Water

Navigating the challenges of climate change in the Himalaya
Illustration: Nawang Tankhe

Navigating the challenges of climate change in the Himalaya

Himkatha

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

by a farmer from Uttarakhand

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

by an elderly farmer from Uttarakhand

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

by a farmer from Himachal Pradesh

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

by a pastoralist from Ladakh

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

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

Dhankar: From ancient towards modernity

Himkatha

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

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

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

Memories, Nostalgia, and a Forgotten Practice

Himkatha

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

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

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

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

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

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

New constructions in Kaza | Photo: Tanvi Dutt

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

A dilapidated building in Kaza | Photo: Tanvi Dutt

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

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

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

885 389 Nonie Rawat
Microbial intervention in Himalayan Dry Toilets
Distribution of Compost Booster in Lahaul

Microbial intervention in Himalayan Dry Toilets

Himkatha

As we meandered through the narrow streets of Ribling, Tandi, Sumnam and Ghoshal villages in Himachal Pradesh’s Lahaul district, we saw the indelible change of modernisation that had reached even the remotest corners of India. The cemented pavement had replaced the old mountain roads and the concrete houses were replacing the traditional wood and mud houses. In this new emerging transformation, small two-storey mud-houses outside people’s houses stood as a mysterious testament to the old ways.

In 2017, we stayed at the Center for High Altitude Biology (CeHAB)’s research centre at Ribling in Lahaul and it was during those field expeditions to the cold deserts in the Western Himalayas that I first came across the concept of ‘dry toilets’.  Just as we were getting increasingly inquisitive about these small mud structures, we ran into Mr. Jagdeep Katoch, one of the residents and a former school principal in the village. He patiently explained to us that these structures are called ‘ghop’ – traditional dry toilets used  by communities in the cold arid zones like Lahaul, Spiti and Ladakh  to uniquely manage human waste in the region.

Traditional Ghop in Lahaul

These two-tiered structures have an upper section, which is attached to the living room of the house; and the lower section where night soils are collected. After every use, a dry mixture of wood chips and ash locally called ‘fot’ is used to cover the faeces. The heap of the night soil is manually taken out every 6 months and left in the fields to mature. Thus, the compost is rich in nutrients and is a very useful input for agriculture in the region.

These regions also receive very less precipitation throughout the year making water availability extremely difficult and that’s why it was intriguing to observe how people in these remote villages sustainably manage human-waste that’s beneficial for their agro-ecosystem. In the Himalayan cold desert, these dry toilets (ghop) help conserve water during freezing winter and sustain organic farming with manure supply. When winter sets in, people increasingly depend on dry toilets, and later in the year, this decomposed night soil is used as manure for farms.

For generations, locals have relied on naturally-occurring bacteria to degrade the wastes. However, the practice comes with several disadvantages as due to extreme cold weather conditions, there are very few microbes that can function at such low temperatures.  As a result, the quality of the compost is not as good as one would expect.

Additionally, the influx of tourism and introduction of modern septic systems has brought change in the regional sanitation practices with more people resorting to pour-flush toilets. This has not only brought tremendous change in age-old practice of using dry toilets, night soil composting, but has also put the availability of water under severe stress in already resource strained places. Dr. Sanjay Kumar,  (Director, CSIR-IHBT, Palampur ) Chief Scientist and an ardent advocate of bio resource has always inspired us to ground our work, research around social issues and due to his guidance and support , we found the best opportunity to address the issue of solid waste management in high Himalayan regions by scientifically intervening and facilitating faster degradation of the night soil through Compost Booster- a microbial formulation for rapid degradation of night soil to manage human waste in cold desert areas.

Distribution of Compost Booster in Lahaul

The decomposition of any organic biomass is dependent on its microbial population.In Lahaul-Spiti, due to prolonged winters with sub-zero temperatures the decomposition of night soil is often slow as the first phase of composting- the mesophilic bacteria phase- crucial for decaying the organic material are inactive in this temperature range. At CSIR-IHBT, Palampur, our team at High Altitude Microbiology lab, Department of Biotechnology, formulated an indigenous bacterial consortium from the night soil compost’s different maturity phases. These cold- tolerant bacterial populations remain active even at such low temperatures up to four degree Celsius and produce enzymes that speed up the process of biomass degradation. The bacteria used for this purpose also have plant growth promoting attributes so that the end product is enriched compost high in nutrients and possess plant growth promoting bacteria.The financial aid from National Mission on Himalayan Studies (NMHS) by the Ministry of Environment, Forest & Climate Change (MoEF&CC) were crucial to enable key research on ground.

The sample of compost boosters were distributed among a few households in Lahaul for trial in 2018. We asked the villagers to use a handful of the sample in place of fot and the feedback was quite motivating. They observed that the mixture helped degrade the night soil better and reduces the odour as well. Mr. Devi Singh of Mooling village keenly shares that  earlier he used to collect 20 “Kiltas” (baskets)  to collect the degraded night soil compost but after the using the Compost Booster, the biomass was degraded so well that he collected only 10 Kiltas which is of much better compost quality and there’s reduction in foul smell too.

With increased demand and product popularity, we conducted awareness drives, interaction sessions and training programmes across five gram-panchayats  in Lahaul and Compost boosters were distributed to approximately 160 households in December 2020 and January 2021. In future, we endeavour to reach out to communities across the high himalayan landscape including Spiti and Ladakh for similar intervention.

Contact for queries:
Rakshak Kumar
Scientist & Asst. Professor (AcSIR),
High Altitude Microbiology Laboratory (HAM-LAB), Department of Biotechnology, CSIR-Institute of Himalayan Bioresource Technology, Palampur-176061 (HP)
Tel: +91 1894 233339, ext. 441
Mobile: +91 98829 86355
E mail: rakshak@ihbt.res.in/ rakshakacharya@gmail.com 

2560 1153 Dr. Rakshak Kumar
Spiti Valley Architecture
Antique home in Mane village, Spiti | Photo: Kimberly Moyle

Spiti Valley Architecture

Himkatha

Spiti valley’s villages are home to a relatively intact vernacular architectural tradition. Rammed earth Tibetan-style architecture dots the awe-inspiring landscape through a series of scattered settlements. The intelligent bio-climatic design has enabled the local people to inhabit this harsh landscape for thousands of years. Surrounded by snow capped peaks on all sides with the Spiti river meandering along the wide river valley, the region has gained a reputation for stunning scenery and is now a popular tourist destination. The influx of tourism however is bringing rapid changes both economically and culturally. Economic development is welcomed, however, the loss of precious cultural heritage through the destruction of traditional architecture is of concern.

The traditional architecture of the region evolved to make use of abundantly available resources for construction along with an in-depth understanding of their thermal properties. Materials were combined with intelligent design to ensure the creation of living spaces that provided optimum thermal comfort to residents throughout the changing seasons. All of which required a thorough understanding of the natural world around them. The shift towards modern industrial systems of construction can be seen as a rupturing of that direct connection with nature. Construction materials are now purchased from stores and sourced from distant lands. The knowledge on how to use them is sought from architects and engineers. The traditional wisdom of elder Master Artisans is on the brink of being lost as people transition to the industrial system. Now is the time to reflect and consider whether it is the right path.

Architecture is an expression of culture and in Spiti Valley, it reflects Spitian culture whilst identifying their inclusion in a much larger Tibetan ethnic community scattered across the Trans Himalayas in the region now known as India and Tibet. Historically, however, for almost 900 years they were connected as part of the great Tibetan Kingdom of Guge.

Materials & Construction Methods

Spiti Valley is classified as a hyper-arid desert wherein precipitation is predominantly received as snowfall in the winter. Trees are scarce and as a consequence timber is used sparingly in construction. Stone and soil are found in varying abundance and are employed using different construction techniques according to their prevalence in a specific location. In the lower Spiti Valley, in Nako village, stones are prolific, and timber is more accessible from the forests of nearby Kinnaur. Here homes are typically made of stone masonry with mud mortar and often incorporate ornate timber balconies or sunrooms. In the villages of the upper regions of the valley such as those in and around Kaza rammed earth is dominant and the use of timber is much more frugal. Pin Valley experiences higher levels of snowfall and as such their homes feature dry stone masonry on the ground level. To prevent damage to the home from snow melt. The arid desert climate in combination with scarce timber availability has resulted in the use of flat mud roofs across the entire region. Rammed earth as a construction method requires very little water compared to other earthen construction techniques such as adobe or cob, It is no coincidence that this is the favored technique in this desert region. The use of adobe for the building fabric can also be seen, though infrequent as it is recognized as being more labor-intensive.

View of a narrow alley in Nako, Kinnaur | Photo by Kimberly Moyle

Seasonal Migration Indoors

Typically homes are large and spread over multiple levels. Seasonal migration within the home occurs as an adaptation to the extreme climatic variation experienced between summer (+30°C) and winter (-30°C). In the summer months, families inhabit the upstairs portion of their homes. Larger windows on this level allow for the penetration of the bright summer sun and views of the fields outside. A large room known as a Makang (summer room) is the summer socializing space where cooking and entertaining take place side by side.  Ceilings are typically higher and families may have separate rooms for sleeping.

In the winter the entire family migrates downstairs to one room known as the Yokang (winter room). For the entire winter period, the family will sleep, socialize, cook, and eat together in this one room. Cooking and heating occur simultaneously on a Tandoor that takes center place in the room.  Efficient use of scarce timber resources for heating is essential and this practice has evolved in response. Cohousing with animals in adjacent rooms is another design aspect that takes advantage of the natural warmth produced by the animals, generating warmth inside the house whilst at the same time providing shelter and protection for the animals from the extreme climate outdoors.

Bio-Climatic Design

The need to survive the harsh winters in this remote location has seen the evolution of a highly intelligent system of bio-climatic design. Traditional homes have been constructed with a deep understanding of the regional climate as well as the specific site conditions. Certain design elements can be seen replicated in homes throughout the entire valley. Where possible homes are located on hillsides with a south-to-southwest facing orientation in order to take advantage of passive solar gains. Winter rooms have lower ceilings to ensure the precious heat generated remains close to the inhabitants. In the oldest of homes, winter rooms do not have any windows, instead, they would have a single ventilation point in the ceiling through which both light and smoke would enter and exit respectively. In more modern homes small windows are common. The northern aspect generally receives cold winds, as such openings on this wall are avoided. Wall thickness is generally between 18 and 24 inches. The thick thermal mass provides a thermal lag preventing the extreme cold from being transmitted inside the home.

Traditional house in Spiti Valley | Photo by Kimberly Moyle

Case Study of a 150-year-old Home in Kwang Village, Spiti

Located in Kwang village on the southern bank of the Spiti river directly opposite the main town of Kaza Sonam Tashi’s ancestral home provides an excellent example of intelligent bio-climatic design. The following case study will be used to demonstrate key elements incorporated to ensure the highest level of thermal comfort for the occupants.

The Yokang is located in the center of the ground floor and is insulated from the extreme cold outdoors on all four sides by a series of rooms. On the northern side is the Thaah, a cavity of a few meters occupying the full height of the home. This is utilized as storage for fodder such as dry grass and crop residue. Serving the dual purpose of feeding the livestock through the winter whilst also providing excellent insulation to the Yokang. The western side of the house was used for housing livestock during the winter. Strategically chosen according to the westerly sun trajectory, providing warmth for the animals, in turn, the warmth generated by the animals provides yet another layer of insulation to the inner Yokang.

The main entrance and stairwell to the first floor are housed on the southern side as is the Chak-sa the traditional dry toilet system, with the catchment on the ground floor in a sealed room accessible only from the exterior of the house. The eastern side incorporates a small room for making aarak – the local alcohol made from barley, next to which is a granary room accessed only from a hole in the first floor above, it is utilized for storing barley grains. To the south of that lies another small room used as a nursery for young livestock. Being surrounded on all sides the central Yokang does not have any windows to the outside. The only ventilation comes from a single hole in the center of the

ceiling used for both daylighting and ventilation for the tandoor. Before the introduction of modern time keeping devices, the beam of light projected through the ventilation shaft was also used to tell the time. Limited ventilation to the exterior ensures the least amount of heat loss.

The first floor is home to the Makang and the Zot (store room).  Both of these rooms are located on the western side. The zot on the northwestern corner is traditionally used for storage and the Makang on the southwestern side as a summer living room and kitchen. The area directly outside the southwest room was also used as a kitchen with a cavity for storing dried animal manure, a precious fuel source for cooking and heating along with timber. The dry toilet room is located on the southeast corner of the house. On the eastern side running between the fodder storage and the Chak- sa (dry toilet) is the Kanmo, a covered sitting area with the western side fully open to the uncovered central courtyard. This space was often used for recreation, to enjoy the warm summer sun, for drying grains, and for sleeping outdoors on warm summer nights.

Development & Change

Despite having such a sophisticated and rich architectural heritage there is currently a mad rush for modernity that is taking place in Kaza the main town in Spiti. A reinforced cement concrete (RCC) home is viewed as a sign of social mobility, and cement plasters are a fashion trend. The last five years have seen significant change throughout the valley. The tourism sector is booming. So is the construction industry as people race to take advantage of the short but hectic summer season that at its peak struggles to cater to all of the tourists passing through. In Kaza the main town, traditional earthen homes are being torn down and replaced with multistoried RCC buildings. Pride in traditional architecture is being lost as some desire to show their success and social mobility through their capacity to build a modern ‘Pukka’ Ghar or Hotel just like those in the cities.

Most people are all too aware of the unsuitability of RCC structures to the extreme cold. This has led many to a hybrid system with an RCC frame and mud block infill. However, the durability of RCC under extreme climate is questionable. Already cracking and powdering of cement are visible on areas exposed to freeze and thaw cycles of snowmelt. This leads to the question: what if this grand experiment with cement fails? Where will all of that waste material go in this pristine, yet fragile mountain landscape? One of the most astounding aspects of traditional architecture in Spiti is its recyclable and biodegradable nature. It is normal for an old house to be torn down only for all of the materials to be reused once again in the new house. Rammed earth is considered to be even stronger the second time around. In the dry climate of Spiti even Tillu  (timber beams ) and Thap, the shrubs used in the flat mud roofs remain in good condition even after 60+ years of use, and may be reused in the new build. Even if they can’t be they offer a good source of fuel for the fire. Nothing is wasted.

Sustainable construction with a low ecological footprint was mastered by the people of Spiti centuries ago. The world has a lot to learn from them. Sadly, as the younger generation moves towards industrial materials and hybrid systems the traditional wisdom honed over centuries and handed down over generations is at risk of being lost. Now is the time to learn from the experienced elders and ensure this precious intangible cultural heritage remains alive and not just a pretty picture captured in vintage photos of a time long ago.

RCC based construction in Spiti | Photo by Kimberly Moyle

References
Auer, C.E., 2017. Measure for measure: Researching and documenting early Buddhist architecture in Spiti. Revue d’Etudes Tibétaines, 41, pp.181-201.
Joshi, P., Phartiyal, B., & Joshi, M. (2021). Hydro-climatic variability during last five thousand years and its impact on human colonization and cultural transition in Ladakh sector, India. Quaternary International, 599, 45–54. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.quaint.2020.09.053.
Sharief, A. et al. (2022) “Landscape use and co-occurrence pattern of snow leopard (Pantherauncia) and its prey species in the fragile ecosystem of Spiti Valley, Himachal Pradesh,” PLOS ONE, 17(7). Available at: https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.027155

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Agricultural Practices in Spiti Valley
Photo: Prasenjeet Yadav

Agricultural Practices in Spiti Valley

Himkatha

“Ney yotna chukpo sam, nor yotna mak”
“Those who have barley are rich, not the ones with money”
Spitian Proverb, Anonymous

Ever since my childhood days, I was very curious to know about the agricultural practices of Spiti valley – traditional crops we grow and how farming happens in a cold Himalayan desert. Like any Spitian youngster growing up I used to help my family with agricultural works whenever I am at home for holidays or during the peak harvesting season but I never got the opportunity to help them for the whole season. But last year, due to an ongoing pandemic, when I came home, I realized it was a good opportunity for me to understand agricultural practices first hand. I helped my family through whole process right from scattering ashes in the snow covered fields to prepare the field for ploughing to cleaning dried-up water canals before harvest season to helping during peak season of ploughing and harvesting. I also wanted to learn about the history of agriculture in Spiti valley and the elders in my family shared some interesting insights with me.

Photo: Lobzang Tandup

Traditionally, the people living in this valley grew barley and black peas for sustenance. They used barley grains to make Sampa (flour) or Arak (traditional alcohol). They also used barley and black peas to barter it with traders from Changthang who in turn would give Lena (Pashmina) and Khullu (Yak wool) in the 1960s however, things started to change in the valley. People started growing cash crops like green peas and potatoes as access to outside markets improved due to development of key roadways. Now, barley and black peas are grown only for self-consumption and are only a small share of the total agricultural production.

Agriculture in Spiti lasts only for six months. It’s the most crucial time for all the farmers. Although the sowing season starts only in April, the preparations start months before. The seeds are either procured or developed and stored safely during the winters. When the snow first melts around mid-April, the farmers plough their fields with the best resource they have – Yak or a pair of Dzo and seeds are scattered by hand, but these days people use tractors, ploughing machines and even tillers are used. Ploughing the field is a two person job, but sometimes the whole family can be seen in the fields helping out the parents. In Spiti, one’s family, relatives and friends are one’s greatest resources. Farming is very communal in nature. Everyone helps each other and sometimes even 3-4 families work collectively.

Photo: Lobzang Tandup

The system of communal farming helps ease the burden of marginal farmers who do not own Yak – they collaborate with Khangchen households (Zamindar family), borrow Yak for ploughing the field and in turn repay through their labour. Yaks are an effective but an expensive farming asset and not everyone can afford to buy and maintain them. The system works because it is based on a reciprocal relationship between Khang-chen (Big Zamindar) and Khang-chung (Small farmers) households and resource and labour are shared communally. Sometimes, the members of the Khang-chen household lend a piece of land for a few years to the Khang-chung household for farming. They do not have to necessarily repay through capital but the Khang-chung family can repay the benevolence through their labour works in the Khang-chen family – for instance, they can help the Khang-chen family during ploughing and harvesting season. This system is called “Shey” in Spitian.

The relationship between people, wildlife and nature go beyond utilitarian aspects. It is heavily influenced by cultural values and local practices around it. For instance, many Spitian households have unique names for their agricultural land which is a helpful marker of identification of one’s land and also carries meaningful ecological symbolism: “Chup- ja” (water-bird) is named for agricultural lands that resemble the shape of long-necked water cranes. “Ti-rik” is named for lands that resembles local barley-flour delicacy, “Dorgya-ma” is named for agricultural lands which is full of stones or pebbles owing to its hilly terrain, “Yur-yok” is referred to lands located beneath a water canal and “Phe-kak” (meaning half in Spitian) is often given to agricultural lands of “Khang-chung” families (small farmers) who gain their land after ancestral subdivision from Khang-chen family (big zamindari household).

There are a lot of farming songs and prayers that people hum while toiling in their fields. Farmers sing particular songs at every step. The songs have rich meanings related to farm works, weather conditions and comprises of odes and incantations towards local deities pleading for bountiful harvest. “Om Mani Padme Hung” – the holy Buddhist mantra is chanted while ploughing which symbolises farmer’s gratitude and compassion for Yaks and Dzos who toil so hard in our fields. “Laso- ho” is chanted in merriment to ease the stress and fatigue of animals when they plough in harsh weather.

As soon as the ploughing is done, the farmers wait for the first crop or sapling to grow a little before the cycle of irrigation begins (Yurma). This period is usually after 40 days from the day of sowing. Water is a scarce resource and there are local systems of water distribution and management called “Chu-rey” (water turns) entirely handled by women of the village. A group of women is appointed to take charge for the season to ensure timely, equitable distribution of water to each household. The Khang-chen (big zamindar) households have more access to water resources – they have frequent water-turns (chu-rey) and more water is allotted in their canals for irrigation. They also have more authority in decision-making as they are the original tax-payers of the land and have earned that right historically. Owing to scanty precipitation, irrigation becomes a daunting task – women get busy with watering works (Yurma) for over 2 months till the crops are fully ripe.

Photo: Lobzang Tandup

The green pea crop gets ready around June in low-lying villages (Kaza, Tabo, Rangrik, Pin) and August in villages in elevated regions (Demul, Komic, Langza, Hikkim, Kibber and Chicham) . These crops are then transported and sold in Delhi and other nearby states. The produce from Spiti is considered of highest quality as the farmers do not use any insecticide, pesticide or weedicide in their fields. Instead they only rely on animal and human waste as manure. The sweet taste of green peas from Spiti valley is the result of unique farming techniques and hard-work of the people who do not give up despite harsh conditions and scarce resources.

The cropping patterns of green peas and barley are different. Green pea, although is the primary source of livelihood for the farmers, requires much more work and tends to consume more water. Barley is a traditional crop of Spiti that is favoured more by farmers due to its low input requirements, better adaptability to harsh conditions and is considered drought/disease resilient. Barley crops and black peas (kala matar) can be harvested later around August-September when the work around green-peas is done. The remaining grass residues are collected to use for fodder or as a livestock feed for animals during winter.

Most Spitian households own a flat ground near their agricultural field called “Ul-tak” where separation of straw and barley (Khu-yuk) are done, cut grasses are brought and flours are grinded. The grains are finally stored in village. A group of women is appointed to take charge for the season to ensure timely, equitable distribution of water to each household. The Khang-chen households have more access to water resources – they have frequent water-turns (chu-rey) and more water is allotted in their canals for irrigation. They also have more authority in decision-making as they are the original tax-payers of the land and have traditional go-downs/storage called “Bhang” for better preservation.

Agriculture is the lifeline of Spitians and it is not just a livelihood means for us, but a way of life. Our tradition, cultural values and regional ethos revolve around agrarian practices. Many local Spitian proverbs (pera) are reflective of that knowledge. I am sharing few as recounted by elders:

Nyima dot la mata, Dotpa chung la mata
Do not rely on the sun’s warmth nor your appetite. This proverb talks about the importance of being alert, active and prepared when one is undertaking any agricultural work. When one leaves home in the morning for the field, a farmer has to be ready for any unpredictability – nor the pleasant heat of sun or one’s appetite at that point can be relied on.

Soye me phung, nyal phung
There will be agricultural loss not when you eat but when you sleep/laze around.

Ley betna, sey nyong
If you work hard, there will be a bountiful harvest.

Ney yotna chukpo sam, nor yotna mak

Those who have barley are rich, not the ones with money.

I am not an expert in farming or possess rich knowledge but I would like to share some suggestions, the ecosystem in the trans-Himalayan region is very fragile. Excessive focus on cash crops like green peas won’t be sustainable for the long run. We need to incorporate traditional crops like barley as well as black peas which are more suitable to local conditions. We should think about long term ecological sustenance and food security for the entire community. Cooperative societies, local management should work in a collaborative manner to fetch fair prices to our farmers. Youngsters should realize that although modern farming and technology are easier and more convenient, nothing beats natural farming technique and indigenous knowledge of the people.

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A day in the life of a young farmer
Photo: Vicky

A day in the life of a young farmer

Himkatha

There’s an air of celebration when the agricultural season begins in my village. It is time to end the dormancy of long winter days and come out and start preparing the fields. I remember enjoying working in the fields and on the days when the fields had to be ploughed, I used to try to take leave from school on the pretext of doing some necessary work. We used to take out all the farming tools, clean it and check for any repairs. A day earlier, our bulls were also brought from another village and were prepared for ploughing. The excitement would not let me sleep and I would think of all possible excuses to take leave form school so I could and help my family in the field.

The next day, my grandfather would make a barley offering to the local deity Jogani. After the prayers everyone would take the offerings as blessings and proceed to prepare for the day. Before going to the fields, we would place flowers in the horns of the bulls. All the equipment and the bulls were then taken to the agriculture fields. I would also help out in guiding the bulls to the field which would give me immense pleasure. For traditional rituals, my mother would bring roasted barley (kha) & local alcohol (chhang) to the fields. We would then gather the bulls in teams of 2 and attach the plougher to them. After that we would offer chaang, kha and our prayers to our fields facing east (to garner the sun’s positive energy into our lives).

Photo: Vicky

My family would then begin the hardwork of ploughing the fields which would last a few days. The fields which were harder to plough, were then ploughed with the help of Shaalu – my favourite mare. Unfortunately, I would never get permission from school to take off for a full day, so after the rituals, I had to rush to the school! Lunch for the farmers was prepared in the community hall and was served every day at 12:30 pm. For the bulls, the farmer would prepare Pinniyan balls of barley dough Sattu kneaded with local alcohol Chaang. This would give them strength for the remaining day’s work. After resting for an hour after lunch the farmers would get back to work. In the evening, the farmers would have tea and local bread puri at 6, around the same time we would return from school. We would help out our parents till the sunset and then head back home. If there was any time left before it got dark, we would level out the uneven fields. The blades of the plough would be replaced by a plank of wood and the bulls would then walk the fields levelling it. To add extra weight, my sibling and I would fight to climb onto the plank. By the end we would be covered in mud. We had an amazing childhood.

Farming life has changed drastically. The new age equipment gets the job done quickly but it’s not a celebration like the old times. Earlier whole family would partake in the ploughing, sowing and harvest process, now it’s a one person job. These equipment have in some way facilitated migration as now women single-handedly manage the fields. Bulls are replaced by power tillers and are rarely seen in any village. Agriculture was not just about growing produce for sustenance, but it was a way to form connections with our land, our animals and nature. And now, I see those connections fade.

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Unpredictable Lifelines
Integrated Kashang Hydroelectricity Project, HP, India| Photo: ejatlas.org

Unpredictable Lifelines

Himkatha

Verses of prayers reverberate throughout the valley as men sing and climb mountains to ensure their village has water in the summer. People from Khadra, Akpa and Rarang village trek for 27 km to reach Pangi top and clear the path of the artificial stream – Kashang nahar to let the water flow freely towards their villages. Generations ago many streams flowed towards the foothills but now only a few remain and Kashang Nahar is the only reliable source. Completed in 2005 this canal is helping the local villages meet their demand for water.

Kashang nahar | Photo: Yowan Negi, (Village Rarang)

Khadra, Akpa and Rarang, villages at 8000ft of Moorang tehsil, fall in the semi-arid region of Kinnaur district in Himachal Pradesh and rely mainly on glacial melt for their water needs. Though over the past few decades things are changing. As the climate is getting warmer, precipitation (rains and snowfall) is getting erratic. With each passing winter the glacier is unable to recover due to reducing snowfall trends. This is not only reducing the water availability during summers to the villages dependent on them but also leading to glacial instability. This phenomenon is already bringing grave consequences to the communities living in the mountains as was observed in Chamoli district of Uttarakhand. A glacier collapsed and released a ton of water and energy which destroyed everything that was in its path.

During monsoons, flash floods and landslides are increasing and becoming more frequent by each passing year, adding to the woes of the communities. A few years back, in my village of Khadra and the nearby villages of Akpa and Rarang, a major landslide washed away many agricultural fields leading to loss of acres of productive land. This year we faced a severe heat wave which led to fires in our forests. As Deodar and Chilgoza trees around us burned and fell and the wild species fled, we felt so helpless as the water in Kashang nahar fell short. Some of us collected the water at the base of the nahar and managed to save a few trees. But a lot of the damage had already been done. Each year we are caught up in a dichotomy of drought and heavy devastating rains and we don’t know what we should prepare for.

Forest fires in Akpa & Jangi forest | Photo: Heer Chander (Village Jangi)
Aftermath | Photo: Sunder Negi

Development based on destruction

Himachal Pradesh, being a mountainous and river rich state, is known for its potential to generate hydro power. However that is coming at a cost to the communities. Villages and community forests are sanctioned under different projects to either be submerged or cleared off for the development. Around our village we have two hydro power plants – Tidong (150 MW) & Kashang Integrated (243MW) under construction and one mega project – Jangi Thopan of 804 MW is proposed. Kashang integrated project has plans to divert the Kashang nahar to meet its production needs. These projects are hindering the flow of our already distressed rivers and causing long term implications towards the health of the ecosystems and communities dependent on them. We have always opposed such mega developments and will continue to oppose them.

Photo: statkraft.in

Science and spirituality

To our communities, water means much more than a resource. Our ancestors have revered and protected the resource not just for themselves but for the generations to come. And today we continue to reap the benefits. Even today elders in the village guide us with ways to protect the water and thank the spiritual beings for their benevolence.  Every time we go to the source of a natural spring, we recite Naaga Chhonme, an ode to nature thanking her for the abundance of resources. It is deep rooted in our basic nature to feel connected to the forests, streams, rivers, mountains and we treat them as living being.

As much as spirituality is important to help us stay grounded and connected to our land and water we are also focusing on taking informed decisions to monitor and manage our resources based on scientific tools at our disposal. In early June this year, the youth of the 7 village clubs- Spillow, Kanam, Moorang, Jangi, Akpa, Rarang and Khadra, organised and attended a workshop conducted by Himdhara and People Science Institute on long-term monitoring of the health of the streams around our village. It was a 3-day workshop and we explored various themes around water including topics of development, climate change and its impact on our hydro and ecosystems. With the help of the Open Foris Collect, a mobile application, the youth have already started recording their readings of our streams.

River monitoring workshop | Photo: Sunder Negi

Climate change is a problem that we cannot solve at our village level. In the coming few years, the negative impact of climate change will only worsen and all we can do is prepare for the challenges we are to face. What we can do as a community is to raise awareness, write about the issues and continue to engage people in action towards climate change.

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The sun returns home for the mother bird
Photo: Stanzin Dorjai (Gya)

The sun returns home for the mother bird

Himkatha

Spiti Valley has a remarkable ancient agricultural heritage that has sustained several thousand people in the remotest corner of high and arid Western Himalayas—one of the most inhospitable and climate-sensitive regions in the world—for more than a thousand years. The enduring sustainability of agriculture in Spiti Valley rests with its farming calendar.  The calendar uses stories, evocative names for months, and traditional knowledge to guide the timing of local farming activities according to the unique natural rhythms of “Spiti, the Valley of Gods” (Piti Lhayi Lungpa).

The natural rhythms of Spiti Valley are captured in Spiti’s calendar with unique timing and names of months, which are different even from neighbouring Tibetan Buddhist regions of Ladakh and Kinnaur.  In addition to local timing and names of months explained below, the calendar is used with other local and Indigenous practices of telling time. For example, Spiti farmers mark sunrise and sunset over stone cairn markers atop high mountains and note shadow lines on mountainsides to identify important days and times, such as the solstices and equinoxes. Farmers also use their observations of colours, sounds, and rhythms of local plants and animals to tell time, such as observations of brightness and colour of the sky when birds sing at dawn.

Winter Months 

For Spiti farmers, the year begins early in winter with rest and celebration after a hard year of work in the field.  The first month is called Losar or “New Year” and is celebrated three months before the Tibetan new year.  Losar is celebrated early in Spiti, usually around mid-November of the Gregorian calendar, because the valley, including the villages and pathways, will soon get covered under layers of snow for months.  The timing is ideal for Spiti farmers who have customarily completed all essential seasonal livelihood activities, and are now ready to turn their attention to the important family, communal, and religious gatherings of the Losar month.

Photo: Prasenjeet Yadav

The second month is called Jhama or “Mother Bird.” The bird here is Gharog or raven.  Raven is a bird of augury and protection in ancient Spiti and Tibetan beliefs, like in many cultures around the world.  It is said that once upon a time the divine bird, Gharog (raven), was unable to hatch chicks from eggs despite its many attempts because its body was excessively warm for incubation.

Devastated by this failure, the raven prayed that it would be able to hatch chicks from golden eggs during the coldest winter months. That is the reason ravens prepare their nest on a mountain cliff during the second winter month and the month is named Jhama. There is a local saying that describes Spiti’s coldest winter months: “Jhama Jhama zerna Jirug a-chu-chu.”  This saying suggests one shouldn’t complain about Jhama’s cold weather because Jirug, the following month, is even colder.

The coldest winter month is called Jirug or “Baby Bird” because it is the time when ravens lay eggs and hatch their baby birds. References to divine birds are common in Tibetan calendars. For example, the 2008-09 farming almanac of the nearby region of Kinnaur notes the following during Spiti’s Jirug month: “the divine bird has completed 30 days, if this is followed by snowfall, the divine bird will lay golden eggs, and there will be bountiful agro-pastoralism in Tibet.” It is also important to note that Jhama and Jirug are named not only for mythological reasons but also, and more importantly, to categorize seasonal times based on timely behaviour of natural environment. Researchers, for example, have found that common raven egg-laying and brooding behaviour begins in February, which comes during Jirug month.

Spring Months

The first spring month is called Degya (‘de rgya), which means to “soak in the Sun’s energy” as days become warmer and longer with the spring equinox. As snow cover begins to melt and days become brighter, blue sheep and ibex nibble on dormant plants on distant mountains, often under the lurking eyes of hungry snow leopards.  The month is named after the Sun’s warming energy during this month because it is crucial for melting the snow from the fields so that farmers can start Spiti’s short growing season early next month.

Photo: Dr. Tashi Tsering

The second spring month is Shingdeo (zhing ‘debs) or “cultivate the fields.” On the chosen auspicious day of the month, the farmers gather a few loose rocks on their fields, between which they burn juniper leaves to make smoke offerings. This is followed by offerings of libation drink carefully wrapped in a white scarf and marked symbolically with a dab of butter called yar. Yar-butter is marked on the foreheads of people, on horns of the yaks, and on the ploughs. And all through the ploughing period, the ploughman sings songs and prayers which may guide the yaks to turn, stop, or continue ploughing, or pray for absolution of sins that may come from harming insects and bugs in the process of ploughing.

Photo: Deepshikha Sharma

Spiti comes alive in bright colours during the final spring month of Na-ngon Sa-ngon, which means “blue skies blue earth.” This name invokes the beauty of lush green fields under bright blue skies.  Yaks graze freely on the mountains for the rest of the year until winter snowfall to produce the main source of energy for the village economy: dung for fuel and manure.  During this month, farmers count and wait forty days from seeding to first watering, guided by traditional knowledge, to ensure ideal conditions for seed germination in local soil, water, and weather conditions. Then expert women farmers do the first “mother watering” or Yurma, with Tirping, an irrigation tool made of blue sheep horns that ensures greener crops.

Summer Months

The young, irrigated crops begin to flower in early summer which is why the first summer month is called Metog or “flower”. Metog is indeed a flowering month as all kinds of flowers bloom throughout the valley during this time. The second watering called Rhakti or “watering the sun-burned” plants happens during this month. Farmers allow ten days to pass between the first and the second watering, making young crops dry and sun-burned. This practice teaches the young crops the value of the nourishing powers of scarce water, making them absorb more water in the future. These farming practices follow stringent customs based on the calendar, such as the yearly “ban on the use of sickle” or ban on cutting plants from summer solstice (June 21) until harvest season to ensure maximum plant biomass growth on Spiti’s arid landscape.

Photo: Prasenjeet Yadav

By mid-summer, the farmers’ labor bear fruit as grains begin to grow on the barley ears. This is the reason the mid-summer month is called Drebu or fruition of one’s labor. Farmers wait for the grains to become ripe for harvest next month. As tufts of bristles grow on barley ears, farmers irrigate the fields with a special technique called Kirchuyi. Now watering is done after carefully preparing irrigation channels and sluices in such a way that water will flow to all parts of the field by itself after it is released from the main sluice of the field. Another name for this convenient method is Minchu or seed-ripening water.

The last summer month is called Selda or “harvest month.” Unlike new commercial crops, traditional crops like barley are harvested methodically according to ancient customs. After the crops are cut, the sheaves are laid out in the field in neat rectangle-shaped patches to cover the barley ears from drying under direct sunlight. It is only when the crop sheaves are brought to the threshing ground that the ears are exposed to the sun for drying. The importance of observing this practice is told in the story of Jhojho Druguma.

Photo: Prasenjeet Yadav

Jhojho Druguma was a rich woman who did not bother to dry her barley sheaves in the proper manner. As a result, the ears and grains became too dry, and they fell off when the sheaves were carried from the field to the threshing ground. That is why, to Spiti farmers, the stars of the Milky Way are spread out the way they are so spectacularly over Spiti’s night skies. The stars of the Milky Way are Jhojho Druguma’s grains that fell on her way to the threshing ground.

Autumn Months

The first autumn month is named Khuyu. Khuyu is the Spiti word for circular threshing that is done to separate the grains from the husks. The process involves tethering yaks and other animals to a sturdy central pole and making the animals trample over harvested crops in a circular fashion. When the animals go round and round, tromping the husks and the grains, farmers use wooden pitchforks (zar) to mix, push or spread the husks so that the grains are properly separated. The whole process is blessed with Khuyu songs that can be heard from distant corners of villages.

The penultimate month is called Nyirug. “Nyi” is a short for Nyima or the Sun. “Rug” means to gather, specifically to gather animals back home before sunset. As such, Nyirug is the month when sun sets early, and days become shorter when farmers gather their horses and yaks back from the mountains in preparation of the oncoming long and cold winters. Farmers also follow stringent customs to ensure that there is enough winter stock of barley flour, dung, and fodder in their households during this month.

The last month is called Nyikhyim, which refers to the twelve zodiac houses of the sun in Tibetan astrology. “Nyi” means sun and “khyim” means house or home. Nyikhyim here refers to the Sun’s return home after completion of its annual cycle. For Spiti farmers, however, the Sun returns home to fulfil the mother bird’s prayers. This is expressed in the local proverb, “nyima garlog, jhama yin”. The Sun returns home so it becomes cold enough for the mother bird to arrive and hatch chicks. As such, the story of mother bird comes to a full circle at the end of the year along with the sun’s annual return home, while in anticipation of “Spiti’s deep cold winters when even yak-horns crack into pieces.”

In sum, the farmers of Spiti Valley practice a calendar that integrates local economy and ecology into a cosmic unity filled with wonderful stories and ancient wisdom that is perhaps more relevant today than it ever was.

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Celebration of Churs-pon
Saboo village | Photo: Dawa Dolma

Celebration of Churs-pon

Himkatha

I was a young girl when I first visited Saboo. It was a school picnic and the lush green beauty of Saboo mesmerised me. Having been born and brought up in Choglamsar – a suburb of Leh, filled with overcrowded concrete buildings with sparse vegetation, I assumed all villages in Ladakh to be dull, dusty and barren. So finding a green patch of land was unbelievable. My interest in Ladakh renewed in my early twenties when I first started exploring lesser known places and experiencing its unique socio-cultural practices that sustained life in the region.

Within a few kilometers outside of Leh, one can start to observe the changes in the land-use. Saboo (Sa-phuk in Tibetan), traditionally referring to an inner grassland near mountain foothills, has abundant water resources and greenery. There is relatively less influence of tourism and people still practice traditional agriculture solely dependent on Gang-chu (glacial water melt) and Chu-mig (natural springs). Due to its proximity to glacial water melt, the area supports healthy mountain grassland and diverse agricultural fields. But the main difference between Leh and Saboo is deeper than mere land use. The rural lands in Ladakh are governed by local traditional systems and customs which are truly rooted in the reality of people living there. These governance practices are highly visible in case of village resource management and are as effective as any other form of governance. Although the nearby town has grown multifold in the past few decades, nothing much has changed in Saboo, which is still a village of 500 households. One such fascinating tradition that has stood the test of time is a local custom of electing a water leader in their village. Water leader is the one who is responsible for governing water resources. In my curiosity to know more about water management, I spoke to a local farmer who shared with me the story of Churs-pon.

Photo: Dawa Dolma

Water is the most precious resource and the election of Churs-pon is an indispensable part of the traditional festival in this village. “Chu” means water and “pon” means leader. Churs-pon therefore is a unique water management system which ensures local governance, maintenance and distribution of water resources. Located at the high altitude, cold arid zone with a short cultivation period people have devised local systems that maximizes their resource usage with minimal conflict. Like any social institution, churs-pon enables farming communities in Saboo to judiciously use their land, water resources and enjoy greater prosperity. Churs-pon are annually appointed at the beginning of the agricultural season and Saboo being predominantly an agricultural society, the election of churs-pon is quite an important tradition in the region.

Historically, villagers unanimously elected a well respected man in the community who had rigorous knowledge of customary duties, rights and responsibilities around water management. Now, Churs-pon is appointed rotationally. The selection process differs in each village but in Saboo, the day is marked with auspicious ceremonies and prayers. Venerable lamas are consulted for an auspicious date and communal meetings are held. It is no less than any other cultural affair and locals host a festival called “sa-phak” which celebrates the selection process of churs-pon. Water being a crucial resource, there’s great excitement around it and at least one member of each family is present during the selection ceremony to ensure appointment of a competent leader. The two key Buddhist prayers “Tashi Tsekpa” and “Nangsa Nang-gey” are recited by monks to mark the auspicious start of farming work and bless the newly elected “churs-pon”for his work. The religious ceremony is particularly important for the rightful selection of the leader, who ethically follows all rules and regulations to ensure equitable distribution of water and harmony among farming communities. Communal prayers and holy tantric rituals like “tormas” (barley flour effigies) are offered to deities for agricultural productivity and to garner their spiritual support during the farming season.

Photo: Dawa Dolma

Traditionally, high-altitude communities have self-sufficient agricultural systems and religious ceremonies are done to invoke spiritual blessings of the local deities and to harmonize people’s relation with nature. “The tasks are overwhelming and challenging – a churs-pon has to monitor the water reservoir from five in the morning till eleven at night. Therefore, the right to churs-ponship is mostly given to male members”, says Tsering Dorjay (46) who was Saboo’s churs-pon a few years back. “Earlier we used to have 2 churs-pon but these days we have 4 as there are numerous agricultural lands and we need to ensure equitable distribution to all fields. The work has become more laborious” he concludes.

The agriculture in Ladakh is governed by a short growing season during which Gang-chu (glacial meltwater) is the most important resource. All Ladakhi villages have a community water reservoir called “zing” where glacial water melt is directly collected for irrigation. The zings are connected with water canals called “yura” which feeds water to all agricultural fields. The water is distributed based on requirements of the crops. Since food and cereal crops consume more water, it is first distributed to wheat fields, followed by green pea, barley and finally to fodder crops which are more resilient. A churs-pon is responsible for managing water distribution, irrigation turns, overseeing maintenance of zing, yura, resolving water disputes and ensuring equitable distribution of water among all families of the village without any personal bias and favoritism.

Churs-ponship of Saboo village is a classic example of how a community resource like water is effectively self-governed by villagers and is codified into distinct rules and regulations that everyone follows stringently. The lives of people are dependent on such traditional systems which are orally passed to the next generation, representing a unique community-led, self-governing system. The ethics of impartiality, equity, mutual cooperation and reciprocity are built inherently into the system. However, there’s considerable decline in the tradition of churs-pon due to alternative livelihood options like tourism and younger generations growing up without any knowledge and awareness about the local agricultural system. Mohammad Akbar, a 52 year-old churs-pon of Saboo village, painfully mulls over the loss of this beautiful tradition in his village, “it is doubtful whether the youth these days will continue with the tradition and do farming. It will be a huge loss if churs-pon becomes another lost tradition in the coming few years”. Entire agricultural practices of Saboo and other villages following this practice will fall apart if there is no churs-pon system. It is an indispensable part of people’s livelihood and forms crucial part of their identity.

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