Traditional Knowledge

Changes in Agriculture (Ladakh)
Illustration: Nawang Tankhe

Changes in Agriculture (Ladakh)

Himkatha

The rapid shift away from agriculture to other economic activities is a common trend in many agrarian economies globally, often driven by factors such as urbanization, changing lifestyles, and economic opportunities outside the agricultural sector. Agriculture in Ladakh is no exception.

In the traditional Ladakhi farming and food system, the sun provided the primary energy, enabling plant growth, muscle-based labour power and fast-flowing water for milling and irrigating. The fertility of the soil and crops came from recycling of manure and compost (lut, chulut, and the like) into the fields and from minerals in the glacial melt-water. ‘Packaging’ – if any – was in the form of hand-made woolen sacks, wooden and clay vessels, willow baskets, and masonry granaries, all of which could be safely returned to the soil after they wore out. Transportation of the crops was done with muscle power, and cooking done with local renewable fuels like dung cakes or wood sticks. Care was taken to conserve pasturelands through rotational grazing, and farmers tried to minimise harm done even to insects in the fields. The ecological footprint – meaning total ecological impacts including energy and water consumption, waste generation, etc. – was very low. In current terms, we could say that the traditional Ladakhi farming and food system was solar-powered, zero-external input, zero-waste, regenerative, closed-loop, and sustainable!

Today, while much of the traditional farming and food system continues to exist, it is steadily being eroded by a number of profound socio-economic changes. The environmental impacts of these changes are increasing year by year.

One of the important changes has been the decline of villages due to various reasons and the decline in farming-pastoralism systems that sustained them for centuries. The growth of tourism, the army, and competitive education have combined to drain young people, and young men in particular, out of the villages and into Leh, or even further away. As a result, there is less total labour available, and more farming work has fallen on village women and paid labour. Many fields that were once lush and green in the summers today lie fallow for lack of people to work them. With fewer people, livestock herds have decreased significantly, and in the case of goats and sheep nearly disappeared from many villages. While this change may have benefitted wild herbivores to some extent by reducing competition for forage, it has also reduced the amount of rich, organic local manure available for soil and crop nutrition. To make up for this, many farmers turn to the use of synthetic fertilisers which pollute both water and air, and are very energy-intensive to manufacture from fossil fuels.

Crops & Water

The decline of agriculture is also seen in the reduction of diversity in crops including pulses, cereals and pseudo cereals like buckwheat (although efforts are slowly being made to bring back buckwheat). Fewer local pulses like the traditional black bean in Ladakhi fields and kitchens diminishes the health of the local diet as well as local soils. Pulses naturally fix atmospheric nitrogen into the soil, so when they are planted there is no need for nitrogen fertilisers. Without them, however, an important source of natural fertility is lost. In terms of oilseeds, whereas Ladakhis formerly cultivated local mustard more extensively and produced much of their own edible oil, today mustard farming is also declining. Commercial edible oils, packaged in plastic bottles and trucked in from the Indian plains are now widely used in Ladakhi kitchens.

In the 14,000-foot village of Gya, farmers used to cultivate different varieties of barley because the area’s climate was conducive to their growth. Because of the region’s low temperatures, wheat is rarely grown in Ladakh’s eastern region. The people in that same region are currently cultivating over thirty-six to thirty-seven different kinds of grains and vegetables. Acho Urgain, from Gya village, says that this may be because he has access to a wider range of plants these days. He is cultivating new crops like quinoa, and Tse Tse (Foxtail millet), which are native Ladakh millets that are rarely grown these days. Since 2014, green peas have been grown extensively throughout Ladakh because of factors including climate change that favours such crops, but more importantly because of increasing commercialisation of agriculture, as green peas have high market demand inside and outside Ladakh. A variety of relatively novel vegetables are today grown, such as cauliflower, cabbage, beetroot, and various turnip varieties.

One of the many changes in agriculture that people in the mountains are facing is a lack of water, especially during times of great need.  It is imperative that water be given to the fields by the end of March or the start of April. Variable weather patterns cause glaciers to hold onto water by not melting during the seeding season. June 21st marks the change of the days, so in July there will still be a water shortage. Another impact of climate change on agriculture is from increasing likelihood and severity of glacial lake outburst floods, which have had catastrophic impacts on downstream villages, such as in Gya village in 2007, 2009, and 2014.

Land use

The perspective of agri-entrepreneur Rinchen Yutol from Reetsot in Ladakh highlights the rapid changes in the past decade, which may present both challenges and opportunities.

The conversion of agricultural lands into concrete structures poses a significant challenge, and reversing this process is often impractical. This irreplaceable loss reduces self-reliance in food and increases dependency on imported foods. Such dependency increases vulnerability in the case of any disruptions (like fuel shortages, or road closures) in the transportation network across the Himalaya. Additionally, the fragmentation of agricultural lands due to nuclear families can further reduce the overall agricultural land use.

Chortens and fields of Markha | Photo: Wikimedia Commons

Fertilisers

Synthetic fertilisers have been used in Ladakh since about the late 1970s, supplied by the government at highly subsidised rates. Three main synthetic fertilisers are used: urea, DAP (diammonium phosphate), and MOP (Muriate of Potash/potassium chloride). Data from the Agriculture Department and Mission Organic Development Initiative of Ladakh show that in general, quantities of synthetic fertiliser use are decreasing in Ladakh. This trend is reflective of the Hill Council’s new vision to make Leh District fully organic within 10 years. This is very encouraging, since the more fertilisers are used, the more they disrupt the availability of natural nitrogen in the soil, which requires more fertilisers – a chemical addiction!

Besides the loss of livestock manure, the shift to flush toilets and septic tanks accompanying tourism – especially but not only in Leh – is also depriving the soil of rich human manure from traditional compost toilets.

To supplement local supplies, there are new initiatives to bring animal manure from Changthang for use in villages in the farming districts of Ladakh, and the government is also importing organic manure from Punjab. While this is certainly a welcome change from chemical fertilisers, transporting manure and compost also carries an environmental cost in terms of fuel consumption and diesel smoke exhaust. A future challenge will therefore be to generate organic manure and compost closer to where it is to be used, to reduce transport costs and pollution, and to keep valuable local nutrients recycling through local soils. Aggressive promotion of compost toilets, restaurant and residential food scrap collection and composting, and other initiatives could play a role in regenerating the local compost economy.

Seeds

One of the most crucial factors to consider when examining the changes in any region’s agriculture is the seed. The availability of native or local seeds is impacted by the decline in production of native or older crops. The majority of seeds for vegetables that are currently offered by the government or in the market are or hybrid seeds, which have the potential to alter the agricultural landscape of Ladakh, and have implications for the food sovereignty of the region and the economic independence of its farmers.

Traditional threshing of harvest in Lamayuru | Photo:Wikimedia Commons

Mechanisation

Dependence on fossil fuel energy has also been increasing in agriculture and pastoralism, as traditional tools, draught animals and techniques are replaced by mechanical, gas-powered threshing machines, mills, ploughs, tractors, etc. In Changthang, pick-up trucks and jeeps are steadily replacing draught animals, which impact the topsoil of the rangelands. This transition also increases dependency on the money economy and outside jobs to pay for hiring or buying the machines and the fuel to power them.

Conclusion

The shift away from the traditional farming and food system in Ladakh, combined with forces like tourism, is clearly having very undesirable environmental impacts. If both public health and the environment are being degraded by this shift, then maybe it is time to rethink, change direction and regenerate the local food economy. How could this happen? The Hill Council’s commitment to making Ladakh an organic farming region is a very encouraging first step. Additionally, the optimism and enthusiasm shown by individuals like Acho Urgain and Rinchen Youtol are encouraging. Their deep understanding of the importance of agriculture in the current era, both economically and beyond, suggests a potential for positive change. Initiatives that focus on sustainable and innovative agricultural practices, coupled with educational programs to raise awareness about the significance of agriculture, can contribute to the revival and retention of this essential sector. In what other ways can the government and local people support such a change, discouraging packaged junk food while encouraging a return to traditional crops, restoration of livestock herds, village renewal, and so on? How can arable land be protected in perpetuity for farming? Can modern farm machines be powered by local, renewable energy? How can young people addicted to junk food rediscover and revalue healthy local foods? What role can tourists play in supporting local, organic food and farming? These and many other questions will need to be urgently answered.

1440 960 Alex Jensen
Unveiling an Enigmatic Jewel: Sea Buckthorn

Unveiling an Enigmatic Jewel: Sea Buckthorn

Himkatha

Nestled high amidst the majestic peaks of the Himalayas lies a hidden treasure, a rare and mystical berry known as sea buckthorn. Revered for its extraordinary nutritional profile and therapeutic properties, this vibrant orange jewel has captivated the hearts and taste buds of travellers and locals alike. Join me on a journey of discovery as we delve into the intriguing world of sea buckthorn, unearthing its rich history, cultural significance, and the myriad ways in which it contributes to sustainable living and a holistic lifestyle.

I came across the sea buckthorn berry around three years ago, when my friend and I were searching for a picnic spot in the hidden valleys of Spiti, Himachal Pradesh. We had heard about a beautiful flowing freshwater stream where we could bathe and cook food on woodfire. Our plan was to find this spot. My friend, Yangzom, and I ended up hiking for about 1.5-2 hours and on the way stumbled across thorny shrubs that kept pricking our legs and lower body. We got extremely annoyed and cursed the shrubs since they were growing along the entire stretch. When we looked closely, we saw that they had small orange-yellow berries. At first, we were hesitant to try them, but when we did, they tasted tangy (a citrusy burst of flavour). We plucked many for our way back home. It was very difficult to even try plucking them due to the thorny branches. We managed to bring some back and when we inquired about them with a local, we learnt that these were sea buckthorn berries and they had superfood properties. This was the same berry being sold at the Himalayan cafes and homestays in the form of teas, juices and jams.

Illustration: Nawang Tankhe

The human consumption of sea buckthorn (Hippophae rhamnoides) dates back thousands of years. Revered in traditional Tibetan and ayurvedic medicine, it has been treasured for its remarkable healing properties. Growing abundantly in the Himalayan region, sea buckthorn is an integral part of the local culture, where it is known by various names such as tirhuk and lehtar. The berry is known to be a nutritional powerhouse.  They are a potent source of vitamins, including vitamin C, E, and beta-carotene, which support a robust immune system and promote healthy skin. Rich in essential fatty acids, such as omega-3, -6, -7, and -9, sea buckthorn nourishes the body from within, benefiting cardiovascular health and aiding in the management of cholesterol levels.

In traditional medicine, sea buckthorn has been revered as a natural remedy for various ailments. Its oil, extracted from the berries, is highly sought-after for its potent antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties. This golden elixir is used topically to heal wounds, soothe sunburns, and combat the signs of aging. When ingested, sea buckthorn oil aids in digestion, reduces inflammation, and promotes healthy liver function.

Beyond its remarkable health benefits, sea buckthorn plays a crucial role in sustainable travel and environmental conservation. This hardy shrub thrives in high altitudes, growing in the harsh and barren landscape, and helping to prevent soil erosion. Its roots anchor the soil, while its branches create natural windbreaks, protecting delicate ecosystems. Harvesting sea buckthorn berries provides a supplementary income to local communities, encouraging the preservation of traditional Himalayan farming practices.

The tangy and slightly astringent flavour of sea buckthorn has found its way into the culinary world, captivating chefs and food enthusiasts alike. The berries are used to create delightful jams, syrups, and sauces, lending a burst of vibrant colour and a refreshing acidity to dishes. Sea buckthorn tea is cherished for its invigorating taste, while innovative mixologists are crafting enticing cocktails featuring this Himalayan gem.

Immerse yourself in the awe-inspiring beauty of the Himalayas as you embark on a journey to discover sea buckthorn in its natural habitat. Trek through breath-taking landscapes, where the shimmering orange berries cling to branches, contrasting against the snowy peaks. Engage with local communities and witness their time-honoured techniques of harvesting and processing sea buckthorn, gaining a deeper appreciation for their sustainable way of life. You don’t have to travel to the Himalayas to incorporate the benefits of sea buckthorn into your everyday life. Seek out products infused with sea buckthorn oil, such as skincare items and supplements, to harness its rejuvenating and immune-boosting properties. Experiment with sea buckthorn-infused recipes and drinks to add a nutritious twist to your culinary repertoire.

The enigmatic sea buckthorn, with its vibrant colour, remarkable health benefits, and deep cultural roots, is a true embodiment of sustainable travel and holistic lifestyle. Its presence in the Himalayas enriches the local communities and provides an opportunity for travellers to experience the wonders of this ancient berry. Let the allure of sea buckthorn ignite your curiosity and inspire you to explore the world, one sustainable and wellness-infused adventure at a time.

1545 2000 Sheetansh
Living at the Edge: Plants of High Himalayas
Ajania fruticulosa | Photo: Thinles Chondol

Living at the Edge: Plants of High Himalayas

Himkatha
Ajania fruticulosa | Photo: Thinles Chondol

Whenever we say Himalayas, we instantly picture majestic snow-covered peaks, rugged slopes, extreme weather conditions which are characterised by strong winds and a dry landscape. An old proverb says, ‘The land is so barren and passes so high that only the best of friends and fiercest of enemies would want to visit us.’ It is hard to imagine how such an environment can harbour any plant life. However, these mountains support a stunning array of plants adapted to survive at high altitudes and in harsh climates. These landscapes are marked by vast temperature differences, strong winds, high ultraviolet rays, a short-growing season, and rugged terrain of the high Himalayas.

One such high Himalayan region is Ladakh, situated in the western Himalayas, and is the crown of the Indian sub-continent. Relatively untouched and unexplored, Ladakh is a paradise for botanical exploration. Numerous researchers have attempted to study and record the diversity of plant species of this region. A staggering 1,250 varieties of vascular plants have been identified so far.

Acontholimon lycopodiodes | Photo: Thinles Chondol

Just as we humans have a circulation system that delivers oxygen to our cells and takes away waste, several plants have a highly developed built-in transport system for nutrients and water. Such plants are called vascular plants. Vascular plants in the high Himalayas have evolved specialised mechanisms that let them survive in extreme weather conditions.

Plants grow in a variety of habitats in the high Himalayas: arid steppe, severely dry semi-desert and desert, alpine grasslands and screes, riverbanks, and subnival, and wetlands.

Photo (Left to Right): Steppe habitat, Alpine Grassland

Steppes are characterised by hot and arid conditions. Plants growing in steppes are adapted to survive frequent droughts.

Alpine habitats are characterised by colder and moist conditions, comprising of grasslands and scree.

Subnival habitats occur just below the permanent snowline, and they are characterised by extreme cold and moist conditions. Temperature in such habitats may drop to sub-zero even during the summer months.

Semi-desert and desert are severely hot and dry habitats that comprise of sparse vegetation.

Riverbanks are patches adjoining streams and rivers composed of silts and sand that are held together by the plant growth.

Wetlands are characterised by the presence of excess water resulting from snowfall, melted glaciers or natural springs and lakes, that support plant growth.

Steppe and desert plants face frequent heat and drought stress due to low precipitation and dry conditions. Studies show that such plants have adapted to this stress by behaving like a drought escaper. They grow near streams where water is sufficient or develop drought enduring characteristics such as growing long and deep roots to absorb water.

Plants of the alpine and subnival zones face extreme cold stress which limits their ability to grow, restricting their growing period to a short span (usually 3-4 months). Plants in these zones adapt, remaining dwarfed or growing in cushion or mat-form. They grow close to the surface of the ground, where the temperature is relatively warmer.

Plants in high Himalayas are highly specialized and have remarkable adaptations to endure extreme conditions. They tend to have a massive belowground root system that stores the photosynthetic product (carbohydrates) for the prolonged winter months when they are devoid of the photosynthetic organs (leaves). Most of the plants in highest elevations do not grow high, as the temperature near the ground is warmer, and protect them from strong winds. Some also have a hairy-body (with trichomes), which protects them from the strong UV radiation, and act as extreme heat protectant.

Thylacospermum caespitosum

(Common name: Golden Alpine Sandwort; Local Ladakhi name: Tagaracan) grow as cushion plants, growing only at the highest evelations in subnival vegetation zone. They grow very tightly packed with each other, very close to the surface or sometimes even on boulders. This type of adaptation is to endure extreme cold conditions. Photo: Thinles Chondol

Aster flaccidus

(common name: Wild Aster; Local Ladakhi name: Nia-mentok) also grows just a few centimeters tall above the soil surface to prevent from cold. Also it has its leaves growing in a rosette form, which is another adaptation to prevent from cold stress.
Photo: Sam Diederichs

Saussurea gnaphalodes

(Common name: Cudweed Saw-Wort; Local Ladakhi name: Yuliang) have hair-like structures on its leaves and flowers, which is an adaptation to prevent from high solar radiations (Ultaviolet rays)
Photo by Thinles Chondol

Potentilla pamerica

It shows vast belowground roots compared to its aboveground growth. Photo: Thinles Chondol

Saussurea gnaphalodes

(Common name: Cudweed Saw-Wort; Local Ladakhi name: Yuliang) have hair-like structures on its leaves and flowers, which is an adaptation to prevent from high solar radiations (Ultaviolet rays)
Photo: Thinles Chondol

Some examples of typical plants from different habitats of Ladakh

Plants have a very small part of their structure – the stems, leaves, and flowers – exposed above ground. The relatively larger structures – mainly roots and root hairs grow below the ground.  Some plants have rhizomes: a rootlike, thick and usually horizontal underground that produces shoots above and roots below. The deep root system protects them from wind stress by providing anchorage, food storage, and water absorption.

These plants have a specialised architecture with a well-developed belowground system, where they store carbohydrates that help them survive long winters until the next growing season. The small aboveground shoot system helps them tolerate extreme cold. They even develop unique freeze tolerance by moving the water in their cells to the intercellular spaces. These plants tend to replace their organs in extreme conditions and keep their meristematic tissue, which is responsible for plant growth, near the soil surface so that growth can begin when the conditions become favourable again. This is because growing season at these high elevations usually span for only a few months, in which these plants must complete various annual processes such as growth, flowering, reproduction, and so on.

Root cross-section (30 microns) of Penstemon venustus | Photo: Wikimedia commons

Annual secondary growth rings in roots help study growth and determine the age of herbaceous plants. In years with unfavourable conditions this growth is affected leading to narrow rings, while in a growing season with favourable conditions rings growth is wider. This field of study is called herbchronology.

Due to the short growth season, they have slow metabolism, hence most plants here live for more than 2 years. They are very resource efficient and invest less energy in reproductive growth but more in vegetative growth. Many of these plants reproduce clonally, rather than investing in flowering and seed production.

Moreover, there are various other characteristics particular to the alpine plants that help them survive in harsh climatic conditions. These include variable photosynthesis rate, which is usually lowest in the early growing season and highest in the mid growing season. Plants in alpine zones also are hairy, usually with flowers surrounded with bracts. These hairs appear silver-grey or white appearance on the plant (Saussurea gnaphalodes – Common name: Cudweed Saw-Wort; Local name: Yuliang as shown in Box 4), that helps in reflecting the solar radiation, thus reducing the impact of hard sun rays and thermal security.

The Himalayan ecosystem is dynamic and the impact of climatic fluctuations due to global and local change is visible. These are being seen in terms of rising unpredictability in summer and winter precipitation, as well as changing minimum and maximum temperatures. Changes in the natural system impacts plants as their habitats shift or shrink. The growth rate of alpine plants is also impacted by climate fluctuations, which is seen in the form of annual secondary growth rings in their root collar, like we see rings in the woody species.

High Himalayan plants stand as awe-inspiring testaments to the resilience and adaptability of life in some of the most extreme environments on Earth. These unique floras have evolved over millennia to thrive in harsh alpine conditions, conquering freezing temperatures, thin air, and intense sunlight.

1932 2576 Thinles Chondol
Juniper: The Sacred Conifer
A sacred Lha-to in Nubra Valley | Photo: Konchok Dorjay

Juniper: The Sacred Conifer

Himkatha

Shukpa or Juniper (Juniperus spp.)  is a distinct evergreen tree, sometimes a shrubby tree, that belongs to the conifer group of gymnosperms. Known to grow at the highest elevations on earth, juniper is well distributed all over the Northern Hemisphere from Arctic to the tropics, and most abundantly in the temperate regions of Europe, North America and Himalayan ranges in Asia.

Ecologically, juniper is an important species in the fragile cold desert ecosystem. It survives freezing temperatures and grows luxuriantly in the cold arid climate, on rugged high-altitude slopes of Ladakh. Juniper plays a significant role in supporting different life-forms of the cold desert ecosystem including crawling insects, chirping birds and busy rodents. Juniper berries and leaves are food for many. It acts as soil binding agent preventing soil erosion. The blooming juniper growing along jagged terrain of the Himalaya gives an enchanting green hue to the stark cold desert landscape, otherwise barren and snow covered for most part of the year.

Ladakh is bestowed with three species of the genus Juniperus i.e. J. polycarpos (Himalayan Pencil Cedar), J. recurva (Weeping Blue Juniper) and J. communis (Common Juniper). Juniper species have a sparse distribution in Ladakh. Among the three species, Himalayan Pencil Cedar is characterised by its 2 to 5 seeded, bluish-black cone and is restricted to high mountain valleys of Sham and Nubra region in Leh district at an altitude of 7,000-14,000 ft. The Common Juniper having 3 seeded blue-black cones is found abundantly along Zojila and Batalik hills (5,400-14,000ft.), while the Weeping Blue Juniper, which is popular for its one seeded brown-purple cone, is found along the alpine slopes of Kargil at 7,500-12,500 feet.

Ladakh is one of the few places in India to find junipers. All three species are locally known as Shukpa among the Buddhist communities and Chilgi among the Brokpa tribes of Ladakh. Of the three flourishing junipers, the Himalayan Pencil Cedar has immense socio-cultural and religious significance for the people of Ladakh and is considered a sacred tree among the Buddhists. The rich culture, tradition and festivals, especially Losar – traditional New Year in Ladakh witnesses use of the fragrant juniper.

Some important uses of juniper, particularly the Himalayan Pencil Cedar in Ladakh include:

Juniper for decorating Lha-thos

People of Ladakh and Tibet used green twigs of junipers to decorate Lha-thos, a typical structure comprising of a bunch of juniper twigs – Lha-shuk fixed in between the rock edges or in a small square wall made of clay, bricks or/and stone, at the elevated top of a hill or roof.

The term Lha-thos is derived from the words Lha that stands for a divine spirit or deity and thos meaning a square wall. As per Buddhist mythology, people consider Lha-thos to be a shrine of divine beings that reside there and protect people from evil spirits and undesired incidents. Lha-thos are decorated annually during Losar that usually falls in the month of December. During this event, it is customary to replace old juniper twigs at Lha-thos with fresh bunches. The Lha-thos and Lha-shings are subsequently worshiped by offering phoks – juniper incense and kalcholr – a sacred barley drink and the illumination of earthen lamps containing apricot oil.

People are prohibited from any sort of unhygienic or unlawful activity around these structures. It is commonly believed that Lha-thos and its surrounding areas must be kept clean, as infuriating a Lha could bring bad luck on the polluter. In the event of a defilement, local people rush to call the local priests – Lamas, who then perform exceptional prayers known as Lhabsangs to purify the guilty from their sins and to sanitize the area.

Juniper as incense

Owing to the pleasant aroma of juniper twigs, they are commonly used as an incense. Raw coal or dried dung cakes are placed in an earthen bowl locally called as phokspor specially designed for this purpose. Dried, crushed leaves and twigs of shukpa are put over the burning coal which produces a distinct smell. It is now known that this aromatic fragrance is due to presence of essential oils, terpenoids, diterpenoids and some phenolic compounds. People mix shukpa with several other plant products such as khampa (Tanacetum sp.), palu (Waldheimia glabra) and siyah mentok (flowers of Rosa foetida and R. webbiana) to use as an incense.

Owing to the pleasant aroma of juniper twigs, they are commonly used as an incense. Raw coal or dried dung cakes are placed in an earthen bowl locally called as phokspor specially designed for this purpose. Dried, crushed leaves and twigs of shukpa are put over the burning coal which produces a distinct smell. It is now known that this aromatic fragrance is due to presence of essential oils, terpenoids, diterpenoids and some phenolic compounds. People mix shukpa with several other plant products such as khampa (Tanacetum sp.), palu (Waldheimia glabra) and siyah mentok (flowers of Rosa foetida and R. webbiana) to use as an incense.

Cultural Heritage

Cultural heritage and sacredness of Juniper is depicted in several ladakhi folk songs that describe its value. For instance a stanza from a popular folk song goes:

Ladakhi

Ka langtakh yahgi ni tsamsteh ruhh
Pa lalu rulugsteh ruh chehnn
Ka langtakh yahgi ni tsamsteh ruhh
Yah lalu rulugsteh ruh chehnn
​
Pa lalu Yalu tahng majalahh
La lashing shkpa tangh jaal
La lashing shukpa weh tuludpa woh
Stang chhogi Layul lang jung
​
La lashing shukpa weh tuludpa woh
Yog djugs ki luyul lang jung
La lashing shukpa weh tuludpa woh
Par choggs ki charms yul lanh jung

English

Along the foothills of huge mountains
Went in search of Palu (aromatic plant)
Along the foothills of huge mountains
Went in search of Yalu (a plant)
​
Palu and Yalu could not be found
The tree of Juniper appeared
The fragrant smoke of trees, Juniper
Spread to the upper world (heaven) of god
​
The fragrant smoke of trees, Juniper
Spread to the god of under-earth
The fragrant smoke of trees, Juniper
Spread to the middle world (earth)

Photo: Konchok Dorjay

Juniper in Buddhist Monasteries

The sun dried and finely powdered twigs and leaves of juniper along with other material including some precious stones locally known as yuh, churu and motig are used to fill the inner hollow space of Buddhist statues or idols made from special local clay called markalaga. This amalgam is known as zungs.

Medicinal use of juniper

Local healers use juniper in the traditional Amchi system of medicine. The whole plant is used in treatment of nervous disorders, heart related diseases and kidney disorders. The plant is also used as an antibiotic for animals and for repelling flies.

Juniper in Buddhist Monasteries

The sun dried and finely powdered twigs and leaves of juniper along with other material including some precious stones locally known as yuh, churu and motig are used to fill the inner hollow space of Buddhist statues or idols made from special local clay called markalaga. This amalgam is known as zungs.

Medicinal use of juniper

Local healers use juniper in the traditional Amchi system of medicine. The whole plant is used in treatment of nervous disorders, heart related diseases and kidney disorders. The plant is also used as an antibiotic for animals and for repelling flies.

Photo: Konchok Dorjay

Juniper as timber

Juniper wood is carved out for making Lak-shing, a wooden plate for covering Buddhist manuscripts. The Lak-shing is usually rectangular with an average length of 30-60 and 12-20 cm width. These are varnished or painted and/or decorated with some sacred paintings. Since juniper wood is believed to be strong, durable and highly resistant, large wooden logs of shukpa were historically used in erecting pillars, making door and window frames in monasteries.

Juniper in making of household articles

Twigs of juniper are used for making nose-ring locally called sNachu for yaks. Similarly, its wood is carved out to make a multi-purpose container, locally called zem used for storing barley wine, curd and wheat flour.

Threats and conservation status

It is unfortunate that despite its significance the sacred juniper is under threat. Multiple uses of juniper have led to a continuous demand in cultural, traditional and religious rituals. The Himalayan Pencil Cedar is placed under the Least Concerned (LC) category for conservation but was reported as declining in its natural habitat with severely fragmented populations in 2011.

One of the most potent threats is, perhaps, the use of juniper leaves and twigs in religious and cultural rituals. The extensive use of juniper as an aromatic incense is common with collection peaking on the eve of Losar for decoration of Lha-thos. Other biotic pressures include damage to young seedlings from livestock grazing, especially during winter when plants enter senescence. This pressure is compounded by the fact that juniper shows very poor regeneration, extremely low seed viability and long seed dormancy. These factors are barriers in its propagation and growth.

There is scope for better planning and management if we wish to improve the status of juniper population in Ladakh. While everyone expresses concern over the conservation, propagation and management of juniper, there is little action backing this concern. Irresponsible collection of wild junipers is rampant as Losar approaches each year. There is hardly any effort to monitor collection or any legal action taken against those in violation of wildlife protection laws. A combination of anthropogenic pressures, abiotic factors arising from changing climate, and the local socio-cultural significance of juniper, makes it necessary to prioritise the conservation of juniper patches across Ladakh. Junipers share a deep link with Ladakh’s indigenous culture, religion and ecology. There is an urgent need to better understand the status of local populations of juniper, degree of anthropogenic pressure, and future prospects and propagation techniques if we are to protect this cultural keystone.

How can we conserve our junipers?

  1. Design and enforce strict communal laws to monitor and prevent irresponsible collection and sale of juniper twigs, especially during Losar.
  2. Organise workshops, conferences and campaigns in both rural and urban areas to educate and create awareness among people.
  3. Increase research to improve our understanding of seed germination and juniper propagation techniques.
  4. Develop and implement an effective management plan backed with adequate support for propagation of juniper trees.

As individuals we must,

  1. Limit merciless cutting and selling of juniper twigs and encourage others for the same
  2. Remain careful when our livestock grazes in juniper forest and surrounding areas
  3. Educate and aware our friends, relatives, neighbours and villagers about the importance of juniper in our religion, culture and its role in fragile ecology. Discuss the values of juniper in Ladakhi society among the youth, especially in schools.
1200 898 Dr. Konchok Dorjey
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.

1545 2000 Mahesh Negi
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.

6000 4000 Chemi Lhamo
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.

2185 1528 Phuntsog Dolma
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.

1128 748 Stanzin Phuntsog
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
3000 2250 Lobsang Choephel and Chhering Phunchok
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.

3000 2000 Ajay Bijoor
Close