I Make Music Because I Want To Listen To It: Haniya Nafisa On Vaakkath And Staying True To Her Art
“Nobody can tell you there’s only one song worth singing…,” Nearly six decades ago, Cass Elliot sang those words in ‘Make Your Own Kind of Music,’ a song that has quietly endured because of the faith it places in artists. Even if nobody else sings along, make your own kind of music anyway.
Somewhere in the middle of my conversation with Singer Haniya Nafisa, while we were speaking about independent music, creative risks and the uncertainty that comes with putting deeply personal work into the world, that song found its way back into my mind.
“I make music because I want to listen to it,” she says.
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It isn’t a grand statement, nor is it an attempt to romanticise the struggles of being an independent artist. Haniya has learnt that the reception to every release is different. Some songs find their audience almost instantly; others quietly drift through streaming platforms. There will always be praise, criticism and the temptation to second-guess oneself. But for her, disappointment doesn’t stay for too long when the intention behind creating remains truthful.
“If I’m making something out of genuine love for music, that’s enough,” she reflects. “After all, I get to listen to it.”
That quiet philosophy seems to hold ‘Vaakkath’ together.
The nine-track album is not merely Haniya Nafisa’s debut album; it feels like a document of an artist slowly learning to trust her instincts. Singer, songwriter and now producer, Haniya isn’t afraid to let curiosity guide her.
Haniya Nafisa
Among the nine tracks, Thudakkam stayed with me the longest. There is something familiar tucked into its opening a subtle callback to Mulchedi, the song that introduced many listeners to Haniya’s independent musical journey.
The callback, she tells me, was entirely intentional.
“Mulchedi was my beginning,” she says, returning to the memory with unmistakable affection. Written when she was just sixteen and released years later in 2024, the song eventually became the turning point in her independent career. So when Vaakkath began taking shape, she couldn’t imagine opening a new chapter without acknowledging where it all began. Thudakkam became that bridge between the artist she was and the artist she is becoming.
If Thudakkam gently looks back, Adakkam refuses to look away.
The title itself is layered. In Malayalam, adakkam can speak of restraint, silence, composure and suppression. It also carries the familiar command many women have heard in one form or another – ‘Adangikko’.
For Haniya, the song grew from the quiet, often invisible rage that women carry. She speaks about the constant give-and-take happening within, a desire to scream, to let everything out, while simultaneously learning to contain it. The emotional landscape of Adakkam was deeply influenced by Labour by Paris Paloma, a song she admires for the way it articulates women’s anger without apology.
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Another track, Njan Aarayi, becomes the next stop in our conversation. Rather than asking about its lyrics or composition, I put a different question to Haniya: if this song could be reduced to just one image, what would it look like?
She lets out a small chuckle before her answer finds its way.
“Childhood photographs.”
Whenever life overwhelms her, whether in moments of happiness or self-doubt, it is those old pictures that return to her. They remind her of the little girl who questioned herself, who struggled to recognise her own abilities and carried insecurities she now understands with compassion. Looking back today, she believes that child would be very much proud.
Haniya Nafisa
Growing up in Kannur, Haniya once felt the need to soften her dialect to fit into spaces where it wasn’t always understood. Today, writing in that very dialect feels like reclaiming a part of herself. She describes it as a liberating experience, one that allows her to exist comfortably in her own skin. Collaborations with artistes like MHR only deepened that confidence, encouraging her to explore the beauty, rhythm and musicality of the language she grew up speaking.
The same freedom shapes her songwriting.
Success, she says, made her more aware of the responsibility that comes with every release, but never at the cost of honesty. Songs such as illaathath may use simple, everyday words, yet she is deeply conscious of supporting them with thoughtful composition and production. For her, lyrics, melody and arrangement are never separate conversations. Each one quietly strengthens the other.
As our conversation draws to a close, Haniya speaks about wanting to study music more deeply, produce more of her own work and continue discovering new ways of expressing herself.
She mentions artists like Billie Eilish and Laufey, admiring how unmistakably they sound like themselves. It’s that kind of artistic honesty she hopes to keep pursuing.
Perhaps that’s what Vaakkath ultimately leaves behind.Not the certainty of having arrived, but the courage to keep searching.
And maybe that is what Cass Elliot meant all along. Sometimes, making your own kind of music is enough.
Haniya Nafisa’s works
