' adat Hassan Manto. He faced Ustani Aur Taxi Driver by Inayat Ullah Urdu Book .
She is my only daughter. Kalwant Kaur pulled back. Atul Malaviya rated it really liked it Sep 27, Savita Ghavari marked it as to-read Mar 31, Four people, walked past him, carrying someone.
Reason being the illiteracy and ignorance of people. He wanted to write on some true bitter issues of the time and the society of that time. He was succeeded a little but not so much. Let you read the short story and judge whether this story has a purpose to write on the issue or its just a Vulgarity?
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Jump to Page. Search inside document. Uzair Baloch. Harjinder Dhaliwal. Syed Qadir. Riaz Ur Rehman Khalid. Khalid Ali Shah June 8, at 3: Mahmood Malik June 8, at 3: Mob psychology remains the same. People act at the spur of moment sometimes and all base feelings then come up. Talal October 24, at 4: Asad Khan January 18, at 9: Great works of urdu bandwagon,shunning off the conventionel and prudent draping and enliting the private chorus of a normal home life and inqusitive sacrosanct sufferings.
I just wish it was not a true story E-mail: It is excellent story of a refugee father looking for his lost daughter. When he finds her she is in agonizing pain because she was raped by the men who had promised to bring her back. They fucked her. So lying on the stretcher of a hospital she opens her string of the shalwar and lowers it.
Sex is the ultimate problem and reality of life. We are so depraved that in the garb of social workers we rape the helpless girl , the daughter of an old man who has lost every thing and is living on the hope to see his daughter one day. What a fucked up society. Excellent pieces of writing.
Heart trembling stories. We humans can be worse than animals at times. Thank you so much for the translation and upload! Visit http: You are commenting using your WordPress.
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Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Sign me up! Many of the passengers were killed on the way, many were injured and a few were missing. When Sirajuddin opened his eyes the next morning, he found himself lying on the cold ground of a refugee camp.
There was a seething crowd of men, women and children all around him. Bewildered by it all, he lay staring at the dusty sky for a long time.
There was a lot of noise in the camp, but old Sirajuddin was deaf to it. Anyone who saw him, would have assumed that he was in deep and agonised thought about something. His mind, however, was blank.
Sirajuddin lay gazing absent-mindedly at the dusty sky, till he suddenly caught sight of the sun. He woke up with a start. A nightmarish vision rose before his eyes — flames, loot… people running… a station… firing… darkness and Sakina. Overcome by fear and anxiety, he began searching for Sakina in the crowd like a demented person. There was an uproar all around — some of the refugees were searching for their children, others for their mothers; some for their wives and others for their daughters.
Dejected and tired, Sirajuddin sat down, and tried to recall exactly where and how he had lost Sakina. After that his mind went blank.
She had been killed before his very eyes — but where was Sakina? As soon as he remembered that, he put his hand in his coat pocket and pulled it out. Had Sakina managed to reach the station with him? Had she boarded the train with him? Had he fainted when the rioters had attacked the train? Had they abducted her? He could find no answers to any of his questions.
Sirajuddin needed help and sympathy, but then everyone around him needed help and sympathy. He wanted to cry, but he could shed no tears. He had lost the capacity to moan.
A few days later, Sirajuddin pulled himself together and talked to some people who were willing to help him. They were eight young men who owned a truck and were armed with guns. He showered them with his blessings, and described what Sakina looked like.
She is my only daughter. If you bring her back, God will bless you. The young men tried their best to find her. At the risk of their lives, they went to Amritsar. They managed to rescue many men, women and children and helped them locate their families.
One day, as they were returning to Amritsar to help a few more refugees, they saw a girl standing by the roadside.
The moment she heard the truck, she began to run. The social workers stopped the truck and ran after her. They caught her in a field — she was beautiful and had a large mole on her right cheek.
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