The film is dedicated to the Kyrgyz folk instrument komuz. An expert on making and playing komuz shares an komuz origin story. The film shows the interconnectedness between the models and melodies of komuz. Outstanding komuz makers and players as well as komuz beginners present some classical komuz melodies in the film.

The sape is a traditional instrument of the Kenyah people in Sarawak, Malaysia. This boat-shaped instrument is made of the special wood adau and typically has two to four strings. \nSape music carries greater significance than simple per\u0002formance—it has long been used to calm people and treat illnesses. Previously, women were not allowed to play the sape, but it gradually became acceptable for them to per\u0002form. As the materials and playing techniques have changed over time as well, more people are now able to enjoy sape performances. The sape has helped to keep the tradition and beliefs of Malaysia alive through to the modern era.

The film is dedicated to the Kyrgyz folk instrument komuz. An expert on making and playing komuz shares an komuz origin story. The film shows the interconnectedness between the models and melodies of komuz. Outstanding komuz makers and players as well as komuz beginners present some classical komuz melodies in the film. \nThis film is dedicated to kalpak—a traditional male felt hat. Knowledgeable people (a teacher, a journalist, an activist, and craftswomen) talk about the social functions and spiritual meanings behind kalpak. The film shows traditional and modern methods of making kalpak.

The ICH festivals in the Kyrgyz Republic are a great way to safeguard the cultural heritage. Kyrgyzstan has a rich ICH and embraces all ICH domains including the oral traditions andexpressions, performing arts, social practices, rituals and festive event, knowledge and practices concerning nature and the universe, and traditional craftsmanship. Festivals feature various ICH domains such as arts and crafts, cuisine, folklore, felt, hunting with birds, horse games, etc. For instance, the festivals Kyrgyz Shyrdagy and the Oimo International Festival are held with the aim of safeguarding and popularizing traditional knowledge and skills of handicrafts, for safeguarding and promoting traditional games, various birds of prey festivals are held, such as Salbuurun and Kok Boru. Moreover, festivals are dedicated to safeguarding oral traditions, such as Aitysh, the art of improvisation as well as many other festivals reflecting traditional cuisine, folklore, etc.

The dombra, a two-stringed plucked instrument, has played an integral part of Kazakh culture since ancient times. By performing kuy (a short solo composition) on the dombra, the nomad expressed his feelings. The only harmonic material for dombra that fully meets the traditions and rules is the tree. The tradition of hollowing out the instrument from a single piece of wood relates to mythological ideas about the sacredness and inviolability of the tree. The entire process of manufacturing dombra in ancient times took four years, and each instrument was custom made based on the player’s physique, voice, repertoire, gender, and was endowed with a special spiritual content.

Sape is a traditional instrument of the Kenyah people in Sarawak, Malaysia. It is a boat-shaped instrument made of special wood and traditionally consists of 2 to 4 strings. Traditionally, sape performance was considered more than just a performance as part of a ritual, and only men were allowed to play. However, in modern times, women can also play Sape, and the number of strings has increased to six, allowing various modern music performances.

The Babadok is a traditional percussion instrument of Timor-Leste, central to the soundscape of communal dance, ritual, and celebration. With its deep, resonant rhythm, the babadok doesn’t just keep time—it sets the emotional pulse of an event, weaving together the steps of dancers, the cadence of songs, and the energy of the gathered community.\n\nTypically made from a hollowed-out log or wooden tube covered at both ends with animal skin—often goat or cowhide—the babadok is lightweight and portable. Struck with the hands or sometimes with short wooden sticks, it produces a sharp, dry beat that is both grounding and expressive. The drumheads are stretched tightly and tied securely with natural fiber ropes, sometimes decorated with paint or carved patterns. Over time, each instrument develops its own distinct tone, shaped by use, climate, and craftsmanship.\n\nIn traditional ceremonies, particularly dances like tebe-tebe or tebe-lilin, the babadok is the heartbeat of the performance. It provides tempo, signals changes in movement, and helps dancers synchronize their steps. More than a musical tool, the babadok becomes a channel through which emotions—joy, sorrow, gratitude—are communicated and shared. During ritual gatherings, it may accompany singing, recitation of oral histories, or moments of spiritual invocation.\n\nThe instrument is most often played by women, though in some regions both men and women participate. Its accessibility is part of its charm—anyone with rhythm, respect, and a sense of the tradition can learn to play. Children often grow up hearing the babadok played at family ceremonies or village festivals, absorbing its patterns and rhythms before they ever try it themselves.\n\nCrafting a babadok is itself an act of cultural care. The choice of wood, the drying and stretching of the skins, and the tying of the drum all follow methods passed down through generations. Elders often guide young artisans in this process, emphasizing not just the technique but the responsibility that comes with creating something used in sacred and social spaces.\n\nDespite its enduring importance, the babadok—like many traditional instruments—faces challenges in modern times. Mass-produced drums and changing musical preferences mean that fewer young people are learning to make or play it. Still, efforts are being made to preserve the tradition, with community performances, school programs, and cultural events placing the instrument back at the center of public life.\n\nIn the rhythm of the babadok, one can hear more than music: it is the sound of continuity, of people moving together, of ancestors remembered and futures imagined. Whether echoing across a dusty dance circle or softly beating in a sacred house, the babadok remains a powerful symbol of Timor-Leste’s living heritage.

Am wat is a solo instrument of the indigenous people called Bunoong in Mondulkiri province that has been around for a long time. This instrument is made up of a long necked gourd, 6 bamboo poles, about 1.5 cm in size and about 30 to 50 cm long. This instrument belongs to the group of high wind instruments. For the production of this instrument, players can make their own, because the instrument is convenient and available locally. This traditional musical instrument can be played by musicians without any specific occasion which means it can be played for entertainment purposes too, but they have to choose a specific song for a specific occasion. In the past, people used to play Am Wat in the morning to wake their children up, but now there are very few people who can use this instrument.

Gamelan is the generic term for traditional instrument ensembles found throughout Indonesia. The history and complexity of gamelan are comparable to those of the symphony orchestras of Europe. Gamelan ensembles consist of various instruments, mainly percussion. Gamelan music runs the full gamut from fast, powerful dynamics to slow, meditative, and quiet set pieces. \n\nThe drummer leads the gamelan orchestra as there is no conductor nor musical score. Gamelan is played widely on a variety of important occasions, such as weddings, celebrations, national events, and holidays.

The Kaiui—also known as fui or be’u in different regions—is a traditional bamboo flute of Timor-Leste, cherished for its gentle, evocative sound that once echoed across rice fields, hilltops, and quiet village evenings. Long associated with solitude, emotional expression, and storytelling, the Kaiui is more than just a musical instrument—it is a vessel of memory and connection.\n\nTraditionally crafted from au-fafulu, a specific type of bamboo, the Kaiui features seven tone holes and is often about the length of a forearm. A key part of its design is the use of a corn cob or similar material to block part of the internal chamber, modifying the flow of air and shaping the distinctive tone. The player blows across the top opening while controlling the pitch with their fingers, producing melodies that are haunting, meditative, and subtly expressive.\n\nFor generations, the Kaiui was used by boys tending livestock in the fields, especially in the early mornings or during midday rest. It was played to pass the time, soothe animals, or simply to ease loneliness. Others used it to express feelings of longing—especially in matters of love, separation, or remembrance. In many communities, the flute is considered a deeply personal instrument, capable of giving voice to emotions that are otherwise difficult to speak.\n\nThe art of playing Kaiui is learned informally, typically by observing and mimicking older siblings, parents, or elders. There is no standard notation; the music lives through imitation, memory, and improvisation. Songs vary from region to region and even from player to player, with some tunes tied to seasonal rhythms or traditional events like sau-batar (harvest ceremonies) or rites of passage.\n\nThe Kaiui also plays a role in certain rituals and ceremonies, where its sound is believed to create a space of calm, welcome ancestral spirits, or accompany reflective moments. Its simple construction and natural materials reflect a worldview grounded in harmony with the environment—a flute made entirely from what the land provides, played under the open sky.\n\nToday, however, the practice of making and playing the Kaiui is increasingly rare. As younger generations turn to electronic music and imported instruments, the quiet music of the bamboo flute is fading from everyday life. In some communities, it survives primarily as a cultural demonstration during festivals or heritage programs.\n\nEfforts to preserve the Kaiui are now underway through workshops, school projects, and intergenerational exchanges. In these spaces, the flute is not only played but celebrated—as a living symbol of Timor-Leste’s musical heritage and a gentle reminder of how sound, memory, and identity are woven together in the simplest of forms.

Simple in design but rich in cultural significance, the Lakadou is a traditional musical instrument made entirely from bamboo, found in various rural communities of Timor-Leste. Often carved from a single stalk, it stands as a testament to the ingenuity of ancestral craftsmanship—an instrument that produces sound not with strings or metal, but with tensioned strips of its own body.\n\nThe process of making a Lakadou begins with selecting the right kind of bamboo—neither too young nor too old—so that it is flexible yet strong. Using only a knife or a small carving tool, the outer layer of the bamboo is partially sliced into thin, horizontal strips along the stalk, which remain attached at both ends. These strips act as the instrument’s “strings.” Small wooden pegs or bridges are then inserted beneath them to lift the strips slightly, allowing them to vibrate when plucked.\n\nWhen played, the Lakadou emits a warm, buzzing resonance that can be heard clearly in quiet, open-air settings. The tones are soft yet sharp, melodic yet earthy—reflecting both the material and the environment from which it is made. Each Lakadou has its own pitch and personality, depending on the size of the bamboo and the placement of the tuning pegs.\n\nTraditionally, the Lakadou was played during rituals, agricultural festivals, and informal gatherings. It could accompany dance, storytelling, or simply be enjoyed as a solo instrument under the shade of a tree. It was sometimes played to express emotions—joy, longing, or sorrow—or to pass the time during communal labor in the fields.\n\nWhat makes the Lakadou especially significant is its status as a self-contained instrument. It does not require any additional materials beyond the bamboo itself—no strings, no nails, no external fasteners—just natural design and human skill. This reflects a traditional ethos of sustainability and resourcefulness, values still highly regarded in rural Timorese life.\n\nWhile the instrument is still known in some communities today, its presence is fading. Younger generations are more familiar with modern instruments, and the skill of crafting Lakadou is no longer widely practiced or passed down. In some places, only a handful of elders remember how to make and play it, and the sound of the Lakadou has become rare in daily village life.\n\nEfforts to preserve the Lakadou are growing, however. Cultural festivals, school workshops, and local storytelling events have begun reintroducing the instrument as a piece of Timor-Leste’s musical heritage. Some artisans are even experimenting with new forms, adapting traditional techniques to contemporary performances.\n\nAs a musical tool, the Lakadou is humble. But as an expression of cultural identity, it speaks volumes. In its structure, sound, and spirit, it tells the story of a people who shaped their art from the land around them—and who, with care, may yet continue to do so for generations to come.

Khon masked dance is the most iconic of Thai masked dances. It is characterized by impressive visuals that span various genres of art, from the elaborate embroidery on the costumes to highly detailed props such as masks and swords made by master craftsmen. Traditionally, Khon masked dance was performed only in the royal court and enjoyed by male members of the royalty. It is performed by over 100 masked dancers, a narrator who explains the plot of the play, a large piphat (traditional Thai musical ensemble comprising string instruments and percussions), and a chorus.\n\nThe content and theme of the Khon dance is based on the Ramikien, a Thai adaptation of the Ramayana (2nd century BC), one of the two major Indian epics. According to the Khmer dictionary, the word ‘khon’ means role play. Dancers act out the narration silently. Major characters include the prince (the hero), princess, giant and monkey. Only the giant and the monkey wear masks. As the dancer’s every movement has to fit the role perfectly, Khon dancers have to be trained from a very young age.\n\nCharacteristics:\n· Representative masked dance of Thailand\n· Performed by male dancers in the palace\n\nPerformed by Insawang Suphachai\nDirected by Insawang Suphachai