Each time I think about my Intermediate Urdu text book, a heavy volume that we had to study amid rowdy classmates and reluctant tutors, I can vividly recall some ‘lessons’, as all stories and poems were then called.

Mushtaq Ahmed Yusufi says if you wish to make a whole generation hate a piece of writing, the best way is to include it in a textbook -- a pertinent observation, but not without exception. Because the moment I read a short story called Kaya Kalp, I was mesmerised. With minimum exposure and very basic understanding of literature, the simplicity with which the story deals with human condition, using metaphors and symbols from our familiar traditional tales (which I heard as a child) immortalised the text for me.

It was the first time I recognised true literature. It was also my first introduction to the distinguished writer Intizar Husain. I am thankful to that anonymous compiler of the textbook who contributed in altering the life of an ordinary second year student. The encounter with his incredible writing continued further. I read stories from the collection Akhri Admi, especially the first (of the same name) in which a community is transformed into a group of monkeys.

The use of biblical syntax to denote a psychological state and social situation remained extraordinary and unusual till I read Jorge Luis Borges and the literature of Magic Realism. Borges in his prose uses reference from a variety of sources and constructs his texts as if not written by him but merely transcribed by the author. In Husain’s fiction, this ability of connecting multiple narratives comes so naturally that one forgets the writer is from the twentieth century. In fact, multiple ages breathe in his voice.

I presume that while writing Basti, (a passage that I can never forget is where describing the despicable condition of war between India and Pakistan, the narrative blends in the old texts about the desolation of Delhi during Mutiny, and the destruction of Jerusalem from the Old Testament also becomes a part of it) Intizar Husain was not aware of Jorge Luis Borges or a term such as post modernity. But his work is a testimony that he belonged to the spirit of his epoch.

Last year during an interview with him (videotaped by Mohammad Ali Talpur at his Jail Road residence), I asked him about this structure of including such diverse texts in his fiction. He replied that all of what he had read came into this form without planning; it just happened. One could see a similar motif in his Jataka tales, in which apparently quoting Buddhist stories he was rendering contemporary situation. It is not fair to label him as a writer of nostalgia; whether it is Hindu mythology, Buddhist scriptures, biblical text, history of Muslim martyrs or books of Sufi saints, everything was infused to create a large canvas about human presence/existence.

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To a visual artist, the fiction of Intizar Husain is an inspiring example due to its formal and conceptual complexity. By employing the past, he constructs a scenario related to what we experience in reality. Many artists have been seeking a similar idiom in their pictorial language. It may seem uncommon that Pakistani artists from Zahoor ul Akhlaq to Anwar Saeed to Rashid Rana to Mohammad Ali Talpur have been earnest admirers of Intizar Husain’s writings.

Like any eminent writer of his times, he was interested not only in the world of fiction, but in life and how that life is modified with changes in the realm of culture, technology and knowledge. Perhaps this is why Intizar Sahib was a respected figure in an art college like NCA and was invited to be the chief guest at the recently-held convocation of the institution. A historic moment indeed when, instead of a minister or a bureaucrat, an author was invited: and that too a writer who was a close associate of Shakir Ali, former Principal and painter who has influenced many generations of artists at the NCA.

When an Urdu writer started to deliver his address, students at the college remained busy with their typical chat. Soon, however, his voice, words and stature commanded pin-drop silence and drew immense applause from the audience. He talked about art, creativity, his relationship with painters on that cruel cold day of January 2016 which turned out to be his last public appearance.

The only way I felt I could pay him back for his contribution in bringing out the artist in me was to design the titles of his books. I approached Sang-e-Meel, his publishers and they agreed. I continued offering my small homage to that grand man of letters, who in his personal life was a modest, unassuming and unambitious individual.

Several years ago, I asked Intizar Sahib about the translation of his works in other languages such as English. Sitting at his table at the Pak Tea House, he confided that he was not concerned about his books to be translated because he was able to communicate with all those he wanted to in Urdu or Hindi. But eventually he was translated into English, French and other languages.

I recall spotting his novel Basti in English, displayed at the Foyle’s book shop in London next to the foremost fiction of the world, and feeling proud and elated, a similar feeling I had when he was nominated for the International Man Booker Prize in 2013 as it was the first time an Urdu writer was recognised at such an international platform.

In my humble opinion, Intizar Husain deserved more - much more. Each year when the Nobel prize in Literature is announced, I am outside of a big bookshop in Lahore, glued to the screen of my laptop, hoping that this year it would be Intizar Husain. But that was not meant to be because Nobel is only awarded to a living author. Who knows how many years will Urdu have to wait for another living writer!