THERE is a dog barking late in the night, somewhere in the distance, and I cannot seem to get it out of my head. This dog is barking in a Saul Bellow novel and seems to be protesting against the narrowness of its experience. It is barking because it wants its limited horizons to be broadened. I thought that the dog had gone to sleep in the many years since I first read the novel, but it started barking again when I was about a third of the way though Mirza Athar Baig’s enigmatically titled Hasan ki Soorat-e-Haal: Khali Jaghain Pur Karo.

The dog kept barking until I was finished with Baig’s novel some days later, and even beyond. This was not only the most impressive novel I had read in a month of Sundays; it also felt as if the vision of the Urdu novel was opening up in an entirely new manner. Can things be the same after such a novel?

Granted that one swallow does not make a summer, and novels in Urdu which are worth writing about are too few and too far apart. A regular subject of much lamentation (but less analysis) is that the short story seems to thrive while the novel is like the waning moon. This shortage of good novels in Urdu seems to go against the international trend in writing where the novel has taken centre-stage.

The Urdu short story reached a high point with Saadat Hasan Manto’s generation which included Ismat Chughtai, Rajendra Singh Bedi and Krishan Chander among other stalwarts. However, despite formal innovation and experimentation, it began its descent, reaching the current point where there is a reasonably good number of distinguished writers but a general paucity of emerging talent. Granted that such lists can be commercial gimmicks, it is still worth noting that it would be difficult to go beyond a handful if for the Urdu short story one wanted to compile the names of “20 under 20,” let alone “40 under 40”.

As the short story declined, the novel seemed to pick up after a long lull and a number of good novels appeared in the last few years. Out of the blue came out Khalid Toor with accomplished, well-crafted and highly individualistic Kani Nikah and Baalon Ka Guchcha. Hasan Manzar came out with Insaan ai Insaan that followed on the heels of Al-Asfa, Waba, Dhani Bux Kay Baitay as well as two shorter novels. Zaif Syed’s debut novel, Aadhi Raat Ka Sooraj, was innovative and dared to be different. And a permanent addition to this list was, of course, Ghulam Bagh, which brought Mirza Athar Baig to the forefront of fiction writers, a position confirmed by Sifar Say Aik Tak and then the third and even more remarkable Hasan ki Soorat-e-Haal, which should make 2014 to go down as the year of this novel. And we can fill up all the empty spaces whichever way we want.

Hasan ki Soorat-e-Haal is a Jack in the Box of a novel, ready to spring surprises at you. The swirling, freewheeling storyline takes many twists and turns and often stops in its tracks to reflect upon itself, the narrative force coming out effectively through the language which is unconventional but well-tuned to the novel’s spirit.

In the novel’s very first sentence, Hasan Raza Zaheer is described as encountering something after a lifetime of “uchat-ti hui manzar-beeni,” a lifetime of skimming over the surface of things, which could well be the author’s diagnosis of what ails contemporary Urdu fiction. Avoiding this superficiality, the novel makes an attempt to go deeper. Its pensive and reflective mood comes out in its unconventional way of narrating even the most seemingly ordinary incidents. All disruptions in the flow glossing over the surface of all scenes and filling up the blank spaces with alternative scenes are enigmatically defined as the “apparently real, personal life” of Hasan Raza Zaheer. If this is enigmatic, open the book and immerse yourself in the textured narrative.

Before the chapter is over we are told that Zaheer’s story has ended, yet some stories continue in spite of having come to an end. Surprises never cease and we encounter the term “hairania” which could be an amalgamation of narration and wonderment. Is this the best way to describe this novel, one may ask, but the story moves on. This soorat-e-haal is only “the possible scenario” and after we encounter a trash-collector, we are informed about the manuscript lost in a heap of garbage, a manuscript which could have changed the fate of the world as its name goes. Surprises do not end and we are invited to distribute sweets in celebration of attaining liberty from the Great Liberator. Is he the dictator who will obtain freedom from the last dictator, who had seized power promising to be the Great Liberator?

Significant details seize every moment and we seem to be watching a surrealist film. Or is it the making of a film that we are looking at? People come forth and are dissolved as if being shot through a movie camera and narrative styles change from a reflective, realist mode to that of a screenplay. Some portions do not offer an easy read and make one wish for editorial cuts. But while it may be heavy going in some places, the style and narrative techniques are suitable for the innovative approach the novel has adopted.

Baig’s novel is so extraordinary that it overshadows much of the other recent work coming out of Pakistan. Worthy of mention is Ali Akbar Natiq’s Nau Lakhi Kothi. Natiq first emerged as a promising fiction writer with a collection of critically-acclaimed short stories and has now published his debut novel, which is even more promising. However, three remarkable novels from India steal the show.

Critic and scholar Shamsur Rahman Faruqi astounded the literary world when he published Kai Chand Thay Sar-e-Aasman (1998), the deliciously detailed story of an erudite lady of great accomplishments residing in Delhi in the twilight years of the Mughal Empire. Before that he had published, somewhat in the same manner, tales loosely woven around the lives of Urdu poets. Earlier this year, he published the short novel Qabz-e-Zaman, which could easily be seen as an extension of his earlier stories. It is the story of a time-traveler, stuff parables are made of. And although it owes its existence to classical Sufi sources, it makes one think of the marvelous encounters Jorge Luis Borges could compress into a few pages. The central story is livened up with rich details, and the atmosphere of Delhi and the poetic circle recreated with amazing dexterity by Faruqi makes Qabz-e-Zaman an unforgettable piece of fiction.

From the historical Delhi of kings, poets and Sufis, to an impoverished Lucknow where old buildings are crumbling into dust. In Anis Ashfaq’s novel Dukhiaray, one person’s search for a wayward brother sheds light on the lives of several people who are sliding down into a genteel poverty as they helplessly watch their way of life disappear. Dukhiaray is narrated in a simple and realist manner, which seems classical in its austerity. Ashfaq is also a scholar and critic, and though he had published short stories earlier, Dukhiaray is his first novel and will make readers clamour for more.

Khalid Javaid is probably the finest fiction writer to have appeared on the Urdu scene from contemporary India. His short stories in Tafreeh ki aik Dopahar and the earlier short novel Maut ki Kitab had a haunting quality with Javaid’s bleak vision of humanity and unrelenting death wish evoked in a style which is uniquely his. This is apparent in his new novel, Naimat Khana, as well. In the brief preface to his new novel, Javaid speaks of attempting to write in a language which has not only lost out on political and social fronts but yielded its literary future to dark forces, creating a sense of inferiority in him. On the other hand, his novel is a rich tapestry which would make any author proud, and enrich the language in which it is published.