Venturing into the remote Hongu river valley of Nepal, we found ourselves in a realm suspended between the earth and sky—the mist-laden domain of the Kulung people. Here, in steep mountain jungles rich with biodiversity, the Kulung have practiced a harrowing and spiritually charged ritual for generations: the harvest of wild and toxic honey.

In a story that borders on the mythical, our film, "The Last Honey Hunter," takes viewers into the life of the leader of this annual harvest on what would become his final journey. As filmmakers, we were keenly aware of the responsibility we bore—to capture not just the technicalities of the dangerous harvest but also the spiritual and emotional dimensions of a fading tradition.

The Kulung are deeply interconnected with the land and its spirit guardians. It's a world where the boundaries between the physical and metaphysical are porous, where ancient rituals and dreams guide the harvesters up precarious cliffs, risking their lives to collect the golden elixir. We immersed ourselves in this mystical ambiance, capturing the smoke of ritual fires, the whispered prayers to forest spirits, and the palpable tension as ropes were fastened and ladders descended from dizzying heights.

But what began as a documentation of an ancient practice transformed into something far more urgent—a poignant reflection on cultural loss and change. The harvest leader, a man who had dedicated his life to this sacred duty, was acutely aware that he might be among the last to perform this ritual. The younger generation, drawn to modern comforts and the allure of an easier life, showed little interest in carrying forward this dangerous yet deeply spiritual tradition.

Our film thus became a decade-long passion project, an endeavor to encapsulate a rapidly changing world. Through intimate interviews, breathtaking visuals, and poetic storytelling, we sought to illuminate the human costs of cultural extinction.

As we left the misty valleys and returned to our world—a world so vastly different yet inextricably linked through the complexities of globalization—we were left pondering the paradox of progress. What do we gain when we sever the roots that bind us to the ancient wisdom of the land? What is lost when the last honey hunter puts away his ropes and ladders, never to be taken up again?

"The Last Honey Hunter" is more than just a film. It's a requiem for a fading way of life and a tribute to the resilient human spirit. Most of all, it's a cautionary tale, urging us to cherish and preserve the rich tapestry of human culture in all its forms, lest we forget the true essence of what it means to be part of this intricate web of life.