Meeting an artist whose voice defined an era, Faakhir Mehmood greets you not with the air of a pop legend, but with the warmth of an old friend. Witty and friendly, Faakhir’s journey from the Awaz days, crafting patriotic anthems and soulful ballads is a chapter in Pakistan’s music history.

Now, as digital waves replace cassette decks and TikTok trends redefine hits, Faakhir continues making melodies and staying true to what first pulled him into music. “Honestly, it feels like riding a wild musical roller coaster,” he smiles, reflecting on his journey. From engineering classrooms to global stages, the transformation has been surreal. “I barely recognize the engineer-turned-musician in old pics!”

Faakhir’s musical career first took flight with Awaz, the iconic ’90s pop band that helped shape the sound of a generation. And while the band has long disbanded, the memories remain golden. “What I miss the most is the friendship, the chaos,” he says fondly. “Haroon’s energy, Asad’s stratocaster riffs, my frantic keyboard noodling… and those epic moments when we’d finally agree on a final version of a song. It was electric.”

From those jam-packed, impromptu sessions to today’s meticulous studio marathons, Faakhir’s process has evolved with time but the same heart remains. “Back then, we’d jam until someone had to escape for a date,” he laughs. “Now it’s long hours in the studio, powered by karak chai or a strong Americano.”

While his discography is filled with iconic hits, it’s ‘Kaash Hum Juda na Hotay’ from the album Mantra that holds the deepest place in his heart.“It came from a very personal space,” he shares quietly. “It still gives me goosebumps every time I hear or sing it.” His breakout solo anthem, “Dil na Lagay Pakistan”, still stirs hearts across the country—something he says was born out of youthful hope and a desire to connect with the nation. “I wanted to give people a proud, emotional wake-up call for loving the country. It just came in my heart one day.”

And who could forget ‘Mahi Ve’—the song that became a cultural reset? “Ironically,” he chuckles, “that melody was actually a rejected jingle from an ad I did. Later, I turned it into a full-fledged song. Never thought it would become a classic!”

A man of many hats—composer, singer, director—what role does he enjoy the most? “Composing,” he answers instantly. “It’s like cooking a fusion dish. But performing live? That’s the ultimate high. That energy, that crowd—it’s addictive.” Despite the quieter public presence in recent years, Faakhir’s creativity hasn’t slowed down. “I’m always composing,” he reveals. “I have tons of unreleased material sitting in my vault.”

Still, he admits the changing tides of the music industry have been a lot to keep up with. “Streaming, social media, TikTok—it’s overwhelming,” he says honestly. “I desperately need someone to help me with that part!” He credits Coke Studio for keeping local music alive and ever-evolving. “It’s like a chemistry lab,” he says. “Taking old, new, folk, pop—mixing it all together to create something that resonates with everyone. It’s genius.”

To young musicians trying to find their voice in this fast-paced world, his advice is delightfully simple,“Stay weird. That’s your flavour,” he says. “Learn the tools, sure, but don’t let them erase your creative spark.”

Behind the scenes, Faakhir still surprises fans. Did you know he’s a certified electrical engineer? “Yes, I can probably fix your Wi-Fi router,” he jokes, “but only after I’ve tuned a piano.”

As for what’s next, the composer hints at a few exciting collaborations. “They’re brewing,” he says with a mischievous grin, “but I’m so lazy! Fingers crossed.”

If he could give his younger self any advice? “Pace yourself. Don’t be lazy, don’t get too comfortable.”

And what does success look like to Faakhir Mehmood in 2025? He smiles thoughtfully. “A peaceful home, a cup of karak chai, a melody on the keys… and knowing that someone out there still hums one of my songs and understands the heart behind it.”

In the end, how does he want to be remembered—not just as a musician, but as Faakhir? He answers simply, without pause, “As someone genuine, generous, kind-hearted… and who truly loved his craft.”

In the bleak, haunting silence of Gilgit-Baltistan’s snow-capped mountains, a story of nature, love, loss and its consequences took place centuries ago. Told in hushed tones by flickering firesides by the elders, it was immortalized in the film Hundan. Written, directed and produced by Karamat Ali, who belongs to the area, the filmmaker has a deep-rooted passion for folklore and cultural preservation.

A mass communication graduate, Karamat Ali brings to the screen a story bound in legacy. Hundan is a docu-drama that protects forgotten voices, confronts environmental exploitation and resurrects the dying Burushaski language.

 “My grandmother used to cry while telling me this story.”Karamat said,when asked what inspired him to make Hundan. “This story was part of my childhood. My grandmother would narrate it with such emotion that it stayed with me. There was no television, no other distractions in those days. The story is about coexistence, and how doing wrong never goes unpunished.” That seed of storytelling was planted in 2007. After an initial attempt as a documentary and a reenactment performance that won hearts at a cultural event, he decided to take the bold step into narrative cinema. Eighteen years later, Hundan was born.

“Trophy hunting is not sport, it’s a crime against innocence.”At its heart, Hundan is a powerful protest against trophy hunting, a practice that has devastated local wildlife, particularly the endangered species like the ibex.“Who has given us the right to kill an innocent being just for entertainment?” Karamat questions with intensity. “We portrayed both sides — the greedy, and those trying to stop the greed. But my intention was clear: to show the heartbreak, the loss. There’s a scene where a mother ibex is killed in front of her young. That pain is real. And unforgivable.” The symbolism goes deeper. “Hun means wood, and dan means stone. Together, ‘Hundan’ is a metaphor — when you go against the path of righteousness, nature will respond. It becomes your teacher.”

Hundan also protects Burushaski, a dying language native to the region. “When someone is about to die, people go to see them with all their emotions. That’s what I’ve done with Burushaski — I’ve shown its joy, sorrow, anger, peace and mourning,” says Karamat with feelings. Though the film is being dubbed in Urdu for a wider audience, its original language remains its soul.

Filming Hundan was anything but smooth. The movie was supposed to be shot during the snow season, but due to climate change, the team found themselves waiting weeks for snowfall that never came. “I had to manually fill snow in some patches to make the scenes consistent,” he explained. Budget was another battle. “Most of the money went into fuel — we needed heaters, electric mattresses and generators to survive the mountain cold.”

But passion found a way. The cast, though not professional actors, were chosen with precision. Shahino was played by Alhan ul Qudrat, a seismologist, while Mayon was brought to life by Zahid Azeem, a school principal, both belonging to the area. Their physical endurance made it possible to shoot in the toughest terrains. “I didn’t stick to a fixed script,” Karamat says. “I’d explain the previous and upcoming scenes and asked the actors to speak in their own way. Munira Shah, who played Nisa, didn’t speak Burushaski — she had to learn her dialogues and understand it from scratch.” The grandmother’s character was portrayed by a real elderly woman, encouraged to act as naturally as she would. An old man who was also a professional storyteller delivered the final tale in the film.

Hundan is dedicated to Ghulam Uddin Hunzai, a beloved teacher and poet who translated the Quran into Burushaski and wrote educational books despite having only learned through the Qaida. “He was selfless. He taught generations — and now, they are all successful in their fields.”

When asked what advice he has for aspiring filmmakers, Karamat doesn’t hold back, “You need to be madly in love with your story. Don’t make films just to get views – make them to change lives. If your story doesn’t have a purpose, don’t tell it. And don’t do it if you don’t have the resources — unless you’re truly passionate. You need to be mad about your work.”

Karamat isn’t done telling stories. His next project, “A Missing Piece — Peace,” is a short film series focusing on the alarming youth suicide rate in Gilgit-Baltistan. “In one year, 56 suicides were reported aged 14 to 35. That’s heartbreaking. The lack of opportunity, peer pressure etc, it’s real, and it’s killing our youth.” He’s also preparing for a cross-border film on Pakistan-China friendship, partially shot in China. “It’s a story of a child’s struggle, a message of unity.”

 “If Hundan could stop just one person — many just come for the fun — from trophy hunting,” Karamat says, “we’ve succeeded. Why not turn it into a sight-seeing opportunity instead? The animal doesn’t know it’s part of the game — it’s not a sport, it’s murder. Shoot it with a dart and make it unconscious, don’t kill it for the sport of it.”

Hundan: An Echo of a Dirge is more than a film. It’s a resurrection of language, a cry against cruelty, and a tribute to the power of folklore. Through the eyes of a grandmother, the blood of the mountains, and the beating heart of a culture on the edge, Karamat Ali has told a story that refuses to be forgotten. And as long as the stones whisper and the wood remembers, Hundan will echo its message.

Cast & Crew Share the Soul Behind Hundan

Alhan Ul Qudrat (Shahino)

“I never imagined I’d step into acting — it just wasn’t part of the plan. But growing up in the mountains, we’ve witnessed these stories all our lives. They’re part of who we are. The message of Hundan — that we must preserve wildlife and avoid harming nature — really resonated with me. Because what we destroy in nature eventually finds a way back into our own lives. It was also a proud moment to be part of the first film ever made in the Burushaski language. I gave it my all.”

Zahid Azeem (Mayon)

“Like Alhan, this was my first time in front of the camera — and honestly, I never thought I’d be able to do it. But with Karamat’s mentorship and the support on set, everything felt possible. Burushaski is my own language, and I feel lucky that I could express this story in words that come from my roots. It made the experience even more personal.”

Munira Shah (Nisa wife of Shahino)

“I don’t speak Burushaski, and I was really nervous about my accent. I told Karamat I wasn’t sure I could do it — but he simply said, ‘I’ll support you,’ and that meant everything. I had always dreamed of visiting Hunza, but I wanted to go with purpose. The love and support I received were overwhelming. We weren’t just a crew — we were a family. Every moment was joyful, filled with warmth and laughter.”

Shagufta Rasool (Asst. Director)

“Karamat is an incredible director — truly committed and calm even during duress. Yes, there were challenges during the shoot, but every problem was taken care of. The support from our team, especially our First AD Amjad — who’s also Karamat’s brother — made it all smooth. We pulled through as a strong, united crew.”

Extract: Filming Hundan was anything but smooth. The movie was supposed to be shot during the snow season, but due to climate change, the team found themselves waiting weeks for snowfall that never came.

In the vibrant world of music, where every note tells a story and every lyric speaks to the soul, Abdul Rafay stands out as a voice that resonates with emotion and depth. His melodic journey began at home, with an elder brother whose passion for music lit the first spark. A simple introduction to a classical music teacher became a turning point, as the guru recognized Rafay’s talent—a voice reminiscent of the classical Patiala gharana. From that moment, Rafay’s path in music was destined.

Under the mentorship of Intezar Hussain at NAPA, Rafay’s talent blossomed. “Sir Intezar was more than a teacher, he was a mentor who pushed me to explore, innovate and perfect my craft,” Rafay shares. This guidance not only honed his classical roots but also introduced him to the nuances of stage performance and vocal versatility.

At just 13, Rafay’s win at the Youth Festival, competing against seasoned vocalists proved his mettle. “That moment was surreal,” he recalls. “It was a validation of my hard work and the first major milestone in my life.” The nation’s interest for Rafay deepened during his stint as a finalist on Pakistan Idol. His soulful performances captivated millions, propelling him onto international stages and into the hearts of fans across continents. “Pakistan Idol was a game-changer,” Rafay says. “It opened doors I hadn’t even dreamed of.”

In 2019, Rafay’s contributions to patriotic music earned him the prestigious Pakistan Peace Award from the Air Force. “It was an honour to be recognized for something that resonates so deeply with me—using my voice to uplift and unite.” Sharing the stage with legends like Abida Parveen, Ali Zafar and Sonu Nigam has been another feather in Rafay’s cap. “Sonu Nigam’s humility left a lasting impression on me. It’s these experiences that fuel my passion to keep growing and learning,” Rafay reflects.

Rafay’s discography is as impressive as his journey. From the heartfelt Na Hone Du Juda for B4U Music in India, to the soulful Woh Pyar Tha for Bol Beats, his voice has resonated across borders. His song Piyaaa with Laal Series showcases his versatility, while the patriotic Khaak Ki Qasam stirs national pride. Rafay has also lent his voice to popular OSTs like Apne Hei Tu Hain for Green Entertainment and Main Hun Kahani for Express Entertainment, cementing his place in the hearts of drama enthusiasts. His musical style is a blend of classical rigour and contemporary flair, drawing inspiration from artists like Arijit Singh. “Classical music is my foundation, but I enjoy experimenting with genres, always staying true to the essence of each.”

His journey hasn’t been without challenges. Navigating the music industry without connections has been tough, but Rafay’s resilience remains unshaken. “I focus on improving my craft, believing that opportunities will come when the time is right.” Looking ahead, Rafay is excited about upcoming projects, including original soundtracks and collaborations. “I’m also keen on exploring international collaborations. Music is a universal language, and I want to use it to bridge cultures and connect people.” For young, aspiring singers, Rafay’s advice is: “Stay true to yourself, work hard, be humble, and let your authenticity shine through. Success will follow.”

Reflecting on his journey, Rafay cherishes every moment, especially those with his mother, his unwavering supporter. “Her belief in me is the cornerstone of my success,” he says. As Rafay continues to enchant audiences with his soulful voice and heartfelt performances, his legacy of authenticity, passion and perseverance is one that will inspire generations to come.