In 1834, Zorawar
Singh, a brilliant military leader, launched a fierce assault on the isolated
kingdom of Ladakh and kick-started a chain of events that would go on to change
the politics of the region forever. Zorawar managed to annex Ladakh to the
Dogra Empire and later went on to capture Baltistan, further north. Twelve
years later, in 1846, the British rewarded the Dogras for their contribution to
the British war effort against the Sikhs with a sizable portion of former Sikh-ruled
territory- the Kashmir Valley. Thus the Dogras of Jammu became rulers of what
we presently call Jammu and Kashmir. In 1947-48, the boundaries were drawn
again, as the two newly born nations fought to control the state of Jammu and
Kashmir, which had initially, chosen to stay independent. Fences were built,
guns (and men to operate them) brought in and regions with indistinguishable
cultures were split into two. What once was a continuous entity, where people
and goods could freely move, suddenly had an impermeable barrier right in the
middle. Further developments in the early 1960s meant that another impermeable
barrier was set up in the region. This had dramatic implications to Ladakh,
especially considering its geography.
The first time
Ladakhis saw an airplane was during the first Indo-Pak war. Isolated as they
were, nobody in their wildest dreams had imagined anything like an
airplane. The arrival of a large flying
monster into Leh caused varied reactions. Some were panic-stricken and hid into
their basements. Some were overcome by a deep sense of devotion to this
‘savior’, who would protect them from the invaders and tried offering hay to
the aircraft! After all, Ladakhis had not even set their eyes upon a bicycle by
then, not to be surprised by the appearance of a giant military transport
plane.
Air-connectivity did
miracles to Ladakh- especially to its previously non-existent tourism industry.
It ushered in an era in which people could, as my mother quite aptly describes,
jump through a rabbit’s hole to enter a completely new world. It also did wonders too our administrators’
memories, which seem to have eliminated from themselves the bits concerning
Ladakh’s geographic isolation.
Boundaries of a
variety of kinds, some natural, some artificial, some ancient, while some quite
new have ensured that Ladakhis remain virtually, as one hotel-owner in Kargil
describes, in ‘prison’ for a large part
of the year. Their contacts to the east have been severed due to sour relations
of their political master in Delhi with Beijing. Their relations with the
north-west have been blocked as the same political masters are constantly at
logger-heads with Islamabad. The ranges of Karakoram, Zanskar and the Himalayas
do the rest- and you have the four walls of a prison cell.
There are only two
land routes into Ladakh from the plains of India- and both remain open only
during the spring and the summer. The
Manali-Leh highway is a very treacherous road, at several points climbing above
the 5000 metre mark. It opens in May or June and (if weather permits) remains
open till October. The Srinagar-Leh highway is only slightly better. It opens,
usually, before its counterpart from Manali and altitude-wise is not as
formidable. It runs quite close (within striking distance) to the LOC and its
strategic importance came under the spotlight when it was bombed in 1999.
Although most portions of the road are at benign altitudes (in relative terms,
of course), Zoji La, a mountain pass at 3528 metres above sea-level remains an
obstacle. In winter, without fail, it gets buried under several tens of feet of
snow and an immense effort with heavy machinery is required for the pass to be
cleared for traffic.
Early in spring,
Ladakhis have their eyes and ears trained towards Zoji La, as its opening means
an end to their arduous four-month long prison sentence. As winters melt into
springs, the essentials – food, fuel, etc. – start diminishing from Ladakhi
markets. Very little, if anything at all, is brought in by air. Therefore, it
is Zoji La that brings in much-needed supplies, in absence of any trade with
Baltistan or with Tibet. Despite featuring in elections manifestos (probably
several times), plans to build an all-weather tunnel at Zoji La, which will
ensure year-long connectivity with Ladakh have failed to materialize. The pass usually opens in the
first week of April, marking the beginning of the tourist season.
Any delay in clearing
the pass for traffic can have disastrous consequences for Ladakh and therefore
the local populace is completely at the mercy of the administration (both
military and civillian) which decides how much money and effort should be spent
in digging snow on the pass. This is precisely what happened in the spring of
this year, which coincided with the general elections. Unusually late snowfall
and an unusual lack of enthusiasm (even by Indian standards) on the part of the
administration to open the road meant that Zoji La did not open till the second
week of May- bringing Ladakh on the brink of starvation. Vegetables disappeared
from the markets, prices of essential goods skyrocketed and the arrival of
hundreds of tourists through the ‘rabbit’s hole’ made matters only worse. Some
felt it was a conspiracy by the administration to prevent people from running
off to Jammu and Srinagar and thereby ensuring a high voter turn-out in the
Ladakh Lok Sabha constituency. Others felt it was just lethargy on the part of
the administration, which (not too unexpectedly) seems to have forgotten the
lessons of 1999 about keeping strategic roads firmly under control. Whatever
the reasons were, the closure of the pass for longer than usual was enough to
cause trouble to thousands of people.
Couldn’t Ladakhis
themselves produce essentials like food? Perhaps, with innovative agricultural
techniques, it might be possible. But it must be remembered that Ladakh’s
population does not comprise of just the natives. There are as many, if not
more, mouths to feed among the huge floating population of labourers, tourists,
merchants and government servants (not counting the hundred thousand army
personnel, who must be taken care of by the army itself). It would be harsh to
expect Ladakhis to feed everybody in Ladakh, with limited amount of fertile
land and a small window of warm weather.
In my opinion, it is time to break down the
walls of the prison cell or at least build a few windows. Trade routes with
Baltistan, if opened, could prove invaluable to the region. Relations with
Central Asia through the Karakoram Pass (a route which was a part of the
celebrated Silk Road) in the north could be reestablished. But the prospects look dim. The newly elected
government in Delhi plans to reinforce the existing walls rather than making an
effort to break them down. Mr. Chewang Thupstan, BJP’s candidate from Ladakh
who managed to win the seat by a record margin of 36 votes had campaigned
with ‘UT for Ladakh’ as one of his
principal election promises. It remains to be seen whether the new government
plans to take measures that will bring people closer or wield the tried and
trusted weapon of divide and rule.
References
1.
Partha S
Banerjee Ladakh, Kashmir, Manali- the Essential Guide
Acknowledgements:
I must thank Dr. Tsering Norboo
of Spituk, Leh for sharing his experiences with me.
