In Islamabad many years ago, an elderly gentleman — tall, lanky, with thin grey hair combed backwards and a thick, sharply trimmed goatee — entered the drawing room of a friend who had invited a motley group of artists, writers and musicians over for dinner. I was introduced to this man by the host. He was polite, but seemed a little reserved. I couldn’t muster enough strength to strike up a conversation with him even though I wanted to. Some time passed before I received an email from the same gentleman. He had read something I had written and decided to share his comments with me. It was a critical and engaging email. Since then, we met a few times in Karachi and Lahore before he passed away on July 4, 2015. Interaction with him was always an elating and gratifying experience, where serious arguments were interspersed with provocative jokes and crackling laughter. This man was the master wordsmith of Urdu fiction, Abdullah Hussain.

It has not even been two years since Hussain passed away. But there is such little mention of his name and his work in literary circles today — let alone the celebration they deserve — that one fears that our literary establishment is willing to sideline one of our most important writers. However, on so many occasions the individuals and associations who take upon themselves this task out of their own volition, or are duly assigned by powers that be to form or dismantle the literary canon, are frustrated by those very readers they have wanted to influence. This seems to be the case with the writings of Hussain whose magnum opus, Udaas Naslein, runs into new reprints every other year since its first publication in 1963. It remains one of the most popular books ever published in the Urdu language. His other works of long and short fiction, Nadaar Loag, Baaghh, Qaed, Raat and Nashaib also remain popular among both general readers and serious students of Urdu fiction.

Udaas Naslein, an epic love story that recounts the partition of the Indian subcontinent and the creation of Pakistan in 1947, ensconcing so many other human stories and an insightful political comment within, came out a decade and a half after the event. What I find interesting is that Nadaar Loag, a work that is considered a sequel to Udaas Naslein by some critics, appeared exactly a decade and a half after the dismemberment of Pakistan and the creation of Bangladesh. Whether it is Qurratulain Hyder’s Aag Ka Darya or Hussain’s work, literary response to the varied human experience caused by events and upheavals of gigantic proportions always takes a long time. The complexity is such that knee-jerk reactions, whether from politicians or journalists, add little to the deeper understanding of these events.

In our case where history is not taught in schools, it is through our great poets and fiction-writers that we become familiar with the true history.

In our case, where history is not taught in schools and the messages conveyed to people at large by the powerful state and media operators are shamefully skewed, it is through our great poets and fiction-writers that we become familiar with the true history of our people and our previous generations. This reminds me of The Weary Generations which, according to Hussain, is the translation of Udaas Naslein in English that the writer did himself. I think, and here I agree with Raza Naeem who did a truly evocative introduction to this book, that it is not simply a translation. This book is the epic story of Udaas Naslein retold in English such that it reads like an original. It is a powerful interplay of a riveting love story with symbiotic tensions within homes, society and the political space. For English readers, it is one of the most important works of fiction to have come out of South Asia.

The writer is a poet and essayist based in Islamabad.
His collection of essays, Crimson Papers: Reflections on Struggle, Suffering, and Creativity in Pakistan, was recently published by Oxford University Press

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, May 28th, 2017