Mountains

Narkasang: Kinnaur’s Sacred Blooms
Illustration: Nawang Tankhe

Narkasang: Kinnaur’s Sacred Blooms

Himkatha
Illustration: Nawang Tankhe

Kinnaur, a district in Himachal Pradesh, is a paradise characterized by its lofty mountains and lush valleys where flowers of all kind bloom. It’s unique climate, with moderate summers and cold winters, creates an ideal habitat for a plethora of floral wonders. Spring is marked by captivating blooms that grace its landscapes, flowers that are a part of local culture and ecosystem.

Narkasang (Narcissus tazetta or daffodils), a sacred flower, holds a special place in my heart. During my early years, I vividly remember the first time I saw the Narkasang flower in our Chokesten, our place of worship. I found it to be very beautiful and I asked my grandmother from where she got them. She showed me the wild flowers growing on our farm, saying that they grew on their own. She used to collect these flowers from the wild and keep them in the Chokesten. In Kinnaur, where people follow a mix of Buddhism and Shu culture, Narkasang flowers are offered to the local deity during festive celebrations.

Narkasang has always caught my attention because of its aesthetic appeal, with its simple colour combination of white and yellow. During festivals we often found them in the hands of the Kinnaura people. They also wore them on their traditional Kinnauri caps during festive celebrations, which clearly showed the significance of Narkasang for the community.

For years, Narkasang flowers have been an integral part of Kinnaura culture. Its medicinal properties, where the roots are crushed and used as an antiseptic lotion, have always fascinated me. Applying the extracted paste on boils or pimples on the body helps in their recovery. The discovery of this medicinal use might be lost in history, but this knowledge has been actively passed down through generations.

Kinnauri Topi (hat) with Narkasang Flowers | Illustration: Nawang Tankhe

Narkasang not only holds its value as a flower or medicine but is also mentioned in local songs:

Ladakhi

Seela Chu Nathpa nagas santango
Kinnauri-Nagasu santangcho thang kochang khyama.
Thang kochang khyalima oo bagicho kumo’
oo bagicho kulimo nish dalang Fula.
Nish dalang Fulula narkasang Fula

English

Behind the temple,
there is a garden full of flowers
In that garden full of flowers,
there are two branches of flowers
And the two branches of flowers are that of Narkasang flowers

With time, will our traditional knowledge fade away, presenting a challenge to keep such knowledge alive? Narkasang flowers are hardly seen growing on their own in the wild nowadays.

Documentation and conservation of such knowledge is crucial in Kinnaur. We are working with schools to run programs that provide basic information to students about the importance of nature conservation.

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The beautiful Siyah mentok
Flower of Rosa Webbiana | Photo: Deepshikha Sharma

The beautiful Siyah mentok

Himkatha

What is home, what is belongingness? For me, it is the uninhibiting mountains, the barren landscape, the deep gorges, and the high peaks of my homeland Spiti Valley in Himachal Pradesh. Also, it is the vast grazing ground, the piercing cold thin air, the green summer meadows, the ripe barley field, the meandering water canal and the delicate pink bloom of Siyah mentok.

Rosa Webbiana | Photo: Deepshikha Sharma

While growing up, I used to visit my grandmother and stay with her for months. She lived in a small hamlet in Spiti called Gowang which was home to just 5 households and had less than forty residents. My grandmother spent most of her day working in the barley field. Later in the evenings, before darkness of the night seeped in, we would both go out into the pastures to gather wild firewood. During one such visit to the pastures, right at the foothills of giant snow-capped mountains, I first witnessed the beauty of vibrant wildflowers and wild shrubs in an otherwise dry cold desert.

Spiti is a high-elevated region with an extremely arid landscape; characterized by equally sparse vegetation mainly comprising annual perennial herbs, shrubs, and very few varieties of trees (willow, poplars). Despite harsh ecological conditions, the landscape nurtures an incredible diversity of plant species – each unique and resilient in their own way. Pastures and hills are full of wildflowers and have rich repositories of aromatic, medicinal, and edible plants. There is the sour-tasting tirhuk (sea buckthorn) and lichu, the deep ruddy khamet (Ratan jot, Lal jari), the hardy thama (caragana), the healing chukku-gongma (rheum), the delicious kotsey, gyaman (wild herbs, seasonings) and the auspicious shukpa (juniper).

My grandmother would patiently show me how to pluck wild thorns, wild shrubs for firewood without pricking myself. I learnt how to gather tserma (dry caragana) and bursey (white dry woodchips) by observing her. At home, she would skilfully light a fire in our traditional heater (chak-thap) using dry twigs and cow dung and tenderly kindle the firewood to get a good hold before placing more wood logs on top of it. Having lived in a remote mountain village and spent so much time with my grandmother, I learnt to appreciate the wild plants around my home.

Siyah mentok truly deepens my connection to my homeland. Siyah (Rosa Webbiana/Webb’s Rose) is a beautiful variety of wild roses that grows in many Himalayan regions in extremely dry and harsh conditions. It is pink in colour with a mild sweet scent and tender petals that fall in your hands when you touch it. What I like about Siyah is that it is an extremely resilient plant that grows in the harshest conditions and can thrive without water for a long time. Siyah typically starts blooming in late spring or early summer, flowering for a short period of time. But during its brief blooming period, it illuminates the entire surrounding with its striking colour and radiant beauty. It is commonly found at lower elevations of Spiti and all the way up to above 4000m. It can be seen growing on the riverside, rocky slopes, mountainside, in the garden, and in the fields.

My grandmother’s illustration made by a close friend Apurva Pandhi

The blooming of Siyah is seen as the arrival of summer in Spiti. It is the epitome of beauty and serenity. It is particularly dear to me as under the bushy, dense canopy of this wild rose plant, my grandmother used to rest and take naps during hot summer days of the peak agricultural season. It is the same flower that she alludes to while describing the beauty of Tibetan queens in ancient folk stories and it is the sweetness of Siyah mentok and Serchen mentok (Himalayan golden flower) that she refers to while telling me about sweet melodies sung by nomads herding in the high mountains. It is difficult not to think about my childhood and my grandmother when I think about Siyah.

In many Himalayan communities, Siyah is highly valued for its ornamental qualities and it also features in old traditional songs, stories, proverbs, wise sayings, and other forms of oral cultural expressions. It is often associated with themes of love, romance, and beauty and is also referred to as a symbol of sacred devotion. I remember my grandmother telling me that during her early years in Spiti, if a man likens a women’s beauty to Siyah mentok or Serchen mentok through songs, it is considered a subtle declaration of love and the girl is to immediately discuss the matter with her family! The usage of Siyah in daily household has become quite popular especially, Siyah-cha (Siyah-tea) in higher, more remote villages like Hull, Hansa, Kibber, Demul and Lalung.  It is used ubiquitously by Spitian Amchis (traditional doctors) for its antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, and antiseptic properties. Medicinal plants are used by traditional doctors and healers for ages, particularly for curing skin ailments like boils, blisters, itching, and skin eruptions. For me, Siyah mentok is a symbol of beauty and resilience, reminding me that even in the harshest conditions, beauty and life can flourish.

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Wild Edible Plants of Ladakh
Illustration: Peeyush Sheksaria

Wild Edible Plants of Ladakh

Himkatha

Geographically, Ladakh is in the rain shadow region of the mighty Himalayas. A high-altitude area with an extreme climatic cycle, the trans-Himalayan region of Ladakh is a unique cold desert. It is home to diverse lifeforms.

Over millennia, the region has also been home to a relatively isolated and self-reliant human society with its own distinctive culture and agro-pastoral way of living. Local people have rich knowledge of plants, especially of wild edible varieties, that have been consumed since time immemorial. These plants display unique adaptations to survive in the high elevations of Ladakh and its extreme climate. They have played a crucial role in shaping people’s lives and the traditional strategies adopted by them in overcoming challenges to living in Ladakh.

It is not surprising then that Ladakh is home to various traditional made using wild plants. In the past, communities prepared dishes on auspicious occasions. Various different wild plants are used in these traditional preparations. Some of the most commonly consumed wild edible plants include zatsot (Urtica hyperborea), kabra (Capparis spinosa), shalmasgok (Nepeta floccosa), Hans/Khi-khol-ma (Taraxacum officinalis), shangsho (Lepidium latifolium), snue (Chenopodium album), Azhangkabra (Christolea crassifolia), tsotse (Allium carolinianum), lachu (Rheum spiciforme), shrolo-marpo (Rhodiola tibetica), shrolo-serpo (Rhodiola imbricate), kumbuk/kosnyot (Carum carvi), zera-nakpo (Buniumper sicum), phololing (Mentha longifolia), toma (Potentilla anserine), sari (Cicermicro phyllum), demok (Arnibiaeu chroma), tsepad (Ephedra gerardiana), tsestalulu (Hippophae rhamnoides), siyahmarpo (Rosa webbiana), chuli (Prunus armeniaca) and starga (Juglans regia).

The consumption of wild edible plants has immense health and economic benefits. Firstly, unlike their cultivated cousins, wild plants are natural and self-nurtured without any harmful chemical fertiliser, pesticides and weedicides. Secondly, wild plants adapted to high-altitude cold desert conditions are known to have developed diverse secondary metabolites to protect themselves from extreme conditions, insects and microorganisms. These secondary metabolites are of immense medicinal value and provide health benefits.

There is considerable variation in the way these plants are used for cooking. Skotse, rasgokpa and luksgokpa (Allium carolinianum, A. prezewalskinam) and kosnyot are prominent aromatic species used as a spice condiment in different dishes. Tender shoots of Allium species are collected, ground into a paste, dried and used as a flavouring agent in local dishes like tangthur, tsonkitig, bagthuk and in local pickles. Similarly, seeds of kosnyot and zera-nakpo are used as a condiment in a traditional recipe called ten-ten. Leaves of shangsho form an important constituent of tsonkitig, a local preparation made using mixed vegetable and sattu (roasted barley flour). The young leaves and tender shoots of kabra are consumed after frying them, called kabra-tsotma in Sham region in western Ladakh. The leaves of phololing are used to prepare chutneys and occasionally mixed with curd as a flavouring component, while the leaves of shalmasgok are mixed with curd or lassi to prepare tangthur.

Freshly harvested Gyaman - flowers of Alluim sp | Photo: Chemi Lhamo

The tender shoots of shrolo-marpo and shrolo-serpo can be rinsed in running water and mixed with curd to prepare shrolo-tangthur. The green leaves of zatsot (stinging nettle) are collected and used to prepare zatsot-thukpa, while the young leaves of khi-khol-ma are used in thukpa. In the past, the edible berries of tsestalulu were collected, dried and powdered. It was then mixed with sattu and consumed. Similarly, seeds of sari were dried and ground into flour. The ripe berries of tsepad, roots of toma and green shoots of lachu are edible and can be eaten raw.

Declining use of edible plants

Ladakh has witnessed dramatic changes over the last few decades. There was a time when Ladakhi people were heavily dependent on wild plants to fulfil their dietary requirements. People would eagerly await spring-summer seasons when the collection of wild edible plants would peak. However, this collection was always for personal consumption and never for commercial purposes. There was a common practice of children going into the mountains or the fields after school to collect wild edible plants like kabra, shalmasgok, shrolo, zatsot, khi-khol-ma, kumbuk, shangsho etc. Nowadays, very few people know the art of collecting these wild resources. It is an aspect of our traditional knowledge that is eroding fast and will soon be lost forever.

There are multiple reasons for this unfamiliarity, and aversion to ethnic plant-based foods. The growth of the tourism industry in Ladakh and the introduction of horticulture-based vegetables are two major factors. In the last decade, Ladakh has witnessed a dramatic rise in horticulture, forestry and agriculture with the introduction of numerous cultivated plants. In addition to this, the influx of tourists has facilitated the introduction of western cuisine, which has devalued the cultural and economic importance of wild edible plants. This has also eroded Ladakh’s traditional knowledge

and use of wild plants as locals now favour western recipes over local ones. It is unfortunate that our younger generation is not troubled by this rapid loss of knowledge of edible wild plants and their ethnic preparations. Instead, most of them are eager to learn more about non-local cuisines and ingredients.

The need to preserve ethnic knowledge

There is an urgent need to preserve indigenous knowledge of wild plants and their preparation. Plant folklore, wild plant resources, and the usage of plants including cultural and religious taboos constitute an important aspect of our traditional knowledge. Reviving these traditions and the conventional use of plants will provide insight into Ladakh’s unique folklore and heritage. Furthermore, consumption of indigenous wild edible plants is healthier than cultivated vegetables. In comparison to cultivated varieties, wild plants are more nutritious, naturally resistant to pests, and most significantly, least contaminated and thus purely organic. In contrast, cultivated vegetables tend to be contaminated with toxic chemicals from fertilizers and insecticides that are known to cause deadly diseases such as cancer.

If we are to preserve local knowledge of wild plant consumption, community members and elders in each household must encourage youth to consume such plants and explore this knowledge system. At the same time, local households, hotels, restaurants, and retailers must also offer traditional preparations and dishes. Our local government must encourage people to explore this facet of our heritage and organise awareness programmes to conserve this knowledge. Wild edible plant consumption and preservation of this unique heritage may provide an alternative food resource for Ladakh’s nutrient deficiency. Plant collection and the consumption of traditional plant-based organic foods can also generate entrepreneurial opportunities for youth, while also enhancing the income of local farmers. However, we also need to make serious efforts to conserve wild biological diversity by ensuring that collection is sustainable and managed responsibly.

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Muds, cobs and clay: The Joy of Building
Earthbag dome (Leh, Ladakh)

Muds, cobs and clay: The Joy of Building

Himkatha

There’s unalloyed joy in sculpting with mud; mixing soil with clay, straw; sun-drying the bricks before finishing the cob structure with cow dung clay. The essence of natural building is the hands-on experimentation, close engagement with the material and use of locally available resources – one that can be harnessed for building sustainable eco-friendly architectural designs. “It is the innate familiarity of the natural elements and the freedom to mould it into any design is what makes the process special” muses Stanzin Phuntsog, a self-taught eco-architect from Ayee village (Nubra, Ladakh).  Phuntsog was a curious child and has always been fascinated by the natural world around him; the gigantic mountains, the glaciers sustaining village life, natural ways of farming and the wealth of indigenous knowledge people in rural communities possess.

He was particularly captivated by natural ways of building, the traditional architectural designs and their intricate details. “In Ladakh, everyone has some basic understanding of building structures and I was fascinated by those structures. The knowledge also sowed a desire within me to build something on my own ” he reminisces.  He discovered his own love for architecture and natural material by observing communal mud house building activities in his hometown. With  unconventional views on ‘education’ Phuntsog is a staunch believer of experiential learning. He believes as much learning happens outside four walls of the classroom than by immersing oneself in daily realities. “One can read how plants develop their branches, roots; soil develops their fertility; mountains develop glaciers from a textbook or actually be in the natural world around you and observe and learn first-hand”.  His passion for immersive learning was further fuelled when he explored alternative learning in the Students’ Educational and Cultural Movement of Ladakh (SECMOL, Ladakh) after deliberately walking out of the conventional school system.

Cob Car Cottage (Leh, Ladakh)

He then enrolled in a 2 year’s course at Swaraj University (Udaipur, Rajasthan) where he received hands-on training in architecture, self-designing, ecological sustainability and exposure to green entrepreneurship. The innate zeal for experiential learning also probably led to pursue his interests in sustainable architectural design and later start his venture Earth Building with Samyuktha whom he met at Swaraj. The venture focuses on reviving natural ways of construction which is aesthetic, functional and thermally comfortable. “We endeavour to do that by reclaiming indigenous knowledge and valuing vernacular architectural designs.” They have explored many earthen techniques like cob (soil mixed with clay and dry grasses), earthbag dome, adobe (dried mud bricks), stone masonry, rammed earth, lime clay plasters and traditional Ladakhi roofing. “The key is to use resources locally available to you and experiment with it. There’s less carbon footprint and one can focus on energy efficiency” he continues.

“To us, natural building is a process which connects people and brings in the confidence that everyone can build their own homes”. Growing up in a close-knitted community in Spiti and having seen my relatives build their own homes drew me to Phuntsog’s initiative. It is precisely that soulful building process, the collective sense of community and the sense of belongingness one feels while building a house makes it endearing. Many houses in high Himalayan landscapes are built that way and communal labour plays an intrinsic role. Phuntsog gained practical knowledge around sustainable architecture by exploring different places and by observing local architectural designs – the kind of soil available in that particular region, the stones they are using and the kind of roofing suited for that place.

L to R: Cob Based Interior, (Maharashtra) and Adobe House - (Pollachi, Tamil Nadu)

He is also keen on passing his learning and engaging more people in reviving sustainable practice around architectural designs. With Earth Building, he has found that balance where he engages interested people and volunteers to learn about eco-friendly building techniques and explore natural elements through community building processes. Phuntsog has a craftsman-like approach to architecture and has an instinctual understanding of handling natural material. He also gives training on stone masonry and traditional architectural design implementation.

From building an Earthbag dome house and Adobe farmhouse in Coimbatore, Tamil Nadu to cob based interior designing in Talavali, Maharashtra to cob car cottage in Leh, Ladakh, his work shows sensitivity towards regional variations and practicality of weather conditions to sustain those structures. In Leh, he built a unique low-cost cottage entirely with local resources and recycled materials like wood, glass, tyres, bottles and discarded Mahindra car body. They used cob based technique by mixing clay, sand, dried grasses with cow dung clay finishing. Phuntsog’s work is grounded in nature as his ideals and his work unites architecture with indigenous knowledge and conservation.

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Pearls of wisdom from a master artisan
Grand monastic architecture of Spiti | Photo: Kesang Chunnit

Pearls of wisdom from a master artisan

Himkatha

Building with an earthen material is a craft, a philosophy where nature is at the center of the entire life cycle of a building. From its conception, sourcing, material usage, and construction till the inevitable end when the material returns to earth as compost, there’s a balance, harmonious unison with nature. The renewable nature of the natural material renders it environmentally more sensitive and less disruptive to the land and ecosystems around it. Lobzang Choephel also known as Lama Thamo ji the master artisan known throughout the Spiti valley for his expertise in rammed earth building and understanding of natural material feels that the journey of the natural building is rooted in the ethics of care. Being a skillful craftsman, he opines that care frames your relation with the land you are building on, the material used, the people/community you are building for, and their relation with nature.

Lama Thamo La in his younger days – an old photo from family album | Photo: Shared by Chhering Phuntsok

We rarely talk about intention and mindset when it comes to the trade of building but he thinks this is critical and is inevitably tied to the entire process of building. In Buddhism, there’s a huge emphasis on “kun-long sangpo”– having a righteous mind and kind motivation that dictates one’s action. Reflecting on the same, he quietly utters “When it comes to natural building, at the most primal level it means creating a human habitat that reflects brilliant functionality of natural material, inherently sustainable design, and one where care for the nature is there from which we draw so much”. In the daily experience of building, this reflects on being mindful, being responsible in places you excavate stones, dig soil, paying attention to the character of the material whether it is harmful or good for nature, and the overall approach you take in construction. With all the heavy lifting of stones, digging the ground, and building with mud, construction is physically very strenuous, and while construction, a lot of microorganisms get killed in the process. Therefore in ancient Spitian tradition, much like a farmer would recite prayers before plowing, the local artisans offer prayers before construction and express their remorse, their guilt for engaging in what is considered a sinful activity that harms other sentient being including microorganisms which are barely visible through our naked eyes. Tashi Monlam – prayers for the auspicious building process and fewer obstacles for the artisans, the laborers, and the host family are also recited. Another prayer earnestly seeks the blessings of local deities for a productive building experience and appeals to them for strength and diligence to undertake construction works. It can be aptly summarized as “May give us the strength to build this house as if built by god himself, May construction work be easy and fruitful”.

Grand monastic architecture of Spiti | Photo: Kesang Chunnit

Many indigenous building approaches and such unique cultural practices are rapidly getting substituted with more modern, industrial building techniques which are devoid of ethical essence and are proving more unsustainable. The natural environment sustains the life of all living beings and it is crucial to acknowledge the basic inter-connectedness and relation between humans and nature. In an age where haphazard development and construction activities are surging up, it is all the more important to evoke traditional wisdom and reflect on the significance of traditional materials, techniques, their implementation, and their relevance in contemporary building practice. Being a skillful natural builder for over 55 years and having spent a lifetime devoted to this trade, mindfulness is the guiding philosophy, and his learnings in Buddhist scriptures and meditation often drive his groundwork as an artisan, a builder, and a seasoned mason.

Traditional sacred religious designs Chorten | Photo: Deepshikha Sharma

There are so many ways to handcraft with natural material but one thing common across different geographies and contexts is the use of soil – the earth beneath our feet. No two sites have the exact composition of soil and as a builder, it is important to immerse oneself in these materials to gain experience, understand how to work with available soil in a given site, and be aware of the particular qualities, and limitations of soil that gives us scope for experimentation. For instance, deep yellow, orange, and red soil found in villages like Kaza is good for construction, especially for foundations whereas black and clayey soil found in higher villages like Demul, Chicham, and Komic is not good for foundations as it can cause dampness in the foundation. Hence understanding material adaptation is important otherwise it will be risky to build a structure without sufficient attention to detail.

“When I began construction, I worked closely with elder Spitian artisans to build and renovate many monastic structures – especially Dha-shak (monk’s residence), there was hardly any material available apart from the ones you get in your village sites. Even wood materials like willow, poplar, and timber were scarce so it was used judiciously for roofing structures, and most roof structures were made of smaller woods of shorter length which was mostly gathered from the village pastures”.

With accessibility, the struggle has lessened a lot but it has changed the architectural integrity of a place. The use of natural materials, responsible building methods, and the shared ethos of love and care for natural surroundings is fast disappearing and the preservation of traditional wisdom has become an urgent responsibility.

Traditional mud house | Photo: Kesang Chunnit
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Navigating the challenges of climate change in the Himalaya
Illustration: Nawang Tankhe

Navigating the challenges of climate change in the Himalaya

Himkatha

The heart of the mighty Himalaya is witnessing a profound transformation shaped by the relentless force of climate change. With Himalaya playing a crucial role in shaping the weather patterns across India, climate change is disrupting these patterns. And the Western Himalaya Region comprising of Jammu & Kashmir, Ladakh, Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand characterised by complex geography with various local warm and cold zones is affected differently from one location to another.

Climate change refers to long-term shifts in weather patterns that affect local, regional, and global climates on earth. Most of us are familiar with greenhouses that are commonly used to grow vegetables in winter, because the temperature inside these enclosures stays warmer than outside. A greenhouse keeps the enclosure warm by letting in as much light as possible and then trapping it as thermal energy. Now imagine what might happen if our planet acted similarly? In fact, it is because the earth works like a large greenhouse, that our planet can support such a wide variety of life. This phenomenon is called the greenhouse effect. However, a rapid rise in burning of fossil fuels over the last 150 years has significantly increased the level of carbon dioxide in our atmosphere leading to increased warming and a rise in unforeseen weather events.

Research findings paint a stark picture of the Himalaya’s changing climate. Over the years the region has witnessed a noticeable rise in both seasonal maximum and minimum temperatures. The difference between daytime and night-time temperatures is also getting larger, indicating a warming trend. Snowfall events have shown variability in terms of intensity and timing. Scientists note a decrease in early snowfall during December and January, accompanied by an extension into February and March. While rainfall intensity remains relatively unchanged, there is a notable shift in its timings. Monsoon rains, once confined up to mid-August, now linger beyond their traditional timeframe, accompanied by a rise in cloudburst events. This shift, intertwined with delayed snowfall, alters the distribution of rainfall and cloud cover across the region.

The impact of this climatic transformation is not an abstract concept but a harsh reality affecting various sectors. Agriculture, the lifeline of many in the region, is particularly vulnerable. In the Kullu valley of Himachal Pradesh, delayed snowfall has cast its icy shadow on apple orchards. The blossoming, bearing, and overall yield of apples have suffered due to altered chilling conditions. Orchards, once thriving in lower elevations, now seek refuge in higher altitudes, affecting not just the geographical landscape but the very quality of the produce.

In Ladakh’s western regions, horticulture crops like apricots and walnuts are facing severe challenges. Spring seasons are turning cooler, delaying the fruiting process and impacting the quality of the produce. Barley, a locally grown crop, is witnessing a substantial reduction in yield, echoing the broader struggle against a changing climate.

Villagers in Spiti tell a poignant tale of declining green pea production, a crucial revenue-generating crop. This decline, attributed to persistent water scarcity, reached its peak in 2022 when Langza village faced complete crop loss due to the unavailability of water. The transformation is not confined to the fields; it seeps into the very identity of these regions.

Agriculture in Uttarakhand, highly vulnerable to climate change, experiences shift in production dynamics, causing changes in crop yield, reduced diversity, and a surge in pest invasions. In districts like Pithoragarh, Chamoli, and Uttarkashi, climate change is altering the traditional collection period of non-timber forest products, impacting livelihoods.

An aerial view of flood-ravaged Rudraprayag, in Uttarakhand | Photo: Wikimedia Commons

The farmers, the custodians of the land, echo this change.

Earlier, we could not see stars in the sky for the whole of July and August. Continuous rains for days during the monsoon season in old times was good for the soil and the crops. But now, sudden and untimely torrential rains are spoiling the soil as well as the crops. The rains have completely disappointed us.

by a farmer from Uttarakhand

Summers are more intense and drier now because of which the crops ripen at an early stage without proper grain development.

by an elderly farmer from Uttarakhand

Earlier the snow was about a foot high and it used to stay for weeks but now if ever there is snowfall it is less than 5 inches and melts within a day.

by a farmer from Himachal Pradesh

Every year, we travelled from Zanskar to Kishtwar by crossing the glacier. Over the years, this glacier has been reducing. The new snowfall is not sufficient for settling, posing challenges to our traditional migration routes.

by a pastoralist from Ladakh

This replacement about 50-60 years ago, which turned agri-culture on its head did not come with the Green Revolution (more appropriately called Greed Revolution) then but was the consequence of what had emerged as the industrial revolution two-three hundred years ago. And it started with de-legitimising traditional society’s existence, identity and knowledge by naming it ‘backward’ and following it up by seeking to shame people’s knowledge systems and their seeds. It was crucial and strategic that this society begin to have an inferiority complex about oneself. This was the first essential stage of the conspiracy. Once this was achieved, it was followed by a systematic replacement of the principles, methods, seeds with the means that it had created. As a result, a creative, productive and self-reliant society has today become a dependent slave farmer society.

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Dhankar: From ancient towards modernity
Dhankar, the village on the cliff | Photo: Wikimedia Commons

Dhankar: From ancient towards modernity

Himkatha

Dhankar is a historical village of Spiti which used to be its capital in ancient times. Where the Namgyal dynasty of Ladakh ruled for centuries. Due to the great distance between Ladakh and Spiti, feudal lords were appointed in Spiti and given the title of Nono. The Nono managed administration of Spiti by appointing people to collect taxes and manage other village-level works. Dhankar witnessed many attacks and looting by external forces.  Even today, one can see signs of these attacks on the walls and pillars of the old palace. After independence, Spiti was first administered by the Punjab government and was subsequently merged into the new State of Himachal Pradesh when it was created.

Farming is the chief source of income in Dhankar. The importance of farming can be seen clearly in many of our festivals and rituals. Namkan is a festival celebrated in the seventh and eighth month of the year in which villagers pray for a good harvest. On that day, people ride horses and throw stones at a fake sheep made of ghee and the winner is given a prize. The crop is harvested a few days after this festival. In our village, agriculture depends on water from the lake above the village. However, the lack of snowfall in winter is affecting our water supply from the lake. The water level has fallen by nearly 50% in the past 20-25 years because of which villagers face a lot of problems with farming. While yak and churu (a yak-cow hybrid) were used to plough fields, they have mostly been replaced by various farm equipment. Power tillers are used to plough the fields, while machines are used to chop crop residue. Earlier the local crops included wheat, barley and mustard. Today’s crops include pulses, peas, cauliflower, and potato. Horticulture is also being adopted widely as it is helping increase farm incomes. In addition to this, people have multiple options to earn a livelihood. One can earn a respectable amount running homestays and hotels, driving a taxi or working as tourist guides. But despite all these changes, farming remains the primary source of income for the people of Dhankar. And the future of farming depends on our sources of water, which are fast disappearing.

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Memories, Nostalgia, and a Forgotten Practice
Kibber Village, Spiti | Photo: Nonie Rawat

Memories, Nostalgia, and a Forgotten Practice

Himkatha

Growing up in Spiti, a place so beautiful and serene was a heavenly experience with valleys and rivers that enchants anyone witnessing its beauty. It attracts visitors from all over the world, some first-timers, and some seasonal regulars, and leaves them with the same impressions. When one tries to capture its beauty – the mountain villages clustered with white-washed mud houses in the serrated landscape appear like a flock of sheep grazing on the fields.

A mud house in middle of Kaza market, Spiti | Photo: Nonie Rawat

The traditional architecture and the socio-cultural practices are the outcomes of the prevailing topography and climatic conditions giving Spiti its unique persona & originality. In the past couple of years, the wave of RCC-based structures has dominated several villages and have taken its malicious grip. It is due to the recent abrupt rise of tourism in the region and considering these changes, the place is likely to lose its essence and everything that’s worth treasuring. The massive plague of concrete structures has devastated the vernacular house designs with the built, form, size, and material totally devoid of its regional context.

The picturesque villages dotted with traditional mudhouses are slowly turning into a jungle of massive concrete structures. It’s mostly hotels, guesthouses, and other commercial buildings. One of the reasons for this shift is to accommodate the heavy-flowing tourists with modern facilities in a cold desert. Spiti being a rural area doesn’t have the preparation required to handle this heavy flux of tourism and the burden is too sudden and heavy for the locals  to administer. The unregulated flow of heavy tourists can have many adverse effects on the local ecology and architecture. It will influence changes in the land use, will cause urbanization, large-scale construction of tourist facilities, illegal constructions, changes in the vernacular design orientation, increased waste pollution, and degradation of local aesthetics which are attuned to its natural surroundings. We need to realize collectively that it’s the architectural authenticity and unique cultural practices of the place that leaves mark on people visiting the place.

Many aspects of modernization are creeping up in the valley – some truly meaningful like building bridges that connect remote villages but others monstrous like encroachment of animal habitat and village pastureland. The abandonment of dry toilets (chaksa) to adopt

modern flush toilets in a water-scarce place like Spiti.  The dry toilet not only saves water but also produces manure for the crops. Whereas the western toilet system is not the most conducive design intervention in the valley as it remains out of order for about 6 months, and the water pipes freeze during winter. In this wave of development, Spiti is losing its authenticity. The constructions are now spreading to agricultural lands as more families find it easier to earn a livelihood from tourism than farming. The old houses have thoughtful architectural designs like having low ceilings of about 100mm, which helps conserve heat. The ground floor and the first floor both have rooms for seasonal activities. The ground floor is specifically built keeping the freezing winters in mind. The floor is divided into spaces for both livestock and the family. There are additional rooms to store grains, fodders, and a Chingbuk – a celler for storing Chang and Aarak (barley based alcoholic beverages).  There’s also a tiny opening for ventilation and heat obtained from the animals, and the grain and grass storing places work as insulators that keep the house warm and cozy during winters. During summer the first floor is preferable due to proper lighting and ventilation. This floor is breezier and has more room to attend to the summer guests. These rooms will be properly ventilated and have big wide windows, with the peripheral frames painted black, absorbing and allowing maximum sun.

New constructions in Kaza | Photo: Tanvi Dutt

A typical traditional mud house in Spiti has a basic stone foundation running all along with the boundary wall. The locals use wooden planks as mould which supports the foot and a mixture of hay and mud to make the walls. The process is continued and the wall is built layer by layer at a time, leaving voids as per the requirements. The insulated roof starts with placing the main girder mugdungh, which is often supported using a wooden column kaa, this column, in the center of the room, also serves as the aesthetic feature of the room. Then the secondary girder, phurdungh, is placed on top of which, tightly knitted willow sticks, dhilu, are laid. The flat roof is finished with laying a thick layer of mud. To protect the edges of the mud structure from rain and snow some houses have bundled-up bushes stacked at the periphery of the roof along thorny bushes, dhama. The natives used to build with what was available to them and best suited the regional climate. This is what shelter means, building something suitable for you according to the climate and availability of the resource, hence the vernacular architecture of a place merges with the context, the landscape.

A dilapidated building in Kaza | Photo: Tanvi Dutt

The traditional method of construction is not practiced these days therefore the skill is endangered. The thousand years old monasteries in the villages of Spiti were made of mud block-forming walls up to a meter thick. All these monasteries are still surviving and functional, they are likely to survive another 10-20 decades, even more, if maintained professionally. The maintenance of historical monuments like our monasteries for cultural preservation, further building a repository of local knowledge, and sustaining the innate quality of the historic buildings is necessary. The neglect in restoration work in these historic monasteries is washing down the structure. The walls are likely to survive the next few decades but might lose the other characteristic it holds now. The negligence may not feel like a massive part of this problem right now because it’s at a stage where it goes unnoticed, and is invisible but eventually, over years it will start showing up. We should evolve and use the modern facilities, resources, and knowledge we now have access to.

Iconic structure of Kee Gonpa, Spiti | Illustration: Nawang Tankhe

The state of development and accessibility has made us avail many new resources. The traditional houses in Spiti evolved from shutting the tiny window using a good-sized rock to wooden windows to big windows with glass which allows maximum sunlight to enter and keep the house warm. This is one example of how to use the resources available to enhance the traditional structure. But now we are evolving in the wrong direction. Adapting materials that do not comply with the context and then we spend time and energy to fix the problem we created. In a cold desert like Spiti during winter mud houses work as insulated buildings. For the piercing cold winters, people don’t need RCC houses which do not retain heat, freeze everything inside them, and cause a lot of health problems after prolonged usage. Humans have always started with natural resources and mud is the oldest of all the natural resources used in construction. It is found in abundance, and unlike cement, it goes back to nature without polluting the landscape. From the earth to the earth. It’s high time for Spitians to bring back its forgotten practice.

885 389 Nonie Rawat
Conversation with a Shing-zowa
Photo: Tanvi Dutt

Conversation with a Shing-zowa

Himkatha

RT: Julley Angdui Phuntsok ji, When it comes to building houses and wood crafting, a lot of the people from Kibber village consult you and rely on you to undertake the work. Can you please tell us more about yourself?
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AP: Julley, Namaste, and Tashi Delek to all HimKatha readers. My name is Angdui Phuntsok, I am from Spiti’s Kibber village and I am 46 years old. I grew up helping my family herd livestock (sheep, goat, cow, yak, Dzomo) in our village pastures and plough in our barely fields. I took up carpentry work when I was 20 years old and I learned to make windows, door frames, and Kawa (wooden pillars) for traditional mud houses. I worked closely with Spitian mud-house builders and artisans who were skilled in stone masonry. I eventually self-taught and picked up the skills and started implementing them in my work as a house mistri (chief artisan). I have been building traditional houses and doing carpentry work in Spiti for about 27 years now. I spend my summers building mud houses, consulting, and helping locals undertake various renovation works, and devote my time to carpentry during winters.

RT: How do you undertake building works in Spiti and how is it different regionally?
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AP: It mostly depends on the host family, and individuals commissioning the work. Earlier traditional mud houses are preferred but these days cement houses are becoming popular and people even go for mixed structures where the walls, the foundation, roof, and the internal structures of a house are of earthen material and mud while the outer plastering of the house is done with RCC. The choice of material is also dependent on local conditions and regional variations. In the Todh valley side (upper Spiti side), the raw materials are scarce whether it is wood, good quality soil, mud, stones, or iron, hence the design and structure of a house are mostly just mud based with minimal use of resources that isn’t available locally. As you move to the Sham valley side (lower Spiti villages) access and availability of raw materials becomes easier hence earth is used extensively from walls to roofs and stone is used widely in lower portions of a building for stability. When you reach the neighboring villages in Kinnaur like Nako, Malling, and Chango, stone-dominated structures and dry stone houses will be visible.

Construction in Kibber | Photo: Rinchen Tobgye

RT: From your experience how have people’s livelihoods, and developmental changes in the region impacted local architecture in Spiti?
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AP: There is a deep connection between people’s livelihood, their way of life, development changes that happen in the region, and how it shapes the local architecture. Spiti’s architectural changes have certainly undertaken an interesting trajectory and as a local artisan, I am still grappling to find balance and navigate the changes. Earlier Spitians are primarily dependent on agriculture and livestock rearing and the local houses, the architectural designs are built to accommodate the agro-pastoral needs of the household and the community/ suit agropastoral needs. Incorporating separate structures for cattle like corrals, livestock pens, and storage rooms for grains, tools, dry toilets, Dhangtsey (open courtyard), and flat-roofs are all an integral part of the local architecture and function beautifully to fulfill the unique needs of an agricultural family. With accessibility, better connectivity, tourism, and development changes, alternate livelihood opportunities are arising for locals and that utter dependency on agriculture-based livelihood is changing.

Many people are employed in government services, and tourism-based livelihoods are increasingly becoming easier options for people. This is all dynamically changing people’s relationship with their land, their resources, and the local architecture. Vernacular house designs, traditional structures, spaces used for agropastoral-based livelihood, and local materials are losing their relevance. Many households own a lesser number of cattle nowadays and rearing large-bodied livestock like yaks have also shrunk a lot. Only in Todh valley (upper Spiti) it is practiced and hence erstwhile spaces, and structures dedicated to these needs are falling out of use. Modern, cement-based hotels, guesthouses, and giant commercial buildings completely contrast with the local architecture are cropping up. The changes were more prominent in lower Spiti villages like Kaza, Rangrik, and Tabo earlier but in the past 3-4 years, such structures are also becoming more prominent in remote villages like Hansa, Hull, Pangmo too and many of these hotels remain nonfunctional during winters. Like many fragile places, development changes in Spiti are at the cost of the environment, and resource stress, and are slowly changing the architectural integrity of the place.

Photo: Deepshikha Sharma

RT: How is it impacting local artisans and local knowledge around indigenous architecture in Spiti?

AP: The traditional building technique using natural materials found locally is an easy, affordable, locally suited, and eco-friendly way of building. People are familiar with the local resources, materials used for construction and leverage traditional knowledge, and intelligence to design houses. It doesn’t involve unnecessarily complex methods and tools to implement it. It’s very intuitive, immersive, and experiment-based and most people have a working knowledge of the same. The shift to non-traditional, industrial raw materials like cement, steel, glass, and other concrete materials has alienated locals from their own land, own resources, and indigenous knowledge about building systems as it requires specialized masons, and craftspeople to build cement structures.
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The dependency on non-local craftsmanship is increasing which in turn triggers the migration of workers, artisans, and laborers from lower Himachal districts like Mandi, Kangra, Shimla and some even come from as far as Rajasthan, Bihar, Odisha, Jharkhand and Maharashtra. More and more locals from lower Spitian villages like Kaza, Tabo, Rangrik, Losar, Khurik, Shego, Lara which are hot spots for tourism are outsourcing the construction works to migrant workers from other parts of the country who have no knowledge of the local context and are probably themselves struggling to work in such harsh climatic conditions. Earlier local artisans like Gyangon-da (rammed earth mud builder), Piti Dor-si (Stonemason), Piti Shingzo-wa (wood crafter/carpenters) play an integral role among community members, and their skills, their knowledge, their experiences about the landscape shapes the local architecture. The large-scale tourism and development-based constructions are creating a new social order which is posing multiple threats to the environment, local ecology, wildlife, and architectural heritage. Natural heritage.

Photos: Angdui Phuntsok

RT: As a local mud house builder, and an artisan, what are some of the challenges you experience daily?

AP: Ghawo minang yokak! (… there are many challenges!) Construction is essentially labor intensive and physically strenuous work. As an artisan whether you are involved in stone masonry rammed earth building, or are undertaking other works like carrying stones, mud, bricks, breaking stones, or digging earth, it takes a heavy toll physically. Knee, back, and joint pains are very common, and injuries due to construction work is a common experience. But all that pain goes away if your host, and the individuals commissioning the work are kind and generous, and there’s a sense of solidarity, and camaraderie among workers, villagers, and community members. We all work together, help each other, eat meals together, enjoy the process of building, sing songs, drink copious amounts of tea, tell stories, and within no time, work gets done!

RT: Thank you for patiently sharing your experiences with us.

AP: Thank you.

1770 778 Angdui Phuntsok and Rinchen Tobge
An Insight into Traditional Spitian Architecture
A typical village in Spiti | Photo: Chemi Lhamo

An Insight into Traditional Spitian Architecture

Himkatha

Spiti is a cold, dry desert with a vast expanse of land that has a limited scope of vegetation and productivity. Nevertheless, there’s an oasis of human settlement, small but scattered along the river valley depending upon it for sustenance. Some of these remote ancient villages have existed in this harsh terrain for at least a thousand years and the local houses, architecture, building techniques, materials, and design sensibilities reflect conscious choices that take into consideration the unique topography and natural environment around them. Most traditional houses in Spiti are double-storeyed with flat roofs, and thick walls, with multiple rooms and structures that beautifully suit our agro-pastoral way of life.

I remember my father nostalgically recounting how in the olden times when winters were long and harsh, snow piles high, and seasonal migration to warmer places wasn’t as convenient as these days, they found ingenious ways to accommodate their daily needs within the house. “Snowstorm or drought, we had our granaries filled to last at least two years and hardly had to move out of the house!”  Spitians – despite being people of slender means, were quite inventive and it is tactfully reflected in the vernacular design systems of the houses.

Ancient mud house in Mane, Spiti | Photo: Pema Khando

Material & traditional tools used for construction:

Upon entering any Spitian village, the most striking aspect is the cluster of white mud houses dotted beautifully against the blue sky and gigantic barren mountains. The design, aesthetics, and material composition of the houses are uniquely Spitian – evolved and adapted to suit the cold mountain desert. Primarily natural materials are used for construction; with stones as the foundation, mud for walls, and various kinds of wood for ceilings, door & window frames and support structures like Kawa (pillars). Some of the common materials used are listed below:

  • Thalwa/Dambak (Mud): For the construction of walls and boundaries. A particular type of soil colloquially called Dambak with the right proportion of clay is preferred over black soil and others.
  • Duwa (Stone): Big natural stones chiseled to uniform sizes are preferred for building foundations and structures on the ground floor like Lukra (sheep pen) and Chaksa (dry toilet), as mud tends to lose its structural integrity over time due to excessive dampness from the snowfall.
  • Dhuwa (Clay): Clayey soil is used for waterproofing the roof and plastering the outer walls.
  • Changma (Willow): Willow sticks of two varieties: Gyalchang, used for doors and window frames as it is hard and durable, and Chulshing, a leaner variety of willow used mostly for Dri-lu which is used for the internal structure of a roof.
  • Mal (Poplar): Poplar wood for two giant support structures called Makdung and Burdung for roofing, support beam, window, and door panels.
  • Shukpa (Juniper): For Dri-lu, door, and window panels
  • Kirsi (Lime): For whitewashing and plastering outer walls. Mostly sourced from Losar and other upper valley sides while for lower Spiti valley, it is brought from Gue and Hurling villages.
  • Kova (Leather): Leather, when braided, is called Dangbha and is used for door handles, locks, and door bolts called Korchok.
  • Pema (Wild shrub): Primarily used as a protective structure for wood panels of the window and to prevent mud walls and outer paint from rain and snow.
Traditional ceiling | Photo: Tsering Lhundup
Sitpa  (yak hair rope) | Photo: Deepshikha Sharma

Natural building techniques like rammed earth building are used for construction which is suitable due to its durability, low maintenance, and thermally optimal characteristics which protect the houses from extreme climate and help retain stable temperatures inside the building. Since most of the houses are hand-built, there are specific traditional tools used for constructing particular aspects of a house. It is startling how even for building seemingly simple structures like a wall, multiple tools are used as listed below:

  1. Gyang Shing: Gyang means a wall, and Shing means wood, thus Gyang-Shing is a wooden plank, used to encase the mud to help build the structure of the wall.
  2. grDu: It is used to support the Gyanshing from the inside, and is placed in between the planks to prevent it from collapsing.
  3. Garshing: Garshing is used to enclose either side of the Gyang-Shing to mark the beginning and the end of a wall being built.
  4. Gyingbur: It consists of two pairs of wooden sticks, with two holes in each stick, used to provide support to the Gyang-Shing from the outside.
  5. Sivu: it also consists of two pairs of sticks, used with Gyingbur to support the wooden plank.
  6. Thopse: It is a wooden hammer used to thump the mud placed in between the plank to make it structurally more solid and to rid of air spaces and bubbles in the mud.
  7. Tokchung: It is a construction hoe with a short wooden handle, used to scratch out uneven surfaces, and small stones from the walls before it gets solidifies.
Traditional tools for contruction in Spiti. Illustrative representation: Tsering Lhundup

Dynamic design & traditional practices:

Agriculture and livestock rearing used to be the primary sources of livelihood for people in Spiti and our old houses are constructed to incorporate those needs in the vernacular design. Each house comprises at-least 8-10 rooms with unique functions and features. Elaborate storehouses can be seen in older houses like “Zot” colloquially means storeroom and there are different types of Zot used for different purposes: dry meats are stored in “sham-zot”, agricultural tools are stored in “lak-zot” whereas, alcoholic beverages like chaang and aarak are kept in “chang-zot”. Apart from that, some families have an additional room called “Tiwang” where foodgrains and other edible items are stored, the room is divided into multiple subsections used to keep various items. Within Tiwang, there’s a small compartmentalized room called bhaang where the family’s essential items are stored and access to it is only from a narrow window from the upper floor. Dhaa is a granary on the ground floor where fungma (hay) for livestock is stocked for winter and it has a small window-like aperture to stack grasses.

Photo: Mr. Janhwij Sharma, Additional DG, ASI

As for the livestock enclosures, most Spitian households have at least two kinds of livestock pen; Luk-raa/Raa is a cattle house placed inside the house on the ground floor while Dhang-raa is an open corral placed outside of the house right at the main entry gate. Apart from that, the family’s winter room Yok-Khang is structurally always in close quarters with the Luk-raah as the room draws insulation from Luk-raah making it warmer and easier to tend livestock during heavy snowfall in case of livestock sickness or during birthing cases. On the upper floor, the key rooms are Ma-khang (main living room), Shal-khang (solar room). Chot-khang (prayer room), Don-Khang (guest room), and Dhang-zey an open courtyard on the upper floor that serves as a functional space for many community activities and which also has a small window-like access point for all the ground storerooms.

Two different types of livestock corral: Luk-raa/Raa and Dhangra | Photos: Deepshikha Sharma and Chonzom

The most unique aspect of natural building techniques prevalent in high-altitude regions like Spiti is the communal nature of the work. An individual seeks support from the community in terms of resources as well as labor so it is not unusual to have members of your family, relatives, friends, and other community members involved in building a house. The use of local resources, awareness about the material composition, familiarity with the natural building techniques, and use of local intelligence renders them capable to build a house locally without seeking any help from outsiders. Apart from master artisans like stone masons, mud builders, and carpenters under whose guidance the whole construction takes place, there’s a huge contribution from community members.

Elaborate rituals are performed to seek blessings and forgiveness for causing a disturbance in the surroundings during construction. The one in particular I remember is an offering of Sichu Bhumpa to the local land deity Sa-dak – It involves placing a pot full of precious, semi-precious stones, coins, and scriptures in the foundation to invoke their auspicious blessings. During particularly laborious aspects like roofing works, the entire village gathers to help finish it on time and after finishing all the construction works, villagers take turns to visit the family, offer gifts (like barley, butter, grains, and other delicacies ) and congratulate the owner. In certain cases, a close friend or a relative even hosts meals for the entire family including the chief mason and his men. Similarly, when a newlywed couple build their first house, villagers help by pooling important resources like wood logs. These cultural practices help ease the logistical burden on the host family where the community becomes one’s greatest support system.

In the olden times when importing materials for constrcution was not possible, people often exchanged raw materials or traded labor for raw materials. I remember many such instances where milking animals like cows, Dzomo, sheep, goats, or draught animals like horses, yak, and donkeys are exchanged for important construction materials like dungma (willow log) and timbers.

Gue monastery architecture, Spiti Valley | Photo: Tsering Lhundup

Other commonly traded materials are butter, iron, honey, sitpa (yak thread rope) from which one can buy construction materials of equal monetary value. Iron and honey are not easily found in Spiti and hence were a coveted commodity, sitpa also fetched equal importance but gradually with the emergence of nylon ropes in the local shops and improved accessibility, there was a huge impact on overall trading practices around it. There was a time when it was also possible to pay for construction labor works through local resources. One popular example of this unique labor v/s resource exchange is the payment of one goat to a master artisan for helping build a house. With development, these practices have undergone massive changes and are no longer practiced but it was fascinating to recount such stories and ponder upon various means of material procurement for construction works.

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