It was in July 2014 when Anjum Niaz, a former colleague and a friend, wrote to me: “Indeed, I too felt good after speaking with you and catching up on the past. Like you, I love delving into old relationships and events that may be pushed back in memory yet, are somehow more lucid and graphic... DAWN, like you, has a special place in my heart and the person at the centre of this universe is of course Khan sahab.” Both of us had been out of DAWN for some time, but the paper still held us together.

This comment, from the lengthy emails we exchanged for some years, sums up my relationship with Anjum Niaz who passed away on October 21 in New Jersey, USA, where she lived since she migrated with her family in 1999.

Anjum came to DAWN in 1987 as the Magazine Editor. My acquaintance with her, however, began earlier when she worked for The Dawn Media Group’s eveninger, The Star, which she had joined in 1984 after a stint in teaching. While at The Star she won the Population Institute’s Award For Excellence In Population Reporting and this being a subject I was interested in too, we found much in common to talk about.

Anjum’s contribution as the DAWN Magazine Editor was immense. She injected in it ‘youthfulness and elegance’; two attributes she herself possessed. They showed in how she carried herself and her graceful ambience. Her office in DAWN was carpeted, had pictures on the wall and lovely potted plants to brighten it up. That is how she also kept her home – whether in Karachi, Islamabad or New Jersey.

I always found her good for my morale, as she said I was for hers. Little acts of thoughtfulness reinforced will not be forgotten such as saving the page of The New York Times carrying my picture along with other awardees (IWMF). “I put it away safely to mail it to you in case you had not seen it,” she wrote in an email punctuated by many “WOWS”.

The DAWN Magazine she edited reflected her innovative skills and creativity, her love for diversity, her exquisiteness and her English language skills in crafting words and headlines. Above all, she knew the art of motivating her writers as many would testify. She understood them well and always found time to talk to them and discuss the subjects they were to write about. That is how she could take the initiative herself to plan the magazine.

Her forte as a writer emerged fully only later when she moved to Islamabad in 1993 and began to write a weekly column called Crème de la Crème. She was also reporting and the Foreign Office was her beat until she resigned in 1996.

Jaweed, her husband, pays her a rich tribute saying: “She took her work very seriously and checked and double-checked what she wrote. Can’t remember her ever missing a deadline.”

I always found her good for my morale, as she said I was for hers. Little acts of thoughtfulness reinforced will not be forgotten such as saving the page of The New York Times carrying my picture along with other awardees (IWMF). “I put it away safely to mail it to you in case you had not seen it,” she wrote in an email punctuated by many “WOWS”. Just like Anjum; so exuberant and so thoughtful. I managed to persuade her to write her memoirs. She finally agreed, so she told me, but I do not know if she ever got down to it.

She reached new heights in her journalistic career when she blossomed as a columnist. She wrote fearlessly, sparing no one who had to be chastised. She was clear about her source of information and scathing in her criticism if she felt it was deserved.

She may have been frivolous at times in order to make her writing spicy, but mostly she was solemn and very profound. This is from her column View from the US: The Enemy Within (August 5, 2012): “Fear then is the deadliest psychosis of all. Philosopher/mathematician Bertrand Russell rightly says that fear is the main source of superstition and one of the main sources of cruelty. To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom... Parsing the meaning of fear, Russell says it ‘makes man unwise in the three great departments of human conduct: his dealings with nature, his dealings with other men, and his dealings with himself.’”

When we shared our despondency on the state of affairs in Pakistan, she always ended on an optimistic note. This is what she wrote once: “I too despair... I can exactly feel your pain of seeing things slide so rapidly. We all are helpless onlookers to the tragedy being enacted before our eyes. Still, let’s continue to look for the light at the end of the tunnel. It may be there someday.”

At times we had minor disagreements, but they were never major enough to disrupt our relationship. Besides, we always respected each other’s opinion and agreed to disagree.

We kept in touch mostly by email and by phone when I was visiting North America. The last time I was there in 2017 we couldn’t talk as she wrote to say she was busy and couldn’t talk, which was uncharacteristic of her. Maybe she wasn’t feeling well. She was a private person and never shared her personal problems. Of course there was mention of doctor’s appointments or an arthritic knee or of “old age creeping up, I guess!!!” but never anything alarming. She was as warm as ever when I wrote to her to check if I could quote her in my memoir. She had jotted down her views in 2014 on the current state of the media.

“Thanks for asking about my comment that I gave you – I had completely forgotten about it. But I guess it’s still relevant if you think you can use it. I’d be honoured. Do keep me posted about the progress of your memoir and lots of good luck.”

And this is how she is quoted in my book: “It is the onset of electronic media (all those frivolous chat shows on TV and idiotic analysis (24/7) that should cause one to refer to the importance and relevance of real time journalism which was practised as opposed to the top-of-the-hat journalism that we now get in plenty by TV and newspaper pinheads. Also, with the hotting up of social media, it seems that everyone thinks himself/herself clued in to news, a sort of news hack even if that happens to be personal goings on. You need to refer to the importance/relevance of print journalism that once formed the staple of real, factual news and information. It still forms the core of authentic journalism but has sadly been pushed into the background.”

When we shared our despondency on the state of affairs in Pakistan, she always ended on an optimistic note. This is what she wrote once: “I too despair... I can exactly feel your pain of seeing things slide so rapidly. We all are helpless onlookers to the tragedy being enacted before our eyes. Still, let’s continue to look for the light at the end of the tunnel. It may be there someday.”

The light never came for her. Her daughter Zainab wrote to me that she was diagnosed with cancer in December 2017. The deadly disease progressed rapidly and by spring, it was stage four. “She has been spared from enduring further pain and is now at peace,” Zainab wrote.

RIP, dear Anjum. Hope you find laughter where you are now. How we laughed together when we shared our stories during our tea breaks in DAWN.

Still, let’s continue to look for the light at the end of the tunnel. It may be there someday.

Zubeida Mustafa is former Assistant Editor, DAWN, and regularly contributes to the paper. She has also won the IWMF Lifetime Achievement Award in 2012.