When Salman Rushdie wrote "Shame," his novel on Pakistan and its politics, he chose to use a mentally-challenged child as a symbol for the country. In his mind, Pakistan was a "dream less imagined" and the shame felt by the characters in the book towards the child was akin to the shame felt by the country's people towards their own identity.

Introspection does not require self-loathing; it just requires intelligence, wit and love. It is not an easy mixture, but it was one that Moin Akhtar had in abundance.

What was brilliant about his career was not just its staggering volume or the fact that despite its vastness, his work was always of the highest quality. His legendary characters brought so many of our prejudices and vanities to life. His one-liners became an indelible part of our cultural fabric. He was not just a slave to his craft, but rather he was someone who determined what his craft would be to all others who practiced it.

But those are reasons to celebrate him, and celebrate him we should.

What we must mourn is the loss of someone who refused to bow down to the relentless contradictions and cynicism plaguing our society which breeds nihilism and corruption in equal measure. When everyone taunted us, Moin Akhtar showed us how to laugh at ourselves.

What we must mourn is someone who made us believe that institutions and structures may help, but their absence in our country does not obscure genius. Moin had no recourse to massive paychecks, protective guilds or fawning awards, yet he did not need his ego to be fed in order to continue doing what he did best – giving the rest of us a chance to smile, a chance to hope and to believe.

I kept wondering which of his famous dramas, stage plays or characters to link to for this post, but I suppose there is no need. A legend like him doesn't reside in the vaults of online videos; he resides in our hearts and in our memories.

Even now, if I try to imagine him, my brain throws up a stream of iconic images. There was so much of our lives, our histories and our society that he dove into, embraced and reproduced in a manner that we could shed our anxieties and feel comfortable with our own selves.

So I suppose that is the best way to honour his life, his work and his memory; by remembering that there was someone who helped us accept that we are not the same as everyone else, that we do appear bizarre and shocking, and that all of it is nothing to feel ashamed about.

Moin Akhtar may have left us, but what he gave us can never be taken away.

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