Perspective and commentary

My dear Gen Z,

I am indebted to you, today. What you have done has no parallels to what my generation, the Gen X, has ever achieved. You have ignited the soul of India, the world’s oldest and largest democracy. You have awakened a nation, long in slumber. You have consecrated the conscience of our country, defiled with blind faith, greed and selfishness.

So, thank you.

While you have been at the receiving end, I witnessed the beginning of this age when it all started, when this evil began to first breathe and held our nation bewitched for so long. Ah! I was of your age then.

Our nation painstakingly built what our constitution stands for. Democracy, secularism, and individual rights, of these ideals our land was a crucible from time immemorial. Think of Vedanta, of Tripitakas, and many philosophical/spiritual traditions of the ‘argumentative Indians’ fame. We produced inexhaustible, comprehensive and intricate thoughts on polity, social mores and personal liberation. Yet, I saw it all dismantled. I witnessed these magnificent edifices crumble one by one when the thicket of ignorance, blinding faith and gluttony began to set in on 1.8 billion.

My generation, Gen X, was stupefied when glitters of ‘development’ shone on our eyes. We stood dazed for decades, gagged with irrationality. Many of us are in torpor of complacency still. And, here you are, my dear Gen Z, taking on the mantle for us and our children.

So, thank you.

Finally, as your elder brother, I have this to say. It is not about the evil pawns, but the current that generated their motley cohort. Believe me, most of them are riding the wave. As soon as it turns, so shall many decamp. You see, it is inherent to cowards, opportunists and the compromised.

My dear Gen Z. You rave. You make merry of your youth. You explore. All the yardsticks of yesteryears have rotten. You be the rebel who dictates your own terms. You dissent, resist and invent. You be Gen Z.

And, for taking on the baton that laid forsaken for so long. Thank you, once again.

Your brother in gratitude,

Lhundup Gyalpo

Lhundup Gyalpo is the author of Bettys Butter Tea – Stories from Ladakh.

There is a lot of focus on drug addiction in Ladakh these days. Government agencies and NGOs are working hard to address it. Factors such as toxic family environment, poor parenting, peer pressure, and curiosity are often cited as causes. However, on deeper examination these are just the tip of the iceberg. The real causes lie much deeper in Ladakh’s ongoing social and economic transformation.

Ladakh’s traditional agrarian economy, once the backbone of its self-sustaining and close-knit society, has been rapidly crumbling as we shift to a tourism-driven economy. This has triggered widespread ‘blind urbanisation’ marked by large-scale migration from rural to urban centres in search of employment and educational opportunities.

This satellite image of a part of Leh town illustrates unplanned urbanisation taking place in Ladakh (Image: Google Earth)

One glaring impact of the ‘blind urbanisation’ is a sharp class divide. Ladakh has moved from its communitarian culture to a competitive, individualistic, and increasingly materialistic rat race mentality. Relationships are becoming hollow with marriages being based on social status and wealth rather than compatibility and shared values.

The rapidly fading agrarian lifestyle is sustained largely by the elders in rural areas. They continue agro-pastoral practices not for profit but due to their deep attachment to it. The youth, however, are in a quandary. Agriculture is neither economically attractive nor practically feasible. After completing their education, many youth remain without stable employment, income, or a clear sense of direction. This lack of substantive career prospects has led to disillusionment among the youth. They are struggling to pull through in an increasingly urbanised and competitive environment. This reminds me of German philosopher Nietzsche’s quote, “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. For when you look long into an abyss, the abyss looks also into you.” For frustrated youth, the abyss is gazing back. The disillusioned youth do not dare to guide the younger generation (Gen-Z).

The vulnerable youth of Gen-Z see a bleak future. They have grown up in a society where agriculture and self-sufficiency are no longer viable. Money is the only measure of success for many of these youth. When they don’t see legitimate and sustainable ways to achieve economic security, they feel frustrated and hopeless. Thus, many marginalised youth become disillusioned even before completing their schooling as they feel alienated from traditional values and modern opportunities. In this sense, that they are the first major victims of Ladakh’s ‘blind urbanisation.’ Other factors may trigger drug abuse but they are symptoms of deeper structural problems.

Unless we understand the larger picture, the situation is likely to deteriorate further. What we are witnessing today is merely the trailer rather than the full movie. Urgent efforts are required to strengthen educational institutions, sports facilities, and recreational centres in villages. Sustainable employment opportunities must be created in rural areas to enable youth to earn a livelihood while remaining connected to their families and communities. The benefits of tourism should not remain concentrated in Leh, Pangong-tso, Hunder, and Turtuk. It must be distributed more equitably across Ladakh with active support from the UT administration. The active promotion of homestays and community-based tourism in unexplored rural areas will spread economic opportunities and reduce migration pressures.

The UT administration’s experiment with ‘model schools’ has started producing encouraging results in a relatively short period. This needs to be expanded to create high quality schools in far-flung areas and enable students to access better educational opportunities without migrating. The recently established drug de-addiction centres and the Anti-Narcotics Task Force to combat the growing drug menace are commendable steps. However, all stakeholders must understand the deeper social, economic, and cultural dimensions to address this issue. Only a holistic approach that combines rural development, employment generation, educational reform, cultural preservation, mental health support, and community engagement can hope to tackle the root causes of addiction and safeguard Ladakh’s future.

By Stanzin Stamdin

Stanzin Stamdin is Assistant Professor at Government Degree College, Khaltse.

Historically, Kargil (Purig) was known for its simplicity, resilience, and close-knit community. Over time, this high altitude Trans Himalayan region grew within strict ecological limits marked by harsh climatic conditions, limited resources, and an agrarian economy. Population growth was gradual and livelihoods were localised. A delicate balance was maintained between nature and society. Nowadays, Kargil is experiencing a transformation. In recent years, it has witnessed rapid population growth and urban expansion. Recent administrative changes have improved some infrastructure, especially bridges and buildings, though the transition has taken place without scientific planning.

One of the most visible and pressing transformation is unchecked construction across the town. Buildings are constructed on fragile slopes and small plateaus that are vulnerable due to climate change. Many structures are being built along riverbanks and in congested areas. This is often being done without adherence to building norms. As a result, increased density and overcrowding has intensified while parking and resting spaces continue to shrink. Many of these sites are historically prone to avalanches, landslides and flooding, which makes the town’s layout unsafe and poorly organised.

Buildings constructed on fragile slopes in Kargil town. Photograph by Dr Fayaz Hussain

At the same time, basic civic infrastructure especially roads are struggling to cope with growing demand and urban in-migration. There is growing water scarcity, inadequate or absent sewerage systems, and inefficient waste management. Electrical infrastructure remains unreliable and often unsafe. Public utilities that were designed for a much smaller population are now under immense pressure.

The seriousness of this issues was highlighted by recent remarks by the Hon’ble Lieutenant Governor of Ladakh, Vinai Kumar Saxena during his visit to Kargil. While inspecting the main market area, he stressed on the urgent need for major changes in the town’s urban management and infrastructure. He observed that the present condition of the market was not satisfactory and pointed to challenges of congestion, poor planning, and lack of parking in the market. He also emphasised the need to clean and restore Suru river, which flows through the town and faces many problems such as pollution due to unregulated waste disposal, washing of clothes and cars, and urban expansion.

Traffic congestion has also become a serious issue in Kargil town, especially near schools, markets, and administrative centres. The concentration of institutions combined with a sharp rise in private vehicles and school buses has created chronic bottlenecks that undermine mobility and public safety. Despite its rapid urban growth, Kargil’s economic base remains weak and fragile. Local production is minimal, and it continues to depend on goods and services sourced from outside. This has created a growing imbalance where population growth exceeds economic capacity, making development increasingly unsustainable.

The core issue remains Kargil’s ecological fragility. It is located in a high altitude and ecologically sensitive zone and is vulnerable to environmental disturbances. Even small disruptions can trigger soil erosion and water depletion while increasing disaster risks. In such a landscape, unplanned urbanisation is not just a developmental challenge but also a question of long-term survival and sustainability.

This needs political urgency. Policymakers must recognise the seriousness of the situation and act decisively. It requires incorporation of traditional ways of life, scientific urban planning, strict enforcement of building regulations, zoning, sustainable water and waste management systems and expansion of town in safer zones. It requires improved traffic planning, decentralisation of institutions, and stronger urban governance mechanisms. Area based commercial planning model will be help urban management by reducing congestion and organising the market.

At the same time, the responsibility for sustainable development cannot rest solely on the government. Local citizens must play an active role by following building norms, reducing environmental damage, responsible citizen and supporting sustainable practices, and cooperating with planning efforts. Kargil is at crossroads. The path it chooses now will determine if it emerges as a model of sustainable mountain development or becomes a victim of unchecked urban chaos. The time to act is now; before today’s challenges become tomorrow’s irreversible problem.

By Dr Fayaz Hussain

Dr Fayaz Hussain is Assistant Professor of History at Government Degree College, Kargil’s Sankoo Campus.

(Top photograph of Kargil town by Mohd Hussain)

For decades after Ladakh opened for tourism in 1974, Kargil remained an afterthought: A place to halt for a night on the way to Leh or Srinagar. That reality is finally beginning to shift. The apricot blossom season, amplified by the reach of social media, has become a turning point. For the first time, travellers are not just passing through and are choosing to stay for several nights.

What is striking is not just the increase in footfall but also the effort that travellersare willing to make. Despite expensive flights, unpredictable weather, and complicated travel routes through Srinagar, Delhi, and Leh, visitors are determined to reach Kargil to witness the valleys in bloom. That level of intent is rare. It signals something important: Kargil is no longer a stopover. It is a destination.

This enthusiasm among tourists is doing more than just generating business for hoteliers and tour operators. It is creating a profound mind-set shift. Homestay owners, guides, and small local entrepreneurs, many of whom once saw limited opportunity in tourism, are beginning to recognise its potential. This psychological shift may be the most valuable outcome of all. And yet, just as Kargil is starting to find its footing, we are at risk of holding ourselves back.

 

Suru valley in Kargil (Photograph by Roots Ladakh)

Bureaucratic bottleneck

Traveling to Ladakh is already an expensive and logistically challenging endeavour. The last thing visitors should encounter on arrival is confusion and obstruction. Let’s be clear: Security protocols are necessary. Ladakh is a sensitive border region, and safety is non-negotiable. But there is a fundamental difference between ensuring security and creating friction.

At present, tourists and operators face a system defined by inconsistency. Rules are often unclear, undocumented, or communicated informally. Enforcement varies from one checkpoint to another. What is allowed one day is questioned the next. The consequences are not theoretical, they are happening on the ground.

Recently a group that had come to Kargil to witness the apricot blossom included a guest from Mauritius who held a valid Indian employment visa. She was abruptly denied a permit to visit the Dardic region along the lower Indus. The reason given was a year-old rule that was never officially notified nor communicated to local operators. The result was embarrassment, logistical disruption and an avoidable loss of experience for the guest.

In another instance, American tourists returning from a four-night Himalayan brown bear expedition in Drass were stopped at the Khaltse check post and asked to produce a permit for travel along a national highway. This is something unheard of in my 12 years in the industry. They were halted for three and a half hours until someone pulled strings with senior police officials to finally let them continue.

Adventure tourism faces similar uncertainty. The likes of Nun and Kun expeditions, the Warwan valley trek, and the Kalapari lake trek are gaining immense popularity, yet permit protocols remain opaque. Operators are left guessing requirements based on nationality, often leading to arbitrary last-minute denials and damage to one’s reputation. When operators have to rely on personal connections to rescue guests from arbitrary detentions or sudden permit rejections, the system is fundamentally broken. This is not just a logistical problem. It is a perception problem. For many visitors, these interactions form their first impression of the region. And in tourism, perception is everything.

 Opague rules have undermined Kargil’s rich potential for nature-based tourism

Bridging faith and cultural heritage

Alongside administrative challenges, there is a more nuanced, internal conversation that Kargil must confront. Our region possesses a multi-layered cultural history, but there remains hesitation in fully embracing and presenting it. Concerns rooted in conservative interpretations of faith often lead to an underrepresentation of our broader heritage.

This is a false dilemma. As a practicing Muslim and a local, I firmly believe that religion and cultural tourism do not have to be mutually exclusive. In fact, they can coexist beautifully and in many places, they already do.

From Malaysia and Indonesia to Iran and the Central Asian republics, societies have successfully preserved their religious identity while showcasing their historical and cultural diversity. Even regions culturally closer to home such as Gilgit-Baltistan have demonstrated that heritage can be presented with dignity, without compromising belief.

There is no reason why we cannot achieve the same harmony in Kargil. By viewing our cultural heritage not as a threat to our beliefs, but as a celebrated community asset, we open the door to a much richer, more sustainable model of tourism.

The path forward

Kargil has incredible potential. Between the apricot blossoms, brown bear expeditions, world-class trekking and mountaineering, and our diverse cultural roots, we have all the ingredients of a premier destination. But to harness this potential sustainably, more than promotion and infrastructure, Kargil’s tourism needs empathy from its stakeholders.

At the administrative level, there needs to be a shift in approach from control to facilitation, supported by transparent and publicly accessible guidelines on permits and travel protocols. This must be matched by consistent enforcement and better coordination across departments to eliminate contradictions and arbitrary decision-making. It is equally important to sensitise frontline officials to engage with visitors as welcomed guests, rather than treating them as an administrative burden. At the same time, we as a community must take ownership of our narrative; not just by embracing our cultural identity with confidence but doing this in a way that is open, inclusive, and welcoming. Empathy for tourism begins with how we present ourselves, and by sharing our heritage with pride rather than hesitation. This way, we create deeper and more meaningful experiences that allow travellers to truly connect with Kargil. We have finally convinced travellers to stay back and explore Kargil. Now, we must ensure our systems and mind-sets are ready to welcome them.

By Muzammil Hussain

Muzammil Hussain is Co-Founder of Roots Ladakh.

This edition of Stawa was supposed to contain the twelfth episode of the serialised story. Instead, I am writing a reflection on it. Readers, I apologise for the interlude. The episodes of Pal and Zin tale are piecemeal in scope. Nevertheless, this article marks a year-long engagement between Dr Thupstan Norboo, Stawa, and me. Therefore, it felt fitting to relate the story behind its origin and writing about the process so far.

The genesis of the bilingual serialised fiction could be traced back to a conversation between Editor of Stawa, Sunetro Ghosal, and me about Bhoti/Ladakhi/Tibetan language. We discussed many facets of the language, including its dwindling fortune, seeming irrelevance in an increasing mono-cultural and mono-lingual world and blatant policy jinx. The rampant linguistic and cultural purge in Tibet and seemingly benign and yet chronic political apathy in India are only hastening its inevitable extinction. Nevertheless, the hour-long peripatetic exchange brought to the fore the dearth of fiction or literature in Bhoti/Ladakhi language. A jarring gap, we realised, could be addressed at our station instead of lamenting over its dismal situation.

The Tibetan plateau, the linguistic fountainhead of Bhoti language, culturally gave precedence to philosophical undertakings through a concerted royal patronage during historical times and spiritual reverence of the populace, in general—a collective choice that effectively relegated Bhoti literature to a lesser kind. In effect, the corpus of literature in Bhoti is largely philosophical in content with a typical terminology that is technical and specific, firmly embedded into the structural mores of Buddhism. The monolithic set of philosophical vocabulary, thus, serves the purpose of thought well, but not so much when it comes to the evolution of the language.

Akin to any other language, Bhoti is inherently fluid and amorphous incorporating a multitude of human experiences beyond the concerns of a marshalled philosophy. Yet, it lacks a literary platform, in terms of production and consumption, where those experiences could be experimented, exercised and expressed, facilitating a dynamic lexicon accrual in keeping with the changing world. Consequently, in the shared memory of Tibet and contiguous regions abutting the Himalayas, serious written works of fiction in Bhoti is sparse, save a few recent publications from Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, Dharamsala, India and Kham region of Tibet, which emanated during an ephemeral cultural revival period beginning the 1980s, under the vigilant watch of Chinese Communist Party.

Understandably, the existential threat for Bhoti is not peculiar to Ladakh. The larger Tibetan community, in exile or otherwise, is also reeling in its wake. Yet, Bhoti literature, the bedrock for the language, is still a second thought in the social consciousness of its linguistic demography despite its conspicuous absence and the central role it could play in its survival, though, the odds of which is fretting away each passing day. It is in this backdrop ‘Pal and Zin’ was conceived and written. The narrative is addressed to children in the hope of attracting young minds, but more so to keep the complexities of its language, plot and translation to its bare minimum.

As the reader is aware, each episode of the serialised narrative is published in English and Bhoti/Ladakhi, and the latter comes with an appendage of word-meaning section. While a language is multi-faceted with aspects such as syntax, style, voice and so on, this article primarily concerns itself with vocabulary. The idea is to accentuate the nature of language through the admixture of words that Bhoti/Ladakhi acquired over a prolong exposure to a potpourri of cultures, languages and ideas criss-crossing Ladakh. 

Most of Bhoti/Ladakhi language words have their origins in native language drawn from pre-historic Trans Himalayan linguistic roots. Before Thonmi Sambhota codified it in the Seventh Century CE, the Tibet plateau (Zang Zung) spoke the language for centuries. It also acquired words and expressions from foreign languages such as Chinese, Kashmiri, Arabic, and Persian. These indigenised foreign terms are yet to find their place in its lexicon. In this regard, etymological research could prove an effective contribution towards Bhoti/Ladakhi development.

The list of Bhoti/Ladakhi terms discussed so far in the story includes words that are familiar in the written form of the language; some have their secondary or tertiary meanings faded away due to disuse; those which have been forgotten in spoken language altogether and have been replaced by unassimilated loanwords from languages such as Hindi, Urdu and English; colloquial words have firm roots in the written language albeit with pronunciation alterations; those which are purely spoken; and new words that were devised by me using portmanteaus. In fact, many of the names of the characters have been inspired from blends, such as Skardha (a blend of Skar: star and Dha: arrow), Gothgyal (Goth: vulture + Gyal: king) and Dojom (Dud: evil + Jom: subdue), revealing aspects of the characters such as their species, personality, role in the story and so on. Blend words, therefore, play a prominent role in Bhoti language in creative expression, linguistic efficiency and, importantly, in invention of new words. This demonstrates the inherent flexibility and adaptability of Bhoti/Ladakhi language, which is a tool that is enriched and receives a renewed lease of life when we start exploring its potential for expression.

Bhoti was a phonetic language that has increasingly deviated from its original makeup. In its spoken form, the language has various pronunciation schemes prevalent across the Tibetan plateau. As we move eastward from Baltistan to Central Tibet, diglossia becomes pronounced. Even in Ladakh, we have a rainbow of dialects. Some of them still retain the puritan sounds, where some communities pronounce words true to their written forms, as in Kargili/Purgi dialect. In central Ladakh, it begins to metamorphose, while the Changthang region in the east uses a diglossic form of the language. The word-meaning section of Pal and Zin also discusses some words that have undergone different degrees of phonetic transformation. It is pertinent to stress that Bhoti/Ladakhi language needs a phonetic transcription system that could account for such a diverse set of its dialectic variations and would go a long way in unifying the language.

Finally, the role of literature cannot be over emphasised in preserving and promoting a language. It is an open secret that spoken language is learnt through listening, while written through reading. Without either of them, a language is rendered incomplete and destined to die. Think of the prominent languages of the world such as English, French, Chinese, Spanish, Hindi, Urdu, Bengali, Assamese etc.; they all have a rich literary traditions. Literature is a necessary condition, if not a sufficient condition, for a language to flourish. Bhoti/Ladakhi language, therefore, needs a body of serious literature that is drawn on mundane experiences and narratives as it has done extensively with esoteric and analytical realms. I hope, this small experiment with Pal and Zin not only provides a source of entertainment and occasional inspiration, but also initiates a conversation on Bhoti/Ladakhi language and its practices.

By Lhundup Gyalpo

Lhundup Gyalpo is the author of Betty’s Butter Tea – Stories from Ladakh.

Sketch by Tsetan Angmo

Tsetan Angmo is a visual artist, a passionate illustrator and an animator with a flair for bringing characters to life through motion with a keen love for storytelling.