At Rongo, Rupsho, with Aba Chamchot Tashi le, 79, and Ama Urgain Dolma le.

 

According to Aba Tashi, in earlier times, Pashmina did not hold the high value it commands today. Any small amount of Pashmina available was traditionally offered to the monasteries. A monk, known as a Leesee, would visit Rongo in the fourth or fifth month, specifically tasked with counting the Pashmina goats. An equivalent number of rounded Pashmina balls would then be offered to him. It was much later that Pashmina began to gain its current worth. The annual visit of the Leesee monk to Rongo, and this tradition, ceased approximately 30 years ago.

Historically, villages in the vicinity shared a deeply symbiotic relationship with the Hemis monastery. Pasturelands in the region were specifically designated and named according to the animals reared for the monasteries in the region:

• Raque: for the monastery's goats.

• Maque: for rearing female sheep.

• Deque: for Demo (a type of cow-yak hybrid) and Yak.

• Kharluk: for Khalba (male sheep).

• Barzee: located just beyond the Hanle monastery, for cows.

• Chips se Goba was the term for the person or place responsible for caring for the horses.

When Tashi was around 14, his uncle would embark on salt-sourcing journeys to Mindun Tsaka, located beyond Demchok. They would travel with sheep, not horses, taking the well-trodden road from Dumtsele. These expeditions typically occurred in the eighth or ninth month of the year. After acquiring the salt, they would rest for about two weeks before heading to villages near Leh, such as Leh itself, Martho, and Stok, to trade the salt for barley.

The same villagers also made annual trips to Himachal Pradesh, this time to sell wool in exchange for rice. Tashi distinctly remembers one such journey in 1962 when he accompanied his uncle. Their route took them towards Chumur, a day's journey, then to Tega Zong, and finally across the snow-covered Parangla Pass. They would cross Parangla in the middle of the night to avoid avalanches.

The journey from Chumur to Spiti took five days, passing through Sergatha, Takchuthang, Tarakurkur, and Lakartsey. In Spiti, they traded their sheared wool for a different variety of barley, which Tashi called Sua. Rice was sourced from areas further beyond Spiti within Himachal Pradesh. For these arduous trips, they exclusively used male sheep, known as Khalba, numbering about 30. Four men would accompany them, opting for Khalba over goats due to their wool-bearing capacity and superior sturdiness for carrying loads over long distances.

Lato, Rupsho.

 

Aba Sonam Angdu, 77, and his wife Tsering Langzey, 80, reside in Loma, a hamlet renowned for its bridge over the Indus, which tourists cross en route to Hanle. Sonam Angdu spent most of his youth working as a Lukzee- a person primarily responsible for tending to the sheep and goats. He recalls that around the age of 16, he would frequently travel to Leh with his father to trade sheep wool. They would load approximately 200 male sheep (Khalba) and male goats (Rabo) with empty saddlebags, known as lugals. These expeditions involved three to four men, with one Lukzee  Upon reaching villages like Sakti, Chemrey, and Martselang, his father would begin selling wool, sheared on-site, in exchange for barley and wheat, which would then fill the empty lugals.

He remembers his father undertaking long journeys towards the east of Demchok to source salt for resale in Ladakh. After access to these sources was lost due to geopolitical reasons, around 1959, his father and other people in the region began crossing the Polokongka La to source salt from Tsokar Lake in the Samad Rakchan region, towards Kharnak. He recalls that villagers from the Samad Rakchan settlements around the lake had stationed guards to prevent unauthorized salt collection.

Sonam Angdu visited Spiti in Himachal Pradesh three times. While other informants in nearby Rupshu villages stated that the journey from Chumur to Spiti took four or five days, Sonam Angdu's return journey took approximately two months, likely due to his role as a lukzee rather than a trader. After traveling for a few days towards Chumur, the last settlement before reaching Spiti, the shepherds would often rest there for several days to allow the sheep to recuperate, a practice known as Changma in the local language. 

He remembers traveling to Spiti during winters with the sheep. During these times, he often preferred to travel at night, especially when crossing glaciers, as these glaciers were prone to avalanches. The risk of avalanches was reduced at night when the ice held better due to the cold. He remembers how a member of the team would travel in front of the animals to find the route through the snow and the mountains, and the hundreds of sheep and goats would follow in a single line. After crossing the Parangla and reaching Spiti, he remembers witnessing a local market where wool, wheat, and rice were exchanged. This market was frequented by traders from Karja and nearby villages. 

He worked like this until the age of 25. Later, when he wanted to join the Indian Army, his father did not let him do so as he wanted him to stay close to them.Life was tough, and despite the trade, villagers faced problems. During these times, they would seek assistance from the Hemis Chakzot, who would loan them grains that were repaid the following year in the form of wool, Pashmina, or livestock.

At Chumur with Ama Tsetan Angmole, 82-year-old.

For centuries, the people of Rupsho, including those from Chumur, Hanle, Korzok, Loma, Rongo and other villages have embraced a nomadic pastoralist lifestyle. Interestingly, despite its geographical distance from Korzok, Chumur shares a unique administrative bond, falling under the purview of Korzok's single headman, known as the Goba in Ladakhi.

I met Ama Tsetan when she was camped with her goats and sheep in Tarla, a spot on the way to Chumur. She and other villagers from Chumur had been there for four months and were soon heading back home with their herds, timing their return to match that of Korzok residents who had been camped nearby.

Ama Tsetan vividly recalled that before 1959, her father and other men from Chumur would journey to regions beyond Demchok to source salt for trading. Life was undeniably tough, marked by severe food scarcity. This hardship necessitated two annual trips to the salt lakes, one in summer and another in autumn.

According to Ama Tsetan and other sources, once back the men quickly venture into either Zanskar or Spiti in Himachal Pradesh to trade this salt along with wool.

The men from Rupsho had established specific routes for their trading expeditions:

To Zanskar: They would cross the Polokonga Pass, connect with the present-day Leh-Manali route, and enter Zanskar near the Lingti River. From there, they'd disperse into the Lungnak and Stod regions of Zanskar to trade their salt and wool for barley.

To Spiti: This route took them through the Parangla Pass, a journey of four to five days from Chumur.

Their visits to Spiti served different purposes depending on the season:

Summer visits coincided with the sheep and goat shearing season. During these trips, they primarily sold wool and a limited amount of salt, with the animals often shorn right there in Spiti.

Autumn visits were dedicated to trading salt, and importantly, to selling sheep for meat.

Ama Tsetan shared that barley was the typical item received in barter for their goods. This was crucial for survival, as the extreme cold in Chumur made crop cultivation incredibly challenging.

At Khema Village with Ama Tashi Palmo.

Tashi Palmo, 80, from Khema village, fondly recalls the once-bustling market in the neighboring village of Tangyar, where the men of Khema regularly sourced salt and wool. While Tangyar remained the primary commercial hub, a handful of Changpa traders occasionally journeyed directly to Khema, providing a secondary supply of these vital goods. Among them was a prominent trader, Changpa Namlang, who would stay in the village for around fifteen days during his visits. Among the many goods they brought, the most eagerly awaited by Khema’s women was the rare charu, a luxurious fur garment traditionally worn with the perak, the iconic Ladakhi headdress. Charu was crafted from the soft hide of a young sheep, barely a year old, locally known as Lugu. 

These traders typically camped in two fields on the outskirts of Khema, named, Goma and Langya, particularly in the autumn months when the fields lay fallow. In contrast, summer visits were rare, as there were no open spaces available for encampment; during that season, the Changpas confined their trade to Tangyar. 

Palmo also recalls a time when nearly every household in the region depended on grain loans from wealthy families such as the Katong and Lababs. These loans, typically of barley, were taken for both household consumption and agricultural sowing. Repayment was expected after the autumn harvest. The traditional interest rate, known as del, required the borrower to return one khal (equivalent to 12 kilograms) for every four khals borrowed. Later, through the efforts of the late 19th Bakula Rinpoche, this rate was reduced to one khal per eight khals borrowed, before the practice of charging interest was abolished altogether.

One particularly vivid memory Palmo shares is of a practice involving the seasonal rearing of livestock for Nubra families. Wealthy pastoralists from Nubra, unable to graze their large herds during the summer months, would entrust goats and sheep to trusted families in Khema. From the fourth month of the Ladakhi calendar until autumn, these animals would graze on Khema’s more abundant pastures.

The arrangement was mutually beneficial. The host families in Khema retained the manure, a valuable agricultural resource, while the livestock owners benefited from summer grazing. If a goat produced sufficient milk, the Khema family owed the owner one khal of barley. For lesser yields, the payment was halved. No payment was due for non-milking animals. In cases where an animal died, the caretakers were obliged to prove that the death was genuine and not a case of illicit sale. This verification practice, known as Shindas Stongyas, involved preserving parts of the deceased animal, most often its ears, as evidence.

When Palmo was a child, only three families in Khema participated in this practice. Over time, the number grew to nine, forming a group locally referred to as the Ratcho. Her own family took on the responsibility of rearing as many as 300 goats and sheep from the Labak family of Sumur in Nubra.

The Salt Market of Nubra: Recollections of Aba Sonam Wangchuk of Tangyar.

Aba Sonam Wangchuk, a 76-year-old elder from Tangyar village, belonging to the Tokpopa family, recalls a vital yet now largely forgotten chapter in Ladakh’s trade history.  Till about 40 years ago Tangyar served as a key epicentre for the salt and wool trade supplying the entire Nubra region.

According to Aba Wangchuk, Changpa traders from the highlands south of Rudok would visit Tangyar twice annually. Their first visit, during the fifth month of the Ladakhi lunar calendar, was known as Yartsong, the summer market. The second, more significant visit occurred during the autumn months of September-October, and was known as Stontsong.

The autumn trade was primarily focused on salt, butter, and dried meat, all carried in twin panniers slung across sheep. The Changpa caravans would travel via Durbuk and Reli Chiling, crossing the high Neebula Pass to reach Tangyar. Upon arrival, they were allowed to camp only on the agricultural land owned by the Spituk Labrang. This was a long-standing custom that served dual purposes: it regulated the flow of outside traders, and the presence of large flocks of sheep helped naturally fertilise the monastery's fields. The Labrang, which once housed 3–4 monks, today lies in a dilapidated state.

Aba vividly remembers his friend Sonam Tundup, a trader who would arrive with up to 300 sheep, each laden with salt. The Changpa would pitch their black yak-hair tents on the Labrang land, and the seasonal trade would commence supplying much of Nubra with its annual requirement of salt and other essentials.

In contrast, the Yartsong market in summer focused mainly on the sale of wool, though smaller quantities of salt were also exchanged. Since the agricultural fields were under cultivation, the Changpa would camp in the nearby phu (high pasture). These pastures transformed into vibrant trading hubs during the season. The traders would shear their sheep on site, and sell the freshly shorn wool to villagers from Tangyar and traders from Nubra who made their way up to the phu.

Trade relationships during Yartsong were deeply personal and long-standing. Aba speaks fondly of his trading friends Karma and Sonam Tashi, with whom exchanges were often based on verbal agreements known as lochat or chatka, promises to deliver a fixed quantity of goods by a specified time the following year. These informal contracts were rarely broken, a testament to the ethical fabric of the barter system.

Wool formed a crucial source of income for many families in Tangyar. During the winter months, when wool fetched higher prices in the lower valleys, households would undertake journeys to Nubra. Salt, surplus from the Changpa trade  was often carried along as an additional commodity. Sonam Wangchuk himself recalls traveling to Yarma, passing through Agyam and Tirit on horseback, usually accompanied by two or three helpers. Trade in Nubra was conducted almost entirely on a barter basis, exchanging wool and salt for wheat, peas, and pulses.

Aba Kunga Tundup, Shey

Aba Kunga Tundup le, 95, from the prominent Laba family in Shey, recalls his youth when he procured salt and wool from Changpa traders who would travel to Chemrey during ston (autumn). In return, he bartered wheat, barley, and flour sourced from Shey. The exchange rate for salt varied: some years it was traded in equal quantities, while in other years, the value of salt could double.

Some residents of Shey also journeyed to Kargil to sell salt. Kunga Tundup specifically recalls the involvement of members from the Kanku family in the Kargil trade, while members of the Choldan and Sayeepa families would travel to Changthang for commercial exchange.

Aba Kunga recalls a time when employment opportunities in Ladakh were scarce. Even individuals from affluent families from leh and Zanskar had to seek work outside Ladakh after the harvest season, typically around October. They traveled via the Manali route to find jobs in government-funded projects like road and irrigation works.

He himself joined such a journey once, working on several development projects in Dalhousie. At the time, the daily wage there was Rs 1. As summer drew near, Ladakhi laborers would shift northwards to Manali, where wages rose slightly to Rs 1 and 8 annas per day. On the return journey, Aba Kunga and Phunsog Tsering from Shey, who was accompanied by his son, shared two donkeys to transport their belongings back to Ladakh after a full year away from home. Aba Kunga estimates he was around 30 years old at the time.

He also recalls that in those days, most parts of northern India lacked electricity. Railway stations and Bus stops were illuminated by oil lamps.

Aba Kunga also remembers the oppressive Res system of forced labor, under which local villagers were compelled to carry goods from one village to the next. However, his family, being from the Laba lineage, was exempt from this harsh duty.

In later years, Aba Kunga began traveling to Leh to sell hay, eggs, and firewood. The earnings from these sales were used to purchase essential supplies such as tea and cooking oil for his household from Lala Shaadilal. Eventually, he opened a shop in his village, which he managed for twenty years. 

Shakar, Rangdum.

Tse Dolma le, now in her eighties, recalls her youth, a time when men from her village would travel to Zanskar to procure salt and barley. These journeys, mostly undertaken on horseback, were made three times a year. Back then, every household in the village kept three to four horses, which were essential for transport across the rugged terrain. Today, it has been over a decade since the last horse disappeared from the village.

Butter and livestock were taken to Zanskar and sold to the locals there. In return, the villagers would obtain barley from the Zanskaris. This barley was then exchanged for salt, typically sourced from the Changpa traders. However, Tse Dolma notes that salt was not only obtained from the Changpas but also purchased from the Zanskaris.

Transporting these goods was laborious. Barley and salt were carried back on horse and even on their backs, and the barley was taken further to be milled at a remote place known as Lungpey Phu.

While the men journeyed to Zanskar, Tse Dolma and other women remained behind, devoting their days to gathering grass for the long winters and tending to the livestock.

In addition to the Zanskar trade, many villagers also travelled to Kargil and Leh to sell butter. The women, meanwhile, stayed in the village, sustaining the pastoral life that formed the backbone of their community.

Rangdum Village.

Tsering Tundup, 75 Yrs, from Rangdum remembers being just eight years old when he first accompanied his father on a trading journey to Zanskar. Their main objective was to acquire salt and Barley. At Rangdum where the harsh climate and barren soils made agriculture nearly impossible barley was sourced from Zanskar.

Rangdum’s true wealth, however, lay in its vast grazing lands. These high-altitude pastures sustained large herds of livestock, making dairy products, especially butter and chhurpi (hardened cheese) the backbone of the local economy. Like most families in the village, Tsering’s father would carry butter, chhurpi, and a small amount of cash to trade in Zanskar, exchanging them for grain and salt.

While barley was sourced from Zanskari households, the salt was acquired directly from the Changpa traders.

Tsering recalls being around 30 years old when the Changpa caravans abruptly stopped coming, a sudden end to a centuries-old trade route.

Unlike the people of Parkachik, the villagers of Rangdum were largely self-sufficient in wool, owing to their sizeable herds. Many households not only fulfilled their own needs but were also able to sell surplus wool and butter in Leh. Tsering made his first journey to Leh around the age of 25 and continued the practice for many years, traveling either via Kargil or the Kanji route. After reaching Henasku or the main highway near Kanji, he would often find transport with passing trucks or vehicles.

Each journey to Leh involved carrying approximately 15–20 kilograms of wool and 40 kilograms of butter. The butter fetched a respectable Rs 30–40 while the wool earned only Rs 5–6 per kilogram, a modest return for the effort and distance involved. To supplement their income, Tsering’s family also sold livestock to Balti traders, who would periodically visit Rangdum.

Rangdum Monastery.

According to Skarma Tsering (Pic-1) from Abran in Zanskar, he has no family members and has spent most of his life living with the monks at Rangdum Monastery. He recalls that as a young boy, around 8 to 10 years old, he saw Changpa traders visiting Abran to sell salt. Later, he witnessed monks from Rangdum Monastery crossing the Penzila Pass on horseback to reach Zanskar, where they bartered barley for salt from the Changpa traders.

In earlier times, the monastery kept nearly 100 horses, with each monk owning about two. Today, only a single horse remains, a ceremonial animal known as the Gomsta, which is considered sacred to the monastery.

According to Ven. Lobzang Tsetan, aged 85 (Pic-2) a monk from Randum monastery who is the eldest male resident of Rangdum village, most of the monks in the monastery originally came from Zanskar, Lingshed, and Dibling.

The monastery owns agricultural land in Akshow village, Zanskar. In the past, monks would travel annually from Rangdum to Zanskar, collect the barley from Akshow and trade it for salt with the Changpa traders in Abran.

He also recalls the annual visits of traders from Takmachik village in Sham, who would take the now-abandoned route from Kanji passing through with Chuli and Phating to trade it for barley in Zanskar.

Although little agriculture is possible in the vast expanse of Rangdum due to its extreme cold, the region is rich in grasslands and well-suited for livestock grazing.

In the past each year, villagers from Rangdum would take the Kanji La route to Leh to sell surplus butter.

 

Parkachik, Suru Valley.

 

    

For generations, the people of Parkachik and Zanskar shared a close, symbiotic relationship nurtured through seasonal trade and enduring hospitality. On their return from Kargil, Zanskari traders regularly halted in Parkachik, where friendships were rekindled and goods exchanged. Likewise, Parkachik traders traveling into Zanskar were always assured of warm hospitality. In nearly every village along the highway, a Dzago (friend) household welcomed them with free food and shelter.

Each autumn, during the harvest season, Changpa nomads from Changthang would arrive in Zanskar with salt, which they bartered for local barley.

Soon after, traders from Parkachik would travel to Zanskar. The Zanskari households, having traded barley with the Changpas, would then exchange the salt with Parkachik traders for essentials like rice, chuli, phatings or money.

While Ali Mohd (Pic-2), age 72 yrs, sourced salt for his family, Mohd Ibrahim (Pic-1), age 77,  would sell the additional salt to other households in Parkachik for money.

With the salt trade in decline, Ali Mohammad who also owns a cloth shop in Padum, turned his attention to wool. He began bringing raw wool purchased from Bakarwal nomads into Zanskar, where it was traded with households, especially those with few sheep or goats in exchange for livestock. Barter remained the primary medium of exchange, as money was scarce in the region.

Over time, the wool trade became more intricate. Parkachik traders would also procure wool from Zanskar, weave it into Nambu, and return to Zanskar to sell it, this time to families who lacked the resources to spin or weave their own. Ali Mohammad would carry these heavy Nambu on horseback across Penzila pass, sustaining a modest but vital circuit of exchange. Another trade item was ral (coarse goat hair), sourced in Zanskar and taken back to Parkachik, where it was used to make saali, a durable blanket/carpet used in homes.

Rani Tashi Diskit Angmo, Mulbekh.

Rani Tashi Diskit Angmo le, 92 yrs, is the Queen of the former princely state of Mulbekh in Ladakh. Fondly known as Ama Gyamo (the Queen Mother), she embodies the living memory of a bygone era in Ladakh’s trade networks and administrative traditions.

She recalls a time when salt was sourced from the high-altitude plains of Changthang. Although only a few villagers from Mulbekh undertook the arduous journey themselves, the route was more commonly traversed by traders from the Sham region, particularly Lamayuru and Khalatse. These merchants brought with them salt, wool and soda, which they traded in Mulbekh before moving westward toward Kargil and Baltistan.

Among them was her grandfather, Jigmet Namgyal, who led caravans from Mulbekh to Baltistan, a key node in this trans-Himalayan commerce.

Following the Dogra conquest of Ladakh, aristocratic families in Ladakh were conferred titles and responsibilities by the Dogra kings. Jigmet Namgyal’s father was known as Moti Ram, and he had two younger brothers, Hiraman and Tsering Choskyap.

Her family was responsible for the collection of the annual tax from Mulbekh known as bhaps, paid in cash. Though she still retains the ceremonial title of Goba (village head), a role she has held longer than anyone else in Ladakh, she no longer oversees tax collection, as the practice was discontinued. Yet she remembers clearly that at just 15 years of age, the village tax amounted to ₹100, paid entirely in silver rupee coins. 

Lingshed: Aba Tsering Mutup and Ama Tsering Dolkar.

In the past the natives of Lingshed sourced salt from distant regions, including Zanskar and Skyu Markha. Tsering Mutup, 80 years old, a native of Lingshed himself traveled to Zanskar to procure salt from Changpa traders, who arrived with their stock transported on sheep. In exchange, barley was offered as payment. The mode of transport for these goods involved carrying barley and peas on the back or loading them onto donkeys for the journey. The Changpas set up their camp between Zangla and Padum, where trade was conducted. The standard exchange rate was a woolen sack, known as a lugal, filled with salt in return for an equivalent amount of barley. Mutup distinctly recalls carrying ten battis of barley and returning with an equal amount of salt, all on his back.

These visits to Zanskar always took place in the autumn months, a time when freshly harvested barley was available for exchange—a schedule that aligned with the trading needs of the Changpas. Apart from his travels to Zanskar, Mutup also visited Leh to purchase wool from a Balti merchant, who would temporarily set up shop in the city. This transaction was conducted in cash. His journey to Leh occurred during the winter months when the frozen Zanskar River, known as the Chadar, provided a natural pathway. He would travel with four to five goats, selling them in the Leh market for approximately Rs 30 to 40 per goat. The money earned was then used to purchase wool from the Balti shopkeeper. Any surplus cash was spent on essentials such as butter and chai, with prices during that era recorded at Rs 16 for a batti of chai and Rs 30 for a batti of butter. Mutup was around 17 years old at the time, making these journeys before his marriage.

Every year, traders from Sham Valley villages—including Khlaste, Domkhar, Shyurbuchan, and Kanji—visited Lingshed to sell apricots, apples, rice, and kerosene. Mutup recalls purchasing a bottle of kerosene in exchange for five Bay (a small container) of barley, while salt could be acquired at a rate of three Bay of barley for one Bay of salt. These exchanges formed an integral part of the seasonal trading traditions that sustained communities across the region.

 

Lingshed: Aba Lobzang Tsering.

                                                  

Lobzang Tsering, now 77 years old, recalls stories from his father about the salt trade of earlier times. Elders from his village would carry salt on their backs from Skyu and Kaya villages, where it was purchased from Changpa traders during their annual visits to the Markha valley. In exchange, the people of Lingshed offered peas and barley from their harvests.

Later, Lobzang’s father and his relative, Tsering Angchuk, would walk all the way to Zangla in Zanskar to obtain salt, timing their journey to coincide with the arrival of the Changpa caravans. Lobzang also remembers a relative named Norphel from Pishu village in Zanskar, who used to bring salt to Lingshed in winter and take back peas. Norphel would stay with the family for a few days during his trips. Lobzang was around fifteen at the time.

During the harvest season, traders from the Sham region—particularly from Tingmosgang, Wanla, and Khaltse—would cross the Singge La and Sir Sir La passes to reach Lingshed. They brought wool, salt, kerosene, apricots, and apples to barter for barley, which was much prized. Most of the Sham traders stayed with the Shalang family; others were hosted in cow pens or temporary shelters offered by local households. Their stay would last 10 to 15 days. At the time, there was no road through the Machu valley, where a motorable route is currently under construction.

Barley from Lingshed was in high demand and considered a staple annual ration for many of these traders. Occasionally, traders from Kargil would also visit Lingshed to buy yaks, although yak numbers were limited in the region.

As a young boy, Lobzang once journeyed to Akshow in Zanskar with Ajang Dorjey of the Jorpey family, who was taking yaks for sale. There, Lobzang witnessed Changpa traders in large numbers, camped in tents and conducting trade in salt and wool. These goods were transported on sheep burdened with lugals, the traditional woven carrying sacks. He vividly recalls a striking sight—how the sheep, when tired, would dig shallow depressions in the earth and settle into them in such a way that their loads rested outside the hollow, thereby relieving the weight on their backs.

Lingshed connects to the outside world through several ancient routes. One prominent path leads across Barmi La to Dibling La, and from there to Rangdum. From Rangdum, one can reach Zanskar by crossing Pensi La or continue to Kargil through Parkachik and the Suru Valley. Lobzang himself has traveled these routes, especially when collecting buldut or karlong—donations made for the local gompa, as per longstanding tradition.

Another important route leads from Lingshed toward Nyerak, descending to the frozen Zanskar river—famously known as the Chadar route—which eventually leads to Leh. Lobzang has walked this treacherous winter trail, carrying barley and returning with tea and butter. To afford these goods, villagers sold goats and sheep to Balti traders who visited their village.

Yurutse: Ama Yangchen Tsomo.

Ama Yangchen Tsomo le  belongs to the only family residing in Yurutse, making the family name virtually synonymous with the settlement itself.

Before the construction of the motorable road through Zingchen Rong, Yurutse was connected to the surrounding regions by a network of seasonal routes. In winter, the main route ran through Zingchen Rong to Spituk. From there, travelers crossed the frozen or shallow Indus River on foot to continue their journey to Leh. However, in summer, when the glacial melt made Zingchen Rong impassable, villagers took the route over Stok La, descending to the Choglamsar Bridge before reaching Leh.

Other trails led southwest from Ganda La to Shingo, then to Skyu in the Markha Valley, opening access to Chilling and Nimo, before finally approaching Leh from the west. Some travelers took a more southerly route through Nimaling, crossing Kongmaru La to arrive at Shang Sumdo, and from there continued to Martselang and Kharu in the Indus Valley. Another path branched off from Zingchen Rong toward Rumchung, eventually descending to Tsogti, north of Chilling and the Indus River.

During the winter months, Yurutse villagers engaged in the trade of firewood and charcoal, which they sourced from the Markha Valley. Transport was by donkey, horse, or yak. Charcoal was prepared in Markha by burning thorn shrubs, then sprinkling them with water to arrest combustion. If overburned, the material turned to koktal (ash), rendering it useless. Once properly charred, the charcoal was packed into sacks and transported to Leh.

Villagers typically began their journey after the evening meal. They would walk down to Zingchen Rong and rest overnight before setting out again before dawn to reach Spituk. Tsomo herself remembered the hardship of crossing the Indus on foot before any bridge was constructed.

In summer, Tsomo’s grandfather journeyed to Markha Valley to collect Talu (Willow sticks) and Dungma (Poplar logs) for sale in Leh, as Yurutse had little wood of its own. The timber was sorted in Rumbak, then transported on donkeys via the Stok La route to Leh. While most villagers avoided Zingchen Rong in the warmer months due to dangerous river crossings, a few still braved the path, passing through Palam and rejoining the main route at Choglamsar Bridge en route to the Leh market. 

At Rumbak: Aba Nawang Yontan.

At Rumbak, Aba Nawang Yontan le, an 87-year-old elder, recalled his earliest memories of salt—how, in his youth, the elders of his village journeyed to Changthang to procure it. In later years, he witnessed traders from Korzok bringing salt to the Leh market. At times, villagers from Rumbak also traveled to Sakti and Chemrey to purchase salt. Eventually, the government began distributing salt in the form of solid lumps.

Nawang named several elders who once made the arduous journey to Changthang. From Yurutse, there was Meymey Mutup. From Rumbak, the salt traders included Ajang Gyapo, Ajang Norphel, Aba Tsewang of the Chunpey family, and Aba Tundup Tashi. These men typically took along 10 to 12 donkeys, setting out in the fifth month of the local calendar and returning by the eighth—just in time for the harvest. They carried money, apricots, and barley flour to barter for salt and wool in Changthang.

When asked why they sourced wool from Changthang despite rearing sheep in Rumbak, Nawang explained that local wool, known as Lugubal, was shorter in fiber. It was used for the Spun (weft), whereas the longer-fibered wool from Changthang was preferred for the Gyu (warp), which required greater tensile strength.

He also spoke of the scarcity of wood and charcoal in Rumbak, which made these resources difficult to trade. Nonetheless, villagers would gather dry wood during winter and collect more in summer to sell for supplemental income. For larger quantities, they journeyed to the Markha Valley, crossing the Ganda La Pass. They would spend a night at Shingo before reaching the valley the next day. The collected wood, transported on yaks or horses, was then taken to Leh for sale.

Trade with Sham Valley was minimal; only a few traders ventured into Rumbak, and primarily during the summer. Before a motorable road reached the area, access to Leh depended on seasonal routes: Zinchen Rong was used in winter, while the Stok La Pass was preferred in summer, as Zinchen Rong became treacherous in the warmer months due to high river discharge.

Siachen Highway, Lama Pirangpa, and the Salt Market of Nubra.

Urgain Rigzin

Urgain Rigzin, 75, a resident of Nyugstet in Nubra, is a renowned local historian who has been chronicling the history of the Nubra region since he was 22. His interest in history was sparked by his teacher, Spalzang Sonam, from the Khangchenpa family in Kobet village, who meticulously documented local history and current events in a detailed diary. Inspired by his teacher’s dedication, Urgain also began documenting historical accounts.

According to Urgain, local folklore tells of a legendary highway that once passed through the Siachen Glacier, used by the Horpas (people of Turkic origin) to invade the Nubra Valley. Tobacco was one of the primary goods traded along this route. This legend also speaks of Yarma Monastery, located at the entrance of the now-extinct highway, which is said to hold a collection of Buddhist texts written in gold. The mountain behind Yarma Gompa is believed to conceal hidden treasures, and as the sun sets, these treasures are said to glow from the reflection of the rays.

When news of this treasure reached Yarkand, many people began visiting Yarma Gompa through the Shaksgam Valley (Shaks, Shakma: sharp stones; Gam: box, in Ladakhi) and the present-day Siachen Glacier. According to the legend, fearing that the treasures and golden scriptures in the monastery might be stolen, the people of Nubra turned to the monk, Pirangpa Lama, for help. Using his spiritual powers, Lama Pirangpa threw live coal onto the icy path, melting the road and sealing the route through the Siachen Valley. Urgain also heard from an old monk that the corpses of Horpas were kept in a standing position in the old section of Yarma Gompa. He further mentioned a French traveler named Sha Bru, who visited the area twice in the 1950s, likely in search of the treasure. However, despite his attempts to climb the mountain behind the Gompa, he was unsuccessful.

About 60 years ago, the salt markets of Sakti and Chemrey were well known but primarily catered to the Ladakhis in the Indus Valley. For the people of Nubra and Shyok Valleys, Urgain recalled an annual salt market in Tangyar village, which served as the main hub for trading salt and other goods. Each year, the Changpa traders from Changthang brought their flocks of sheep laden with salt to the Spang area of Tangyar. People from Shyok and Nubra Valleys traveled to Tangyar carrying Nas (Barley) to trade with the Changpas. This market coincided with the summer visit of the lamas from the Samtangling Gompa, who came for their seasonal shopping, known as Yar-tsong. During this time, they purchased Bal(wool) and salt from the Changpas. The monks used the Bal to craft their distinctive maroon robes.

In the past, when Urgain was a young man in his 20s, like many others from Nubra, he made annual visits to Leh. The journey from Kobet to Leh took him three days, which he completed on foot, accompanied by his horses. The Nubrapas typically purchased Marnak and Chai, along with items such as Shatan Tari, Makmal, Shurma, and Double Jeans for the Ladakhi Kos. During these trips, Urgain stayed at Raheem Akhon’s Sarai in Chubi, Leh. Although the accommodation was free, the Nubrapas were expected to leave horse dung as payment in kind.

For more on Siachen Glacier and Yarma Gompa, refer to Harish Kapadia's book: Siachen Glacier, the Battle of Roses.

Skurbuchan Village : Sacred Geography and its people

Dorjey Sonam

Dorjey Sonam, 85, of the Kunga Stampelpa family in Skurbuchan village, Ladakh, India, recalls making numerous trips to the salt markets in Chemrey and Sakti villages during his youth. He carried nas (barley) and chuli (dried apricots) from Sham to trade for salt brought by Tibetan traders, whom he remembers coming from the Gerge region of Tibet. This was before the 1962 war with China. The journey was long and arduous, taking seven days on donkeys to reach Sakti from Skurbuchan—five days to Leh and an additional two days from Leh to Sakti. Dorjey vividly recalls the bustling salt markets filled with Tibetan traders and the fields of Sakti and Chemrey alive with thousands of raluk (goats and sheep) grazing across the landscape.

The market was held twice a year: once during spring, known as Spid Tsongs, and again in autumn-Ston Tsongs. The exchange rate at the market fluctuated, with the Tibetans often demanding two to three times the amount of nas in exchange for a given quantity of salt. The Tibetans measured salt using a container called a batti (equivalent to two kilograms), but Dorjey and other traders from Skurbuchan brought their own nyaga (a single-pan traditional balance) along with weights measuring one pao (250 grams), two pao, one kilogram, and eight pao. They typically spent two days at the market, purchasing salt from the Tibetans. While Dorjey only bought salt for personal use, some elders from his village ventured on longer journeys to Baltistan after returning to Skurbuchan. In Baltistan, they traded salt for apricots and butter. The Baltis, in turn, visited Skurbuchan and set up camp at a site in the village called Miyaskor. They brought stone utensils, known as doltoks, which they sold in Skurbuchan and neighbouring villages. These doltoks were transported on wooden frames called Kis-Kis. 

Besides the Sakti-Chemrey salt market, Dorjey Sonam also traveled on foot as far as Lamayuru village and Sonamarg. While his visits to Sonamarg in Kashmir were to buy his annual supply of goods, he visited Lamayuru to pay the heavy government tax in the form of nas. In Sonamarg, he would buy das (rice), toe (wheat), and peas. He recalls that, in those days, Rs 1 could buy 12 kg of peas, 7 kg of wheat, and Rs 2 would buy 1 kg of rice. Dorjey vividly remembers the extremely high government tax and describes those times as very difficult for the people of Ladakh. He would carry up to 35 kg of nas all the way to Lamayuru to pay his dues. A government official collected the barley at a government kutti, and often these interactions were bitter, as local officials frequently rejected the quality of the barley on trivial pretexts. Dorjey Sonam remembers the past life in Ladakh as both challenging and simple. Sadly, all of Dorjey’s companions who once traveled with him to the Sakti-Chemrey salt markets have since passed away.

Tsering Nurbu

Tsering Nurbu, 84, of the Tangkarpa family in Skurbuchan, endured many hardships during his early years. As a young man he took up any work he could find. He remembers that he would receive three Khal (one Khal is approximately 50-kilogram) of nas, for a whole year's work at a family’s household. He once accompanied traders from Skurbuchan on a journey to the Sakti salt market, where he helped care for their donkeys. On the return trip from Sakti, the traders stopped near Skampari, close to Leh, for rest and recreation. While the traders enjoyed well-deserved sessions of chang (local wine), Tsering was left in charge of the salt-laden donkeys. To make matters worse, the intoxicated traders began quarrelling with him, falsely accusing him of having swapped their donkeys.

In his mid 20s, after working as a helper for several years, Tsering received advice from his father to leave his job and start a business to improve his circumstances. With Rs. 60 that Tsering had saved and an additional Rs. 30 contributed by his father, they decided to travel to Srinagar to purchase goods for trade. One of their main concerns during the journey was their inability to count numbers in Hindi and Urdu, which they feared would create difficulties in transactions. In those days, the journey to Srinagar was made entirely on foot. Without donkeys to assist them, the father and son opted to carry the return load on their backs. To prepare for the demanding task, Tsering’s father decided to train the young and inexperienced Tsering in the use of a Kis-Kis—a traditional load-carrying wooden frame commonly used by long-distance travelers in Ladakh. 

The Kis-Kis, worn on the back, was specifically designed to transport heavy loads over long distances. It was used alongside a long stick, which served as both a walking aid and a load-supporting tool. When the carrier grew tired, the stick was skillfully positioned under the load, allowing the person to rest while standing upright, with the stick bearing the weight. After a few days of training, they started their journey to Kashmir. On the way, there was always the fear of being waylaid by robbers known as Chakpas. To stay safe, Tsering and his father would take precautions by finishing all cooking activities, especially the mandatory Ladakhi chai, before sunset. Immediately after, they would find a good place to hide—either above or below the road, but never on the roadside. There, they would sleep in silence until sunrise, when they would resume their journey.

During their first visit to Srinagar, Tsering and his father came across a shop offering teacups at an incredible discount: Rs. 1 for a set of 70 cups. Seizing the opportunity, Tsering purchased two sets for Rs. 2. Along with the teacups, they also bought daily-use items such as utensils, chai, matchboxes, and dye colors. The arduous journey to and from Srinagar on foot took 27 days. On the 28th day, Tsering went around Skurbuchan bartering his stock of items from Kashmir. He exchanged each teacup for one Aaloo pari (an empty tin can of potatoes) filled with barley, earning a handsome profit.

With the few cups remaining, he traveled to Khalste and sold them all. For the first time in his life, Tsering felt happy and confident, realizing the potential of his entrepreneurial skills. His success earned him increased attention and respect from the community. Tsering’s father, seeing the rewards of this venture, remarked that had Tsering continued as a helper—a Kharpon or Rarzee—their circumstances would never have improved. He encouraged Tsering to keep visiting Kashmir. Over the years, Tsering undertook seven more trips to Kashmir, steadily growing his fortunes with each journey.

Tsering continued his business ventures and once carried two sacks of rice, each weighing 23 kilograms, on his back across the Zojila Pass in his Kis-Kis. He hoped the rice would help his mother overcome a long-standing challenge she had faced throughout her life. At the time, Tsering’s mother sourced the family’s wool by cleaning raw wool that women from the village would leave at their home. For each batch of wool she cleaned, she kept half and returned the other half to the owner. Although this work was physically exhausting, it was essential for meeting the family's need for wool. That year, Tsering made a trip to the Sakti-Chemrey salt market, bringing with him the two sacks of rice he had bought in Kashmir. According to Tsering, this was few years before the 1962 war. At the market, the Tibetans also sold wool alongside salt, and Tsering managed to exchange nearly equal amounts of wool for the rice. This successful trade marked a significant turning point: Tsering’s mother was able to stop working for others and began processing her own wool.

Once, while in Kashmir, Tsering and a few other Ladakhis were fortunate to meet Ven. 19th Bakula Rinpoche, who generously gifted each of them 26 kilos of rice, a piece of cloth for a goncha (traditional Ladakhi dress), a patloon (pair of pants), a kameez (shirt), and a tipi (a type of hat). To this day, Tsering cherishes the event and believes that it was because of Bakula Rinpoche’s blessings that he was able to prosper in business.

Tsering Dolma

The concept of Phaspun is an important part of the social structure among Buddhists in Ladakh. A loose definition of Phaspun could be a group of people connected through a shared protective deity called "phas-lha." In Skurbuchan, there is a group of families that identify with a Phaspun known as the Gyashingpas, with their protective deity referred to as Tashi Nyenbo 

According to Tsering Dolma, a member of the Gyashingpa Phaspun, centuries ago, a princess named Onjor from across the Karakoram range was married to a king in the region. Tsering Dolma’s ancestors came as Nyopas (assistants) to the princess, and since then, they have settled in Skurbuchan. Within the Gyashingpas, there is another unique group of 5 to 6 families known as the Jingba Ringmos (Long Neck), who have a traditional role during social ceremonies, such as weddings, when they sit in a separate row next to the row of the Kagas, symbolically acting as protectors of the event. This old tradition is still practiced in Skurbuchan. In addition to the Gyashingpas, there was another Phaspun known as the Rablonpas, which in the beginning included many monks. While the Gyashingpas acted as guardians of the bride princess on her way to Ladakh, the Rablonpas accompanied the queen, offering prayers and taking care of religious rituals.

The Gyashingpas observe a unique and peculiar cultural practice. According to their tradition, if the spoon used to prepare the native dish Paba breaks during cooking, the entire dish must be discarded. Although this custom may appear insignificant, it holds profound cultural importance within the Gyashingpa Phaspun. Initially, there were only 18 families from the Gyashingpa Phaspun and 11 families from the Rablonpa Phaspun in Skurbuchan. Over time, their numbers have grown significantly. However, the Gyashingpas are not limited to Skurbuchan, as the author has also observed a few Gyashingpa families in the villages of Skyu and Stok.

Thinley Nurbu  in front  of Gyalpo Phong, Skurbuchan

Skurbuchan is home to some of the most important historical Chortens, Manis, and stone inscriptions in all of Ladakh. Near Tsering Dolma’s ancestral house stands a group of Chortens, which she believes contains the pearl necklace of Queen Onjor. Just before reaching the house, on the right side of the pathway, lies a group of Mani walls that feature two significant historical stone inscriptions. The first inscription, now broken into two pieces, mentions King Deleks Namgyal and Skurbuchan village. The second stone, which remains intact, references King Deldan Namgyal.

One of the most significant sites in Skurbuchan is associated with King Sengge Namgyal (Sen-ge-rnam-rgyal), the powerful 17th-century ruler of the Namgyal dynasty in Ladakh, who reigned from around 1616 until his death in approximately 1642. Known as the "Lion King," Sengge Namgyal was a devout Buddhist celebrated for his extensive contributions to the construction of monasteries, palaces, and shrines throughout Ladakh. While his reign and achievements are well-documented, including his death at Hanle, the circumstances of his birth remain steeped in legend. 

Local lore from Skurbuchan recounts that Sengge Namgyal's mother, Gyalmo Gyal Khatun, went into labor while traveling back to Timosgang and paused to rest in Skurbuchan. It is said that Sengge Namgyal was born beneath a boulder at a location now called Gyalpo Phong. Today, this site holds great spiritual significance within Skurbuchan’s sacred geography.

Stone inscription mentioning Gyalpo Sengge Namgyal

A short distance to the left of Gyalpo Phong from the main road, less than a hundred meters away, lies an extensive Mani wall. This wall is adorned with a rare stone inscription that references significant historical figures and landmarks, including Gyalpo Sengge Namgyal, Gyalmo Skalzang Dolma, Minister Aku Garmo, Deldan Namgyal, Indra Bodhi, Nurzin Gyalmo, the Indus River, and the Chosgyal Photang—the Palace of the Dharma King in Tingmosgang village. While these inscriptions from Skurbuchan have been documented in the past, they appear to have been largely forgotten and are now absent from contemporary discussions on Ladakhi history.

-The author extends sincere gratitude to the Honorable Councillor of Skurbuchan, Lundup Dorjey le, for his invaluable support in facilitating this visit.

-Tashi Namgyal le, Lecturer and prominent scholar from Ladakh, and the son of the late legendary historian Sonam Phunstog Achinathangpa, introduced the author to the Gyashingpa families and the historical stone inscriptions of Skurbuchan.

-Thinley Nurbu le, former Sarpanch of Achinathang Village, assisted the author in facilitating local contacts and travel.

Ladakhi Labourers in Nyungti

Tsewang Samphel

Tsewang Samphel, 83, from Shagar village, Zanskar, Ladakh, India, was born into a Ladakh marked by abject poverty and severe shortages of basic essentials. To sustain their livelihoods, many people from Zanskar and other parts of Leh and Kargil undertook seasonal migrations to a place generically referred to by the Zanskari people as Nyungti. Despite extensive inquiries, the exact meaning of the word remains unclear. For the people of Zanskar, Nyungti seemed to encompass areas around Manali and Mandi, and occasionally extended to Shimla and Punjab.

Samphel was around 15 years old, when he first embarked on the journey to Nyungti. This seasonal migration took place before the harsh winters, a time when the extreme cold and heavy snowfall in Zanskar and other parts of Ladakh rendered farming impossible. The milder weather in the plains provided a more hospitable environment and employment opportunities for Ladakhi workers. After completing the harvest and threshing of barley, Samphel, along with fellow villagers, began the arduous trek toward Nyungti via the Shinkula Pass. Unlike labourers from the Suru Valley where such migrations were typically undertaken by men, the Zanskari groups included both men and women. Samphel’s wife Padma Lamo, now 92 years old, was among the many women who worked as labourers in Nyungti. Traveling in groups of 15-20, they often encountered other Zanskari groups making the same journey. The trek to Nyungti, often referring to Manali in this context, typically took 5-6 days. 

Once in Nyungti, the Zanskari men and women worked under various contractors, primarily on road construction projects. Samphel recalls meeting labourers from Leh, both men and women, who likely traveled via the Changthang route to Manali. Among them was Mipham Ringmo, a man from Choglamsar village in Leh, who served as a supervisor in Manali. Mipham played a vital role in helping Ladakhis secure jobs and ensuring they were paid on time. At that time, the daily wage rate was 12 annas (16 annas equaled one rupee). During their 3-4 month stay in Manali, the Ladakhi labourers endured challenging conditions, constructing makeshift shelters known as Sai Tapur or Chini, built from stones and shrubs, which served as their temporary homes.

Padma Lamo

Before returning home in the 1st or 2nd month of the Ladakhi calendar, the labourers from Zanskar followed a unique ritual of stitching new shoes to prepare for the snowy trek across the Shinkula Pass, which partially reopened during this time. The process of shoemaking was a significant event in the lives of Zanskari labourers, requiring both time and effort. Layers of tsalee-bora (nylon sacks) were cut, layered, and stitched together with threads made from the stems of a  local plant called zaa-tchot, resulting in durable, weather-resistant footwear essential for the journey. Once the shoes were ready, the men usually set off first, navigating the snow-laden and treacherous trails, while the women waited for safer travel conditions till the snow cleared fully before beginning their trek. Some Zanskari labourers opted for an alternate route via Paddar in Jammu before making their way back to Zanskar.

Back in Zanskar, once winter passed, two distinct groups of Changpa nomads became integral to the region’s trade network, supplying essential salt. The first group, the Kharnak Changpas, traveled from the northeast along the Junglam trek route, starting from Dat in Kharnak region of Changthang and crossing the Charcharla Pass to enter Zanskar near Zangla. These nomads typically conducted their trade in areas around Zangla and Padum. Occasionally, some of the Kharnak Changpas would travel westward to the Stod region, towards the Pensila Pass, often bypassing Samphel’s village of Shagar and favoring locations such as Akshow. The second group, the Rupshu Changpas, approached Zanskar from the southeast, traveling along the Leh-Himachal highway and turning off before Serchu to enter Zanskar through the Lingti River and Chumik Marpo. They engaged directly with villages along the way and would travel as far as Shagar. Samphel’s family sourced their salt from this group, following the traditional Dzagos (Friend) system of trade partners. Under this arrangement, each Changpa trader was paired with a designated Dzago family in  Zanskar. This family received priority when bartering salt for barley, fostering a reliable and mutually beneficial relationship. Samphel fondly recalls his family’s Dzago, Tsewang Toetoe, who played a pivotal role in maintaining this vital trade connection.

Upon arriving in the village, the Rupshu Changpas would set up camp in a communal field. As part of their custom, they would slaughter a khalpa (male sheep) and share the meat with their Dzago family, reinforcing bonds of trust and mutual respect. This exchange of hospitality was then followed by the bartering of salt for barley. The Changpas typically stayed in the village for 3-4 days, during which they filled their lugal (saddle bags) with barley before embarking on their return journey to Changthang. In addition to salt, the Rupshu Changpas also brought kerosene, a rare and valuable commodity for the Zanskari villagers. They transported small quantities of kerosene in cans strapped to the backs of their sheep. Samphel vividly recalls these exchanges, though he never discovered where the Changpas sourced the kerosene.

Like many of his generation, Samphel traveled for trade to Paddar more than 20 times. Upon reaching Sumcham in Paddar, the Zanskaris would encounter the locals, whom they called Mons. Samphel recalls that the Mons did not understand the Ladakhi language and often greeted them with the phrase Kuru gir dangbhai, which he believes means, “Where are you going?” Samphel often returned with logs of wood, khem (wooden shovels), or chi stey (a local grain) used for making thukpa. While trade generally flowed more from Zanskar to Paddar, traders from Paddar also visited Zanskar, bringing saldang (a bark of a tree used as a tea supplement) , Bal (wool), La-shee ( An oily stick that burned like an incense but used for illumination in the absence of kerosene and electricity),  and butter, which were transported on sheep. Once in Zanskar, these items were exchanged for barley.

Samphel is perhaps one of the last traders to have traversed the legendary frozen Chadar route on the Zanskar River, carrying Zanskari butter to sell in Leh. In his youth, he undertook the arduous journey with 20 battis (1 batti is approximately 2 kg each) of butter strapped to his back, navigating the treacherous ice-covered river. Depending on the ice conditions and water levels, the trek typically took 3 to 4 days. Despite the dangers and challenges of the route, Samphel persisted for many years, sustaining his livelihood through this demanding trade. At the time, he earned a modest Rs. 2 per kilogram of butter, a reflection of the economic realities of the period.

Remarkably, Samphel completed the Chadar trek for the last time at the age of 70. By then, his sons had settled in Leh, and his journey had shifted from being a commercial venture to a personal one. Although he still carried a small quantity of butter, his primary purpose was to spend the winter with his son at his home in Pela in Thiksey village. This last trek, much like his final journey to Nyungti, symbolized the closing of a chapter in Samphel’s life and the gradual disappearance of the historic trade practices of the Zanskari people along the frozen Zanskar River. It was not merely the end of his personal endeavours but also a sad farewell to a way of life that had sustained generations in the harsh landscapes of Zanskar. 

Nurbu Tashi

Nurbu Tashi, 85, from Sani village in Zanskar, vividly recalled his first journey to Paddar at the age of 25. The route through the Omasila Pass was notorious for heavy snowfall, making the journey perilous. Nurbu and his companions carried ropes to navigate the crevasses and cliffs that dotted the path. Safety was a collective effort; after crossing a difficult section, one person would signal the others to follow. Yet accidents were not uncommon. Nurbu recounted a harrowing moment when his friend, Urgain Tsering, fell into a crevasse. With quick thinking and teamwork, they managed to pull him out using a rope. 

In Zanskar, wood was a scarce resource, with Shila being one of the few places where it grew locally. To meet the community's needs, Nurbu and others frequently made the arduous journey to Paddar. On each trip, Nurbu typically brought back five logs of wood, carrying them on his back along with Khem ( wooden shovels) and  chib-tsay (a local grain) through treacherous terrain. In Paddar they were often treated to takur, a buckwheat bread popular in the region, a gesture of hospitality that Nurbu remembered fondly. In Zanskar Nurbu sold khem, which he purchased for five rupees, for ten rupees, doubling his investment and supporting his livelihood. Beyond wood and tools, Nurbu also traded for other scarce items. Due to severe winters and heavy snowfall, Zanskar historically had limited grazing grounds, which resulted in fewer livestock and, consequently, less wool production. This scarcity made Nurbu and friends buy wool from Gujjars in Paddar, a vital resource in Zanskar’s harsh winters. Additionally, he brought back butter, another item in short supply in Zanskar, further diversifying the goods he transported. These journeys were not just trade expeditions but a lifeline for Zanskaris, bridging the gap between their isolated valley and the resources they needed to survive.

The Changpa traders who visited Zanskar not only supplied salt but also brought soda and wool. While the soda was a crucial ingredient for making Ladakhi butter tea, the additional wool brought by the Changpas, supplementing supplies from Paddar, was indispensable for enduring Zanskar's long and harsh winters. Nurbu observed that the Kharnak Changpas typically arrived during autumn, while the Rupshu Changpas visited in the summer. When asked about the availability of surplus barley for trade during the summer, Nurbu confirmed that the Zanskaris had sufficient barley to  exchange with the nomads.

Like Samphel, Nurbu Tashi also traveled to Nyungti during winters to find work. After the autumn harvest and threshing were completed, Nurbu and his friends prepared for the journey. Groups of 30 to 40 men and women from each village would set out on foot, crossing the Shinkula Pass after which vehicles were available to carry them further. The wage rate at the time was about 2 to 4 annas a day. Every year, Nurbu and friends began their journey in the ninth month of the Ladakhi calendar before the Shinkula closed due to heavy snowfall and returned by the second month of the following year when the Shinkula Pass became partially accessible again. Nurbu, like other male members, recounted his experience of preparing special shoes for the return journey. Using pieces of nylon sacks readily available in Nyungti, they stitched together durable footwear that, according to Nurbu, was “better than leather.” These shoes made a distinctive “chorob-chorob” sound when walking on snow. The journey back was often tougher, as snow had yet to clear near Shinkula, making movement difficult. Men traveled ahead of the women and often faced the challenge of sleeping in the open, sometimes on snow. However, the experienced Zanskaris were well-prepared with warm clothing, their sturdy shoes, and kholak (barley-based food) to sustain them.

Tundup Gyaltsan

Tundup Gyaltsan, 86, is the oldest resident of Pipcha, a remote village near the renowned Bardan Monastery in Zanskar. A man of many talents, Tundup mastered carpentry, masonry, and tailoring, all of which he learned from his father. However, his greatest passion has always been playing the surna, a traditional  Ladakhi wind instrument that looks like a Shehnai. As a young man, Tundup often accompanied his father to various villages in Zanskar, where his father was invited to play the surna. Inspired, Tundup began playing the instrument at the age of 18 and has continued ever since. At the time of the interview, he was eagerly preparing for three upcoming weddings in the area, where he had been invited to perform. To preserve this tradition, Tundup has trained two surna players—one in Pipcha and another in Mune village—ensuring that this rich cultural heritage lives on.

In Tundup’s youth, the field called Teeyul in Pipcha was a popular campsite for Changpa nomads who traveled with sheep carrying salt in saddle bags known as lugals. For many years, Tundup worked on this land, which he had leased from the Bardan Monastery. Later in life, when he could afford to buy land elsewhere, he returned the field to the monastery. Today, the monastery uses it to run a school for the village children. Tundup recalls the sharp negotiation skills of the Changpa traders. Although their lugals were only half-filled with salt, they ensured the lugals they received in exchange were packed tightly with barley. Using a special needle called the gyabda, they stitched the bags to maximize the barley load. Tundup’s designated dzago (trade partner) was Jorgey, a distant relative by marriage. Jorgey followed what is now the Leh-Himachal highway, entering Zanskar through Chunkaro and Lingti to reach Pipcha. Tundup confirmed that the Changpas visited twice a year—once in the 4th or 5th month and again in the 9th month. Their visits ceased when the government began supplying salt through the public distribution system. 

Besides his multitasking professions, Tundup also traveled to Paddar with his friends to bring back cattle, which he sold in Zanskar. Each person typically brought back two to three cattle, purchased for Rs. 100 each. While Tundup would keep the younger cattle for his own use, the older ones, which were no longer useful in the fields, were sold for Rs. 600. Tundup fondly remembers the Khawaja's of Padum, who were his regular and trusted customers.

Like Samphel and Nurbu Tashi, Tundup also traveled to Nyungti for labor during the winters. This practice was common in Pipcha, with young men and women leaving for work while elders stayed behind to care for children and livestock. Tundup began this migration at 16 and continued until he was 40. The return journey from Nyungti was marked by the tradition of making new shoes. According to Tundup, Zanskaris used a plant called zaatchot to create threads for the shoes. They peeled the stems of the plant, which became strong and durable when twisted, and used it to stitch together layers of tsalee-bora (nylon sacks). The sole was made by layering the sack material to the desired size and thickness, while the upper part of the shoe was crafted from namboo cloth. These handmade boots were designed to protect the wearer’s feet from snow, making the trek back through the Shinkula Pass during the 1st and 2nd months of the Ladakhi calendar more bearable.

While the tradition of seasonal migration among Ladakhi labourers had existed for generations, it gained unprecedented momentum after India's independence in 1947. The launch of large-scale development projects, particularly in the construction of roads, bridges, and other critical infrastructure, created a significant demand for labour in North India. Ladakhi labourers, especially from Zanskar,  and the Suru Valley, became an indispensable part of this workforce.

The story of Tsewang Samphel, Padma Lamo, Nurbu Tashi, and Tundup Gyaltsen represents the untold narrative of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of silent Ladakhi men and women who played a crucial role in building infrastructure across northern India in the years following India's independence. During the harsh winters of the mid-20th century, these labourers embarked on mass migrations to regions such as Manali, Shimla, Punjab, Dehradun, and Chakrata. Yet the story of their struggle and  their invaluable role in these infrastructure projects, a vital chapter of modern Ladakhi history  remains largely undocumented.

-The author extends sincere gratitude to the Honorable Councillor of Karsha, Stanzin Jigmath le for making this visit possible.