By Ali Tim
“I want to talk to you” said Nazia Hassan, sitting on the dining table of her medium sized living room in KDA Karachi. I looked straight into her face. “This is serious”, she added with a command in her voice. ’94 it was. I was shy and withdrawn. I wanted to ask her what she meant? Suddenly her poker face changed its contour to an ear to ear. “I like your T shirt. I want it!” and she bursted out laughing. “Oh ok!”, I heaved a sigh of relief. “I shall give you this T shirt next time I meet you and Zoheb”, the promise was made. I had discovered in a few seconds flat that Nazia was a simpleton. “Hey Tim come with me I want to show you my awards”, she led me to the staircase. I looked at the wall adorned with silver, gold and platinum discs. She explained how and when Zoheb and herself were bestowed upon those awards. I was in another zone mentally. I was thinking about her illness. After mustering up courage I asked her, “So are you feeling better?”. She hastily replied “Yes I am perfectly all right now. Lets go and do music”. Downstairs Zoheb, Aamir Zaki, Candy, Ziyyad and Fakhr e Alam were working on a tune. Zoheb first played it out of a small keyboard and then switched to a guitar. “It is a Dua. I want all of us to sing this Dua”, Zoheb made it brief. Nazia was busy singing while I was staring at her blankly.
The Dua was done in a jiffy. Plan was to meet again in the studio to record it.
“Good bye Tim” she said at the end of the meeting. “I want your T shirt and I have to talk to you too”, she said in a rather serious tone. After a week the group got together and recorded the Dua. It was Nazia’s last recorded venture. I failed to give her the T Shirt she liked. And her words “I want to talk to you” still rings in my memories and hounds me.
Happy Birthday Nazia. I will get you that T shirt when I come to you and then we will talk. It is a promise!