Long before Punjabi rap and urban fusion became a global phenomenon, Roach Killa aka Rehan was blending reggae, hip-hop and Punjabi music into a sound uniquely his own. Born in Libya, raised in Canada and now based in the UK, the artist has built a career on crossing cultural and musical boundaries. From groundbreaking chart successes to collaborations with some of South Asia’s biggest legends, he speaks about the experiences, struggles and inspirations that have shaped his remarkable journey.

Your collaboration with Arif Lohar resulted in one of the most celebrated Punjabi anthems of recent years. How did the song come about?
That happened very naturally. I met Arif Lohar in England in 2018 through a mutual connection. We sat together casually at his brother’s house, and he asked me to play him a couple of beats. I played one beat and he liked it, then I played another with a distinctive flute melody. Instantly, he started singing along. Once he heard it, he loved it, and with Dr. Zeus producing the track, it became a powerful combination of legends and new energy. There was no overthinking, no big studio setup — it was just musicians vibing together in the moment. Sometimes the best songs are born like that.

It seems you’ve developed a knack for turning dream collaborations into hit records. You’ve now teamed up with Abrar-ul-Haq on a track that’s already making waves?
After the success of the Arif Lohar collaboration, doors opened. A close friend, Jibran, shared a musical idea with me, and we kept discussing which voice would truly suit the song. Eventually we realized it had to be Abrar-ul-Haq. Once we presented it to him, he connected with it immediately. For me, working with him was another full-circle moment because I grew up listening to his music too.

Songwriters often draw inspiration from people and moments around them. Your mention of “dimple” in the track has intrigued fans—what inspired that lyric, and who, if anyone, is it dedicated to?
That line came about in a funny, spontaneous way. When I came to Pakistan after gaining success abroad, I kept seeing huge billboards of Hania Aamir everywhere. I asked my friend, “Who is she? She’s everywhere — and she’s very pretty!” Later, while writing the song, I needed a rhyme for the word “cute.” The image of those billboards popped into my head, and the line “dimple is cute” came naturally. It wasn’t planned as some grand dedication — it was just a spontaneous lyric born in the moment, which is often how songwriting works.

You were born in Libya, raised in Canada and now living in Birmingham. And you come from a Pakistan family. How have these diverse cultural influences shaped your identity as an artist?
I think my different backgrounds and cultures have deeply influenced my music. My mother’s side of the family is Iranian, my father’s side is Punjabi, I was born in Libya, and then I grew up in Canada before eventually moving to England. So, I’ve been exposed to Arabic, Punjabi, Urdu, Persian, Jamaican and Western influences all at once. I’ve always believed language is important because it carries culture and emotion. Being born in Libya also left a strong impression on me. I was there during difficult political times, even witnessing air-raid sirens and bombings as a child. Those experiences made me understand life from a different perspective very early on. At the same time, growing up in Canada exposed me to reggae, hip hop and multicultural communities. All of these influences come together in my music. I don’t think there are many artists who can naturally blend Punjabi, Urdu, Arabic, reggae and Western sounds in one identity. I feel blessed that my upbringing allowed me to be that diverse artist.

Your stage name, Roach Killa, is one of the most distinctive names in Punjabi music. What’s the story behind it?
When I was younger, some people used to call me “Roach,” and the nickname just stuck. Later, when I started making music, I wanted a name that would stand out and be impossible to forget. I combined “Roach” with “Killa” and created something unique. Whether people love it or hate it, they remember it — and that’s important in music.Another reason I liked the name was that it didn’t immediately tell people who I was or where I came from. People couldn’t easily judge whether I was Punjabi, Pakistani, Indian, white or black; they had to listen to the music first. I’ve always believed that music should be judged on its own merit, not on an artist’s appearance, ethnicity or background. Looking back, the name has become a huge part of my identity and represents the individuality that I’ve tried to bring to my music throughout my career.

At a young age, you were drawn to Reggae, a genre not commonly associated with South Asian artists at the time. What initially attracted you to it?
When I was a kid, my brother brought home a tape by Apache Indian. I remember looking at the cover and thinking, “This guy looks Pakistani or Indian.” Then I listened to the music and heard Punjabi mixed with Jamaican reggae and dancehall. That completely connected with me because I was growing up in neighbourhoods where there were a lot of Jamaicans and people spoke Patois around us. So, for me, reggae never felt foreign. It felt natural. That’s why later on I also moved to Birmingham in England, because Punjabi music there had already started blending with reggae culture in a big way as Birmingham is one of the main hubs for Punjabi urban music. I also loved the mystery and freedom of reggae culture. People didn’t know whether the artist was desi, white or black — they judged the music first. That idea has stayed with me throughout my career.

Long before Punjabi rap became mainstream, you were blending Punjabi lyrics with Reggae and Dancehall. Did you realize at the time that you were helping create a new lane in the industry?
Honestly, no. I think artists rarely think in those terms while they’re creating. Music is about capturing a moment and expressing what feels natural. At that time, blending Punjabi with reggae and hip hop simply reflected how I had grown up. Later on, people started calling it a new lane or a new genre, but for me it was just authenticity. We were making music that sounded like our lives.

What challenges did you face introducing a sound that many listeners had never heard before? Was the music industry ready for your style when you first emerged?
Definitely not. In our culture, there was a stigma attached to it. People would say, “Why are you trying to sound black? You’re desi.” A lot of listeners expected Punjabi artists to only do traditional bhangra music. But that wasn’t my reality. I grew up in a Western environment surrounded by reggae and hip hop, so my music reflected that. The backlash was real, but it also motivated me. I always say: criticism can either stop you or sharpen you. For me, it made me work harder and prove that Punjabi music could exist in an urban, international space too.

Your song Yaara Dildara became the first rap song to reach number one on the BBC Asian Network. What did that achievement mean to you personally?
It meant a lot because I had gone to England with almost nothing — about $300 in my pocket, sleeping on friends’ sofas, walking long distances just to save money for food. So, when Yaara Dildarareached number one on BBC Asian Network, it felt like validation for the years of struggle. So that meant a lot because once you get to a level where people accept your music as an artist, it only motivates you to do more. What made it even more special was that the song was doing something completely fresh at the time: authentic hip hop rap blended with qawwali and Sufi elements. It even replaced Imran Khan’s “Amplifier” at number one, and that was a huge song back then. For me, it was proof that taking creative risks could pay off.

You’ve collaborated with artists ranging from Apache Indian and Spragga Benz to Gippy Grewal and Garry Sandhu. How was the experience and which collaboration challenged or surprised you the most?
Every collaboration has its own story. I’ve been fortunate to work with legends across reggae, Punjabi music and Bollywood, including Arijit Singh and Neha Kakkar. For me, the biggest thing is when an established artist wants to work with you because of your talent, not because you paid for a feature. That’s when you know your music is truly being respected. One collaboration that felt especially meaningful was working with Arif Lohar. Growing up listening to songs like “Billo”, I never imagined I’d one day create music with him. That was a dream come true.

Having witnessed the industry’s evolution over the years, how would you describe the biggest changes in Punjabi music?
Punjabi music used to be dominated by traditional instruments and folk structures. Now, artists keep the authenticity of Punjabi vocals but pair them with urban and Western production. If you listen to artists like Sidhu Moosewala or Bilal Saeed, the vocals remain rooted in Punjabi or Urdu culture, but the soundscape is global. That’s a huge evolution. Punjabi music is no longer confined to one region — it’s part of international pop culture now.

Today, Punjabi music enjoys global recognition. What do you think artists from your generation contributed to making that possible?
We broke barriers. When we started, there were very few platforms for Punjabi urban music. No streaming, limited radio support — we were selling tapes and CDs by hand. Artists from our generation helped put places like Toronto and Birmingham on the Punjabi music map. We made diaspora identity part of the music. Today, Punjabi artists can reach global audiences instantly through streaming, but that infrastructure was built over decades by earlier generations pushing boundaries.

Do you feel pioneers of Punjabi rap and urban music receive enough credit for laying the foundation for today’s success?
Honestly, no. I think our culture sometimes forgets its pioneers too quickly. People say “old artist” instead of “legendary artist.” If artists before you hadn’t taken the risks, many of these lanes wouldn’t exist today. In rock music, legends continue to receive lifelong respect. I hope our industry develops that same culture of honouring the people who paved the way.

Has your creative process changed significantly since your early days in the industry? And what inspires you today compared to when you first started making music?
My core process hasn’t changed much. I still believe the best music comes from the heart, not from chasing trends. If you only follow trends, your song expires when the trend does. I also avoid listening to too much outside music when I’m creating because I don’t want to subconsciously copy anyone. I want people to hear Roach Killa, not a version of someone else.

Every artist faces setbacks. What did it teach you?
One of the hardest things has been dealing with the political and cultural divisions that sometimes affect artists. Music has no borders, but artists often get pulled into conversations that have nothing to do with music. I’ve always believed musicians should have the freedom to collaborate across cultures and countries. When people listen to a song, they respond emotionally first. Music connects human beings before politics divides them. That taught me to stay focused, like a horse with blinders on — not distracted by noise on either side.

Now looking back on your journey from a young reggae enthusiast in Canada to an internationally recognized artist, what achievement makes you the proudest?
Every achievement is special, but the proudest moment for me was creating a song that became a global anthem associated with Pakistan: “Aa” featuring Arif Lohar and Deep Jandu. That song is played in stadiums, PSL matches, IPL matches and events worldwide. Knowing that your music becomes part of your country’s cultural memory is incredibly humbling. Even if I stopped making music tomorrow, that legacy would remain.

When the story of Punjabi music’s evolution is written what chapter do you believe Roach Killa would represent?
I’d say we represent one of the pioneering chapters of Punjabi urban fusion music. We weren’t the very first chapter, but we were among the artists who helped define and expand this sound globally. Especially with reggae and dancehall influences in Punjabi music, I believe my name will always be part of that story.

The post East Meets West and More – Roach Killa appeared first on Glam Magazine.

The Arts Council of Pakistan Karachi organised a graceful event titled “An Evening of Classical Dance” at Auditorium I to mark International Dance Day. Renowned dancer Sheema Kermani and Head of Dance Academy Mani Chao addressed the audience, while Romana Hussain moderated the event.

The evening began with a Manipuri dance performance, followed by a colourful showcase of various classical dance forms. Sheema Kermani, accompanied by her students, delivered captivating performances celebrating the beauty, heritage, and artistic depth of classical dance. She also expressed solidarity with Palestine by performing while wearing a traditional Palestinian scarf.

A large number of artists, students, teachers, and art enthusiasts attended the programme. Speaking on the occasion, Sheema Kermani said that International Dance Day was a tribute to all those striving for humanity, peace, and justice, while also thanking the audience for their support.

Mani Chao said that despite difficult circumstances, the dance community continues to spread joy and positivity through dedication and artistic expression. He added that the continued support of Arts Council President Mohammad Ahmed Shah has played an important role in promoting fine arts and providing opportunities for artists, particularly dancers.

The audience warmly applauded the performances of Sheema Kermani, Muhammad Asif, Dawood Bhatti, Taimoor, Yasir, Muhammad Alam, Javeria, Neena, KP, and Irma.

The post Classical Dance Evening Held in Arts Council of Pakistan Karachi to Celebrate International Dance Day appeared first on Glam Magazine.

From a household steeped in music to the bright lights of Coke Studio and Pakistan Idol, Simal Nafees is carving her own identity in Pakistan’s music scene. Born into a renowned musical family, she has navigated expectations, creative challenges, and the pressures of public performance to emerge as a singer with a distinctive voice and artistic integrity. In this interview, Simal reflects on her journey, her inspirations, and the milestones that have shaped her growth as a performer and as an artist.

Q1. How did music become your calling and which people, sounds or cultural influences shaped your desire to become a singer?

I come from a strong musical lineage. My grandfather, Ustaad Fateh Ali Khan, was a highly respected sitar maestro of the subcontinent who devoted his life to music, and my father continued that legacy. Music was innate for me, a part of my upbringing. I grew up seeing my father practise the sitar in the drawing room, and we would listen and absorb it as children.

My mother also played a significant role. At home, she would play legends such as Iqbal Bano, Malika Pukhraj, Farida Khanum and Mehdi Hassan, along with Indian greats like Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhosle. Music was always playing in the background; it became inseparable from our lives. At the same time, my father exposed us to Western music — jazz, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey and ABBA. I vividly remember him playing Dancing Queen and I Have Nothing, completely immersed in the experience. Watching his passion shaped my own connection to music.

Q2. What challenges have you faced in your musical journey so far, creatively, professionally and personally? How do you stay motivated and grounded when navigating them?

Creatively, my main challenge was discovering my own musical identity. I grew up with very strong influences from my parents, so when I began exploring genres such as pop, Western music and even rap in my early teens, it took time to understand what truly resonated with me. I also had to balance music with academics, as my education was always prioritised, which meant there was a period when I stepped away from formal musical training.

Professionally, the greatest challenge has been establishing my own identity while being known as my father’s daughter. I am incredibly proud of him, but that comes with immense responsibility and high expectations. I often felt there was no room for mistakes, whether in my performance or personal conduct. Creating my own space in the industry required resilience and self-belief.

Personally, stepping out of his shadow was important. As the eldest daughter, I was raised in a protective environment. Moving to Islamabad alone for my A-Levels helped me gain independence, confidence and clarity about who I am — both as a person and as an artist.

Q3. How would you describe your artistic identity and are there particular themes or stories that consistently shape your voice and style?

My artistic identity is rooted in sincerity and intention. For me, music is sacred — it is not something I pursue purely to earn money. I am educated, I work full-time, and I hold a Bachelor’s degree in Filmmaking from an institution affiliated with Collège de Paris. My profession provides financial stability, which allows me the freedom to approach music with integrity rather than compulsion. I never want to reach a point where I accept a concert solely for financial reasons and end up performing songs that do not resonate with me.

To me, good music is music that I genuinely enjoy and can share with others in a respectful environment. While I have great respect for those who earn their livelihood through music, I have consciously chosen to keep my relationship with it personal and meaningful. An experience in my teenage years shaped this perspective profoundly. After performing at Coke Studio in 2016 at the age of sixteen, I received several opportunities, including international concerts. At one particular event, I realised that the audience was disengaged, and some individuals behaved inappropriately while I was performing. I was very young, and standing on stage, I felt deeply uncomfortable and disheartened. It made me question whether I wanted to place myself in situations where my craft was not respected.

For a while, I withdrew and became more reserved. However, that experience clarified something important: I never want financial pressure or public validation to dictate my art. Music, for me, is an escape, a source of joy and expression. I want to protect that purity. That philosophy continues to shape my voice, my choices and the kind of spaces in which I choose to perform.

Q4. You’ve released music that resonates emotionally with listeners. Which milestones in your musical journey feel most meaningful to you so far?

I have released several songs and collaborated with artists such as Arshad Mehmood sahib, but for me, milestones are often personal moments of validation rather than grand achievements. One of the most meaningful was performing with the late Zia Mohyeddin sahib, who was known for his high standards. I was only eighteen, and when he expressed his approval of my performance, it meant a great deal to me. Another milestone — one I am still striving towards — is receiving open praise from my father. As my teacher, he is rigorous and rarely offers direct compliments, which perhaps keeps me grounded.

Performing on Coke Studio at sixteen was a major turning point, and more recently, receiving a standing ovation from Rahat Fateh Ali Khan on Pakistan Idol, along with his generous praise after my performance of a Noor Jehan classic, felt like a truly defining moment in my journey.

Q5. What motivated you to audition for Pakistan Idol and how did standing on that stage change your perspective on your music, and growth as a performer?

Auditioning for Pakistan Idol was a turning point in my life. Initially, I didn’t even think I would make it past the first round. At the Arts Council audition I saw so many incredibly talented singers, and I felt nervous — not just about the competition, but also about proving that my opportunities were earned through my own efforts, not just because I am my father’s daughter. I was dealing with imposter syndrome, questioning whether people genuinely appreciated my talent.

The decision to audition actually came the night before. My mother was my biggest motivator; she reminded me that there is no age limit for dreams and encouraged me to just go for it. I was 25 at the time and worried I might be too old or outshone by younger singers, but her support gave me the courage to take that step.

Even though I didn’t make the top 16, the response to my audition was overwhelming. I received thousands of messages and comments praising my voice, which completely shifted my perspective. For the first time, I truly believed in my craft and felt validated as an artist. That experience gave me confidence, ended much of my self-consciousness, and marked a significant moment of growth as a performer.

Q6. Reality shows can be high pressure. How did you manage nerves, expectations and the public spotlight while staying true to your voice?

Reality shows are definitely high pressure — from choosing the right song to thinking about what will appeal to the public. For me, though, the focus was never on pleasing everyone; it was about performing what I could do well and what I truly connected with.

For my first performance, I chose Tum Sung Naina Lage by Rubina Badar, a relatively unknown song for today’s generation. I felt a deep connection to it, and that connection allowed me to perform confidently and authentically. The audience responded positively, and the song even gained renewed popularity online after my audition. That experience reinforced my approach: focus on what I do best, stay true to my artistic choices, and enjoy the process. That’s how I managed nerves and stayed grounded in the spotlight.

Q7.  Has audience reaction ever influenced or changed the way you think about a piece you created or performed?

Yes, especially when I was younger. After performing on Coke Studio, my sister and I toured with our girl band, opening for Junoon in North America, Dubai and the UK — including a performance at Wembley Stadium. I was overwhelmed just knowing I would perform there, imagining all the artists who had graced that stage before me. During those tours, we often chose songs that would energise the audience — songs people could dance to, like Jugni — to hype up the crowd before Junoon came on. It was exciting and fun, and I enjoyed sharing the stage with my band and the audience.

Now, however, my perspective has shifted. I prefer to perform music that I genuinely enjoy, rather than trying to please the crowd. If that means the audience is smaller, I am okay with it. My connection to the music comes first.

Q8. Apart from singing and performing, are you involved in any songwriting, collaborations or creative projects that you’re especially excited about?

I’m very excited about my music and collaborations. Working with Arshad Mehmood and my father, for example, is always inspiring because of the technical depth and the legendary experience they bring. I’m also part of an initiative called Voice of World, led by singer Samra Khan, where I have the opportunity to work with incredibly talented young women. I hope to collaborate with many of them in the future. Beyond collaborations, I’m focused on my own original music and developing new material. I’m open to creative projects of all kinds, and I’m excited for what the future holds.

Q9. When you look back from where you began and where you are today, what stands out most to you? 

What stands out most is coming into my own and being recognised for my talent, not just as my father’s daughter. It took a long time to step out of that shadow, and reaching this point — where people believe in me and my work — feels incredibly rewarding. I also feel proud that this journey has paved the way for my sisters, who are musicians as well. Seeing them have opportunities and thinking about how I can collaborate with them excites me for the future.

Another significant shift has been in the perception of our extended family. Initially, there were doubts about women pursuing music, but now I feel respected and supported for the work I do. That acceptance, along with being able to protect my artistic integrity, makes me proud of how far we’ve come.

The post Soaring with the Musical Notes – Simal Nafees appeared first on Glam Magazine.

“Art will always find a way to break through and create something new”

Ozlem Ozhabes – theatre director, performer, and lecturer on theatre’s power to challenge society and inspire change.

1. How did your visit to Pakistan come about? Also give us some insight into your play.

I live in Abu Dhabi, and recently, one of the World Culture Festival organizers and the technical team members named Azaib invited artists to participate. He personally approached Bill Bragin, the curator and director of the NYU Abu Dhabi Art Centre, who then recommended my play. Azaib contacted me and extended an invitation to participate.

The play is called Subj:medeA and it tells the story of a goddess who is betrayed by her husband. In her act of revenge, she kills all her children. As a mother myself, I am deeply interested in how society places immense expectations on women—how they are supposed to be and behave, and how they often become trapped in their homes without much support. Having become a mother myself, I’ve experienced these pressures first-hand. This inspired me to create a show about a mother who takes the most extreme, tragic action – she commits the worst possible act. I wrote the play myself, with some assistance.

• How did your journey into theatre and acting begin?

My story isn’t a typical one. I’ve always been shy and introverted. As a child, I didn’t like much attention. In high school, I was planning to study political science, and also became part of a youth group. We spent a lot of time in rehearsals, and I think what drew me into theatre was the collective aspect; the idea of creating something together, working on a piece not just for ourselves but for the sake of art. The trust and transparency required to connect with twenty people at once felt like magic to me. That collaborative nature is what kept me in love with theatre.

I then studied dramaturgy and became part of a theatre company, assisting with directing, working with lights, cleaning stages – you name it. The collective spirit of theatre is what continues to inspire me.

• Why in particular did you study feminist dramaturgy?

I didn’t feel the need to call myself a feminist until I became a mother even though I consistently defended women’s rights. So, the question for me was: what’s wrong with calling myself a feminist? If you look at theatre history, it’s full of male names—male characters, male perspectives, male-dominated viewpoints and behaviours. Unless you explicitly call it feminist, you’re not making a statement. Would I simply call it feminist? No. What I hope for is a world without discrimination, where everyone is free, and where everyone including professors, understand their boundaries. On the stage, we often need to raise consciousness. I wish feminism was irrelevant, and my play didn’t exist but, in my performance, here, I had audiences from Algeria, Pakistan, Mozambique, Turkey, Azerbaijan, Ukraine and other countries, and I realised how much these themes resonated across different cultures. It’s so relevant that I feel I have to explicitly call myself a feminist.

• You have been involved in diverse projects across different countries including Florence, London and Turkey, and now in Abu Dhabi. How have these experiences shaped your storytelling methods?

In Florence, I mainly taught, and I found that Italian actors are very happy and expressive. In Turkey and the broader Middle East, restrictions on what stories can be told and what can be openly discussed influence the form of storytelling. Stories and subtleties often become less important, and bigger concepts take precedence. In London, the environment is driven by capitalism, technology, and a fast-paced culture and you have to learn the rules quickly, know your place, and understand which plays or roles are accessible.

Though my heart still beats in Turkey, I find places like Abu Dhabi or Pakistan, where I’ve only been for a short time, share a similar curiosity. I see in the students’ eyes the same questions I had at their age.

• You’ve directed a wide range of plays, from classics like Romeo and Juliet and A Midsummer Night’s Dream to contemporary works. How did that come about?

These aspects are a key part of my teaching practice because theatre of Turkey has historically been heavily reliant on translated texts and classics. Therefore, students need to engage deeply with these texts and learn how to position themselves within them. Moreover, these texts are considered “classics” for a reason—they resonate universally. They offer students an opportunity to view them as exemplary works from the West, and within them, students recognise elements of their own histories, families, and peers. Once students begin to see their own histories reflected in these texts, the works start to truly resonate on a deeper level, transforming them from distant classics into meaningful reflections of their own lives.

• Photo Credit: Anna Jopp
• You started Datça Theatre Summer Camp and have been the director of ACT, a project focused on artistic freedom. What inspired you to start them?

I am someone deeply obsessed with systems, yet I also believe that systems are inherently destined to fail. Despite their inevitable shortcomings, systems can produce something meaningful and inspiring over time. Hence Datça, a two-to-three-week camp, was my attempt to bring together various acting techniques into a cohesive approach. Later, I linked this to a core principle: it’s all about the artist – finding vulnerability, embracing fragility and discovering freedom. We engaged in intensive training, working with nature, classical texts, and monologues through clown work and Linklater method. It was about discovering creativity through extremities and pushing boundaries. ACT, a youth theatre, is particularly significant because it touches on the culture of theatre in the country. Instead of simply teaching young people what to do, we empowered them to create—giving them agency. The initiative aims to train youth as future change-makers and trainers, bringing together participants from three cities: Diyarbakır, İzmir, and Istanbul. Politically, it was especially meaningful to gather young people from different regions and backgrounds to hear their childhood stories and building connections.  

• According to what you’ve observed so far, what are some of the strengths and weaknesses of theatre in Pakistan?

I haven’t seen a lot of Pakistani work, but what I have seen is very powerful. It reminds me of my students in Turkey. However, I’ve noticed that most of the directors’ names are male. As a feminist, I believe that to truly strengthen any artistic field, it’s essential to hear women’s voices and perspectives.

• What are some of the skills that you consider are essential for an actor?

Reading texts, understanding what you read, and delivering it effectively from your positionality – these are essentials. Take Hamlet for example, he is a 17-year-old boy struggling to make sense of the world, and then he loses his father. The image of that father, and the uncertainty surrounding it, deeply influences him. To portray Hamlet convincingly, you need to grasp his dilemma and interpret his lines with empathy. Delivering the text isn’t just technical; it’s about knowing where your centre is.

• Considering how rapidly technology is transforming entertainment and communication, how do you envision the future of theatre and performing arts? Do you think theatre risks becoming obsolete – especially among younger generations?

I am quite skeptical about technology, yet I try to remain hopeful. The most progressive shows I’ve seen in recent years come from very young artists in Belgium, Amsterdam, Tunisia, and Iran—where they have created immersive experiences that are quite wild. For instance, audiences might be blindfolded and have to touch objects or engage in sensual experiences, lying down while performers approach them and communicate. You see, as human beings, the more we distance ourselves from direct contact, the more our need for connection persists.

Yes, just like the industrial revolution, this technological revolution is also frightening as this is leading to a dangerous disconnect. Today, we see children suffering and dying, yet we seem indifferent, only witnessing it through screens. If humanity isn’t strong enough to unite around these issues, then theatre becomes just a trivial addition.

But I recently saw a show in Avignon by a Portuguese director: a father and daughter, presented in a very theatrical way in its classical sense. The daughter moves to Mars without telling her father, and they exchange voice messages. It is theatre in its simplest form – two people communicating through voicemails. But it had a huge impact on everyone in the audience. That kind of work gives me hope that even if it’s not theatre, it will be something else because every era creates its own art form. Art will always find a way to break through and create something new.

The post Theatre Beyond Borders appeared first on Glam Magazine.

In an unprecedented musical feat, Pakistani singer Ali Zafar’s latest song – a regional folklore – ‘Balo Batiyian’ has captivated audiences worldwide, propelling it to the top of YouTube’s trending videos for over four consecutive weeks. This remarkable achievement not only underscores Ali Zafar’s exceptional talent and the universal appeal of his music but also highlights the growing significance of South Asian music on the global stage.

Crafted in collaboration with renowned music artist Atta Ullah Khan Esakhelvi, the song features a dynamic fusion of traditional melodies and contemporary beats that resonates with audiences across diverse cultural backgrounds. Its resounding success demonstrates the team’s ability to create music that transcends linguistic and cultural barriers.

The song’s meteoric rise to fame on social media platforms such as Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook has shattered records in terms of views, shares, and likes, cementing Ali Zafar’s position as the preeminent singer of the year. This accolade speaks volumes about his prowess as an artist.

The partnership between Ali Zafar and Atta Ullah Khan Esakhelvi represents a harmonious blend of their distinct musical styles, showcasing the depth and diversity of Pakistani music. While Ali Zafar seamlessly integrates elements of pop, rock, and Sufi music, Esakhelvi enriches the collaboration with his profound mastery of traditional music, infusing it with authenticity and soulfulness.

The song’s unprecedented success marks a significant milestone in Zafar’s illustrious career, underscoring the transformative impact of digital platforms on global music consumption patterns and trends. The artists’ adept utilization of these platforms has undoubtedly contributed to the song’s unparalleled success, expanding its reach and engagement to unprecedented levels.

Both audiences and critics alike have lauded the song for its innovative musical composition, profound lyrics, and ability to resonate with individuals from diverse cultural backgrounds. It has set a new standard for singers worldwide, exemplifying music’s power to foster unity and transcend geographical boundaries.

As Ali Zafar continues to bask in the glory of his latest triumph, the music industry eagerly anticipates his future endeavours. This record-breaking achievement not only brings pride to Zafar and Atta Ullah Khan Esakhelvi but also serves as a source of pride for the entire South Asian music community, signaling its growing prominence on the global stage.

Amidst the challenges and uncertainties of the present year, this song emerges as a beacon of hope and joy, reaffirming the profound impact of music in bringing people together and uplifting spirits. With his latest triumph, Ali Zafar reaffirms that both artists and music enthusiasts worldwide have much to anticipate in the days ahead.

The post Embarking on a Sonic Odyssey: Ali Zafar’s Trailblazing Anthem Redefines the Landscape of Global Music appeared first on Glam Magazine.

Nimra rose to prominence in October 2023 with her chart-topping singles ‘Hawa Warga‘ and ‘Je Pata Hunda‘. Despite facing rejection from a well-known music show, Pakistan Idol, Nimra persevered, ultimately captivating audiences with her talent and dedication.

With performances spanning across Pakistan, Dubai, Malaysia, and Canada, Nimra has captivated audiences worldwide. She is the first Pakistani female singer to film a music video at Dundas Square in Toronto for her latest song ‘Goli Maar Di,’ produced by Jibran Khan of Beyond Records.

Her efforts were further recognised with an event in Dubai on Feb 3, 2024 in the presence of Sheikh Rashid Bin Nasir Al Naeemi and IHRC Ambassador Dr. Muhammad Shahid A. Khan.

Nimra’s latest singles, ‘Je Pata Hunda‘ and ‘Goli Maar Di‘ has skyrocketed to the top of the charts on Spotify and various digital streaming platforms. Her plans to release 24 songs in the upcoming year mark a significant milestone in her career, promising a bright and prosperous future.

Mehra’s performance at Bridal Couture Week 2024, stands out as a defining moment. With her mesmerising rendition of ‘Je Pata Hunda’, she wooed the crowd with her singing prowess. The fusion of fashion and music during her performance captivated audiences earning her widespread acclaim. Mehra’s presence reverberated across social media platforms, with her performance going viral on TikTok and Instagram reels.

The singer’s impact extends far beyond the stage with her strong presence on social media platforms. She has over 2.6 million fans on Facebook, 1.5 million followers on TikTok, and over 350K followers on Instagram. Additionally, her music videos have accumulated over 50 million views on YouTube within just five months, further solidifying her widespread appeal and influence.

Mehra’s debut album has been released in February 2024, offering a diverse collection of songs that reflect her unique journey and experiences.

Along with her musical achievements, Mehra is committed to advocacy as well. Her appointment as a goodwill ambassador for women empowerment by the IHRC underscores her dedication to fostering positive change. Her efforts were further recognised with an event in Dubai on Feb 3, 2024 in the presence of Sheikh Rashid Bin Nasir Al Naeemi and IHRC Ambassador Dr. Muhammad Shahid A. Khan.

Nimra Mehra’s journey in the music industry is a testament to her unwavering dedication. From humble beginnings to international acclaim, she embarks on the next phase of her career with promise and potential.

The post Nimra Mehra: A Rising Star on the Music Scene appeared first on Glam Magazine.