Traditional Knowledge

Dartse: The Archery Festival
Illustration: Nawang Tankhe

Dartse: The Archery Festival

Himkatha

Archery has been a vibrant part of Ladakhi culture for generations. It has its origin in traditional hunting. In the prehistoric times, it was practiced during warfare and for livelihood but gradually with change in socio-cultural positions, use of archery in people’s daily practice have dwindled. It, however, continues to hold an important part in Ladakhi culture and local customs. Playing archery using traditional bows and arrows is perhaps one of the very few visible cultural remnants of the past and symbolizes rich socio-cultural heritage.

Many Ladakhi folklore, proverbs, literature and rock-art have references to archery, unraveling fascinating insights into traditional way of living. The oral folklore – The Epic of King Gesar (Kesar-e-zGrums) narrates heroic stories of the warrior king Ling Gesar who was a skilled archer and horse rider. The epic saga also has a detailed account of the art of weapon and armor making.

Archery festival in Gya | Photo: Abhijit Dutta

The Epic of King Gesar is the most celebrated oral narrative of the central Asian region and has a particularly huge influence in highland pastoral areas of Tibetan plateau and Ladakh. Phrases like “fast like Ling” – evoking magnanimous strength and speed of Ling Gesar Gyalpo is a common part of local speech. The allusion to natural elements and imagery of nature is also quite frequent. The oral narrative explores the theme of harmony in nature, balance between human and nature, battle between good and evil (deities v/s demons) and disruption of natural order in great depth. In today’s times, much of these oral traditions and cultures are going out of practice and what remains is a watered down version of the rich cultural heritage our ancestors have passed on.

Photo: Karma Sonam

Archery, one of the few remaining traditions, is the most celebrated local festival in Ladakh and is very popular in my village Gya too. Gya, one of the oldest settlements in Ladakh, was historically the abode of chieftain ruler Gya-pa Chow. Today, there are around 150 households in the village dependent on agro-pastoralism. Dah- Fang or Dartse (Archery) is celebrated for good harvest, harmony and happiness in the village. Traditional song and dance, feasts, archery competitions, rituals- all are part of the festivity and prayers.

Dartse is celebrated twice in a year; sPitda is celebrated in early spring after dormancy of winter days and Yarda is a mid-summer celebration. The Spring archery festival marks the beginning of harvesting season and is celebrated right before watering the fields when farmers are getting ready for the cultivation. The Goba (village heads) of all neighboring hamlets collectively consult Rongtsen (oracle) for an auspicious date for cultivation and subsequently coordination for archery celebration is carried out. Once the date for ploughing is finalized, the Goba will announce the date of festival and gather barley, grains and ra-luk (sheep-goat) for the feast.

Women and young girls participate in preparing food for the whole village while men and adolescent boys take part in archery competitions. Drinking traditional wine is a huge part of the celebration and a group of women known as Changma (wine incharge) are solely responsible for brewing Chaang (barley wine) and Aarak (local alcohol) and serving it to archers during the festival.

Gya has 3 main hamlets and Dartse is celebrated collectively in all these villages. It goes on, uninterrupted for 6 days and each village takes turns hosting it in their village. In Hemya (my mother’s village) religious ceremonies for good harvest and prayers for peace and harmony among villagers are done by holy lamas (monks) and the grain sheaf called “Phut”(first offering to god) is offered in monasteries as a gesture of gratitude.

The archery competition is one of the most awaited events of the festivals and a lot of men and young boys take part in the competition. The archers are divided in two teams known as Ma-Bhu (Ma – mother, bhu-son) with one team headed byGoba (village leader) and another team led by Nyerpa (a monk representative). Earlier, bows and arrows were made of ibex horns by skilled artisans but these days we use the ones made of willow and bamboo. The target area is made on a heap of mud to ensure the arrows don’t break, and the target (bull’s eye) known as Tsage is either made of zama (earthen clay) or a wooden plank. The archery competition starts with rdaman pa (traditional musicians) playing songs and when an archer hits Tsege (bull’s eye target) people breakout in loud songs and dance cheering the team. Whichever team hits the target maximum number of times, wins the competition. The winning team has to pay some amount to Rdaman pa as a gesture of gratitude for their services and circumambulate Tsege (target area) in loud celebratory cry Rzang solo!!

Photo: Karma Sonam

Archery is not merely a sports tournament but is an integral part of our communal identity and cultural ethos. It is a reflection of the rich Ladakhi cultural heritage and carries strong socio-cultural sentiments of the people. The festival brings together communities and is important for maintaining cohesion and peace within society. Ladakh being primarily an agro-pastoralist society, the festival is in a way also a celebration of crops that are grown on land and cherish the efforts of the farmers.

But such traditional practices are slowly fading away and many aspects of the festival and traditional customs are altered to suit modernity. Wearing traditional clothes like Goncha (woolen robe), eating paba (barley delicacy) and using bows and arrows handmade by local artisans were significant aspects of the archery festival but are slowly eroding. These days, modern sports gear are used for archery and the spirit of harmony between people, between communities is slowly being replaced by competitiveness of the game. I have personally witnessed these traditional practices (whether farming or archery) undergo drastic change in the past few years and I feel an overwhelming sense of loss. Our land and our practices make up for who we are and I feel it is important to preserve these traditional practices.

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The Water Managers in Kibber
Illustration: Tenzin Metok

The Water Managers in Kibber

Himkatha

In the distance, the early morning sunlight chased the shadows on the mountain peaks. I gazed longingly at the golden patches, wondering how long before I could feel the warmth of the rays. Lobzang saw me and laughed, “Are you cold? Come help, it will warm you up!”

Lobzang was building kyaari in her field. These are embankments built in the fields that help guide the flow of water. They are carefully built based on the natural slope of the land. In the neighboring field, I see Thinley ploughing his land using two yaks. I was in Kibber village, in Spiti valley, and the agricultural season had just begun. The day of ploughing had been decided a few days ago at the village meeting.

“How did you learn how to do this?” I asked Lobzang, fascinated at the skill and speed she was constructing the kyaari. “I’ve been doing this for years. When I was a little girl, I used to help my mother and I learnt from her. This year, it has snowed well, the water will be good.”

In Kibber, I’ve learnt that the irrigation system is considered the domain of the women. The water comes from the snow melt from Kanamo, a holy peak in Spiti. The water from the peak is directed to the Kibber fields using khuls. This irrigation system was initially built for barley and black pea, but has been modified for irrigating green pea. Lobzang tells me that the women were responsible for fine-tuning the watering for green pea. They learnt through trial and error, but now have perfected the quantity of water needed and when it is needed for a bountiful harvest.

“If you water them too much, or too early, the plants get thirsty, and will need more water. You have to water at the right time, with the right amount”, she tells me.

The crops are irrigated in cycles and in each cycle a fixed order is followed. Yurma, the first round of irrigation, happens 40 days after the ploughing. Just before yurma, women remove the weeds from the field and scatter them with dried yalo (Aconogonum sp). This prevents soil run-off and increases water retention. Irrigation on the first day of yurma is reserved for the fields of amchi and the devta. Women from all households participate in irrigation on the first day. The second day is reserved for families who have faced a serious illness or death the previous year or have pregnant women who are unable to work in the fields. The third day, tiping langzet, is reserved for families who have participated in the maintenance of water channels. After the third day, the remaining fields are irrigated.
This order is followed for the first three irrigation cycles, after which all the fields receive fixed turns. It is the women who decide the time of the second and third irrigation. The women also manage the daily distribution of water. Every year, two women are chosen to be the khul managers. They are in charge of managing the khuls, making sure the fields receive their quota of water, and managing small arguments that might arise related to the distribution of water. This system of women managing irrigation, is similar to systems in other parts of Nepal and South-East Asia. However, across the world, it is uncommon to come across natural resources that are managed by women. Men manage most natural resources, especially those that are shared. This makes the irrigation system in Kibber, and likely other parts of Spiti, special.

The irrigation system in Kibber has been in existence for centuries. Lobzang tells me it has remained unchanged as far back as she or her grandmother can remember. The knowledge of irrigation is passed on from mother to daughter, from the time little girls start helping in the fields.

As the sunrays finally reached the spot we were in, and started warming me up, I felt more motivated to help Lobzang make the kyaari. “Show me”, I said. I was eager to learn a skill that has been passed down from woman to woman for generations. Are irrigation systems in your villages similar to the one in Kibber? Do write-in and tell us about them.

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Himalayan Agriculture
Photo: Thapasu

Himalayan Agriculture

Himkatha

At 14,200 ft above sea-level, surrounded by the trans Himalayan range, I was looking forward to seeing the yak, for which I had travelled from Mysore to Kibber village in Spiti during the summer of 2016. The walk from the village to the pasture was an arduous one, but I had two girls from the village Lobzang & Tenzin who were accompanying me on my quest. On our way, we crossed many agricultural fields where the villagers were growing green peas. It was unusual to see a cash-crop in such a harsh and remote region. They explained how agriculture had taken shape in the last few decades and opening up of roads and tourism brought many possibilities to these remote places. “For our own consumption, we still grow barley. Green peas are only for the outside market” they exclaimed. Barley, a cereal grain, which has been a staple in upper Himachal has been the source of nutrition especially during the long winter months when supply of any food produce is infrequent and unpredictable. However, due to lack of marketing opportunities, there is hardly any demand for it outside of Spiti. Discussion with these young girls led me to develop the idea of ‘Thapasu’.

Photo: Thapasu

Thapasu is a for-profit impact company that closely works with farmers and other collaborations at multiple levels to make agriculture nutrition-rich and accessible to all. We hope to do this by working at ground level in protecting and preserving the agriculture knowledge and the biodiversity surrounding it. Our work began in early 2016 when, with the help of a few researchers and the Government of India, we were able to start this initiative alongside two farmers – Deepak and Poonam from Kullu valley. We began by cultivating and marketing Jattoo variety of red rice. It was a huge success. Since then, Thapasu has been working with tribal farmers to produce, add-value and market various native, heirloom and wild products promoting natural and organic form of agriculture. Some of these include Barley, Seabuckthorn – a wild berry, Black-peas, Rhododendron, Rose Hips and Tartary Buckwheat. Today, approximately 3200 farmers have joined us from three districts in Himachal Pradesh (Lahaul & Spiti, Kullu, Mandi) and two districts in Karnataka (Mandya & Hassan) along with few regions in Leh, Ladakh.

Thapasu works with a ‘Farm to Store’ Model by marketing these heirloom species with the help of institutional partnerships and Government schemes. Through institutional collaboration, Thapasu also engages in building newer technologies which are then transferred to the farmers and self-help groups in converting the produce to the final product. 10% of our profit goes back into the community through various agricultural services we provide for farmers such as soil testing, land mapping, semi processing subsidies from government, skill training and new technology introductions. We are a team of eight resourceful people who bring various skills to enable this work in the Himalayas.

Photo: Thapasu

Food habits have changed drastically over the last 5-6 decades, however, the importance of saving local food systems is only becoming apparent to us in the recent past. Biodiversity is the key indicator of the health of an ecosystem. But the extinction of wild, native and heirloom food grain species may have unforeseen impacts, sometimes snowballing into the destruction of entire ecosystems. Ancient products still continue to grow in certain parts of the country specifically where climatic conditions are harsh and rough because they are able to withstand drought, fix nitrogen and survive in the harsh climatic condition. Introduced crop needs external inputs to do the same. But we are experiencing this shift where traditional crop patterns are being replaced by newer varieties of produce even in the remotest regions of the country. The best way to save the little that remains is by unlearning modern agricultural practices, re-adopting the traditional practices and building a circular system that benefits the farmer, consumer and the environment.

Why Thapasu?
Farmers growing ancient heirloom products do so mostly for self-consumption. For livelihood, however, they have to depend on introduced crops for which they may be using chemical based fertilizers and pesticides. This is harmful to the soil quality and health of the community in the long run. Thapasu ensures a market for the organically grown heirloom products and fills gaps which are prevalent in the conventional agro-marketing infrastructure.

How Thapasu works?
Any farmer/s who grows ancient heirloom products, organically, can reach out to us to help them sell their produce to the outside market. Once the quality and nutritional value of produce is assessed, we begin marketing and selling the produce as a Thapasu product. We buy a set quantity from the farmer which is mostly stored with the farmer and when we receive an order from our website (www.thapasu.com) we request the farmer to send the package to the address via India post. Bigger orders are managed by us directly.

How are farmers paid?
Farmers are paid when we buy the product from them. All the transfers are made directly to the bank account of the farmer. If the farmer does not have a bank account then the payments are made through our local champion who pays them in cash.

How much share does a farmer earn?
Of the total profits earned, up to 50% goes to the farmer as part of direct income and/or services provided by us.

Are there any other services provided by Thapasu?
Organic farmers or farmers looking to change to organic agriculture, can reach out to us for any grievances or consultation with regards to their fields or produce. In collaboration with other institutions, we also conduct regular workshops for farmers for transitioning to organic farming and skill building. We also do soil-testing, land mapping and support farmers to avail government subsidies.

How can farmers reach out to you?
You can give a call or leave a message with your name on +91 973 140 8844. You can also send an email at amshu@thapasu.com or visit our office in Manali: THAPASU Centre, #83/7, Siyal Village, Post Office Manali 175131, Kullu Dist., H.P, India.

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Who owns the Water?
Photo: Chhering Angchuk

Who owns the Water?

Himkatha

“Lungpa Bhu Med La Bhu, Ta Med La Teu, Chu Med La Chu”
Piti Da-Chang Monlam

“May the ones deprived of a son be blessed with one, the ones deprived of horse be blessed with a mare and the ones deprived of the water be blessed with this resource”
Spitian prayer verse during Da-Chang festival.

In Spiti we define wealth and prosperity in terms of water -“Chu Sang-na, Yul Sang” the expression aptly translates as  “abundant water results in prosperous villages”. Being a cold desert in high Himalaya, It is difficult to think of a resource more essential to the well being of people and their economies than water, yet managing water resources is a complex and challenging task and sometimes unfortunately results in many conflicts: between villages, households and within families. Sgrungs – Spitian oral stories are full of such narratives and show entangled relations between people and their water bodies. This one concerns two neighboring villages – a tale is known to many.

Every year, before agricultural season when the Spiti Valley gets engaged for the upcoming farming season; uncovering the tools, sharpening sickles, putting ashes to their fields and waiting for the glacial water-melt to fill their water canals, the villagers of Rangrik and Sumling, two neighbouring villages, have additional conundrum to resolve – that of the fate of “Shang-ma” – the precious mountain top water source. The dilemma of deciding who the water belongs to, which village gets to use water, channel it to irrigate their field and ultimately who are the custodians of this glacial melt water source. When disagreement arises, quite often a story is narrated that is believed to have happened a few decades ago.

Photo: Chhering Angchuk

Once a girl from Sumling village was married off to Rangrik village. Upon seeing the dry, parched fields of Rangrik, the girl’s family was distressed and decided to give her the most precious treasure they owned – the glacial water source. Back then wealth was measured in terms of one’s fields, cattle, agrarian assets and one’s access or ownership to land and water resources. With Sumling’s prime water source as a gift from her maiden family, the bride happily settled in Rangrik and many believe that Rangrik’s expansion, prosperity in present day and harvest abundance is attributed to the bride’s “Dak-ja” (parting gifts for brides). However, stories like these are often loaded with contentions and depending on who is telling the story and from what perspective, the details, the bold claims, the story arcs change dramatically.

Photo: Chhering Angchuk

While the story attributes Sumling-pa as the custodian of the precious glacial melt water which is located at the mountain range above their village, however the coin flips its side when Rangrik villagers elucidate the situation. They trace their ownership to the waterbody in accordance with traditional land and water rights that have been bestowed to them. In terms of settlement in Spiti, Rangrik came into existence much earlier than its neighboring villages and the locals believe that the vast stretch of land, pastures, waterbodies from Rangrik till Sumling covering Khurik, another villager in-between, historically comes under the territory of Rangrik and thereby belongs to them. They further elaborate that they have been maintaining the waterbody since the olden days. If there’s steady flow of water in canals of Rangrik and Sumling village, it is because villagers of Rangrik have traditionally been preserving it. In the olden days, one member from each household of Rangrik accompanied by their horses and donkeys would make a day’s trip till Shang-ma – located at the mountain top of Sumling to directly channel glacial melt into their canals.

Photo: Chhering Angchuk

The crucial portion of the Kul (canal) head is at the glacier top, which is to be tapped. It is to be kept free of debris and so the Kul is lined with stone to prevent clogging and seepage. Water is, then, collected through the night and released into the exit channel in the morning. The Kul which stretches for over 7 km from Sumling runs through steep mountain slopes and crosses numerous crevices to reach Rangrik. The water flowing in the Kul is the only viable way to sustain vast agricultural lands in Rangrik and to feed their cattle. Villagers go on to describe that at night when the canal is dry, they even let their horses take shelter inside it to protect the livestock from cold. “In the olden days, our Kuls are that deep and water that abundant” muses munshi Chhering Angchuk – a teacher at government school in Rangrik who has been patiently corresponding with me over phone and explaining the details. Rangrik’s Gyetpo (village headman) is responsible for overseeing the maintenance of water, governing its distribution among farming households and mediating if there’s any conflict around for water distribution from Kuls can cause tensions when there’s shortage.

The glacial water source, although located at Sumling village, is primarily maintained by Rangrik village and therefore enjoys greater access to it. However, the rules around water are not straightforward and take on complicated turns as the meandering stream from the hills. In order to ensure there’s parity and less discrepancies, a consultation was made to village deities and the communities from two villages agreed upon several traditionally governed rules to be followed henceforth. While these rules are not hardbound or codified legally, it works purely on faith. Communal integrity and fidelity to verbal commitment is a virtue everyone strives to adhere to hence, going against one’s word or breaking a promise made in front of village deity and village elders is considered a grave offense.

Sumling village | Photo: Chhering Angchuk

The rules governing usage of water and access to it is as follows:

  • while villagers of Rangrik can tap the glacial water from its source, they cannot completely divert it to their side or block the Kul’s head with mud, reinforce it with cement, grass or cloth to prevent downstream Sumling village from using it.
  • The water seeped out from the crevices, naturally caused chasm and narrow openings can be used by villagers of Sumling. The oozed-out water “Dsag-ti” is then subsequently diverted to the fields of Sumling and are fed to their cattle.

Water being a precious resource, there are meticulous rules even for using “dripped out” water (Dsag-chu) which would be otherwise viewed as an “extra flow” or “excess water” and left unregulated.

Is the contention then completely resolved?

Disagreements, tensions between two communities occur even now and in fact women from both these villages are stereotyped as ‘quarrelsome’ for they are primarily responsible for irrigating the fields and unfortunately sometimes end up in heated arguments. Knowing fully the onus of such conflict and subsequently a scandal that follows majorly lies on them, upon asking, many of them ruefully answers “chui thupa zinna mekak” – “our water conflict can never be fully resolved”. The story of bride being gifted water or the claims made by respective communities remains an enigma that transcends monolithic binaries of right or wrong but the story lives on and so do the many contentions around water that continues to discord people’s lives. Across the globe, access to water has always been a source of tension and it continues to be a conflict among stakeholders.

Despite the contention, many native Spitian lores, verses and religious incantations dwell on the divine, metamorphic concept of water. Referring to it as “life giving” “life line” – evoking mutual interdependence of people and water. It is culturally revered, venerated, celebrated and the guiding philosophy underlying diverse forms of water usage is respect for water considering it as an inherent, living part of nature. As such there are plenty of religious verses, hymns, odes dedicated to rivers, streams, ponds, spring waters, mountain top glaciers and rivulets to prevent it from drying and seeking its abundance in nature. In Spiti, during one of harvest festival Da-chang, villagers recite sacred verses (aforementioned) where they collectively pray protective deities to bestow “water, son and a horse” – three essential resources to sustain agrarian life in mountain desert.

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Ecological Importance of Dry Toilets
Photo taken from an online source

Ecological Importance of Dry Toilets

Himkatha

Spiti Valley is a rural and dry mountain region located in the Indian Himalayas in Himachal Pradesh. Being a cold desert valley, it receives very less rainfall in the summers which is not enough for the crops to thrive. Dependence on water is therefore exclusively centered around glaciers whose water collect in streams traditionally called ‘tokpos’ and rivulets called ‘yuras.’ Local communities thrive next to the tokpos from where water is diverted into the fields through yuras. The unfortunate dual existence of agriculture and scanty rainfall compels the farmers to engage in a tedious task of irrigating the fields using glacial water. Additionally, Spiti also faces water shortage in winters, due to which people depend on pipelines (most of the villages lack it) and hand pumps to extract water for daily use. The hand pumps also have predictable chances of freezing and becoming unusable due to sub-zero temperatures. The problem of water-scarcity is however eased by the existence of dry toilets which do not need input of water like modern pour flush toilets, also producing natural manure for the fields

Photo taken from an online source

A deeper look into the traditional agricultural practices of Spiti shows how the local knowledge pertaining personal sphere of sanitation holds symbolic power to question not only the design of modern sanitation systems but also the paradox of development and modernity that cities are clothed with. What is progress if whatever new infrastructural advancements we are coming up with are detached from the ecology of the area it is being used in? Is it even progress if it’s happening at the cost of the deterioration of nature’s resources? We have been using dry toilets for generations in these cold Himalayas. It is also called composting toilets and are the ancient versions of modern eco-san toilets. It has two levels, a toilet on the top and a composting unit underneath. After using the toilet, we shovel a bit of dirt (mostly ashes, hay or dry dung) into the composting unit, through a hole to facilitate decomposition by microorganisms. The dirt also covers the waste and blocks the foul smell. Furthermore, these toilets do not need water.

At the end of every year, we clean the composting unit of every household with the help of our neighbours, friends and relatives. It is a communal affair and the waste that has decomposed is usually dry. The naturally formed manure is put to use in the fields before the ploughing season. In Spiti, therefore, there is no concept of ‘waste.’ The symbiotic relationship between the toilet design systems in Spiti and the fragile ecosystem facilitates growth of healthy crops and reduces the brunt of water crisis in the region. The use of dry toilets is therefore an eco-sensitive wisdom born out of the geographical realities of this cold desert and is especially useful in the winters when water freezes. However, an influx of tourists and the effect of modernity is not only hierarchizing sanitation design systems but is also disrupting indigenous knowledge and the temporal existence of infrastructure when it comes to construction of toilets.

Modern toilets invisibilise waste | Illustration: Malvika

Symbolism of Toilet Design

Sanitation, although a very personal matter, is also very political. It is impacted by class, caste and geographical privileges that one is born with. Living in a society marked by caste, class and gender differences, our everyday objects and infrastructures are filled with symbolic meanings which have political connotations. Most of the semiotics revolving around these infrastructures are shaped by the overarching burden of development that we’re all expected to carry.

User & cleaner is the same person | Illustration: Malvika

The brunt of modernity is borne heavily by the marginalized communities who are socially, intellectually and financially less privileged. In the dry toilets of Spiti, there is an understanding of where one’s waste is going; one sees the waste and later when decomposed to form manure, materially engages with it. The ‘user’ and the ‘cleaner’ is the same person here. With modernity however, progress of sanitation design systems is measured by how well you can invisibilize the waste. There is no awareness of what trajectory one’s waste takes. In pour flush toilets, waste is flushed, it goes into sewers and ceases to exist visibly for those using it. The waste is left in the sewers and septic tanks to be manually engaged by those who are forced by their caste status to do so. Intentionally or unintentionally, modern toilets and sanitation design systems work efficiently only to strengthen the existing inequalities in society and stigmatize dirt, caste status and sanitation work. For the outsiders, these dry toilets are symbolic of the ‘backwardness’ of the region.

These toilets are looked down upon and therefore become an indicator of the scale of development one has afforded to reach. When I took one of my friends to visit Spiti to meet my family, the first thing my parents said on the phone was, “We don’t have a good toilet. Will she be able to manage with our traditional toilet”? With the oppressive discourse of so-called ‘development’ and the hierarchization of toilet design systems, the traditional toilets immediately become instruments that trigger shame and remind Spitians of their class and their ‘backwardness.’ It compels Spitians to be apologetic that they cannot keep pace with the race of modernity.

Tourism and Its Impact On Toilet Design

In recent years, Spiti has become a famous tourist hotspot. To service the influx of tourists, towns like Kaza have built many restaurants and hotels that are attached with modern pour-flush toilets and bathrooms. To cater to the preference of modernity and of the tourists, owners have constructed borewells to extract groundwater. With scarce rainfall, recharging the groundwater seems like a phenomenon that will take forever. Exhaustion of groundwater worsens the problem of water scarcity during the winters when tourists cease to visit. With tourists visiting and the influence of modern infrastructures, Spitians in the towns have moved away from their eco-sensitive traditional knowledge regarding construction of toilets. The indigenous knowledge is losing value in the face of the larger discourse around development and a drive to ‘modernize.’

In this era where development is seen as a linear phenomenon, rather than context-dependent, the dry toilets of Spiti symbolize how ‘backward’ or ‘developed’ one is. The toilets, therefore, become symbolic of one’s class and the scale of development one has reached in terms of sanitation. The visibility of the waste through the hole of the dry toilet is considered unclean. Dry toilets of Spiti are therefore, not only symbolic of how the ‘personal’ is linked to and influenced by the larger political discourse around development but also how infrastructures or sanitation design systems come to acquire and be trapped within social values of power, shame and backwardness.

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Lingering memories of my grandmother
Ancestral house where Evi lived | Photo: Chemi Lhamo

Lingering memories of my grandmother

Himkatha

When I was young, I remember my Evi used to take me to yul-sa (Buddhist shrine for village deity) every day in the morning to offer prayers. She would ask me to light butter lamps while she circumambulates around the altar before joining me in prayers. I used to fervently pray for stable electricity at home so that I could watch television the whole day. As an eight year old, I used to be so curious what she prayed and insisted on getting to know. She would shirk me off for some time before succumbing to my pleas and tell me that she prayed for good winter snowfall so that we would have abundant water for our fields and for our animals during summer. She would continue sternly “One should always pray for all sentient beings and your personal wishes will be granted naturally. One should pray for peace, prosperity and abundant snowfall”.

Evi was from Tashi-gang, a quaint village in Spiti with abundant green pastures and less than 6 households. She was quite young when she got married and came to live in Kowang and like any other Spitian women of her generation, Evi had been nurturer all her life; she tended to our fields, the livestock and was sole custodian of our ancestral home where she lived independently until she was too old to live on her own.

Aapa used to tell me that Evi was deeply attached to her land “there was no difference between us, our shinga (fields) and our dzomos (female hybrid yak). She would tend to us all no differently”. She started working in the fields when she was fifteen and did that for another fifty years. She tilled all our fields, reared livestock and would traverse high mountains in our village to collect dungs and dry twigs for winters. When she got old and frail, she stayed with us briefly and would often tell me stories of her younger days. She’s filled with memories of my father’s, my uncle’s childhood and would often reminisce about the large herd of animals she raised with equal fondness; memories of dead cattle, sick goats she nursed, new-born calf she cared for and about our dZo (hybrid yak) which went missing mysteriously few years back. She took pride in the health of our land, our village chu-mig (spring water) and our cattle in the same vein she identifies as being a woman of Khangchen (Zamindar family) household whose life was devoted to agro-pastoral responsibilities. She was so closely engaged with the materiality of the agrarian landscape that it became a deeply embodying experience and a crucial part of her identity.

Ancestral house where Evi lived | Photo: Chemi Lhamo

Just like Tashi-gang, Kowang also is a small rural hamlet with just four or five households. Evi made the mountains, the fields, riverbanks and the vast expanse of barren lands an extension of her home. I was often told that she was very fierce and rigorous –someone who toiled hard in her fields and commanded authority. In Spiti, farming and related activities are considered communal affairs. Everyone partakes in the age-old traditional system “Bhey” where there is reciprocal exchange of work which denotes inter-household collectivism. This is further reinforced by Buddhist teachings intricately tying ecological ethics with religious beliefs laying emphasis on the virtue of cooperation and mutual support for each other in a community. Reality however, is more complex – village dynamics play a huge role in shaping agrarian responsibilities. Land ownership, access to resources and decision making is influenced by the undercurrents of unequal power dynamics within different members of a community.

Although men and women both work in fields, there is an apparent work division; Spitian men engage in more cohesive and heavy loaded works like ploughing, harvesting and grazing while women work on array of scattered works (thereby more invisible) like weeding, levelling fields, drawing water channels, irrigation, winnowing, preparatory works of grinding grains and taking out manure from dry toilets. All these supposedly menial works are equally important, time consuming and render solidity to agro-pastoral labour hence are often overlooked. The division of agriculture labour and resource allocation is a reflection of larger social stratification where men of Khangchen household enjoy greatest prestige. “Ane gyi leya la siruk mekak” (there’s no value in women’s work or women’s work is uncounted) is a popular expression and is often said grudgingly to show one’s discontentment.

Buddhist religious murals inside village shrine: Kowang, Spiti | Photo: Chemi Lhamo

I remember chuckling amusingly at a funny anecdote Evi shared, “Me-me (grandfather) used to be so laid-back. It doesn’t matter whether our luk-chung (lamb) strayed off from the herd or whether our village Zing (water reservoir fed from glacial melt water) is leaking. He has no care in the world. His seeding work is so disorganized that it looks as if he did that in drunken stupor of Aarak.” To balance the narrative she would continue, “What would he know of any farm works; he was a tsongpa (trader) and was always away. I used to do all the field work even the ones like ploughing with Yak and dZo”.

Our ancestors were so well attuned to the natural world they lived in that they bore the harshness of living in a high altitude landscape like Spiti with remarkable resilience and self-sufficiency. Their wisdom was so innate and grounded in the material reality of their everyday life. They were deeply engaged with the physicality of the farm-works that they knew how to harness the health of the whole ecosystem, yet they barely saw their contributions as worthwhile.

Living in remote, resource scarce places like Spiti, the value of rejuvenation is central to their environmental ethics. They might not quite articulate it that way but they embody it and live the experience which is also reflective in their ascetic lifestyle and in their belief of complex connection of living, non-living, material, immaterial, physical, non-physical entities to boost the overall health of an ecosystem. While laying dry hay for goats in Evi’s open corral, she would often lecture vehemently, “Farming is not just acquiring food from nature. It is honouring Kunchok Sum’s (three jewels of the Buddhist trinity) benevolence which looks after our soil, our streams, our pastures and overall health and happiness of our animals”.

Living in mountains is not always idyllic as one would imagine. Feeling of isolation and disconnectedness is pervasive | Photo: Chemi Lhamo

As a child, she used to narrate a story about cursed “srinmos” (demoness). She would say, “behind the gigantic barren mountains of our village lies “srinmo-yul” (land of demoness) where ferocious and hungry demoness lives”. She used to caution me that if we don’t tend to our riluk-balang (livestock), our land, let the crops rot, these “srinmos” can manifest themselves in our fields and can cause destruction to our fields and our animals. I used to believe in her story and would help her in chores like milking cows and putting fodder for cattle. Looking back, I think it was her way of making me reciprocate the deep attachment she shared with our land and our livestock.

The unconventional attachment she shares with the landscape results from decades of tenacious experience of physically engaging with the land yet it is not always idyllic as one would imagine. Living amid vast barren land of our village with scarce human companions posed its own challenge. She despised living in seclusion and would often run away as a newly bride only to be coaxed back to return by family members. Rural isolation drove her to the point of desperation even to pray for “miracle disasters” which would merge Kowang with its neighbouring more populated village Kaza. At her extreme old age she was able to enjoy more familial connections when she jointly lived with my cousin’s family in Rangrik. I was always told my Evi was a brilliant cultivator and I wonder whether I will ever be able to understand the rich tapestry of the life she led with all its apparent glory and poignancy.

1280 960 Chemi Lhamo
Women and water: a Photostory

Women and water: a Photostory

Himkatha

Last year, we did a photography workshop with women’s group in Shushuna village, Spiti Valley, who are primary caretakers and farmers in their households. After the session, we left them a camera and asked them to document their village life in addition to nurturing their photography skills. We returned a year later and they enthralled us with amazing pictures and great stories! Enjoy reading this one!

Kesang Dolker, Yangchen Dolma, Rigzen Youdon, Migmar   Dolma, Panama Dikit, Tsering Yangzom, Prabha Devi, Choddon, Dikit Dolma, Yangchen

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Shushuna is a quaint little hamlet in Spiti. Surrounded by high mountains, lush green fields and gushing rivulet that changes its hue from turquoise green to shades of grey.

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Women engaging in knitting during summers
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Women engaging in knitting during summers
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Women engaging in knitting during summers
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Women engaging in knitting during summers

It is a bright sunny day in June and a group of women can be leisurely seen knitting sweaters, mufflers and socks for winter… an unusual sight during peak farming season in Spiti.

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Spiti is a high Himalayan mountain desert with scanty rainfall and glacial melt water as the prime source for most villages. As such, water is sparse, the agricultural season and vegetation short, and lives vulnerable.

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Making and using water flowing through water channels (kuls)
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Making and using water flowing through water channels (kuls)
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Making and using water flowing through water channels (kuls)
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Making and using water flowing through water channels (kuls)

When most Spitian villages are drying up, fields unyielding, brimming Kuls of Shushuna signals benign possibilities.

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Spiti river
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Spiti river
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Spiti river

Situated along the river basin, the village owes its blessings to the mighty Spiti river and its tributaries from Pin valley which forms an essential lifeline to the resident farming community.

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Pulley bridge connecting Shushuna to the NH 505
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Pulley bridge connecting Shushuna to the NH 505
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Pulley bridge connecting Shushuna to the NH 505

However, to reach the village, one has to take a suspended rope bridge. A dangerous feat villagers have to undertake every day! Women often pair up and cross it together. Holding essentials and looking out for each other – lest it can prove fatal!

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Spending time with each other
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Spending time with family and on children's education
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Spare time on the fields
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Spending time with family and on children's education
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Spending time with family and on children's education
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Enjoying festivals
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Spare time on the fields
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Time for self
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More time for handicrafts

Water which is located at a significant distance in most Himalayan villages, can be found in one’s backyard here – easing huge strain on villagers.

When your fields are at a reachable distance, and when you don’t spend hours fetching water, there’s so much more one can do including spending time with family and more time to self!

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Carpet weaving
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Women engaging in knitting during summers
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Carpet weaving
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Trying new crochet designs
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Trying new crochet designs

…exploring additional sources of income resulting in greater agency.

The photography group

When water is accessible, it leads to happier, healthier communities.

1346 1008 Women of Shushuna
Traversing Climate Change
Herds of sheeps and goats return after grazing in the Dhar on the North-east of Kungti village | Photo: Virendra Mathur

Traversing Climate Change

Himkatha

In the mystical lands of Bharmour and Lahaul, located in the north-western part of Himachal Pradesh, India, a seasonal event takes place every year that is an elegant harmony between local culture and nature. Here in the traditional seat of Gaddi shepherds, the community is described variably as semi-nomadic, transhumant pastoralists, or agro-pastoralists. The Gaddis, usually men of the family, start on a migratory event in early April, gathering their goat and sheep herd and taking them to the high-altitude summer foraging grounds. These unbridled pastures, known as alpine meadows are called dhars. This seasonal movement is ingenious at various levels – it sustains the economy of a Gaddi household without being too reliant on agriculture. Further, Gaddi herds provide rich manure to the tilled lands across various agricultural landscapes they pass through and in return receive food and a place to camp; a barter system still in place. And this practice helps avoid low productivity foraging grounds without putting undue pressure on alpine pastures.

The shepherds pass through various towns and villages, as they start their journey from the low-lying areas of Kangra valley and plains of Pathankot, crossing the Dhauladhar mountain range towards Chamba district and travelling north towards the alpine pastures in the inner Himalaya. With them, on this arduous journey, are of course the livestock that they address as “Dhan” which also translates to money and wealth in Hindi. The sheep and goat herd constitute a flexible and continuous source of economic return for this community, especially when small land holdings do not allow for huge returns from agriculture. The flocks serve as a source of meat, milk, fleece and wool. The wool produced by Gaddi sheep is primarily used to make warm clothes, and is considered to be fine quality wool in a market where the quality dictates the price of the wool.

Himachal Pradesh State Wool Federation website displays the minimum support price (MSP) offered by the government for the sheared wool. Based on per kilogram price, the prices are lowest for the wool sheared in winter in the month of January-February, whereas the highest price is set for the wool that is sheared in autumn (in September or October), after the flocks have come down from the alpine pastures. The Gaddi shepherds I interviewed called this an ‘A’ grade wool. In their opinion, the nutritional forage available in the alpine pastures, which consists of medicinal herbs, shrubs, and vital grasses, contributes towards development of such fine and gregarious Gaddi wool.

Even more difficult than the journey to these pastures is living there. When I asked a Gaddi about the most important skill to survive in the alpine pastures, he simply stated that “You have to become an animal to live with an animal.” indicating the laborious life in alpine pastures. The arrival of Gaddi in the alpine pastures is met by receding snow, and below it lays the abundant grass to forage for the livestock/goat and sheep herd. These alpine pastures stretch till the horizon, vast carpets slowly turning green. Guiding herds in these alpine pastures is the least of their worry, the real challenge is to protect the herd from the harsh surroundings. The relationship of herd and the shepherd arises from mutual dependency, and for Gaddi men who remain away from their families, their herd is their family. The relationship of care is intertwined around wool – it transcends the material value and takes up emotional significance. It is the wool that earns shepherds the money, and it is this wool that comes back on the journey – laden on the back of a shepherd in the form of a blanket or a shawl.

They keep a portion of the sheared wool for themselves, and use it to manufacture clothing – their traditional attire, shawls and blankets, which keeps them warm and protected. When a lamb is born, it is wrapped around in this blanket and kept inside their camp, and on the long treks in alpine pastures, lambs and goat kids are carried wrapped inside the blankets. Each head counts in this family, and shepherds sometimes risk their lives for their flock. On two separate instances, a group of shepherds, at night, rescued their stranded goats from potential attack of a black bear, and on another day, Thaapu, a young apprentice jumped into a glacial stream, shattering the thick sheet of ice to rescue a sheep and a goat kid that fell while crossing the glacier. He said that a shepherd has to protect every head he is responsible for, as this proves his credibility to his employer. While the shepherds have adapted to the vagaries of nature, will their resilience fare them through impacts of climate change in the inner Himalaya?

In many ways, the life of a Gaddi shepherd and that of their flocks is interlaced with the seasonal changes in Himalayan pasture lands. Without knowing the term, the shepherds understand that their summer home is undergoing changes. Rainfall patterns have become erratic and it can impact the livelihood of Gaddi communities negatively. Abundant rain could lead to livestock mortality as the sheep contract various diseases in wet environments while less rainfall can delay the growth of grass and herbs in alpine pasture, as was the case this year. This is further worsened by foraging competition from large mountain ungulates; they informed me that a lot of problems has been caused by chur, commonly known as dZo across Himalaya (a magnificent cross between a yak and a cow). These large herbivores are domesticated by the villagers in high-altitude Himalayan communities for agriculture. These massive animals also graze in the alpine pastures, along with other ungulates like Himalayan Ibex and Himalayan Tahr, mules and horses. Large herbivores consume hefty amounts of fresh grown grass leaving only small patches for the sheep and goat herds, creating scarcity for Gaddi livestock. Similarly, the duration of grazing in the alpine pastures can also be cut short by erratic weather patterns, affecting growth of fresh grass and the productivity of alpine pastures in the long-term. A decrease in nutritional quality will in turn impact the quality of the wool produced by the sheep.

Subhash Bhai and Sonu Bhai shear wool from the sheeps in their herd. Shearing happens thrice in a one- year season, and while some herders use scissors , others use wool-trimmers for shearing the wool | Photo: Virendra Mathur

Today, the market for natural wool is facing increased competition from synthetic wool supplies which has made market accessibility difficult for these shepherds. While the traditional usage of wool is facing a decline, partly due to absence of knowledge transfer across generation, partly due to the lucrative nature of cosmopolitan living, traders and craftsmen now tend to prefer using imported wool. In the face of emerging changes, proper management mechanisms can help survive traditional agro-pastoralism in high Himalaya. Gaddi shepherds who are in this vocation constitute a dynamic medium of cultural exchange and fulfill economic needs of various farming communities through their resource exchange. Thus, the gradual loss of transhumance in Himalaya interacts with the loss of natural cycles of nutrient cycling in high-altitude communities and might possibly have downstream effects.

Acknowledgments:
Virendra would like to thank Wildlife Conservation Trust for funding this fieldwork at Kugti as a part of their Small Grants program. He owes all his gratitude to the humble and loving Gaddi community who make him feel at home through their generous, helping, and cheerful nature.

4032 3024 Virendra Mathur
The Many Tales Around Water
Photo: Kalzang Dolma

The Many Tales Around Water

Himkatha

Insights from Ane Butith Zangmo, Kalzang Dolma  with complimentary reading from Tobtan’s book “Spiti: A socio-cultural traditions”

Spiti’s oral literature has extensive reference to water. Many ancient verses, odes, hymns, folk songs, old lore allude to water with sheer reverence, refer it as a treasure and embody ancestral affiliation within physical, ecological, social-cultural and spiritual contexts. Each narrative is deeply embedded in local space – intimately bound up with natal soil, water bodies and their complex manifestation in local geography. Each village has a complex set of rules, systems governing their natural resources and finds its reflection in local peras (proverbs), wise sayings and old chants. These oral tales deviate in their form, structure and might not offer linearity of usual stories but are nevertheless recounted for generations for wisdom. Many of these tales are deemed to be true, many filled with mythical, fantastical elements showing deeper values of interconnection and indigenous stewardship.

Many scholars studying Spitian literary tradition find an association of water with the name Spiti (Spyi Ti/Pi ti) itself. Sir Alexander Cunningham has explained that many terms in Western Himalaya, especially the names of rivers are added with the suffix “ti” with this significance. The word “ti” is also found in some dialects of Kinnaur and Lahual which means “water”. In Spiti, the word “ti” is interchangeably used for “chhu” which means water colloquially. This is aptly reflected in the traditional irrigation system and as recounted by many female farmers in Spiti. Owing to scanty rainfall, Spitians primarily relied on glaciers for irrigation and there are careful rules around water distribution within farming households. There are different watering stages during agricultural season, each binding their own values to the farm life: Yurma, Srak-ti, Gsum-ti, Dsag-ti, Minchu. The first watering occurs after the first month of seeding which is called Yurma – the most important watering work as during this time saplings are young and it needs careful tending. The second watering implies a more urgent need for water as the days are hot and fields parched. During second watering Srak-ti, the saplings are sun-burnt (Srak pa – burnt in spitian) and therefore in greater need of water. Gsum-ti refers to the third cycle of watering and Men-chu means watering cycle to ripen the seeds. This way, Spitian literary and cultural tradition signifies usage of “ti” (water) in layered manner and embodies rich tradition around it.

Another tale related to water that’s recounted relates to Dhankar village. It is a high elevation village in Spiti and used to be capital of Spiti before it was shifted to Kaza. The village landscape comprises flat tracts of land on high mountains, steep cliffs and sloped hills. These high settlements are located more than half a kilometer above the river bed and therefore access to river water is very difficult, the villagers mostly relied on glacier water for all their primary needs and once a local shepherd beautifully expressed his experiences of local topography in a form of Pera (local saying).

Many villagers recite it orally during farming work to find solace and humor in hardwork.

“Nyi-ma shar-she snga la skyod-che phyi-ya. Lug-zi sdug-po’i gnas yin…
Brang-mkhar chhang-sa ma-ba la do-ya ma-ba. Ra ro-ba sdug-po’i gnas yin…
Brang-mkhar gyen-yur ma-ba la chhun sna ma-ba. Chhun-pa sdug-po’i gnas yin….”

It can be roughly translated as:
The sun rises here at Dhankhar early, but sets late, which makes the day longer and is cause of concern for the shepherds who have to graze the cattle and sheep at high pastures for a longer time.

In Dhankhar, there are plenty of chhang (local alcohol) but also the place is too hilly and there is too much up and down, which is the cause of great worry for drunkards.

In Dhankhar, the irrigation channels are located at the places too high and the sources too far, which is a great difficulty for the women who have to draw water for irrigation from the upper Kuls and much time is wasted in walking up and down between two distant places.

Similarly, there is a saying in Spitian tradition about a group of three villages Lari, Tabo and Poh

“Gong mtso rdol song na, chog-la yul gsum lhag”

which means “if the lake above bursts, the three villages of chog-la will be destroyed”. The lake here refers to Mane lake near Tabo.

Photo: Kalzang Dolma

There is then another interesting folk story related to Chandertal lake in Spiti. It is told that there was once a shepherd from Rangrik village who used to take the flock of his sheep for grazing in the meadows near the lake of Chandertal. The shepherd was skillful in playing flute and he enjoyed playing many melodious songs on the shore of the clear Moon-lake. In the lake there lived a Khandoma, a water goddess. The Khandoma could not resist the attraction of the enchanting melody of the flute echoing over the calm surface of the ethereal lake. She became a regular visitor to the lake to listen to the music.

One day as the shepherd was playing the flute the Khandoma appeared before him and spoke to him about her love for his melodies. They met regularly and soon they had a handsome boy out of the union. The Khandoma had asked him to keep their relationship a secret as the union between earthly beings and water dwellers like her from different realms are prohibited. The shepherd vowed to keep this a life long secret. But the shepherd was already married and had a wife back in his village Rangrik. One day he had an argument with his wife and in fit of rage he blurted out that he has a spouse – a Khandoma living in Chandertal and before her she was insignificant.  The wife challenged him to bring her home. The shepherd accepting the challenge went to the lake and started playing the flute as usual. The Khandoma appeared with the child who then was infected with a severe skin disease and was disfigured. She handed over the child to the shepherd and disappeared in the lake never to be seen again. The shepherd searched for her everywhere and tried calling her back through a series of melodies – he even tied a long rope on a wooden log and threw it in the lake to gauge the depth of water so that he could go look for her underneath. His rope fell short but it couldn’t measure the depth of the lake.  And thus, the heavenly relationship of love came to an end.

It is said that the descendants of the deceased child still live in Rangrik and his relics are preserved in their Cho-Khang (prayer room) and revered. Villagers still believe that she resides in her abode in the water body and routinely offers prayers, does rituals, purifies it, cleans it and maintains it as a holy site.

It is a curious tale open to different kinds of interpretations but according to local mythology, this folklore urges for the need to protect, conserve and value water. The story also portrays the community’s reverence to local deities which are associated with multiple features of local geography like land (Sa- dak: protective land deity) and water (Klu: serpent deity in water). The Spitian belief system reveals complex relations between people, environment and various spirits. Land and many other natural entities are imbued with the notion of personhood and agency. It inquires deeper meaning of landscape and environment and projects how religious ethics and ecology are related.

3000 2250 Kalzang Dolma
In Conversation with Women of Chicham
Chicham Village | Photo: Tanvi Dutta

In Conversation with Women of Chicham

Himkatha

Tanzin Dawa: How has it changed?

Dikit Lamo: We have been experiencing extremely erratic weather conditions these days. I am 40 now and from my experience, I think it is due to changing weather patterns. We used to have snowfall that levelled our houses and had to clear it with the help of our neighbours! Such was time. There’s lushful greenery in our barley fields and our harvests were abundant. In our village, Chu-mik (spring water) gushed with fresh water – we got to choose from myriad streams flowing around – cold, sweet water to drink while farming. From the past 10 years, there’s been a considerable decrease in precipitation. We used to look up at the sky in hope for rain but to no avail. This year was particularly unexpected. There was very little snowfall during winter and we were even unsure whether we would even get to till our land when summer arrives. We, somehow, adjusted to the difficult situation by either carrying a water tanker to our fields and initiating the seeding work. It worsened as months passed by, we had to leave many of our fields half irrigated or completely fallow. There’s no hope for crops this year.

Barren fields and dried reservoir | Photo: Chhunit Kesang
Domesticated Yaks

TD: What do you think is the cause for such changes?

DL: I think it is due to changing weather patterns. They say it is called global warming in English and has to do with plastic usage. I am not sure how it is interrelated and how it impacts our fields here in Spiti but I do believe it. I think about it a lot and think of avoiding plastic usage on my level. But will it make a difference on a larger level? I think collective action is needed. To ensure timely snowfall, we have to revive our traditional ways of living. Rituals are performed according to an astrologically and agriculturally influenced calendar and we have to bring back those traditions and belief systems. We also think about our children’s generation and preserve our natural resources. Tourism has also impacted the way we channel our resources. It is getting extremely rampant nowadays. We have to devise an internal resource and waste management system to reduce impact on nature. I think plantations will be beneficial in desert areas like ours. I hope that will reduce the effect of global warming and our fields begin to blossom again and our kuls brimming fresh snow water.

Padma Norzom: Water situation? It is scarce everywhere this year. In Chicham, even drinking water is getting difficult for us. Our barley and green peas field are all drying up before harvest season due to receding water in our kuls. There was just no water for irrigation and we are forced to abandon our fields. Because of declining water sources, our land, soil, pasture is all drying up and forage availability and grazing system is also impacted.

TD: Was it the same last year?

PN: It used to be enough to sustain our farm work and to feed our cattle but this year has been unfortunate. There was no snowfall during winter and all our spring waters dried up. My jersey cow also looks very weak and without adequate water to drink, milk production has become very less. I stopped selling milk this year. Livestock feeding and water intake behaviours are also negatively impacted and when sent out in the wild for grazing, they gallop towards greener pastures!

TD: How do we resolve this? Is there a way we can utilise water from the Spiti river?

PN: Yes, river water can certainly be channelled but it will be a bit strenuous and resource intensive as it is located far from the village area. If the government can help us, it will be a huge blessing. Some farmers have tried irrigating their green pea fields with generators. But the diesel operated generators turned out very expensive and it was simply not feasible for small farmers like us who also spent a lot of money buying green pea seeds. The cost will come in lakhs – all for nothing without water.

1800 1200 Tanzin Dawa
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