Gabriel Garcia Marquez died recently, an author known for his ‘magical realism’, much admired and deservedly a winner of the Nobel Prize for literature. However, I have a confession to make. I have never read him but then I have never read Proust, Dickens, Hemingway or any of the Brontë sisters. Though, at a time of intellectual decrepituderather early in life,I did read Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. And indeed I tried to read Sartre but never could get beyond the second page of any of his books. As far as Karl Marx and his Das Kapital is concerned I must admit that just looking at that book would bring on a ‘panic attack’. As I started to write this I realised that April 23, 2014 was William Shakespeare’s 450th birthday. Now it would be entirely unfortunate if my readers get the impression that I am a ‘Shakespeare illiterate’. Far from it! While still in school I received, as a prize for having done well in some subject or the other, the bookTales from Shakespeare by Charles and Mary Lamb. So, by the time I hit the age of 14, I was able to tell the difference between Hamlet and Macbeth. More importantly, many in my generation remember with some fondness the series of ‘comics’ (picture books) called Classics Illustrated. By reading these I also became familiar with other English classical novels,my favourite being Sir Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe. All this does not mean that I was not a voracious reader of books. I have read every book written by Erle Stanley Gardner. I have also read almost all of Agatha Christie, Edgar Wallace, Leslie Charteris, Ian Fleming, Frank Herbert, Isaac Asimov, P G Wodehouse, Conan Doyle and other examples of what might be considered ‘pot boilers’ and other relatively ‘low brow’ stuff. However,I strongly believe that Raymond Chandler’sPhilip Marlowe as well as Dashiell Hammett’sSam Spadestand up favourably against many writers of greater renown. As far as ‘magical realism’ is concerned, I can bet a few bucks that Tilism-e-HoshRuba (enchanting magic), even in the abridged 3,000-page version in Urdu by Raees Ahmed Jafree is a masterpiece. And though I cannot claim to have read most of it, the extended bits and pieces that I have read of the 20-plus volume translation of the Arabian Nights into English by Sir Richard Francis Burton is incredible. If you want magical realism, read these books. No offence to Marquez intended. However, that is one of my pet peeves. Under the excuse of modern education that our young people go through in Pakistan, as far as Urdu is concerned, besides some obligatory verses by Sir Mohammad Iqbal, and some prose of a distinctly religious bent, little of our brilliant poetic or prose heritage is being taught. Sadly, even the education being provided in our ‘elite’ schools is geared only towards doing well in foreign administered examinations and is aimed entirely towards making our students eligible for admission in foreign universities. I wonder if any of our students graduating with the ‘alphabetic’ levels from our best schools have ever heard of Umrao Jaan Adaa. Mirza Hadi Ruswa’s Umrao Jaan is, of course,the first novel written in Urdu, but then how many of these young people have ever read Colonel Shafiqur Rehman and his Hamaqatain (foolishness),which my generation could not stop laughing at 50 years ago?Indeed, I would be impressed even if a few of our school students could name the poet that wrote our national anthem. There is the also the prose written by the likes of Manto, Ismat Chughtai (a feminist before there was feminism), Krishan Chandarand Fasana-e-Azaad by Pandit Rattan Naath Sarshar. As far as our Urdu tradition of poetry goes, how many of our young people have any idea of the greats like Momin, Syed Insha, Sauda, Ustaad Zauq, Nazeer Akbarabadi, Altaf Hussain Hali and many others?And if I have not named someone’s favourite poet, I apologise. Our young ones have probably heard of Ghalib and Iqbal, and if forced to just might recite a verse or two by them. Nazeer, without doubt, is my favourite poet because he is a poet of the human condition. There are two verses by Nazeer that are now a part of our normal discourse in Urdu. First is “Sab thaat para reh jai gaa jab laad chale ga banjara” (all your greatness will disappear when the nomad-death takes you away). The other is “Aur aadmi hee unkee churatain hain jootian” (he who steals shoes from the mosque is also a human being). And yes the eroticism in Nazeer’s poetry is so modern that one forgets he wrote it more than 200 years ago. While I am in a ‘griping mood’, it is equally sad that our supposedly educated young ones are completely unaware of the great works of prose as well as poetry in our regional languages: the likes of Heer Seyal, Saiful Malook, the poetry of Bulleh Shah and others in Punjabi. The same is true of Pashto, Sindhi and Balochi languages. Frankly, when somebody from this part of the world wants to talk of Marquez and his ‘magical realism’, my response is, “yes,I am sure he was a great writer but have you ever read Mir Amman Dehlavi’s Kissa Chahar Darvesh or Mir Hasan’s Masnavi Sehrul Bayan’?”Finally, about the dastardly attempt on the life of journalist Hamid Mir.Much has been written and said about itbut no mention is made of the men and women that worked hard to save his life. Ambroise Pare, a 16th century French surgeon and arguably the ‘father’ of modern surgery,famously said, “I bandaged him and God healed him”.So,for those who ‘bandaged’ Mr Hamid Mir so that God can heal him, a resounding thank you for a job well done. The writer has practiced and taught medicine in the US. He can be reached at smhmbbs70@yahoo.com