WITH reference to Intizar Husain’s piece, Two uncles and a nephew (May 9), it is not only misleading but also factually incorrect. I have made no mention of my uncle, Taaban Dehlvi, for which he chides me in reviewing my sketch on Saail Sahib, Taaban’s younger brother. How could I possibly speak to him, the way I spoke to Saail Sahib as I was perhaps only four years old when he died?

Assuming that I had equal access to my two uncles when I developed some appreciation of literature, Mr Intizar Husain observes (second cousin of my father): “He (Aali) could hardly talk to Taaban in the way in which he talked to Saail. Nawab Taaban had no patience with triviality. One could take liberties with him only at the risk of being snubbed. Aali, though just a boy, was wise enough to choose Chacha Saail for his insolence.”

Mr Intizar Husain could have picked up the phone to find out why I abstained from being insolent with Taaban Dehlvi. But that would have robbed him of his striking title, Two uncles and a nephew. Had he discussed the matter with me, I would have suggested a more pointed title, The insolent nephew of a kind-hearted uncle.

He starts his article with a stunning revelation. My sketch of Saail’s life led him to discover that it was through my stubborn refusal (at the age of 12 or 13) to accept my uncle’s correction in one of my couplets that I threw away the golden opportunity of attaining the distinction of being the tail-ender of the distinguished poets of the Delhi school.

In my sketch, I have categorically stated what I thought of the traditional and lifeless character of the poetry of the remnants of the Delhi school. I talked to Saail Sahib about Iqbal’s philosophy of self and the expanse and depth of his poetic vision. I read out to him Naqsh-i-Faryadi, the first major and trend-setting publication of Faiz Ahmad Faiz. I conveyed to him the ideas of Akhtarul Iman of the demands of changing times on our poetry and its modes of expression. And finally I took Miraji, the most individualistic and unconventional of poets in his manners, expression and choice of subjects, to meet Saail Sahib. Was all of this not enough to convince Mr Intizar Husain that I had taken leave of the old order and cast my lot with those who had opted for new modes of expression, new subjects and new horizons?

I would request him to go through my sketch again and decide whether I had avoided talking to Taaban Dehlvi for fear of a rebuff. I would also request him to reiterate whether he still thinks that I really missed the opportunity of a lifetime by refusing to accept Saail Sahib’s correction in one of my couplets. Preoccupied as I am in facing challenges from various quarters in my pursuit of some educational and literary projects, I have had little time to examine the character of Intizar Husain’s critical essays. Now that he has subjected my own writings to his sharp analysis, I must complement him on introducing an entertaining strain of fiction in the otherwise dry business of critical analysis.

Some people with literary inclinations who have neither the time nor the patience to read Urdu literature tend to depend on their evaluation of literary trends and writers and their works on articles appearing in English-language journals and magazines. This proclivity on the part of our readers has prompted me to comment on Intizar Husain’s aforementioned column.

JAMILUDDIN AALI
Karachi