Growing up in the lap of the Himalayas, Karakoram and Hindukush during the 90s through the late 2000s, we didn’t have many recreational activities or grand-scale festivities that could attract outsiders or catch the attention of people from outside the region. Partly, it was because of the inaccessibility of this then-isolated or less-developed region, and partly due to the limitations of the era—a time untouched by the technological and digital revolution we witness today. Nevertheless, amid this Cimmerian festive conservativeness, one event remained a constant: the Shandur Polo Festival.
Popularised by Lieutenant Colonel H.E. Cobb, a British political agent, this festival has since become a cultural landmark, drawing people not only from Gilgit-Baltistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, or Pakistan at large, but from around the globe in great numbers. Among the rarest high-altitude spectacles globally, this festival was first introduced at Shandur in 1936 by Lieutenant Colonel H.E. Cobb, whose foresight turned a local pastime into one of the grandest sporting galas ever witnessed at such a high altitude of 3,700 metres, rightly called the ‘roof of the world’. What truly crowns Shandur as the ultimate sporting sanctuary is its unrivalled natural scenery and otherworldly features.
The Polo Ground is a natural marvel, a field born of divine geometry. Measuring 210 by 55 metres, it is surrounded by naturally raised stair-like plateaus on all three sides. Running alongside the field, robust stone walls, about 60 cm high, serve as natural boundaries, giving the sport its own rawest rhythm. What stadium elsewhere can claim terraced seats shaped by the earth itself? Here, nature is the architect and host. Devoid of any artificiality and urban sophistication, in order to retain the essence of its natural character, the seating is made suitable for sitting using local turf, wild grass, or, in some areas, flat sun-kissed stones. Since polo here is so electrifying that spectators are on their feet all the while, they surge in waves, shout with maximum fervour, and dance with the rhythm of drumbeat and hooves. However, the main stage features a distinguished area with chairs for dignitaries and VIPs. From here you get a stunning bird’s-eye view of the entire field, with podium and guest rooms making up the backdrop.
Historically, polo on Shandur was first played under moonlight, at a venue called ‘Masjenali’—a name derived from Khowar, meaning “moonlight.” That inaugural match in 1936 pitted the fiercest traditional rivals, Ghizer and Sor Laspur, in a battle whose fire still burns bright. This storied rivalry has become the definitive opening act leading to the hotly anticipated finale: the ultimate face-off between the “A” teams of Gilgit-Baltistan and Chitral on the final (third) day. This climactic duel is no less emotionally charged than a Pakistan-India cricket match. Discussions, debates, and bragging linger throughout the year and often until the next year’s kickoff. Since the late 1980s, nearly 27 matches have been played at this venue, with a few skipped due to unforeseen circumstances. In the early years, GB dominated the fixture list. But in recent times, Chitral has had the upper hand. The scoreline currently stands at 14–13 for GB and Chitral respectively. Unlike the usual dates in July (7–9), this year the Festival is being held from June 20 to 22 due to Muharram.
The spectacle is like a phantasmagoric painting of the uniquest kind—with people waving, flapping mufflers, caps, or whatever’s in hand, shouting, whistling, and erupting into euphoric clamour
Back in the early days, before codified rules or British refinement, the matches were raw and brutal: the first team to score nine goals claimed victory, and the game endured until that feat was achieved. No breaks. No mercy. No reprieve. And scoring a goal was not merely about striking the ball through the goalpost; rather, it was supposed to be picked up by the scoring team member by dismounting from his horse before it was brought into play by the opponent team, leading to a great deal of scrimmaging. It was, without doubt, the grittiest version of polo ever played. Today, the format has evolved: two halves of 25 minutes each, with a halftime break of 20 to 30 minutes. But the rawest passion, the purest adrenaline, and the wildest fanfare remain unfiltered. It is still the quintessential ‘free-style polo’ where there is one rule—that there are no rules. During halftime, music erupts in the field’s centre, and cultural performers take the stage in a vibrant fusion of colour, rhythm, and tradition. Paragliders descend like dancing eagles from the towering peaks. Lake boating, trout fishing, and food-tasting stalls add to the most multi-sensory carnival imaginable. By night, the entire plateau echoes with the sweetest musical notes, alive with live instruments and fireworks that paint the sky in kaleidoscopic celebration. Meanwhile, the richest aromas of local delicacies drift across the crowd, adding culinary bliss to visual and auditory ecstasy.
The spectacle is like a phantasmagoric painting of the uniquest kind—with people waving, flapping mufflers, caps, or whatever’s in hand, shouting, whistling, and erupting into euphoric clamour. It becomes a tumultuous din, in particular when a goal is scored, with spectators raising the temperature with their unbound enthusiasm. Adding to this frenzy is the peculiar drumbeat, known as “Ghalwar”: an adrenaline-pumping rhythm that rouses not just the crowd and riders, but even the horses, with their hooves growing lighter, faster, more furious. The crescendo of excitement is reached when, after scoring a goal, a player (often matching the goal tally in jersey number) clutches the ball in hand, gallops at full speed along the sideline, and just before crossing the centre line, tosses the ball into the air and smashes it mid-flight with his mallet. The true masters of this move are credited for striking long, hard, and straight into the goalpost. Few have achieved this consistently; Arastu of Gilgit is one such name etched in memory.
As for the stay—it is nature’s bed. From the mountain’s foot to the lakeside, you can pitch a tent anywhere. All that’s needed is a sleeping bag and a sense of wonder. Food is in abundance, but the climate is a challenge: mornings are chilliest, nights are sharpest. So it is advisable to pack your cosiest jackets, your warmest blankets, and, of course, your stoutest spirit. Also carry your own vehicular tools, because punctures or breakdowns mean a long descent to find assistance. Thankfully, cellular silence has been broken in recent years by S-COM and Telenor, making communication finally possible atop the most exalted plateau. It is worth emphasising that dust is Shandur’s persistent companion. Though lush with grass before the festival, the field transforms into a dry powder with just a few footsteps. Sunscreen, face masks, and dust protection are musts if you wish to walk out unscathed. Access to this highest polo ground on Earth is possible from both Gilgit-Baltistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Once you arrive, no matter the route, you are welcomed by a breathtaking sight: a sea of tents, and words written on the overhanging plateaus that read, “Welcome to Shandur.” It’s a moment that makes one realise that it is beyond ‘worth it’; a surreal panorama.
For me, someone who has witnessed it from the earliest days, amid the noise, the rivalry, and the grandeur, one thing echoes louder than the cheers—and that is unity. For all the territorial disputes and highland claims, Shandur belongs to both sides, Chitralis and Ghizerians, and to none. It is a shared inheritance, a mutual marvel, a joint crown worn by brothers on either side of the pass. From carrying each other’s deceased in the snowbound months and herding stray yaks across the pass to sharing meals and marriages, we are not just neighbours. We are kin. Thanks to modern infrastructure, we are more connected than ever. The gap has shrunk. The road winds on almost year-round. We speak the same language, share the same culture, and love the same sport—and Shandur, for us, is the celebration of love, unity, and tradition.