The recent loss of Haniya Aslam, half of the beloved duo Zeb and Haniya, has left a void in the hearts of many. For those of us who lived in Pakistan in the mid-2000s, music was often a reflection of the struggles, dreams and resilience of our people, and Aslam was more than just a voice and a musician. She was a symbol of hope, creativity and the unbreakable bond of friendship.

Zeb and Haniya were pioneers at a time when the landscape of Pakistani music was evolving rapidly. Emerging in 2007, they crafted a sound distinctively their own – a fusion of folk, blues and jazz with a dash of soul – forging a strong connection to their Pashtun heritage. Haniya’s guitar playing, coupled with Zeb Bangash’s vocals, was nothing short of magical. They were more than just a musical act. They were storytellers who shared narratives of love, longing and the complexities of identity.

For me, and I suspect for many others, Haniya’s music was more than melodies and chords. It was a comfort and a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is light. When Pakistanis first heard ‘Chup’, their breakout single, it was unlike anything they had encountered in the local music scene before. Beyond the melancholic tune or the haunting lyrics, the song spoke directly to the soul. Indeed, Haniya’s compositions had the power to make you feel deeply.

What set her apart wasn’t just her immense talent as a musician; it was her quiet strength, her commitment to her craft and the dignity with which she navigated the challenges of being a Pashtun woman in the music industry. In an environment where female musicians often face systemic barriers – ranging from societal expectations to professional hurdles – she stood tall.

She wasn’t loud, and she didn’t need to be. Her presence was defined by grace and her work spoke louder than any words could.

It’s impossible to speak of Haniya without mentioning her friendship and partnership with Zeb. Their bond was palpable in every performance, every interview and every collaboration. They were more than just cousins who became bandmates; they were sisters in the truest sense of the word. Together, they redefined what it meant to be a woman in music, in a culture that grapples every day with its expectations of gender roles. Haniya’s strength was amplified by Zeb’s, and together, they created a body of work that is timeless.

Haniya’s brilliance extended beyond the confines of Zeb and Haniya. She was a producer, a sound engineer and a mentor to emerging artists. In an industry where the limelight often overshadows the work done behind the scenes, her contributions as a producer were transformative. She wasn’t just about the music; she was about fostering a culture of creativity, collaboration and integrity. Even when she moved abroad, her commitment to music continued. Haniya’s work continued to inspire and she remained a cherished figure in the hearts of those who had the privilege of knowing her or being touched by her music.

In moments of loss, it’s natural to feel a deep sense of sorrow for what we can never retrieve. There will be no new compositions from Haniya, no more performances and no more interviews where she talks about her process with humility and wisdom. But in this grief, there is also gratitude. Gratitude for the music she left behind, for the memories she created, and for the impact she had on so many lives.

Her legacy will endure. She was, and remains, an inspiration for every Pakistani woman who picks up a guitar, every artist who struggles to stay true to their vision, and every person who believes that music has the power to heal, unite and elevate.

In her music, she found a way to tell stories that will continue to resonate for generations.

Haniya Aslam’s music wasn’t just a gift to us. It was her way of leaving a piece of herself behind, in the hope that it would bring light to those who needed it most. And for that, we will always be grateful.

Shahrezad Samiuddin works in communications and is an agony aunt. shahrezadsamiuddin@hotmail.com