The way things are presently in India, it seems the country has thrown its long-time secular stance to the winds. It is only fair that the late writer Ismat Chughtai is not among us anymore (she died on Oct 24, 1991). When she departed, India was a different place. The spectre of fundamentalism had not raised its ugly head yet.

The BJP, the RSS and Bal Thackeray’s Shiv Sena were very much there but if they had any venom against the minorities, especially against the Muslims, they hadn’t spewed it with as much ferocity.

The policy of secularism that Jawaharlal Nehru and the Congress Party had propagated was still a cornerstone of the Indian political culture and no one could have thought, even by a long stretch of the imagination that a Hindu fundamentalist like Narendra Modi would one day become India’s prime minister.

Perhaps, that is why "Ismat Apa," as she was generally known, had preferred to live in India. She had taken up residence in Bombay and the kind of liberal person that she was, led a more or less satisfied life.

In October 1977, I had a chance to attend a regional conference in India hosted by the Bombay office of the agency. One evening, the agency’s COO Alec Padamsee asked me what I would like to do in Bombay once the conference was over.

"I want to do two things," I replied. "I want to see Sholay (the movie, which was quite a rage in those days) and secondly, I want to meet the great writer Ismat Chughtai."

I also told him I had earlier met her when she was visiting Karachi.

Alec Padamsee himself was a well-known Indian and very active on the Bombay theatre scene. He later did the character of Muhammad Ali Jinnah in the international film Gandhi.

Padamsee smiled on hearing my wish list and called a person -- a copywriter named Seema -- to his room. He repeated to her what I had told him and gave a broad smile. Both of them didn’t say much, except that they would try their best.

That very evening, Seema asked me to come along after office hours. We drove in a taxi to the Churchgate area and entered an elegant building. She took me to a flat. As I followed her inside, I saw a white-haired lady, pushing 60s, lying on a couch, reading a book.

Seema introduced me to her.

This was Ismat Chughtai, Seema’s mother, and now I knew why both Alec and she had exchanged smiles when told them I wanted to meet Apa.

Anyway, I reminded Apa of our meeting in Karachi. To my joy, she remembered it quite vividly and even recalled some of the other people who were present on the occasion.

After we had had an early dinner, Seema told her mother that I wanted to watch Sholay. Both of them were sure this wasn’t going to be easy, as the day’s shows of the film were sold out.

Apa, nevertheless, promised that she would try.

She walked up to the phone and called someone whom she referred to as "Jadoo" and said that there was someone from Pakistan who was almost like a son to her and he wanted to see the movie.

There must have been some kind of fumbling on the other end as Ismat Apa had to hold the line for a few minutes. Then she announced to us that the person she had called was going to try and arrange two tickets for us.

A short while later, the phone rang, and she was told that the tickets had been arranged.

It turned out that the person on the other side was none other than the renowned poet Javed Akhtar. Incidentally, Akhtar was also the co-screenwriter of Sholay.

Years later, sometime in August 1980, Ismat Apa wrote me a letter the text of which is being reproduced here. The letter is a sad commentary on the dilapidated state of affairs she was faced with. It talked of the publisher of her book ‘Ek Qatra e Khoon’ who never paid her any remuneration.

The book was about the Karbala incident. Ismat Chughtai also commented in the letter on the way things were going in the world and almost predicted the end of Communism.

Ismat Apa had written to me to thank me for publishing a review of the book in ‘Thirdworld’ magazine, an English-language monthly that I was editing at that time.

I was surprised to learn through her letter that this was the only publication that had reviewed the book. (Ismat Apa had given me the book after signing it for me when I had met her in Bombay.)

When I went to visit her again, she said to me that I was free to stay at her flat. I said I couldn’t as I was attending a conference at Juhu Beach which was very close to my hotel.

She then took me to her balcony and asked me to look out. There was a girls college right across the street and a horde of young girls were pouring out into the ground. This must be their recess time, I thought. What she wanted me to realise was that if I had stayed there, I would get to enjoy the view every day.

In Ismat Apa, I discovered a naughty young girl who could laugh at the world and get some kind of impish joy.

Ismat Chughtai was a little revolutionary, among the cluster of women writers of India and Pakistan such as Muhammadi Begum, Sughra Humayun Mirza, Tayaba Bilgrami and Akram Khatun. Unlike Chughtai, these writers followed a conservative ideology and weren’t outspoken.

A notable influence on Ismat Chughtai could have been Nazar Sajjad Hyder, a woman who was also known for her independent feminist voice. Perhaps, the short stories of Hijab Imtiaz Ali and Dr Rashid Jehan can also be placed in the same category.

Her best writings include ‘Angarey’ and ‘Lihaaf.’ Both of these were banned in South Asia for being ‘reformist’ and ‘feminist’ that offended the conservative thought. For example, her view that the veil or ‘naqab’ should be discouraged for Muslim women was taken as an affront.

Besides, her short story ‘Lihaaf,’ published in 1942 in ‘Adab-i-Latif,’ was said to be obscene as it dealt with homosexuality.

Ismat Chughtai was born in the city of Badayun in UP and spent her formative years in Jodhpur. She spent a good part of those years with her brothers, something that was to later influence her personality as well as her writings. One of her siblings Mirza Azim Beg Chughtai was also a celebrated Urdu writer.

Apa’s personality was a strong blend of her culture and education and portrayed the region she hailed from. I can safely say that she stood out in an era when both male and female writers needed that extra bit of courage to talk about the real aspects of society that were otherwise conveniently swept under the carpet.