'People Called Ladakh' explores the region's diverse cultures, communities

PEOPLE CALLED LADAKH: Through the Lens of Culture and Everyday Lives

Author: Curated by Nisha Nair and Shashi Velath

Publisher: Westland

Price: Rs 599

Ladakh, with its people, rich customs and local stories and compelling landscape, is undoubtedly one of the most fascinating places to visit. But there is so much more beyond the region’s Instagram-worthy images of pristine blue waters, rugged mountains and divine monasteries. People Called Ladakh, the latest in the “People Called…” series of books, highlights the many varied and some little-known aspects of this fascinating region. The 32 pieces in the anthology cover a wide range of subjects, including Ladakh’s flora and fauna, soil and ecology, textiles, trade and travel, arts and crafts,  and food. Its 16 contributors belong to varied backgrounds, and include researchers, cultural practitioners, anthropology students and even a Buddhist nun. In a sense, the profiles of people running various local establishments, including independent shops and cafes, give the reader a deep insight into Ladakh’s diverse communities and unique cultural practices told in the everyday voices and experiences of its locals. The essays are accompanied by stunning coloured photographs that bring alive the magic of Ladakh.

The book highlights many things that are quintessentially associated with the region. For instance, “gurgur cha” (or butter tea), made using yak butter, salt, soda, milk and tea leaves, is a symbol of “Ladakhiness”. By keeping the body warm and hydrated, it shows up repeatedly in many of the essays. Then there is “tSepo” or “tSelbu”, a conical multipurpose cart or backpack basket that the locals carry on their backs to transport everything from gravel to grass, and even babies. Further, there is the identifying Ladakhi “goncha”, a full sleeved, ankle-length robe worn by both men and women. Woven from handspun wool, it is considered by villagers as the most practical reliable winter wear. Similarly, there are the traditional shoes, “Pabus,” which are pointed at the toes and made with jute and yak or buffalo skin.

Blanketed in snow for six months, Ladakh is one of the coldest places on earth. It’s no surprise, then, that rivers freezing in the harsh winter months is another theme that comes up in a few essays. It is ironic, however, that though ecologically a highly-sensitive zone, Ladakh’s economy relies largely on tourism. “The population that visits Ladakh in these few months, from June to September, surpasses the population of Ladakh,” Kunzes Angmo, founder of Lehvallee, tells Manasi Chokshi, in one of the essays. Ruma Pratihar writes about another big attraction that has been drawing visitors in big numbers to Ladakh in recent years. “For most runners, the Ladakh Marathon is a pilgrimage. Weeks, and often even months, before the actual run, it sees runners from across the world trickling into the city,” she writes. The highest and one of the toughest marathons in the world, it has become a coveted milestone achievement of sorts, and has certainly put Ladakh onto the world map. The book also spotlights Kargil, a city that most people still associate with the 1999 Indo-Pakistan war. Few probably know that during the time when there was trading on the Silk Route, Kargil, with its strategic location, had developed into one of the key feeder routes for the trade. For Muzammil Hussain, a Ladakhi and co-founder of Roots Ladakh, Kargil, however, was always home. “The subject of identity has long plagued the Kargilis, stemming from a misrepresentation of the region. Its people were treated as outsiders and often viewed with suspicion when it came to their loyalty to the country (up until the war in 1999),” writes Nidhi Dhingra.

Many of the essays in the book also draw attention to the sustainability that is woven into the very fabric of life that the region is most famously known for. “True to their heritage, Ladakhis have long viewed waste not as a burden, but as a resource that can be repurposed to serve in challenging weather conditions,” explains Shobhan Sachan. He goes on to describe their concept of dry toilets, which are both water-saving and useful in winter months.

The overarching sentiment through most of the essays in the collection is the fact that traditional arts and customs are gradually disappearing in the region. Sonam Wangchuk, founder of the Himalayan Cultural Heritage Foundation, ponders on how modernisation is eroding many people’s faith, particularly among the youth. “The decline in pilgrimage is a blatant indication that today’s generation does not see the mountains and valleys as sacred,” he points out. With the advent of technology and the younger generation leaving to find other livelihoods in bigger cities, ancient knowledge and skills are being lost, and need to be urgently revived and preserved. “The food, the language and the culture are being diluted day by day, and the younger generations are being dragged further and further away from their roots,” adds Own Ali Kaizen. “The way forward is backward — in a more conscious shift to engaging with the traditional practices in a manner prudent and pertinent to suit the changing times,” Dhingra concludes.

The reviewer is a freelance writer based in New Delhi. She writes on books, art, culture, travel, music and theatre