In Loving Memory of Nazia Apa (aka Nazia Hasan)

Go back two decades in time. The year is 1980. The movie: ‘Qurbani’. The song: ‘Aap jaisa koi’. The rest, as they say, is history. Need I say more?

But of course, I must say more. For a eulogy to Nazia Hassan on the occasion of her death anniversary doesn’t just deserve some web space in an e-zine, it deserves a place in everyone’s heart. That is exactly what Nazia did; she sang her way into the hearts of millions, not just in Pakistan, but also in the entire sub-continent. Starting with ‘Aap jaisa koi’, regarded as the first authentic Asian pop song, Nazia sang a multitude of songs with toe-tapping beats, quality music and catchy lyrics. Each song was an instant hit, be it a solo or a duet with younger brother, Zoheb, and each song went on to make history. Each song cast a magical spell, never to be broken.

Nazia and Zoheb’s debut album, ‘Disco deewane’, certainly made everyone a ‘deewana’ of them, but what could the listeners do? They were captivated by the aura and the charisma encapsulating the two people responsible for pioneering pop music in Pakistan. One album after another set records: each one offering something new and improved, something different and more appealing. Whatever the mood would be, Nazia and Zoheb appealed to all and sundry.

Now transport yourself twelve years ahead in time. It’s 1992, and Nazia releases ‘Camera Camera’, while announcing her departure from the world of music; a world she helped to create and nurture. She completes her higher studies and goes to New York to work at the United Nations as a political analyst.

This is where my relationship with her starts. Don’t get the wrong idea! I was only 10 years old at the time, and resided in New York City, while Nazia Apa (as I fondly called her) was probably in her early to mid-twenties. Albeit, I was young at the time, I can still vividly remember all my meetings with her. The impression she cast upon me was indelible. She was so simple, sweet and loving.

Each time she spoke to us, she didn’t take names. She always used the word “jaani” instead, and with such kindness and affection that I felt like I was her younger brother. The fact is she treated everyone like that: with immense love and respect.

I distinctly remember two of my meetings with her. The first meeting was right after the Children’s Summit at the United Nations in 1992 had finished, which I had the privilege of attending as a Pakistani delegate. Nazia Apa had some very special “heal the World” badges, which were given only to a few participants. She got a few of them – one for her younger sister Zacher, and the rest for my siblings and myself. I couldn’t imagine the importance I was being given by a superstar.

The second meeting was just a few months before I left the States. My family and I were sitting in her simple, yet tastefully done apartment. My inquisitive side coaxed me into going through her small, yet interesting collection of CDs lying beside her stereo system. I really loved En Vogue back then, and incidentally, she had their CD. I took the risk of asking if I could listen to it, knowing that I was going to get scolded for the act. With utmost love and sheer impulsiveness, she said, “Sure!” I declined to do so, but she literally forced me to pick it up, resulting in my taking the CD home. Earlier, I listened to the CD because of En Vogue and their songs. From now on, I will listen to it as a little reminder of Nazia Apa’s affectionate nature.


Nazia Apa got married in 1995 and started a new life. Her family, friends and fans wished her the best of luck; she received nothing but the sublime. Unfortunately, good beginnings don’t always have good endings. Barely one month after her first (and only) child, Araiz, was born, her in-laws threw her out of the house. After that, it was a downhill ride for her, on the path of destruction, carefully constructed by her in-laws, especially her husband, industrialist Ishtiaq Baig. One by one, every secret was revealed to Nazia Apa including his extra-marital affairs (especially the one said to be with actress Zeba Bakhtiar), his immoral acts. She couldn’t take it anymore.

Bearing mental torture is hard enough, but dealing with disease as well makes every moment of life a living hell, and that’s precisely what her life was like. Nazia Apa suffered from cancer twice, the recurrence taking place just one year before her death, which eventually took her life. At that time, she complained that her husband did nothing for her. Let alone standing by her side, he didn’t even pay for her treatment. Finally, Nazia Apa drew the line. She filed a case in a Pakistani civil court for “khula”, and refused to die as the wife of Ishtiaq Baig. Her diehard fans were with her, supporting every decision she made.

My condolences are not only with Nazia Apa’s family, but with the Pakistani nation, who has lost not only a legendary singer to a fatal disease, but also the battle of truth and righteousness to deceit and hatred.

On the 13th of August this year, it will be Nazia Hassan’s third death anniversary. She is no more with us. But her music, her memories and her existence in our hearts and souls will live on eternally. In my innocence, I still believe, wherever Nazia Apa is, she must be looking down upon us and smiling; Smiling that angelic smile of hers, full of contentment and satisfaction.

As I write this eulogy, I know Nazia Apa has set out on journey all of us have to take; One that has difficulties and hardships every step of the way. Let us make Nazia Apa’s last journey one of peace, serenity and tranquility, simply because all our lives, that is what she has been providing us with. As the great poetess of emotions, the late Mrs. Bilqees Mehmood appropriately writes in her book, “Mujhe bolne do” (Let me speak!):

Muhabbaton se mila karo logo!
Bicharne walon ke haqq mein dua karo logo!

(Greet one another with love, O People!
Pray for the sake of the departed, O People!)