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 Ali 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.

By Ayman Munaf

Suhel Rais Khan, the son of the legendary sitar maestro Ustad Rais Khan, carries a rich musical heritage. Born into a family of extraordinary artists, he has carved out his own unique path in the world of music. Currently visiting Pakistan from India to see his ailing aunt, Suhel was invited to perform—an opportunity that has allowed fans to witness his musical prowess firsthand. During our conversation, he talked about his journey, inspirations, and the evolution of his craft.

Q1. Can you share some of your earliest memories of music and how they influenced your decision to pursue a career in this field?

I grew up in a boarding school called Barnes, one of the top ten British schools in the world. Before that, when I was with my father, I wasn’t interested in classical music at all. Like most people, I was into pop and rock. But when I returned and saw the immense respect my father commanded in the world of Indian classical music, I was drawn to it. It was in my blood, so the transition was natural. The way people revered him inspired me, and once I started exploring classical music. I genuinely fell in love with it.

Q2. Growing up as the son of the legendary sitarist Ustad Rais Khan and the talented dancer Tasneem Khan, how did your parents’ artistic backgrounds shape your musical journey?

My childhood was complex. My parents divorced and my father moved to Pakistan, so I didn’t get a chance to learn directly from him. When I returned from boarding school, I was introduced to my father’s side of the family. My aunt (Bua) was the world’s best Surbahar player. She showed me her work and played my father’s music for me. That’s when I began collecting his tapes.

After nearly 20 years, I finally met my father. Initially, I was reluctant, but after meeting him I felt peace. He heard me sing and encouraged me to play the sitar. My mother, though naturally artistic, didn’t pursue a classical career. But I was fortunate to learn from incredible women like Madhurani Ji, one of the top singers in the world, and Sitara Devi, who taught me dora tukras. In London, I trained under Priya Didi and spent time with senior artists, gathering knowledge from different corners of the classical world.

One thing that needs to be acknowledged is that the song Gungroo Tut Gaye was originally composed and sung by my father, Ustad Rais Khan. Unfortunately, many artists have falsely claimed it as their own composition, which is deeply unfair.

Q3. You completed your formal education at Barnes and were actively involved in music, singing, and drama. How did this academic environment contribute to your artistic development?

Honestly, formal education only provides the basics. The real learning comes from your guru. I initially focused on singing and later realized the importance of playing the sitar. Creating music is expensive—so I opened my own studio, where I learned recording, editing, composing, and arranging. Eventually, I started working on my own albums and recording other artists.

Q4. Can you discuss the significance of your training under your father and how it has influenced your approach to music?

I only had two months of formal training with my father before he passed away. I absorbed whatever I could in that short time. While he profoundly influenced me, I developed my own distinct style. My father trained several successful artists, including Ahmed Jahanzeb.

Q5. Your music blends traditional Indian classical elements with contemporary styles. How do you balance these influences in your compositions and performances?

It all comes down to the sound—what you want to present to the world. My music doesn’t resemble anyone else’s. I usually sing my own compositions, but sometimes when audiences aren’t ready for change, I adapt. There’s nothing wrong with singing another artist’s song, as long as you infuse it with your own style.

Q6. Who are some of the artists, both within and outside the classical genre, that have inspired your work?

Legends like Sonu Nigam, Hariharan, Farida Khanum, Noor Jehan, Salamat Ali Khan, Fateh Ali Khan, Ghulam Ali and Roshan Ara. Music is diverse—everyone has their own preference, and no genre is inherently bad. It’s about what resonates with you.

Q7. Can you walk us through your creative process when composing a new piece?

I can compose very quickly. Give me a line, and I can create a melody in 10 seconds.

Q8. How do you decide when a composition is complete and ready to be shared with the audience?

I know once I hear the lyrics and understand the genre—whether it’s pop, rock or ghazal. I often test compositions by having my students sing them their own way before finalizing the recording. I incorporate elements of ‘80s-style melodies while keeping them accessible to the general audience.

Q9. You’ve performed at various national and international events. Is there a particular performance that stands out in your memory?

My performance in Calcutta is unforgettable. Just as I was about to start, the famous Bengali actress Moon Moon Sen entered in a black saree with a black bindi. I was so mesmerized that I completely forgot my song! I had to stop for five minutes, just looking at her, before she finally said, “Suhel, I’m here. Start your performance.” That moment is etched in my memory.

Q10. How do you prepare for a live performance and connect with your audience?

A successful artist knows how to keep the audience engaged. If I see the crowd isn’t interested in the song, I change the song on the spot. My musicians and I are always ready to improvise.

Q11. What are some significant challenges you’ve faced in your musical career?

I don’t focus on challenges—I focus on my work. I’m Ustad Rais Khan’s son, and my music speaks for itself. I’ve worked with the biggest artists worldwide and have over 40 albums. I don’t compare myself with others; I do what I love. I’m the only sitarist, singer and composer with 600 videos on air, and I’ve even made it to the Guinness Book of Records.

Q12. Receiving the Mitr Pradhan award at 25 was a notable achievement. How did it impact your career?

It was my first award, but it wasn’t heavily promoted. Whatever recognition I’ve earned has been through my own hard work.

Q13. Are there any upcoming projects or collaborations you’re excited about?

I continuously collaborate with artists across genres. Recently, I worked on Fusion for Roland. I believe in supporting talent, even if an artist isn’t famous or wealthy—if they’re good, I’ll work with them. I learn something new every day.

Q14. What are your aspirations for the future, both personally and professionally?

I am content with what I do. I’ll continue making music and exploring new sounds.

Q15. How do you see the role of classical music evolving in the digital age?

Music is evolving, and the key is packaging it correctly. To stay relevant, artists must adapt and present their music in a way that resonates with today’s audience.

Q16. Your younger brother, Farhan Rais Khan, is also a talented sitar player. Do you guide him as an elder brother now that your father is no more?

Farhan has learned from our father and plays better than me. I have my own style and draw inspiration from legends like Ravi Shankar and Vilayat Khan. I’m very close to my brother in ways beyond just music.