In an increasingly disconnected world, Kafka and Manto remind us of the fragile threads binding humanity

I attended an event honouring the 100th anniversary of Franz Kafka hosted by the Goethe-Institut Karachi on Saturday. Titled ‘Dastangoee and Readings from Kafka Texts’, the event combined the works of Kafka and Saadat Hasan Manto, outlining the artistic parallels between the two literary giants.

Organised in collaboration with the Rung Munj Theatre Group and journalist Peerzada Salman, the evening sought to celebrate the shared anxieties and alienation expressed by Kafka and Manto — one shaped by early 20th-century Europe, the other by the upheaval of Partition, something I, a zillenial, never thought I’d relate to.

A zillenial — a mix between a millennial and a Gen-Z — is someone who is perfectly in the middle, falling on neither side. A zillenial, as I like to call myself, has the qualities of both a Gen-Z and a millennial.

The venue for the event, the institute’s outdoor garden, was perhaps an ambitious choice. Karachi’s heat and the ever-present nuisance of mosquitos dampened the experience somewhat, but the essence of the event remained intact thanks to the thoughtful curation and committed performances.

While the evening started later than advertised — a quirk that the organisers seemingly accepted as a cultural norm — the wait was soon forgotten when the readings began.

The Rung Munj Theatre Group’s interpretation of Kafka’s The Country Doctor was the highlight of the night. Delivered with dramatic flair, the story transported the audience into Kafka’s surreal universe, drawing them into the unsettling absurdity and helplessness the protagonist experiences.

Although Kafka’s Judgement — arguably one of his finest works — was performed as well, The Country Doctor resonated more powerfully. The Urdu narration allowed Kafka’s work to transcend linguistic boundaries, offering the local audience a sense of ownership over his deeply introspective themes.

The group then transitioned to Manto’s Khol Do and Naya Qanoon. The pairing of Kafka and Manto was both seamless and striking. Khol Do— with its harrowing depiction of trauma in the wake of Partition — acted as a grim companion to Kafka’s existential explorations.

Both authors tackled alienation, loss, and societal collapse, albeit in distinct historical and cultural contexts. Hearing these timeless narratives as a Gen Z-millennial cusp felt like listening to stories from a bygone world — a world haunted by tangible struggles before the rise of AI and digital anxieties.

There was a peculiar, almost eerie resonance in revisiting the raw, gritty, yet palpable realities of their time, which felt both familiar and distant.

The second segment, led by Peerzada Salman, alongside Khizer Salman, featured readings of Kafka’s works in both Urdu and English. Translated by Naiyer Masud, these texts showcased Kafka’s relevance across linguistic and cultural divides. It’s not easy to translate Kafka and then make it relatable to the local audience without losing the cultural context, but Masud did a phenomenal job!

The dual-language delivery enriched the experience, making Kafka’s narratives accessible, though some might argue that Kafka’s singular style loses a touch of its strangeness in translation.

Ultimately, the event captured the essence of both authors: their ability to channel personal and collective anxieties into haunting works of fiction. Despite minor logistical hiccups, Dastangoee and Readings from Kafka and Manto proved to be an engaging encounter.

It reminded the audience of the timeless nature of literature and how stories from different eras, languages, and continents can still evoke shared feelings of loss, alienation, and hope. Even in a world driven by technology, the evening served as a poignant reminder to me, personally, of how the ghosts of the past continue to speak to us, their voices reverberating through the present.

If anything, the evening left everyone with a lingering thought; in a world increasingly disconnected by virtual realities, perhaps we still need Kafka and Manto to remind us of the fragile threads that bind humanity — threads that may fray but never fully break.