His callous remark was like a jab to my face, sharp and hurtful. On the morning of August 13, I saw the top half of a folded newspaper which showed only her picture, the rest of the news was printed in the unseen part below. I unfolded it with dread and saw the headline, terse and painful: ‘Nazia Hassan Passes Away.’
It has been 13 years since that day and almost 33 since she burst upon the music world in a blaze of sultry lyrics and effervescent beats. “Aap Jaisa Koi (AJK)” was everything the 80s represented.
The story is well documented, musician Biddu and the child singer made the “Disco Deewane” album. HMV, the record company, estimated it would sell 25,000 albums. It sold three million albums.
Nazia’s youthful good looks, lilting voice and pacey beats caused a sensation and such was the success of ‘AJK’ that she became the youngest winner of a Filmfare award.
For a short time the teenaged wisp of a girl from Karachi even supplanted Lata Mangeshkar on the throne of Indian music. Lata’s biographer Raju Bharatan has written about the despair Lata had when the songs of her film Aasha trailed behind AJK for 14 weeks, a cataclysmic event if there was in the life of the reigning queen of melody.
She has an incredible story, like out of a penny press novel. Teenage girl finds everlasting fame at a time when it was almost unheard of. It happens now but in this day of social media and pervasive media coverage, stardom it is much easier.
Nazia was an international pop icon at 15 with none of that, in a pre-internet time, in spite of a repressive zealot dictator ruling the country, with a controlled media, and at a time with very limited avenues of expression.
Nazia was a star but more than that, she was also a part of people’s lives. My sister loved ‘Aap Jaisa Koi’, so much that my parents would play it in the morning to wake her up with. A generation later, family kids cavort to “Telephone Pyar”, or rather “Teen Teen Do Do”,
easy for two-year-olds to say. Thinking about Nazia is like going through a montage of memories. I remember when she visited my school as part of her charity work.
We were all enamoured, some still are, and when she said she can substitute if our teacher falls ill we started making plans of doing away with the poor lady so Nazia could come every day.
These were not just the fantasies of a second-grader, Nazia’s grace and charm had a lasting impact on people of all ages. She had that rare quality; for instance,
when she said she would like to meet you again, it felt as if she really meant it. Many cherish chance meetings and a cousin still raves about running into her in London and her readily agreeing to an afternoon tea.
Others carry memories of sneaking into a concert, or dancing along on Music 89 or hosting masquerade parties like the one in “Aankhen Milane Wale.
”Many males went to their mothers begging to be married to someone like her while the girls wore their hair in the same style. Everyone’s dream teacher, sister, friend; Nazia was a heaven sent means of escape,
catharsis from impositions and why shouldn’t she be? She stood in bright contrast to the stifling atmosphere forced by the dictatorship. The side parted hair, the sparkling,
erudite ways made her the perfect symbol of youth and optimism in India and Pakistan who, in spite of their political difference, loved her with equal measure. While her songs touched all ages, it was the youth who lucky enough to enjoy them to the fullest for as Wordsworth said:
