The Tragic Loss of Haniya Aslam

The Pakistani music industry is facing the tragic loss of Haniya Aslam, who passed away suddenly earlier this week.

Haniya Aslam is best known as one half of the Pakistani duo Zeb & Haniya, which she formed with her cousin Zeb Bangash. Their 2009 album Chup was a tour-de-force that remains relevant and fresh to this day. It was an enlightening mix of influences from jazz and eastern classical, and brought in cultural elements from the Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa region that had previously been missing from pop culture in Pakistan. This is evident in their debut single Aitebar, and in Paimona which they also performed in a defining set on Coke Studio 2. While other Pakistani acts bridged cultures across India, America and the Middle East, Zeb & Haniya brought in Iran, Afghanistan and Europe. Laili Jaan, from Coke Studio 6 is a great example of this. 

There are few acts from that era, if any, that produced a sound that was both novel for its time but also still sustains to this day. Zeb & Haniya did this in a decade overtaken by boys that played rock music. And while rock has aged and so have those boys, the influence of Zeb & Haniya on today’s scene is hard to overstate.

In more recent years, Haniya Aslam went on to produce a number of stellar solo recordings and film scores. Her single Ayi Re is particularly memorable. The haunting yet hopeful melody of the film Dobara Phir Se’s title track also stands out. 

But perhaps the most lasting influence she has left on the scene may be the hardest to see, her impact on the other artists around her. Haniya’s mentorship, inspiration and the provision of safe space to younger artists around her, especially women, is easily felt by anyone connected to this scene.

For many in my generation, Haniya was the first woman we saw in Pakistani popular music playing an instrument. And she did this without any sense of novelty, just a quiet confidence and competence which made the whole affair feel absolutely normal. Which it should be, of course, but it was anything but. Haniya was also an excellent producer, as is evidenced by her solo work. It would not be remiss to say that in this regard also, she was one of the trailblazers of her generation.

I had the privilege of interacting with Haniya a couple of times and seeing her perform live at the Good Scene festival in Islamabad last year. Her acoustic set, just her on her guitar – was as moving as the first time I saw their music videos. I was lucky that in 2009 I was behind a camera recording Zeb & Haniya perform a small set at a TEDxLahore event in LUMS, and even in that moment it was clear that this sound was something different. In conversation, Haniya was warm, funny and genuinely supportive of those around her. Despite very limited interaction, I already feel poorer for her loss. It was reassuring to see that many others who had met Haniya felt similarly.

The music industry is such that everyone always has opinions about other people, and inevitably if you are around it those opinions are heard. Haniya is one of those people who left behind only positive impressions. I’ve never heard of a negative interaction with Haniya, or even just a neutral one. Every memory of Haniya Aslam is glowing. In an industry devoid of much support, where infrastructure is weak, and where people often feel cheated of opportunity, this is not easy to come by. It requires a special kind of personality. And that warmth and kindness, at least to me, is evident in her art as well.

May Haniya receive all the good she gave, back in abundance. And may the gates she opened inspire many others to follow in her footsteps.