This paper examines the application of drawing as a research methodology in ethnochoreology within the Kalasha community, located in Pakistan’s Hindu Kush mountains. It focuses on the community’s dance traditions, which hold a central place in their cultural and religious identity. Through extensive ethnographic fieldwork and the innovative use of drawing, this study demonstrates how drawing can be utilized not just as a means of documenting dance, but as a methodological approach that enables deeper engagement with and understanding of the Kalasha people. The research reflects on the complex interplay of ethnicity and religion within the Kalasha, an Indigenous group coexisting among the Muslim majority in the region. Conducted in the valleys of Rumbur, Bumburet, and Birir, the study examines the evolving dynamics of the Kalasha community’s traditional dance practices. By focusing on the dances performed during key cultural events such as Uchaw, Rat Nat, and death rituals, the study uncovers important aspects of how dance serves as a lens through which the Kalasha navigate their cultural identity and external influences.

Kalasha dance, encompassing a variety of forms, is defined by distinct movement patterns and drumbeats. Major dances performed during festivals, including Ca’, D’hushak, and Drazhayl’ak, are imbued with deep cultural significance. At first glance, these dances seemed impulsive or chaotic, but closer observation revealed clear structures tied to both ritual and social function.

As a Muslim researcher, gaining entry into the Kalasha community presented certain challenges. However, drawing emerged as a powerful tool not just for documentation, but for facilitating interaction and building trust. The act of drawing allowed for detailed and respectful observation of dance movements, such as gestures and spatial relationships, while simultaneously fostering dialogue with community members. This method proved especially useful in capturing subtle details that might be overlooked through photography or video, offering a more immersive and engaged form of ethnographic research.

Figure 1. Map of Chitral District, Pakistan. Created as a collaboration between ChatGPT, Adobe Firefly, and hand drawing by the author.

The Kalasha community is an ethnic and religious minority in Pakistan. “Kalasha” refers both to the people of this community and their language. Throughout history, the region where the Kalasha reside has been known by many names, including Kafiristan, Nuristan, and Peristan. In the late 19th century, with the establishment of the Durand Line between Afghanistan and the British Indian Empire, the Indigenous Kalasha faced the pressure of religious conversion. The Kalasha were part of a pre-Islamic era polytheistic religion, which previously spanned from the Panjshir Valley in Afghanistan across Northern Pakistan to the borders of Kashmir (Cacopardo  2016). Over time, their related tribes and communities were gradually conquered by Muslims Leaders in the surrounding regions and converted to various sects of Islam. During the reign of Afghan Amir Abdur Rahman Khan, the “Great Kafirs” previously known as Kafiristan (now Nuristan), the Kalasha’s western counterparts, were also formally converted to Islam. This period of forced conversion caused the Kalasha, the final remnant of an ancient pagan tradition, to relocate from southern Chitral to the valleys now known as the Kalash Valley, the lower Chitral district in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province of Pakistan.

The Kalash community remains the only group in the region that has to date resisted conversion to Islam, continuing to practice their ancient pagan rituals amidst a Muslim majority. In the late 19th century, the Kalasha people originally inhabited five distinct valleys in the Kalash region. However, due to attempts at conversion by local Muslims and militants, as well as several Taliban attacks in the mid-20th century, only three of these valleys remain today.[1]

The Kalasha live with the Muslim population in the same valleys but maintain distinct villages made up solely of Kalasha houses. Though Muslim houses may be nearby, Kalasha villages remain separate and exclusively Kalasha. Kalasha houses are typically clusters of simple wooden structures with open verandas and minimal furnishings, whereas Muslim houses are usually architecturally sound and sturdy with concrete tall walls for privacy. Despite living in distinct villages, there is frequent day-to-day social interaction between the two communities.

Kalasha women are easily distinguishable from Muslim women by their long, decorated robes and ornate headdresses. In contrast, Kalasha men, like their Muslim counterparts, often wear Shalwar (loose-fitting trousers) Kameez (knee length tunic or shirt), though their traditional cap with a colorful feather and embellished sash—markers of their cultural identity—are reserved for celebrations. Highlighting these identity markers is essential to understanding the close interaction between these two ethnic and religious groups.

The Muslim population in the Kalash Valley consists of two groups (Maggi 2001): those recently converted from Kalasha (within the last three generations) and those who have been Muslims for many generations. Notably, converted Kalasha Muslims tend to have more frequent interactions with the Kalasha community, as they are familiar with its customs and are welcomed into gatherings, unlike the older Muslim families. Although these converted Kalasha individuals possess knowledge of and embody the cultural and social norms of the Kalasha religion, they do not identify with the Kalasha religion or community. This distinction stems from the Islamic belief in monotheism, which restricts participation in non-Islamic religious practices. Consequently, converted Kalasha Muslims refrain from engaging in Kalasha religious or cultural events to avoid raising doubts or facing scrutiny from fellow Muslims, who may question the sincerity of their conversion. During my interaction with converted Kalasha it was evident that for many, even minor participation in Kalasha practices can be seen as a conflict with their Muslim identity, leading to potential questions about their religious commitment or loyalty.

The Kalasha religion features a rich pantheon of deities, with dances performed during various Khawsãgaw (religious events) such as Uchaw (Ucaw) and Poo (Pũ’) Harvesting season, Joshi (Zhoshi) spring season, and Chowmos (Cawmos) winter season.[2] These ceremonies not only mark seasonal transitions but also provide a shared spiritual experience, deepening the community's connection with their deities and ancestors.

The Kalasha language, and the way its speakers express certain beliefs, reflects the ongoing exchanges with neighboring Muslim communities and highlights how beliefs are communicated across religious boundaries. In an interview, a Kalasha community member described a religious figure named Bal’ima’in, traditionally considered a visiting deity during the Chowmos (Cawmos) winter celebration (Cacopardo 2011, 74). Interestingly, the informant referred to Bal’ima’in as a “Farishta,” the Urdu term for angel. Although “Farishta” originates from Sanskrit and Avestan, it is frequently used in Urdu as a translation of the Arabic word “Malak,” also meaning angel. This choice of terminology reflects the cultural and religious interplay between the Kalasha and their Muslim neighbors, revealing how certain beliefs are adapted or reinterpreted in response to surrounding influences.

During another interview with a group of young Kalasha men, I was told that the hierarchy of Kalasha divines starts with Dewalok Dezau as the supreme entity and Bal’ima’in as Dewalok’s messenger to humanity. A Kalasha mentioned that in Kalasha language, Dewalok refers to Allah, with one stating that Dewalok is alongside Allah. This interpretation suggests an adaptation to make Kalasha beliefs acceptable to the surrounding Muslim population (Maggi 2001). However, in Kalasha religious texts and songs, one interviewee also mentioned that Dewalok and Bal’ima’in are consistently depicted as gods, not as “messengers of Allah.” Despite these linguistic adjustments reflecting their interaction with neighboring religions, the core beliefs of the Kalasha remain unchanged.

The same informant also stated that a Kalasha can adopt any religion, such as Christianity, Hinduism, or Buddhism, and still remain Kalasha. However, if they convert to Islam, they can no longer be considered Kalasha. This may be because Islam, like Christianity, is a monotheistic religion but is also very strict and specific about its beliefs, including the acknowledgment of key angels as one of its five pillars.[3] Any deviation from these core Islamic beliefs would create a conflict with the practice of Islam.

Figure 2a. Kalasha men discuss Uchaw Dances.

In today’s technologically advanced world, capturing moments is effortless with a camera always at hand. However, the rise in local tourism has led to an increase in non-consensual photography of the Kalasha, with tourists snapping pictures without permission. While this approach may capture candid and un-posed moments, it infringes on individuals’ privacy and their right to consent. Entering a community that is both a religious and ethnic minority as a Muslim researcher from the country’s majority group presented challenges in gaining acceptance. During this period, drawing proved to be a valuable tool. While most sketches were made to observe and record events, they also facilitated engagement and conversation with the Kalasha people, bridging gaps and fostering interactions.

Figure 2b. Kalasha female Qazi.

Incorporating drawing initially stemmed from a desire to utilize free time as an artist to capture and paint the surroundings. However, this activity often attracted groups of Kalasha children eager to see what was being painted. This natural curiosity sparked conversations and fostered friendships and a sense of familiarity with the community over time. Additionally, during interviews, there were instances when groups of Kalasha would converse in Kalasha-mun (see Figures 2a and 2b), providing valuable moments to be observed and to sketch their interactions.

Figure 2c. Kalasha woman weaving.

Drawing thus served not only as a creative outlet but also as a tool for deeper engagement and observation. It complemented traditional ethnographic methods by facilitating interactions and offering visual documentation of cultural practices that enriched the understanding about the Kalasha community. Importantly, this approach allowed for capturing moments without intruding on personal space or revealing identities, thereby respecting the subjects’ privacy and comfort while enriching the overall understanding of the Kalasha community (see Figures 2c and 2d).

Figure 2d. Converted Muslim woman stitching.

Figure 3a. Arm placement for holding.

Drawings were a powerful tool for exploring and documenting dance in the Kalasha community. Quick sketches made during events like Rat nat’[4] and Uchaw captured the dancers’ movements, offering valuable insights into arm placements, proximity, and spatial relationships among the dancers (see Figures 3a, 3b, 3c, and 3d).

Figure 3b. Group of three (minimum number)

Unlike photographs, which capture a broad overview and often require editing, such as cropping or zooming in, to emphasize specific details, drawings allowed for a focused attention on specific elements that stood out. For example, when focusing on hand gestures, drawing provided the opportunity to closely observe the position, movement, and shape of the hands, leading to a deeper understanding of those details. In applying this methodology, drawings focused on intriguing aspects, such as the interactions between the Kalasha community and their everyday tasks. 

Figure 3c. Group of women for D’hushak.

This approach aligned with the consent of the Kalasha community, emphasizing body movements and emotional expression over facial features or personal identities.

Figure 3d. Free hand for Drazhayl’ak.

Figure 4. Kalasha Death Dance.

In contexts of profound cultural and religious significance, such as Kalasha death rituals, drawing discreetly from a corner was more appropriate than taking photographs. This method ensured respectful observation without disrupting the sacred nature of the event and allowed for the documentation of the spatial dynamics between the dancers, the deceased, and their families (see Figure 4). A series of such drawings can provide a visual narrative of the communal and ritual dynamics, offering deeper engagement with the event. Drawing in a constantly moving environment like dance requires focus and sensitivity, capturing both the physical and spiritual essence of the scene, and providing a meticulous understanding of Kalasha cultural practices.

Figure 5a. Festive dance hand start position.

At first glance, all these dance and music patterns appeared impulsive and chaotic to me, lacking clear structure. However, through careful observation and engagement with the Kalasha community, the distinctions between these dances become evident, particularly through their specific rhythms and drumbeats.

Figure 5b. Festive dance hand ending position.

The local community distinguishes between dance types primarily based on the musical beat patterns rather than strictly on movement structure, demonstrating how music and dance are inseparable in their cultural practice. Solo dancing is seen in Ca’ andD’hushak but is absent in Drazhayl’ak[5] due to its slower tempo. 

Figure 5c. Death dance hand stating position.

Movement patterns in Kalasha dance are realized in two different modes associated with two emotions: happiness and sadness. The differences between festive dances and death dances in Kalasha culture are profound, revealing distinct movement patterns and symbolic gestures. In festive dances, performers never dance in pairs; instead, they dance either alone or in groups of three or more (see Figure 3b), whereas dancing in pairs is reserved for death ceremonies. Additionally, the hand gestures differ between the two contexts: in festive solo dances (Ca’ and D’hushak), the raised arm and fingers clapping against the palm symbolize a “calling” gesture (see Figures 5a and 5b), while in death dances, the same motion is reversed, with fingers moving away from the palm, symbolizing “gone” (see Figure 5c and 5d). Another key distinction lies in the direction of movement: dancers in festive rituals move in an anti-clockwise circle, while in death dances, they first move anti-clockwise and then reverse into a clockwise circle during the final ritual before the burial.

Figure 5d. Death dance hand ending position.

To capture these delicate differences, drawing proved invaluable. The process of sketching allowed me to focus on and analyze specific details, such as the subtle variations in wrist movement. Through drawing, I could explore the differences between both gestures without physically performing them, as mimicking the death dance gestures outside of a death ceremony is considered disrespectful. This method provided a detailed and respectful way to observe the intricacies of Kalasha dance, preserving both its cultural significance and the privacy of the community.

Figure 6. Kalasha women watch live drawing.

The use of drawing as a research tool provided a unique opportunity to uncover subtle aspects of the Kalasha community’s cultural and religious practices. The drawing process allowed for extended engagement and conversation with community members, offering a deeper understanding of each detail being observed. Unlike photography, which may limit communication with the community during the process of taking photos and require zooming in on specific details, drawing facilitated a more natural and ongoing dialogue. Kalasha informants were often present during the sketching process (see Figure 6), willingly sitting and answering any questions that arose. This interaction fostered a collaborative atmosphere, making it easier to discuss and understand the intricacies of the dances and rituals being documented. The act of drawing, therefore, not only captured the physical forms and spatial arrangements but also enriched the research by incorporating the community’s perspectives, ensuring a more comprehensive and detailed interpretation of their cultural and religious practices.

Kalasha dance traditions are deeply intertwined with their religious and cultural practices, serving as a vital expression of their polytheistic beliefs and rituals that celebrate nature, fertility, and deities like Dezau, Bal’ima’inand Jes’tak. 

However, Kalasha dances are not limited to these Khawsãgaw alone. The community also celebrates ceremonies and customary occasions, including weddings, childbirths, deaths, and Rat nat’. An occasional yet notable event is the Function, a local name given to any dance and music event arranged when any special guest such as government officials, elite local tourists or international tourists visit the valley. The Kalasha are a tight-knit community, demonstrating unity and participation in every family event. Dance plays a central role in all these occasions, reinforcing communal bonds and cultural identity. During field research in the valley, I observed various events such as two childbirths, two deaths, seven Rat nat’, one Function, and the Uchaw Khawsãgaw. To understand how Kalasha and Islamic religious practices coexist and influence dance traditions within the Kalasha community, it is essential to make a comparative analysis of two distinct Kalasha events: childbirth celebrations and Functions.

In Kalasha childbirth ceremonies, dance is an intrinsic and spontaneous element of the celebration. These dances occur in a relaxed and inclusive environment where community members, regardless of gender, can freely join or leave the circle as they wish. The informal nature of these events, featuring random seating arrangements and any available lighting, highlights the community’s focus on collective participation and personal choice, allowing the celebration to unfold naturally with minimal external interference. This approach emphasizes the organic and communal essence of Kalasha dance, reflecting the community’s deep-rooted traditions and values.

Conversely, a Function organized for a Muslim political delegation, as a presentation of their cultural heritage or a performance, exhibits a markedly different structure. These events are characterized by a formal and organized format, with dedicated seating and bright lighting. Only Kalasha women and children participate in these performances, which are tailored specifically for external observers. This structured approach contrasts sharply with the spontaneous and self-directed nature of community dances. In these settings, Kalasha dancers perform within a constrained framework, signifying a deliberate presentation of their cultural heritage.

The integration of Islamic practices into Kalasha traditions is evident in how the community manages religious observances during their celebrations. For example, a childbirth ceremony held near a mosque was carefully timed to conclude before the fajr prayer, demonstrating the Kalasha’s respect for Islamic practices while maintaining their cultural traditions. This adjustment, though not obligatory, reflects the community’s sensitivity to the surrounding religious environment.

A notable instance of the Kalasha community’s adaptability is seen during a Rat nat’ in Krakal village. During this event, interactions between Kalasha performers and Muslim tourists required careful management. A prominent Kalasha figure, who was also a teacher at Kalashadur, employed an innovative strategy during the D’hushak to address the issue of tourists encroaching on the Nat’eyn[6] (dancing area). By incorporating the dance itself as a means to control the space, the teacher effectively preserved the integrity of the Nat’ikeyn. Although this approach controlled the crowd and demonstrated the community’s ability to assert control over their cultural space amidst external pressures, it also highlights the struggle faced by Kalasha dancers in performing their ritual dances. In fact, there are times when, due to the overwhelming presence of local tourists around the Nat’ikeyn, the Kalasha are forced to cancel the Rat nat’.

Together, these instances illustrate how the Kalasha community skillfully navigates the intersection of their cultural practices with Islamic influences. The evolution of their dance events reflects a dynamic interplay between preserving traditional heritage and adapting to new social contexts.

This research illuminates the complex interactions between the Kalasha and Muslim communities and their influence on Kalasha dance traditions. A key contribution of the study is the introduction of drawing as a research method, which proved to be a respectful and collaborative approach for documenting dance practices and rituals. Unlike photography, which can sometimes create barriers, drawing fostered ongoing dialogue with the community and enabled a detailed examination of dance movements and their cultural meanings, while preserving the dignity and privacy of the Kalasha people.

The study reveals how the Kalasha adapt their dance events under the influence of Islamic practices and local tourism, contrasting the ritual-based, community-centered dances with the more formal performances arranged for external observers. This resilience reflects the Kalasha’s ability to maintain their cultural identity amid external pressures.

Though the research encountered challenges, such as limited access to rituals due to the researcher’s outsider status and the time demands of the drawing method, it offers valuable insights into Kalasha dance traditions. It underscores the importance of creative and respectful methodologies in ethnographic research, particularly in engaging with Indigenous communities. Future research may apply similar innovative methodologies to other cultural contexts, ensuring sensitivity to local traditions. This study not only deepens our understanding of Kalasha dance but also highlights the broader significance of adaptive and ethical research practices in exploring the intersection of dance, culture, and religion.

Cacopardo, Augusto S. 2011. “Are the Kalasha Really of Greek Origin? The Legend of Alexander the Great and the Pre-Islamic World of the Hindu Kush.” Acta Orientalia 72: 47–92.

Cacopardo, Augusto S. 2016. A World In-between: The Pre-Islamic Cultures of the Hindu Kush.

Maggi, Wynne. 2001. Our Women Are Free. University of Michigan Press.

Mela-Anthanasopoulou, Elizabeth and Taleem Khan. 2017. Kalasha of Hindu Kush Valley, Himalayas. Athens : Eleutheroudakēs.