Stars from Another Sky: The Bombay Film World in the 1940s

by Saadat Hasan Manto

Unforgettable reminiscences about the eccentric, glamorous, yet angst-ridden Hindi film world of the 1940s. Saadat Hasan Manto, one of the greatest short story writers of the Urdu language, was also a film journalist and story-writer for the Hindi film industry in Bombay. As an insider he was privy to the most private moments of the men and women who have dazzled generations of audiences. In this series of sketches, Ashok Kumar, the screen idol of yore, emerges as a shy, yet brilliant actor, forever looking to flee the eager advances of his female fans; Nargis comes across as just another young girl looking for companionship among her peers before she steps on the ladder that will forever take her away from the comforts of an ordinary middle-class life; and Shyam the dashing, handsome hero is portrayed as a straightforward, flirtatious young man pining for the woman he loves. Manto also describes in detail the obsessions of Sitara Devi; the unfulfilled desires of Paro Devi; and the intriguing twists and turns which transform Neena Devi from an ordinary housewife into a pawn in the hands of film companies. He writes with relish about the bunglings of the comedian V.H. Desai and the incredible dedication of Nawab Kaashmiri to the art of acting. There are also stories about the rise of Nur Jehan as the greatest singer of her times; and the various peccadilloes of the musician, Rafiq Ghaznavi. With subjects ranging from film journalism to the sexual eccentricities of these stars, Manto brings to life a generation with his characteristic verve and honesty.

Genres: Nonfiction, Film, India

216 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1953

About the author

Saadat Hasan Manto (Urdu: سعادت حسن منٹو, Hindi: सआदत हसन मंटो), the most widely read and the most controversial short-story writer in Urdu, was born on 11 May 1912 at Sambrala in Punjab's Ludhiana District. In a writing career spanning over two decades he produced twenty-two collections of short stories, one novel, five collections of radio plays, three collections of essays, two collections of reminiscences and many scripts for films. He was tried for obscenity half a dozen times, thrice before and thrice after independence. Not always was he acquitted. Some of Manto's greatest work was produced in the last seven years of his life, a time of great financial and emotional hardship for him. He died a few months short of his forty-third birthday, in January 1955, in Lahore.

Reviews

[Reading_ Tamishly · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolutely heartbreakingly love this book. It introduced me to Manto. I simply could worship this book. Bollywood stuffs nobody knows, then this book is there, you know?!


This book talks about 13 personalities who were related to film/bollywood of the 1940s :
how they were in the eyes of the author, the struggles, success, failures, what they were behind the scenes, their personal relationships that were kept as secrets, what tactics they adopted & most importantly how each of them had a unique personality of their own. (Manto has been held as a controversial personality all his life. Rightly so! He is open, unapologetic, original & fearless.)
👍The book starts with a 8-paged introduction by Jerry Pinto (a National Award Winner for the Best Book on Cinema) describing the author Manto: how he was as a person, how he struggled, his vision on Hindi cinema, the different personalities he chose to write about in this book, his role in creating Bollywood & his real life issues. 👍Then comes the 9-paged ''Translator's Note'' by Khalid Hassan describing in details about the book, Manto's journey of living at different places during his entire career, his struggles in between when he had no job, his relationships, his movies with excerpts from Manto's own writings.

Bollywood personalities mentioned
1) Ashok Kumar: The Evergreen Hero
2) V.H. Desai: God's Clown
3) Rafiq Ghaznavi: The Ladies' Man
4) Shyam: Krishna's Flute
5) Kuldip Kaur: Too Hot To Handle
6) Nargis: Narcissus of the Undying Bloom
7) Sitara: The Dancing Tigress from Nepal
8) Nawab Kashmiri: An Actor's Actor
9) Neena: The Inscrutable Housewife
10) Baburao Patel: The Soft-hearted Iconoclast
11) Paro Devi: The Girl from Meerut
12) Nur Jahan: One in a Million
13) Naseem: The Fairy Queen

Overall, the way Manto describes each personality is unique & different with a strong-subtle sense of portrayal of each own.
I got overwhelmed with each line. Some personalities like Sitara & V.H. Desai were mesmerizing.
The great thing about the description of each of these characters is that it has been presented in a very raw form but also very sophisticated in Manto's own ways.

[Kunjila Mascillamani · Rating 1 out of 5]

It was J Devika who gifted me the book 'Stars from Another Sky' by Manto. that was four years ago. I read it recently when i was pushing myself to read more non fiction.One of my classmates and ex-friend had once told me that he had read one collection of short stories by Manto and then went on to read all of his work. The author was that addictive, he had said. I realized it was true for most Manto fans. I have not yet read his short stories or other works but from Stars from Another Sky i have come to realize how much of a misogynist he was. The ideas he nurtured and emanated about women and their sexuality are abhorrent. This is not a book review. It is a record of how the writer had wronged women in the pretext of writing about the Bombay Film World of the 1940s.

In the Introduction of the book, Jerry Pinto talks about these abysmal practices of Manto. He doesn't have a problem with it because he considers these to be a writer's freedom of expression. He writes in the end,

One may not agree with Manto, one may have serious misgivings about his politics, one may not feel completely comfortable with his negative strategies, but he is never less than entertaining. When you have put down this book, you will feel as if a friendly voice, cheerfully malicious and yet vulnerable in its self-revelation, has been stilled. You will miss it.

I did not miss it. Nor will any woman who think they are people. In the translator's note by Khalid Hasan we will find one such woman. Her name was Nayyar Bano. She had written to Manto stating her problems with the book. To me it appears too rooted in family values, morality etc which are things i do not subscribe to but i respect her and her opinion because it was a lone voice calling a spade a spade. Look at what she had to say about Manto's writings.

Regardless of how far a person has strayed from the path of virtue or how morally depraved he is, can you imagine him sitting at home, surrounded by his wife and children, and regaling them with the experiences-...-that you have described?...He would never talk such filth, he would never talk about women as if they were mere condiments spicing the main dish. How is it then that whenever the word woman has come to his (Shyam's) lips, it has invariably been prefixed with the epithet sali? How, come that when he finds his bed without a woman, he sets it on fire"? What service to mankind or public morals is being performed by printing such things in newspapers?...
...After all, this world is not the sole property of men that they should wallow in filth and contaminate not only themselves but the innocent as well. Is there no reckoning? Where should one seek refuge?...Perhaps fathers should now teach their sons splash around in pools of liquor and drag these sali women with them for amusement. Perhaps mothers should now teach their daughters how to lay fresh and clever traps for men...

She wrote. And what did Manto have to say to this woman critic of his?

I felt pity for Nayyar Bano and her mental condition. I said to myself that...I should make it up to her. But then I thought if I tried to do that in the manner that I wished, she might faint...I did not want her to suffer a shock; she might not survive the experience
...there is only one way to bring them (people like Nayyar Bano) back to health. They should be forced to witness thousands of bottles of liquor being opened, with their corks flying all over the place, and their contents poured into a pool. After that one should...scream every obscenity one knew-and if one couldn't do it oneself, men should be hired for the purpose-read aloud every filthy advertisement for aphrodisiacs and remedies for private male and female ailments from magazines such Shama, Besween Saddi and Roman, not once but repeatedly.

Manto wanted all this to be done simply because a woman had questioned him and his writing. I feel it was because he had no answers to her. In the above portion he is a scared writer who has resorted to shunning a woman as mad. Last time i heard that was done was in 17th century or something.

I shall now point out the way the writer's style and vocabulary itself are misogynistic. I am one of those who believe that there is a male language and female language in literature. There are also attempts to create more male literature and hide female literature by never talking about it. Manto in the book is the epitome of male language.
In Ashok Kumar: The Evergreen Hero Manto says about actress Devika Rani,

...he talked her into abandoning the warm bed of her lover Najmul Hasan in Calcutta and return to Bombay Talkies where her talents had a greater chance of flourishing

Later about Ashok Kumar he says,

Ashok was not a professional lover but he liked to watch women, as most men do. He was not even averse to staring at them, especially at those areas of their anatomy that men find attractive

In Rafiq Ghasnavi Manto makes clear his attitude about women once again. Like what has been suggested in the above occasions he truly believes women are commodities to be tested out.

Those days, I was wholly idle, restless and bored all the time…On seeing a bunch of schoolgirls on the street, I would pick one out and imagine that I was having an affair with her.

Even though the following belongs to another topic altogether I am also quoting Manto’s views on partition. It throws light on how things were during that time and it’s by a person who had experienced all that himself. Historically it is relevant.

In Bombay, the communal atmosphere was becoming more vicious by the day. When Ashok and Vacha took control of the administration of Bombay Talkies, all senior posts somehow went to Muslims, which created a great deal of resentment among the Hindu staff. Vacha began to receive anonymous letters that threatened him with everything from murder to the destruction of the studio. Neither Ashok nor Vacha could care less about this sort of thing. It was only I, partly because of my sensitive nature and partly because I was a Muslim, who expresswed a sense of unease to both of them on several occasions. I advised them to do away with my services because the Hindus thought that it was I who was responsible for so many Muslims getting into Bombay Talkies. They told me that I was out of my mind.

Out of mind I certainly was. My wife and children were in Pakistan. When that land was a part of India, I could recognize it. I was also aware of the occasional Hindu-Muslim riot, but now it was different. That piece of land had a new name and I did not know what the new name had done to it. Though I tried, I could not even begin to get a feel for the government which was now said to be ours.

The day of Independence, 14 August, was celebrated in Bombay with tremendous fanfare. Pakistan and India had been declared two separate countries. There was great public rejoicing, but murder and arson continued unabated. Along with cries of ‘India zindabad’, one also heard ‘Pakistan zindabad’. The green Islamic flag fluttered next to the tricolor of the Indian National Congress. The streets and bazaars reverberated with slogans as people shouted the names of Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru and Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah.

I found it impossible to decide which of the two countries was now my homeland-India or Pakistan. Who was responsible for the blood that was being shed mercilessly every day? Where were they going to inter the bones that had been stripped of the flesh of religion by vultures and birds of prey? Now that we were free, had subjection ceased to exist? Who would be our slaves? When we were colonial subjects, we could dream of freedom, but now that we were free, what would our dreams be? Were we even free? Thousands of Hindus and Muslims were dying all around us. Why were they dying?

Back to his objectification. In ‘Nargis: Narcissus of the Undying Bloom’ he describes the actress thus

‘She was a thin-legged girl with an unattractive long face and two unlit eyes. She seemed to have just woken up or about to go to sleep. But now she was a young woman and her body had filled out in all the right places’

‘Nur Jehan: One in a Million’ begins this way:

‘I think I first saw Nur Jehan in Khandan. She was certainly no ‘baby’ then, no sir, by no stretch of imagination. She was as well stacked as a young woman would wish to be with the assets women bring into play when required by the situation.’

In ‘Sitara: The Dancing Tigress from Nepal’ he once again stoops to page three journalism.

‘Tara had many affairs, including one with Shaukat Hashmi who was married to Purnima who later divorced him. Alaknanda passed through many hands and in the end settled down with the famous Prabhat Studio actor Balwant Singh. How long she lived with him, I do not know.’

In my memory such descriptions of personal (read sexual) life of women existed only in some Malayalam films written by Shaji Kailas starring Suresh Gopi or Mammootty. When did Manto graduate from the Mallu school of misogyny?
Again he says

‘Sitara was made of different clay and even a man like Nazir could not keep her from hopping into bed with other men.’

Later on we will come to know that Manto’s problem was that he could not handle a sexually independent woman. First of all none of them slept with him or wanted to sleep with him. Hurt male ego/penis ego. Then these women whom he painted in such crass style in his page three journalistic venture were all successful and couldn’t care less about what Manto thought about them. Manto himself says that ‘Sitara hated the sight of me’. In fact the woman had a problem with his journalism. Subsequently they ended up being some sort of Femme Fatale for Manto.

‘I ran into Arora on the street. He was walking with the help of a stick and his back was bent. He had always been thin but he looked in extremely poor shape that day. I felt that he had difficulty even walking, as if there was no life left in him…Expressing surprise at his appearance, I asked him what was wrong. Almost out of breath with fatigue, he managed a faint smile and replied. ‘Sitara…Manto, Sitara.’

Al-Nasir, who lost his slim, upright and handsome figure after a few years, and became fat and flabby, was a sensation when he first came, with his fair, almost pink complexion, nurtured by the cool hill air of his native Dehra Dun. He was so good-looking that one could almost compare him to a beautiful woman. When I returned to Bombay from Delhi after accepting an offer from Shaukat Hussain Rizvi, I met him at Minerva Movietone. I just could not believe my eyes. His pink complexion had become ashen and his clothes hung loose on him. He seemed to have shrunk and all energy and strength appeared to have been squeezed out of him. ‘My dear, what have you done to yourself?’ I asked because I was worried about his health. He whispered the answer in my ear, ‘Sitara…my dear, Sitara.’
Sitara was everywhere. I wondered if Sitara’s only purpose in life was to infect men with pallor, from the England-trained Arora to the Dehra-Dun born Al-Nasir.’

‘Nazir had banished Sitara from his life and once his mind was made up he never changed it. Sitara he did not give a damn about, but he was worried about his nephew whom he had brought all the way from Lahore so that he could make something of himself, He did not want him to fall into Sitara’s clutches. He knew her well and he also knew that she fed on young men like Asif’
‘All I know is that Asif had married in Lahore with great fanfare and brought his bride to Bombay, settled down on Pali Hill and, in less than three months, the marriage was on the rocks. Who but Sitara could have been responsible for it? She was a woman of experience and knew how to make herself attractive to a man , rendering him useless for other women. That was how she had weaned Asif away from his new bride and that was why he had come back to her. That woman Sitara had something other women lacked. Asif left his wife because she probably did not have the qualities that he had found in Sitara. Was it that she had left Asif with no taste for inexperienced virgins?’

Of course in extra marital relationships or any relationship for that matter the woman was at fault. She is the one who ‘lured’ the unsuspecting man to her fatal ‘qualities’. I think compared to Manto people were more progressive during Sati.
The audacity with which the author talks about sex lives of women as if he was the person they were confiding in is pathetic. It is some voyeuristic way of putting down women who made choices in bed. Especially when the choice was not to have Manto in it, in my opinion. Look at the way in which he talks about Nur Jehan’s sex life as though she had told the author how she felt when she had sex.

‘And there was Nur Jehan who could produce the most perfect note from her throat but who found herself unable to make Shaukat depart from her heart. She could sing the khayal with the ease of a maestro but the only thing on her mind these days was the young and willowy Shaukat, who had given her the most joyous moments of her life, who had sent a tingle through her body that the finest music had been unable to transmit. How could she forget the man who had given her such perfect physical fulfillment?’

And later

‘Nur Jehan had blossomed after moving in with Shaukat. It is only physical contact with a man that gives the final touches to a woman’s beauty, and by now Nur Jehan was a full-blown woman. The slight, girlish figure she had had in Lahore had been transformed by Bombay. Her body was now privy to all varieties of carnal pleasure and, though some people still called her Baby Nur Jehan, she was no baby, but a woman who had known love and its ecstasy.’

A bit later we get to know what the author thinks of male-female relationships in general. It is no wonder that a person who thinks the only relationship possible when two people of opposite sex are alone is sex is only interested in the sex lives of his subjects.

The place did not offer much by way of privacy, so it is to be assumed that young Asif must have witnessed, and certainly heard, what a man and a woman do when they are alone.

His body was young, sinewy and powerful, his blood warm; all he wanted was an opportunity to prove his manhood

And the way in which a person’s manhood could be proved was by having sex according to Manto.
Another grotesque description can be found in ‘Baburao Patel: The Soft-hearted Iconoclast’. Let’s see how he is an iconoclast.

The door opened and a strong-legged, bosomy, dark-complexioned Christian girl walked into the room. Baburao winked at her. ‘Come here.” She walked up to his chair. ‘Turn around,’ Baburao told her. When she did, he slapped her bottom resoundingly. ‘Get some paper and a pencil.’

About the same woman he adds later, after telling the readers that she was Baburao’s mistress and stenographer and secretary all at once

Rita Carlyle was not a one-man woman but because of Baburao she had become more upmarket.

What a wonderful commodity woman is, in Manto’s world.
In ‘Paro Devi: The Girl From Meerut’ I found the most disgusting piece of writing by Manto. Talking about Asok Kumar’s shyness around Paro whom he found attractive Manto says ‘He simply did not have the courage to grab her and take her to bed.’ Later comes the horrendous description about Paro.

‘When she was squeezing water out of her clothes, Ashok and I caught sight of her leg all the way up to the thigh. When we had packed up and were driving home, Ashok said to me, ‘Manto, that was quite a leg. I felt like roasting it and eating it.’

In my opinion Saadat Hasan Manto has no place in journalism. He might have written unforgettable stories, created great art but his regressive views on women will land him in that heap of people who when it comes to women fail to realize that they are people.

[Debasmita B · Rating 5 out of 5]

There is this idiosyncracy in Manto's writing - of being extremely saddening and extremely hilarious at the same time, that makes you wonder what exactly are you reading.

I have read a collection of his short stories, translated by Aatish Taseer, which I took to a lot. And so naturally the next step was to read what he had written about my favourite thing in the world - Bollywood.

Manto was a screenwriter in Bollywood before (and even during) Partition. He eventually moved to Pakistan, a decision that seemed to haunt him for the rest of his life. Stars From Another Sky was written during this time, when Manto had left Bollywood behind, moved to a new country, and did not have any creative motivations to drive him. So he started writing about what he knew best - Bollywood and its people in the 40s.

The book is filled with stories and references to people we all know - Ashok Kumar, Nargis, Kamal Amrohi - and names you may not have heard, but whose children and grandchildren we have known since childhood. In fact, I was quite surprised and had many 'oh, it's THIS person!' moments when reading up about the people Manto mentions.
#nepobaby

The stories were written in 1951-52, long before a lot of other things happened that we know about and Manto didn't or wouldn't. At many points in the book I would say out 'Oh no, Manto this person is now dead' as if he and I were having some sort of private conversation. The stories are also sometimes disturbing, in a way that truth was back then.

Manto presents himself as the fly on the wall to the evolution of Bollywood, to the politics of the country, to the religious sentiments that took hold of people during Partition, and all the stories in the book seem to be more than just about the people - they are a running commentary on the turbulent state of the country in the waning years of the British rule and the blood lost in the fresh wound of Partition.

[Manish · Rating 3 out of 5]

A collection of Manto's writings on the Bombay film industry of the 1940's. The book would have been all the more entertaining if only I were familiar with more characters than Ashok Kumar and Nargis. Manto writes in his typical style - caustic and in-your-face.

[Bulbul · Rating 2 out of 5]

Manto was a misogynist. The way he has written about actresses in the book is deplorable. Ugh. Don't know if I will be able to read another story by him.

[Anu Warrier · Rating 2 out of 5]

I picked this book up a few years ago, when Penguin India inducted the translation (Khalid Hasan) into their Classics library. (The translation had originally been published in 1998.) Along with this, I also picked up Manto's Bombay Stories, simply because they were stories set in Bombay. I must confess that while I'd heard of Saadat Hasan Manto, and of his fame as a short story writer in Urdu, I'd never read any of his work until then. So I sat and read Bombay Stories in one sitting. After which, I began Stars From Another Sky but I never got past the first chapter.

Recently, I revisited the book on the off chance that I might find it more interesting. (It's unusual for me to keep a book aside; I typically finish reading even books I find boring once I start reading them.) Like Bombay Stories, the underlying tone of the book is an aching sense of loss for the city that he loved.

I’m fascinated by the film industry, by the films that were/are made, by the people who make them. For far too long, we have gone without a recorded history of one of the most prolific of film industries in the world. Much has been lost to the ages, and the men and women who peopled the industry in its infancy, and nurtured it and worked to make it an important part of our cultural history are dead and gone. There’s no one left to ask, really. So it becomes doubly important to salvage what was recorded.

Saadat Hasan Manto came to Bombay in 1936; he was as responsible for the creation of the industry that he skewers so mercilessly, becoming a journalist and then screen writer of note. The note of regret at having left Bombay for Pakistan is present, both implicitly and explicitly throughout the book. I’m not sure if the translator picked and chose which articles to collate, but I found it intriguing that the only really well-known names were those of Ashok Kumar, Noor Jehan, Sitara Devi, Naseem Bano and Shyam.

These stories (for stories they are) are a collection of his writings in various newspapers, immediately after Partition. Forced by straitened circumstances, he decided to write about the industry he knew intimately, and loved only too well. He was well aware of people's curiosity about the film industry, and was not beyond satisfying it for a price.

There are nuggets of information and amusing stories: how Ashok Kumar had directed Eight Days, his first production, even though the film was credited to DN Pai; how Manto himself, and Raja Mehdi Ali Khan had acting roles in the film; how comedian VH Desai flubbed his lines regularly; how Rafiq Ghaznavi had never seen Ghazni, having been born in Peshwar; how Pran was the best cardsharp in town; how Kuldeep Kaur tricked Manto into paying for her perfume; how Manto’s sisters-in-law spent their time calling up various actresses pretending to be their fans; how Baburao Patel built up or tore down people based on his personal equations with them; how Shanta Apte whipped Patel in his own office… there’s a hint that Suraiya’s grandmother was really her mother.

There’s a certain poignancy in the way he writes about the actor, Shyam, and of their friendship. It is also in this chapter that he writes of his feelings about the Partition in more detail. “My wife and children were in Pakistan. When that land was a part of India, I could recognise it…I found it impossible to decide which of the two countries was now my homeland – India or Pakistan. Who was responsible for the blood that was being shed mercilessly every day?’ And ‘… but now that we were free, what would our dreams be? Were we even free?’ He talks about how he came to the decision to leave India forever. And how his friendship with Shyam suffered as a result. It’s touching to read that first person account.

It’s also nice to hear his defence of the industry he lived and worked in. In those accounts, his is a very progressive voice, not judging anyone, least of all the actresses who were considered not much better than prostitutes. Manto’s wife and sisters-in-law had become very close to Nargis, who apparently, wasn’t attractive enough or talented enough; but Manto mentions the young girl’s simplicity, innocence and her love for life, belied by the sadness in her eyes. Naseem Bano also comes off well, a beautiful, graceful, dignified woman, who was head over heels in love with her husband.

Manto is also unabashedly frank in his account of what really goes on in the underbelly of the world of films. People have often talked about the seedy side of films, far away from the glitz and glitter that we see on screen. Tales of exploitation, poverty, desperation, prostitution - these were the cautionary tales with which parents regaled their star-struck children; films were not for those from ‘good’ families. Sex, sleaze, scandals and booze abound in this collection, and one sees the mask stripped off those who seemingly live a fortunate life – they are as fickle and egoistic and flawed as the rest of the hoi polloi who idolise them.

Manto’s writings make it clear that those tales were not too far from the truth. Yes, that’s a plus, in a world that has gone incredibly sanitised because someone, somewhere, will be offended by something, but what is not easy for me to overlook is the lewdness or the thread of misogyny that runs through the book. In the translator’s note, Hasan mentions a woman, Nayyar Bano, who had strong words of condemnation for Manto’s writings. [She wrote a letter to the editor in response to Manto’s piece on actor Shyam, titled Murli ki Dhun.] In response, Manto wrote: I felt pity for Nayyar Bano and her mental condition. I said to myself that...I should make it up to her. But then I thought if I tried to do that in the manner that I wished, she might faint...I did not want her to suffer a shock; she might not survive the experience. He goes on to explain in detail what should be done to punish a woman such as Bano. Punishment for what crime? For daring to criticise him? I guess so, because when he was jailed for obscenity (several times), he wrote: My judge thought that truth and literature should be kept far apart.” (Letters to Uncle Sam)

He claimed to speak the truth, with great relish. I have no doubt whatsoever that he did. Ashok Kumar’s shyness with women, and Raja Mehdi Ali Khan’s opportunism are unremarkable trivia. Amusing perhaps, but not malicious. But what in heavens’ name has Manto’s hatred of Noor Jehan’s bra got to do with a story? (And why is the man so interested in someone’s lingerie?) Why does Rafiq Ghaznavi’s and Sitara Devi’s chapters have more to do with their sexual peccadilloes than about his music or her dance, about either of which there’s no mention at all?

As remnants of a bygone age, these writings are a chronicle of what once was. And even in translation, the power of Manto’s writings come through. I wonder what this would have read like in the original Urdu; certainly, Manto is considered one of the greatest (if not the greatest) South Asian writers of the 20th century. I suppose the tawdriness wouldn't have changed much – it may just have sounded better in Urdu. Or perhaps not – regional languages have an earthiness that English seldom approaches. (When it does, it merely sounds vulgar.)

In his foreword, Jerry Pinto has this to say: When you have put down this book, you will feel as if a friendly voice, cheerfully malicious and yet vulnerable in its self-revelation, has been stilled. You will miss it.

I’m not so sure that I will. In fact, I’m quite sure I won’t.

[Shubham Pandey · Rating 4 out of 5]

Manto is known for his caustic and provocative short stories. However very few people know that he was very closely involved with the Bollywood as well.
This book, 'Stars from Another Sky' is a collection of Manto's film journalism pieces where he brilliantly sketches the pioneers of Indian Cinema like Ashok Kumar, Nargis, Nur Jehan, Pran amongst others. And talks about his beloved city Bombay in 1940s and how it changed his own life.

After partition, Manto left Bombay in 1948 and this world in 1955. The 7 years that he spent in Pakistan were full of hardships, emotionally and financially. It was this time that he started writing newspaper columns about his time in Bollywood. This book is collection of some of those columns. While writing these columns he must have cherished those memories and that's why they are so nostalgic.

Read it if you like Manto or would want to know more about Manto or about Bollywood of 1940s. This could be Manto's autobiography (about 11 years that he spent in bombay.)

P.S. The first 30 minutes of the movie Manto (Directed by Nandita Das) are taken from this book. Read it before watching the movie and you will enjoy it even more.

My 15th read this year. Loved it all the way!

[Diptakirti Chaudhuri · Rating 3 out of 5]

Saadat Hasan Manto, he of the legendary short stories on Partition, was also a writer of Hindi films and a gossip columnist (after he migrated to Pakistan). A collection of those columns, this book is sometimes hilarious, sometimes poignant - harking back to the earliest days of the film industry.
There is a lot to ogle at and in terms of pure bitchiness, Manto has no parallel. Ashok Kumar, Nargis, Nur jehan, Sitara Devi are subjects of brilliant first hand accounts. But the caveat also is that there is a fair bit of writing on people we have very little idea about and (at least for me) that creates a bit of a directionless-ness.
Nevertheless, worth a read for the sheer archival value.

[Ranjana Gupta · Rating 4 out of 5]

A quirky, anecdotal view of the Hindi film industry from a time when even my grandparents were kids. Like the back cover states, most of the glittering stars from that galaxy are unknown to us today, with the exception of Ashok Kumar, Nur Jehan, Nargis and KL Saigal. I remember when I was growing up and there were these really old movies on Doordarshan - I used to often wonder as to how some of these people became such big stars, so far removed were they from my generation's notion of heroes, heroines, movies and stars.
In fact, Saigal with his nasal voice singing 'Jab dil hi toot gaya' was/is one of the most parodied stars of that age among school kids, if they at all knew him.
But with age comes maturity and while I may still not see in them the same appeal as I would in the later year actors and those of my generation, I can understand their allure in a country that was still under the boot of foreigners, still striving for freedom. And these stars and their movies, I guess, provided some measure of escape to the masses. Not quite unlike today.
The book, however, is a collection of anecdotes about those stars, told by someone who was a part of the coterie. And while I do not doubt that the stories are factual, they are also quite subjective. You see Manto's own personality revealing itself as he tries to tell you how Ashok Kumar, the superstar, really quite shy when it came to women or how Nargis was just an ordinary girl, not quite the beauty (an assessment I agree with) looking for friends. And while he tells us about these stars who have endured the test of time, he also talks of those not so famous now. Naseem - the fairy face - whose daughter Saira Banu turned out to be a bigger star, or Rafiq Ghazni, the casanova music director.
The stories are about people and quite like how we ordinary people perceive the stars to be - incestuous, fickle, egoistic. But sometimes, they surprise us with their vulnerabilities, their desires, their follies and their failings, which make them more like us than the distant stars.
Manto's writing style is whimsical, meandering, moody but true to the age and people he was writing about, and hence suits the material to a T.
I am now looking forward to reading some of his other work. If you are looking for something different, I suggest you give this collection a try.

[Zeeshan Ahmed · Rating 5 out of 5]

Manto does it again. This book is a collection of sketches about some famous personalities of Indian film industry of 1940s, mainly. Manto was an active personality himself in the film industry, and used to write stories for films. Having developed close relationships with people along the way. He explored the bright (and dark) world of films. The scandals, fame, and everything else that went on in the backdrop of the glamour. It's indeed a brilliant book, and tells you a lot about the events that happened. Manto's close friendships with Shyam, Ashok Kumar. His observations of Sitara, Nur Jehan, Nargis and other famous personalities. I have a certain bias when it comes to Manto, I end up loving everything. But I enjoyed these sketches, in particular, as person who wants to explore the past. Loved the sketches. And I must add that Khalid Hasan's translations are simply perfect. They capture the feel brilliantly.

[Devanshi Doshi · Rating 4 out of 5]

The book "Stars From Another Sky" is a collection of sketches of the yesteryear stars of bollywood. Manto proves that he is as good at writing non-fiction as much as fiction. The accounts are truly racial and definitely controversial. They not only give insights on the lives of these scandalous 1940s Indian actors but also the changing landscape of Mumbai and Lahore during the freedom of independence as well as partition. Many a times Manto mentions how the films would stop due to these uprisings and curfews. Manto, after the partition, moved from Mumbai to Lahore, leaving behind a prosperous career in script-writing and freelance writing. His pieces are truly of the tabloid nature - be it commenting on Sarita devi's promiscuity or making fun of Nur Jahan's conical brassiere. One can't help but be transformed to the black and white world of motion pictures in Bombay of the 40s with his sometimes funny, sometimes nostalgic and almost always scandalous accounts.

[Ashish · Rating 4 out of 5]

A collection of real life stories as Manto recollects his time in the Bombay Film industry as a writer, advisor and an insider-with-an-outsiders-perspective. The book is replete with a cornucopia of colourful characters and flamboyant personalities, real people who were the pioneers of the film industry in Bombay. It's full of tantalising tales and hot takes about the people, their relations, their talents an their shortcomings. Manto provides an excellent perspective as a person within the inner circle as he gets his hands on the juiciest pieces of information that he handles unabashedly, yet delicately. The stories help develop a character profile of the various real life personalities of the time and provides an insight into the working of the world of movies and how they are made. Manto minces no words, comes across as a jovial, troubled yet stoic narrator as he recalls the events of his life before he moved to Pakistan post-independence.

[Supriya J · Rating 2 out of 5]

Who knew the world of Bollywood in the 1940s was filled with sex, scandals and booze? Manto's book, Stars from Another Sky: The Bombay Film World in the 1940s is a refreshing take a film journalism. Manto is unabashedly honest, and he should be, given how close he was to the stars he was writing about.

However, as a reader from the 21st Century, I found that I just could not relate. Perhaps I am the wrong audience for this kind of book—the only two people in the book I actually know are Ashok Kumar and Nargis. The rest of the actors Manto wrote about, I imagined in my head because I have no idea who they are.

But, the book made me wonder, who is this generation's Manto? Who will write the sordid tales from the film industry as it is today? Juicy gossip about the Shahrukhs and the Salmans... bring it on!

[Veena Soujanya · Rating 3 out of 5]

When I picked up this book I was looking forward to the insights inside the Bollywood stars of 1930s and '40s. I was waiting for the stories which carried the nuances and the tidbits of the industry more in the sense of technical and political aspects (as it was the partition time). Though I was also interested to know about the rumors and juicy stories of the actors of yesteryears, this book has actually disappointed me. The only thing Manto was interested in saying about these stars was about their sexual escapades. This was more like a book that gives us information about adultery by those actors and I felt sad that the writer as a journalist couldn't see anything past their personal lives and scandals. For me, this book and the author both were a letdown. 3 stars for his writing style rather than content.

[Sairam Krishnan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Picked it up for a throwaway price at a Landmark sale, and wanted to wave it around and shout at the staff that they had given me Saadat Hasan Manto at the cost of a packet of biscuits. But I didn't.
I brought it home and read it in a way that can only described as 'devoured'.

The edition I read had an introduction by Jerry Pinto, and it was a lovely prologue to the book, which took my breath away. It was not just that the pieces were literary masterpieces, which they were, but also that they were remnants of a bygone era. The stories are unapologetically brash, sometimes plain alarming, but always engrossing.

Intoxicating, like the Deer Brand whisky he talks about.

Genius.

[Prathyush Parasuraman · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wish to be written with the same affection, love, disdain, and ache with which Manto writes about the matinee idols of the 40s. This is not something you feel too often. His writing is brash, unpretentious, and real. You are a part of his mind now.

[Sandhya · Rating 4 out of 5]

A highly entertaining chronicle of the 40s cinema, with its numerous love intrigues and star quirks among other things.

[Vikas Datta · Rating 4 out of 5]

Spellbinding window into the lives of the Indian tinseltown at the cusp of its fortunes - by a master story-teller

[Tanvi Prakash · Rating 1 out of 5]

Sigh. Celebrity gossip is just not my thing, I suppose.

[Iqra Tasmiae]

https://urduwallahs.wordpress.com/201...

[Director's Apprentice · Rating 2 out of 5]

"Stars from Another Sky" is positioned as a piece of film journalism written by Saadat Hasan Manto, whose short stories and reputation for a controversial writing style precede him. I say positioned because "Stars from Another Sky" is less journalism and more a memoir of Manto's time in the Bombay film world of the 1940s.

Since he is talking about a time period that is 70-80 years in the past, readers will have little to no recall of the key personalities profiled in the book barring Ashok Kumar and Nargis at best. However, for people interested in the art of making movies, there is less here of that and more Bollywood gossip.

As per Manto, the world occupied by these cinema artists ran parallel to ordinary world. Rules and customs seldom applied and Manto gives generous leeway to his film buddies' behaviour due to the fact that they were artists. His buddies tend to be male and almost to a person, lascivious predators.

While the book gives insight about what went on behind the curtain that brought such beautiful images on the cinema screen, after a while, the book is just a collection of memories that Manto is trying to relive from his glory days in Bombay. It would have been good had more emphasis had been given on how the filmmakers managed to get an idea onto the screen but the digressions come quick and are too many and exasperatingly, all about his friends' adulterous lives.

This brings us to the treatment of women. This book may be contemporary and thus the world a bit distasteful in its regard for gender rights (or not), it shows that while Manto may have been ahead of his times in holding a mirror to society, when it came to women, he was clearly a man of his times. He is all too quick to pardon his friends as being merely having the heart of an artist when they hunt after another young woman only months after professing their love for another. Casual talk of treating women as conquests is also spread throughout the book.

At times though, the men he has profiled, commit such unconscionable and abhorrent acts that even Manto's forgiving heart is pained. Two particular instances come to mind. One in which a "colourful" friend of Manto, who has spent his life going after every single woman, gives "fatherly advice" to his daughter to live up her life in a city and community where infidelity is assumed as normal. The girl's condition is too painful even for the formidable Manto's pen to write down. The second is when another friend abandons his wife months after marrying her, leading her to commit suicide by burning herself alive. Manto curses this man.

However, apart from these few and very far between instances, his friends are described as hopeless romantics who need to be cared for as they are not ordinary mortals but artists. Manto, who never interjects when women are treated poorly by his friends, also plays matchmaker when the role suits him. In one instance, when his matchmaking has resulted in the desired result for his friend, rather than being gracious, Manto thinks the moment is right to crack a distasteful joke. His friend, of course, laughs.

Overall the book will not given any good insight into film-making or is any particularly good profile of the famous or forgotten film personalities. What it does give insight on is Manto's own personality, which is provocative, brazen but also sadly conservative in his views on women.

While Manto's short stories were hard hitting and pierced the veneer of the clean social order, his journalistic writing leaves much to be desired. The book is just above a gossip tabloid where he gives a new lease of life to many of his friends.

[Sharanya Mukherji · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bombay Film Industry in the 1940s, sounds very much like Hollywood in the roaring 20s. As truly said in the book, the known and unknown reside side by side in this anthology of film memoirs.

Manto's writing is no doubt addictive and through this work, he's successful in making the readers aware that how we as an audience are the only ones responsible to demonise and canonize certain individuals as 'stars'.

But stripped off from their vain glitz and glamour they are human beings, some of them are shy introverts, some of them are womanizers or man eaters, some too formal and stiff (sprinkled with a dose of superiority complex), some of them are just laid back and easy going or just simplistic individuals who just don't seem concerned with their so called 'star' status and some of them are just plain lovers, adoring husbands, and caring mothers and sisters.

In a word, they are individuals just like you and me, with humane / inhumane vices and virtues. They too have demons hidden in their closet.

And all this philosophical musings by this reader is adue to Manto's very interesting writing style which at times becomes bare bones facts and at times becomes the muse of an emotionally disturbed individual.

Would recommend the book to anyone who is into films and also loves film history. But one does need to go through various sources of information to understand certain nuanced references. In order to get proper context. Which should've been given in the book for the current generation of readers.

Thus I'm forced to give it 3 stars instead of a 4. But it no doubt enabled me to discover and read more works by Manto.

[Neha Agrawal · Rating 2 out of 5]

Well o well.... the greater the expectations one picks a book with, the more the probability of being disappinted? That seems the case here. With me atleast. I wasn't expecting the book to be primarily about affairs and scandals. Nor do celebrity gossips interest me. So maybe I should not have picked this book. I expected insights about movie world during that time (1940-50s)

I don't even know why I continued reading it till the end (habit I guess). I am still confused about the purpose of the book. Why would Manto want to be so gossipy to write so much about secrets and affairs and scandals related to people he was close to. He also seems to have written the facts in a very authoritative way and I thought they meant to demean the people spoken about. What thrill did he get in writing and publishing these (so called) not-so-known-facts about their affairs and characters? If I read it in the context of time this was written, I might overlook the misogynistic tone I see all throughout.

I did get to know some film celebrities of that time and did Google it up to know more about them. Apart from that, I didn't like the narrative or tone of the book. I found it boring to read so much random personal gossips about celebrities I didn't even know. It was good to know Ashok Kumar's and Nawab Kashmiri's personalities. Some facts about bombay talkies etc also interested me. Other than that it seemed that the agenda was to expose the celebrities, whom Manto called his friends.

I am not even sure how much truth there is to these gossips? And somehow he comes extremely clean in each of these stories. 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

[Soma · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Stars from Another Sky" is a collection of writings by Manto as he worked for several intervening years as film journalist and a scriptwriter in Bombay. This is a rare collection providing a delightfully interesting view into the world of people who work in the world of cinema. The personalities he's chosen to write about are leading names of the times (1940s) - Naseem Bano (Saira Bano's mom), Nur Jahan, Nargis, Shyam, Sitara Devi, Ashok Kumar and many more. Being famous for his writings and coveted as an intellectual, Manto had privilege to know many of these stars and the world they inhabit, up close. And he uses this advantage unabashadely to inform us of the goings on in their world. I can only imagine how some of these columns would have created stir in 1940s. But through all the writings, Manto comes across as a seeker and never a voyeur, an impatient soul who suffers many human vices but doesn't get affected by any, even if he's privy to the bedroom where Naseem Bano was sprawled on the bed (just one of the many examples). He is a chronicler and he does that with pure genius, that is Manto. He brings out the frailties, the vulnerabilities of big names in cinema but subtly also shows his reverence for them.
This is a rare peek into men women we adore by a remarkably perceptive man who was way ahead of his times.
Excuse the cat sleeping next to my book, as I got so engrossed and probably lay motionless for hours, reading this book, not realising this little star of our home had dozed off at my feet. Hence, retaining his picture here as well, for the effect Manto can create on it's readers.

[Ishaan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Simply outrageous. This book is a pretty big departure from his usually grim short stories. Manto draws us into the scandalous lives of some of the Hindi film industry's foundational characters, telling us their stories with wit and understanding. The chapters about Ashok Kumar, Nargis, and Sitara Devi are especially not to be missed. It is a lovely portal to an era in Bollywood (and India) that is largely lost to us now.

[H A Y A · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'd like to give this book a solid 3.5, it's a really good book, getting to know about old bollywood movie industry, and their stars, when Mumbai was Bombay, i loved how manto discusses about the experiencs, interactions he had with the famous stars of 80s, how he wrote storylines for them.

Loved it simply🫶🏻🫶🏻

[Kavya Christopher · Rating 3 out of 5]

Beautiful people, beautiful inside stories.

[Harsh Maru · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautiful,brilliant,honest ! Insightful about the Bombay film world , the stars, the production houses, the directors, editors, complete package

[Neeraj Kumar · Rating 5 out of 5]

A wonderful book giving glimpses in the lives of the stars of yesteryears. It is kind of iconoclastic book revealing too much.

[foolscap · Rating 1 out of 5]

trust manto to actually make bollywood gossip sound boring