{"id":20956,"date":"2025-09-28T09:04:29","date_gmt":"2025-09-28T09:04:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/ipp-news.com\/?p=20956"},"modified":"2025-09-28T09:04:29","modified_gmt":"2025-09-28T09:04:29","slug":"saving-the-songs-of-the-kalasha","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ipp-news.com\/?p=20956","title":{"rendered":"Saving the songs of the Kalasha"},"content":{"rendered":"
In the valleys of the Hindu Kush Mountains in northern Pakistan, the Kalasha tribe resides. Music is an indispensable pillar of their identity, serving as the primary repository of their unwritten history, religious beliefs, and social norms. Hymns are not decoration around their prayer; they are prayer. Their melodies are not secular art but a form of spiritual knowledge, with its own liturgy, purity laws, and prohibitions. It is theology in practice, a living liturgy encoded in melody and rhythm rather than in scripture.<\/p>\n

I discovered their liturgical traditions at a workshop called Sur Sajday Ke Roop Hazaar. Among the participants was Imran Kabir, a Kalasha polymath, teacher, writer, and heritage bearer. I explored their music, festivals, and rituals in “The Kalasha Audio-Visual Archive” by Elizabeth Mela-Athanasopoulou and during my conversations with Imran.<\/p>\n

The text-based liturgical music traditions in South Asia thrived within major religious civilisations, backed by states and institutions. Kalasha has no canonised scripture. Their chants are their text. The people exist at the margins of a modern Islamic nation-state, where their musical rituals are sometimes tolerated, sometimes commodified, and often threatened.
\nA journalistic piece, \u201cThe Last of the Kalasha,\u201d highlights the existential threats to their cultural practices. They are the smallest minority group in Pakistan, estimated to be in the low thousands. The community experiences pressures such as converting to Islam, attacks on cultural sites, damage to altars and monuments, land encroachment, and socio-political marginalisation. Each passing year, their sound grows thinner. To understand their music today is to listen closely for both what is sung and what risks falling silent.<\/p>\n

Gayatri Spivak\u2019s theory of subalternity throws light on their musical marginality. Songs are voices without amplification, audible in valleys but mediated, distorted, or silenced in national discourse. Spivak\u2019s concept of epistemic violence explains how theology in hymns is erased when it is classified as \u201cfolklore\u201d or a \u201ctourist attraction.” Representation by outsiders becomes silencing.<\/p>\n

They live in three remote valleys: Bumboret, Rumbur, and Birir, in Chitral, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Pakistan. Their language, Kalashamun, and religious traditions set them apart from the neighbouring populations. It comprises about ten major tribes, each with approximately 90 families. Worshippers sing in the morning and evening to welcome and bid farewell to the Lord.<\/p>\n

The tribal priest leads a ritual chant \u201cAchambi\u201d on the seventh day when a child is born. This welcomes the child into the community and invokes blessings. Mourners gather to sing lamentation hymns that express both grief and reverence. One of the famous hymns sung during funerals is \u201cKanaa Bhum,\u201d which tells the story of how a human called “Kanaa” caused the first human death. At weddings, people sing joyful songs. Some share tales of love, while others celebrate tribal traditions. Songs of victory commemorate triumphs over natural disasters or historic conflicts.<\/p>\n

The musical tradition is diverse. It encompasses various forms of songs that serve distinct religious, historical, and social purposes. According to \u201cKalasha Texts \u2014 With Introductory Grammar,” genres such as “Luli” are ancient hymns. They hold dreams for the future and convey a sense of hope. \u201cDaginay\u201d are hymns that talk about the start of life and the beginning of slavery. \u201cIshtyikhek\u201d are hymns with two parts. First, they praise the Lord. Second, they include praises for one another.<\/p>\n

\u201cNasiat\u201d or the advice hymns are didactic pieces where elders share wisdom and life lessons. \u201cIspra\u2019Pasa Gho\u2019n\u2019\u201d is a hymn from the Dream of the Dead. These mystical hymns are thought to come from the spirits of the deceased. They visit the living in dreams. The dreamer memorises the composition and shares it with the community. \u201cSachi\u201d are fairies and their songs are sung in funerals as well as in festivals.<\/p>\n

\u201cAjona Bayak\u201d are the love songs. \u201cBiramor Gho\u2019n\u201d are the Dowry Songs. They present gifts to daughters who have recently married. They sing songs that praise her and wish her good luck for her journey ahead. \u201cIshpadhek Gho\u2019n\u201d is a lullaby song. Every kid has her or his own lullaby. Elders often create a lullaby for the newborn. In this way, every child has a unique lullaby.<\/p>\n

A core principle of the religion is the dualistic concept of purity, “Onjes’t’a,” and impurity, “Praga’t’a.” Maintaining a strict separation between these spheres is paramount, as their mixing is believed to cause “pollution,” leading to misfortune. This dualism permeates ritual practices, social interactions, and even the designation of physical spaces. They oppose religious imperialism and do not focus on inclusion or expansion.<\/p>\n

The liturgical function of hymns is strict. For example, \u201cOnjes’t’a Gho\u2019n\u201d is the \u201cPure Hymns,\u201d which can only be sung by men at major festivals. They are believed to be so sacred that non-Kalasha must not even hear them. This theology of sound offers a profound perspective on music. It sees songs as a holy gift.<\/p>\n

Their Lord has many names, each reflecting a different trait. Some of these names include Bidra\u2019a\u2019 Khal\u2019en, Nagairo, Yas\u2019I, Mira Kumay, Jua shay, Gos\u2019iday, Khodai, Dizaw, Paida Garaw, and Mul\u2019awa ta deva. For instance, Mul\u2019awa ta deva means to instruct, order, or speak to his creation. Ghon Dewa means the Great Lord, while Onjes’t’a Dewa means the Holy Lord. The names of the Lord are also the titles of Pure Hymns, says Imran.<\/p>\n

Each genre illustrates how sound intertwines with theology, oral history, and ritual. Together, they form a cultural system where sound is both an archive and an oracle. Yet, a systematic genre\u2013meter\u2013mode mapping is still scarce in music journals.<\/p>\n

During my research, I found a long list of Kalasha celebrations and chose a few to include. Festivals function as a way to bring about cosmic renewal. According to Socio-Cultural Life of the Kalasha People of Chitral: A Study of their Festivals, \u201cZhoshi\u201d is the three-day Spring or Sowing Festival, which begins in mid-Mayto celebrate the arrival of spring, fertility, and prosperity.<\/p>\n

The first celebration of the \u201cBis\u2019a\u201d festival begins with women and children singing songs, and collecting special yellow flowers called \u201cBis\u2019a\u201d from the mountains. All the doors of buildings, houses, barns, fields, and temples are decorated with these flowers called \u201cBis\u2019a bi\u2019ek\u201d.<\/p>\n

All doors of buildings, houses, barns, fields, and temples are decorated with these flowers. A celebration starts, called \u201cc\u2019irik pipi,” meaning \u201cdrink the milk.\u201d People walk in a long line carrying metal pots and follow the drumbeat to the barn for fresh goat’s milk.<\/p>\n

During this event, women sing \u201cpara para may bayaa zhoshi gos\u2019t\u2019 para c\u2019irik pipi o shishamond hawaw.\u201d This means, \u201cI went to my brother’s barn on the festival of Zhoshi and saw it\u2019s the time of c\u2019irik pipi.\u201d On milk offering day, people make stops, sing energetically, and dance with delight.<\/p>\n

“C’hir histik” is the milk sprinkling day. Fathers, mothers, and babies receive a sprinkle of goat milk for purification. At the ritual of \u201cs’is\u2019au\u201d, women\u2019s purification takes place. After the rituals, people rush to dance and sing to different drumbeats.
\nThe \u201cChel’ik Sambiek\u201d ceremony dresses a child aged 4 to 7 in traditional clothing for the first time. This marks their belonging to the community. The ritual ends with children singing and dancing.<\/p>\n

\u201cGhona Zhoshi\u201d means \u201cthe big Zhoshi”; it is the last day of the spring festival. Singing hymns and dancing start at dawn and finish in the evening. All get intoxicated with dancing to loud drums. There’s an extended celebration called \u201cMrac’waki Zhosh.\u201d It means the mulberry harvesting festival celebrated in the last three days of May.<\/p>\n

\u201cUcaw\u201d, a festival of harvesting in August. It is a thanksgiving to honour nature. It begins with \u201cRat\u2019nat\u2019\u201d, a short religious ceremony. Men go to altars to perform rituals, sing hymns, and dance. These activities help protect crops and livestock. During the festival, they hum slow and fast autumn hymns. Drums, flutes, and cheerful clapping go with the performers.
\n\u201cPhoo\u2019n\u201d is a two-day autumn harvesting festival in mid-October, marking the grape and walnut harvest. It takes place in Birir Valley, signifying the end of harvesting. It involves singing religious hymns, dancing to upbeat rhythms, and rituals to thank the Lord.<\/p>\n

\u201cCawmos\u201d is the greatest, solemn, and last festival of the year, known as the Winter or Remembrance Festival. A month-long series in December, called \u201cghona chawmos yat,\u201d meaning \u201cthe great memorial chawmos festival.” Lievre & Loude in Kalash Solstice say the festival is for remembrance and purification of self and the land, with deep religious meaning. It signals the advent of the new year.<\/p>\n

The celebration starts after finishing fieldwork and storing cheese, fruits, vegetables, and grains. Augusto Cacopardo in Pagan Christmas notes it begins with the \u201cSarazari\u201d ceremony. Boys and girls burn cedar branches uphill for purification. Groups compete over the highest smoke with hymns. Late at night, they burn worn-out baskets with hymns, clapping, and wild dancing. This marks the most solemn festival. In every home, women sing \u201ckul\u2019ani Jes’t’ak.”<\/p>\n

\u201cCuinari\u201d is where men, women, and children sing and dance in serpent-like lines. They spiral and sing outdoors, \u201cO may bayako!\u201d which means \u201cOh my beloved brother!\u201d “Sharabirayak” is where each family makes goat-like statuettes called kut’amru from dough. At night, boys and girls head to high pastures, burn cedar branches, and sing Cawmos hymns.
\n\u201cMandahik\u201d is the ritual of \u201cfeeding\u201d the spirits of the dead. All houses make food and take it to the temple. Outside, a square wooden structure is built to burn, shedding light for the dead to \u2018eat\u2019 offerings. When the fire goes out, it means the dead have eaten and left; the basket is taken inside following which they sing hymns and dance inside and outside until midnight.<\/p>\n

\u201cSawel\u2019ik Hari\u201d is a celebration of fun dancing in disguise. This daytime event is full of songs. Men and women dance in semi-circles and individually in the open air. The flute plays, and fun peaks when men dress in goatskins with horns and dance wildly.<\/p>\n

\u201cGrohonyak” means \u201cconical baskets\u201d. Women craft baskets from willow branches. They sing a slow hymn, \u201cBalimahin ta ucundaw, O guum bi oni!\u201d meaning \u2018Balimahin indeed has come, Oh Lord, wheat seeds bring!\u2019 Making baskets is a contest for the strongest and most beautiful.<\/p>\n

\u201cC’anj\u2019arat\u201d means \u201cThe night of lit torches.” Men make huge torches, 3 to 10 metres high, from pine wood. The procession of men and boys holding lit torches, singing hymns, starts late at night around a huge fire. At dawn, all hold waists, chant, and dance.<\/p>\n

\u201cDa\u2019utatu\u201d is the beans festival. Children gather beans from houses, cook and eat them and sing \u201ckul\u2019ani Jes\u2019t\u2019ak\u201d house to house. This is dormant now. “Ka’ga’yak” is the last; Ka’ga’ means crow. Villagers gather in a home and sing ka\u2019ga\u2019yak songs, asking the white crow to take prayers and bring needs.<\/p>\n

The festival includes unique hymns for “pure” and “impure” men. Through these events, music acts as a calendar, a ritual drama, and a cosmic dialogue. Another festival, Yas\u2019i, takes place in March. People travel to their holy homeland, Tsiym, and return. It is dormant.<\/p>\n

Some hymns are often sung during the Zhoshi Spring Festival and Uchaw Harvesting Festival. \u201cMay Dewa iu koshanias thara koshani kariu,\u201d meaning \u201cMy Lord will come and multiply our happiness many times.\u201d \u201cGhona Dewa, the Great Lord will descend from his holy heights and protect the women.\u201d \u201cShia Dewa iu, kezias chak hiu,\u201d translated to \u201cThe Lord will come and be a shade (shelter) for the posterity.\u201d During the Winter Festival, mostly hymns associated with the holy names of the Lord are sung.<\/p>\n

Their music features a unique but limited range of instruments. In \u201cThe Kalasha of the Hindukush, Himalayas,\u201d W\u00e3c is a small, hourglass-shaped drum made from pine or apricot wood for rhythmic interplay. D\u00e3u is a larger drum, partnered with w\u00e3c for layered rhythms. A duff is a frame drum for indoor music, like weddings. The tribe used duff in rituals, especially funerals, in the past.<\/p>\n

The flute, made from walnut wood, is high-pitched for dance accompaniment and melodies at festivals. Flute and duff are companions, always played side by side. Chang is a rare percussion mouthpiece kept by older tribes. Rubab and the local sitar are string instruments shaped by local traditions. Clapping, stamping, and body percussion are used during circle dances.<\/p>\n

The songs are simple and melodic. Carol Rose, in \u201cSongs of Kalasha,\u201d notes that most singers perform lyrics in two notes, A-flat and G, with minor harmonies. There is a limited melodic span and minor-like centres. There is a gap for researching transcription-based analyses on pitch organisation and modality, intervallic structure, scalar sets, micro-timing, and cadence patterns.<\/p>\n

The Audio-Visual Archive research showcases intricate rhythms. Ca\u2019 is a fast 3\/4 beat. D\u2019hushak is a steady 4\/4. D\u2019razhailak is a slow 2\/2. Ghach\u2019Raw is the slowest, sacred for secret \u201cGhach Hymns.” Comparative BPM, entrainment, and cross-valley variants deserve deeper study. Captivating repetition inspires group involvement and spiritual focus.
\nApplying Steven Feld\u2019s acoustemology, melodies are ecological knowledge. High flute tones, drumbeats, and song timings match the valley\u2019s seasons. Spring songs call for grazing, winter for protection. Sound maps weather and herd movements. Older singers predict climate shifts from ritual changes. Music is practical epistemology, embodied environmental intelligence, not just ritual.<\/p>\n

As Wynne Maggi notes in Our Women Are Free, women\u2019s musicality represents continuity and defiance. Musical life is notable for strong female participation. Women\u2019s songs, dances, and costumes are central to festivals and rites. Some songs, for example, the courtship songs, lullabies, and weaving chants, are gendered both in text and performance. Festival liminality challenges gender norms. Men and women swap clothes and roles, clear in Cawmos “praphand\u2019awaka.” Music reinforces this inversion.<\/p>\n

Contemporary pressures from conservative communities and migration affect genders differently. Young women moving or marrying outside the valleys may stop traditional songs, speeding the loss of oral traditions. Ethnographers show that women\u2019s voices are key to preserving specific song types. Female-focused efforts are vital for keeping songs alive.
\nWhile Onjes’t’a Gho\u2019n\u2019 excludes women, they have a sacred space, \u201cBashali\u201d, a menstrual and childbirth house. Women sing ancient polyphonic songs passed from elders to youth in private. Bashali is more than a biological refuge; it is a female academy of memory and song. Women preserve unique repertoires invisible to men. Gendered division shows a mix of secrecy and revelation in spirituality.<\/p>\n

Despite pressures, music remains a survival strategy. Festivals reaffirm group cohesion against the homogenising pressures of the Pakistani nation-state. Each hymn is a counter-narrative to conformity: to sing is to remain distinct. Survival is not guaranteed. Dormant festivals like Yas\u2019i show erosion in real time. Diminished rituals express identity, reflecting Antonio Gramsci\u2019s \u201cpessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will.”<\/p>\n

Efforts are underway to preserve heritage, but documentation is uneven. The Pakistan National Commission for UNESCO sees a pressing need to protect heritage, especially since Suri Jagek was recognised as intangible cultural heritage in 2018. Lok Virsa in Islamabad has recordings and digital archives expanding like the Audio-Visual Archive. With NGOs, ethnomusicologists, and museum efforts, they risk speaking for the community instead of boosting their own voices.<\/p>\n

Some gaps exist. Few transcribe songs; no music schools. Young people move to cities and stop singing. Technological preservation saves sounds, but not living ritual performance. Without community-led transmission, archives risk becoming tombs of sound.<\/p>\n

To support music, interventions are needed. Community music schools teach hymns in a liturgical context. Apprenticeships with elder priests and women singers are necessary. Legal protections for sacred spaces and intellectual property are needed. Culturally sensitive education integrating language and songs is required. Responsible tourism that funds rather than exploits festivals is essential. Ultimately, the community must lead preservation, or it risks reproducing Spivak\u2019s cycle of representation that silences.<\/p>\n

Kalasha music is not vanishing because it is weak. It is vanishing because it is subaltern, marginalised by political structures, threatened by economic precarity, and silenced by dominant religious discourses. Its fading foretells cultural disappearance. In Spivak\u2019s sense, its voice is mediated and unheard.<\/p>\n

Yet to listen deeply, to accept hymns as theology, to hear them not as folklore but as liturgy, is to resist epistemic violence. The survival of music is more than cultural nostalgia. It is a defence of pluralism, of humanity\u2019s diverse ways of knowing the divine.<\/p>\n

When the fires dim at the end of Cawmos and the final hymn drifts into the ravines, it is more than music. It is a covenant: a promise to ancestors, to the Lord, and to each other. Protecting that covenant requires land rights, cultural rights, and above all, a willingness to listen. These are the last songs of the Kalasha. They are fragile, prophetic, and subaltern. And they deserve not only to be heard but to continue being sung.<\/p>\n

Brian Bassanio Paul is a music enthusiast whose expertise lies at the intersection of music business, artist development, music appreciation, and cultural studies. He can be reached at brian.bassanio@gmail.com and on LinkedIn @brianbassanio
\nAll facts and information are the sole responsibility of the author<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In the valleys of the Hindu Kush Mountains in northern Pakistan, the Kalasha tribe resides. Music is an indispensable pillar of their identity, serving as the primary repository of their unwritten history, religious beliefs, and social norms. Hymns are not decoration around their prayer; they are prayer. Their melodies are not secular art but a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-20956","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-english-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ipp-news.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20956","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ipp-news.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ipp-news.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ipp-news.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ipp-news.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=20956"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/ipp-news.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20956\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ipp-news.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=20956"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ipp-news.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=20956"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ipp-news.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=20956"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}