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The Short Form

“Colder Than Ice”

Saadat Hasan Manto

Excerpt

Kalwant Kaur began to boil with passion like a kettle on high fire.

But there was something wrong.

Ishwar Singh, despite his vigorous efforts at foreplay, could not feel the fire which leads to the final and inevitable act of love. Like a wrestler who is being had the better of, he employed every trick he knew to ignite the fire in his loins, but it eluded him. He felt cold.

Kalwant Kaur was now like an overtuned instrument. “Ishr Sian,” she whispered languidly, “you have shuffled me enough, it is time to produce your trump.”

Ishwar Singh felt as if the entire deck of cards had slipped from his hands on to the floor.

We read it in Selected Stories.