When Maqbool Fida Husain, the iconic artist of the 20th century, breathed his last on June 9th, 2011 in a London hospital, he was not only India’s most decorated painter but also the most hounded one for even his prestigious national awards could not shield him from death threats, arrest warrants and the vandalism of his Mumbai home. Intimidation had forced him to live in self-exile for the last five years and in 2010 he was awarded the citizenship of Qatar.

Husain, who was born in 1915, was a witness to the transformation of the political and social history of his country. He attended Sir J.J. School of Art, Mumbai, for a year in 1935 and gave it up to support himself as a cinema hoarding painter.

In the six decades that followed, Husain engaged with the Modern idiom in a highly individualised style that used Cubism as a point of departure. He constructed an iconography of stylised forms, particularly the horse that brought his early fame. As an artist who drew from myths and his milieu, he synthesised these two with creative élan. He painted Hindu deities like Saraswati and modern India’s goddess of humanity, Mother Teresa with equal ownership and passion. While the nude depiction of Saraswati took its cue from the uninhibited temple art, his images of Mother Teresa was inspired by Pieta with Madonna holding the suffering Christ in her lap. Religious themes often underpinned his work to reference the present. In Karachi he painted a huge mural on the Battle of Karbala at Indus Gallery.

Husain’s charisma was memorable. Bushra Hussain, artist and curator, has vivid memories of his painting workshop at National College of Art , Lahore,(1993) where the students found the internationally famous artist very approachable. She recalls the great master’s emphasis on an artist being a keen observer of his/her milieu like a bird, which sees everything.

Well-known artist and pioneer of the Watercolour Movement in Karachi, Ghalib Baqar, remembers being impressed by the softness of Hussain’s black line. He acknowledges Husain and Sadequain as the stalwarts that dominate the recent art history of South Asia.

Husain’s fame also drew me to his show at the Indus Gallery where Imam Sahib introduced me to the master. On display was a mural on ‘The battle of Karbala’ that had been completed the night before, along with a few paintings that were coloured photographs of his work cut into geometric shapes and collaged on black paper with a prominent signature. This was the time when barefoot Hussain had taken Karachi by storm; I remember being surprised by his combination of bohemian charm and business savvy.

Controversy had dogged Hussain even during that trip when the media discovered the large sum for which he sold the Karbala mural and questions were asked regarding the validity of his un taxed earnings in Pakistan. In subsequent years Pakistanis welcomed the master into their hearts and homes and he made frequent visits.

My second encounter with the artist was at Dubai Airport where he sat forlorn in a wheelchair, his tall frame seemed to have shrunk and his beard was more bleached than I remembered it. Few people recognised him and most walked past him in a rush. This was shortly after 2006 when he was facing a barrage of censorship cases. Thankfully that sad image was rehabilitated when I met him a few years later at Bunto Kazmi’s studio where he was presented with an exquisite long coat bearing images from his art in silk and gold thread embroidery for his birthday. Here Hussain looked dapper in a designer linen suit that belied his age. He had just come with Zehra Nigar from the airport and seemed to be enjoying his new found fame in Dubai and if the pain of dislocation was still there, the artist hid it well that evening.

Hussain’s rise to fame coincides with the independence of his country. In 1947 his painting was honoured by the Bombay Art Society which led to a wider recognition and a solo exhibition in Zurich. A few years later Lalit Kala Academy in New Delhi nominated him as an eminent artist. After this there was no looking back and he got unprecedented critical and financial success.

Eminent historian and curator, Alka Pande, has identified Hussain as one of the Indian artists who became a ‘brand’. This perception grew as a Mumbai organisation bought 125 works for 25 million dollars. Not only was he sought after in India but with auction houses fetching as high as several million dollars for selected works, he had the attention of serious international buyers.

Hussain was a bold innovator who followed his instinct and this can be seen in the various trajectories of his career. His unabashed delight in Maduri Dixit’s beauty led to a film and painting series. His three films, Through the eyes of a painter, Gaja gamini and Meenaxi: a tale of three cities all followed an experimental format in both content and creative direction. This abiding interest in the cinema also led to a series of paintings on the epic Mughal-e-Azam.

Like all great artists and writers, the price Husain paid for his uncompromising creativity was high. It is said his nude depiction of Saraswati and Mother India would have not have provoked the religious right if he had been a Hindu. I don’t know if that is the whole truth as orthodox Muslims also registered a complaint against the lyrics of a song in Meenaxi. So he had the singular honour of offending lobbies of both major religions of India.

Hussain was awarded Padma Bhushan and Padma Vibhushan and was nominated to Rajya Sabha, the upper house of the Indian Parliament in 1996, but when he faced persecution, the state, powerful collectors and his influential peers chose not to stand by him. The great artist had to face public humiliation, death threats and legal action alone.

In keeping with his last wish, Hussain has been buried in London but if India wants to pay a lasting tribute to the master they should change their laws which allow the persecution of artists, causing them to live a life of fear.