I have visited Ladakh several times, both before and after the delimitation of the erstwhile J&K State into two Union Territories in 2019. On every occasion, the land and its people have left a unique and impressive mark on me. Despite living in one of the toughest terrains, they have set an example for others, particularly those of us living on the other side of the Himalayas, beyond the Zojila Pass.
Ladakh, without any prejudice, is among the latest regions to enter the tourism trade, having been officially opened to tourists in 1974. But, for decades, it failed to make a significant mark on India’s tourism map because of its difficult terrain, hostile climate and poor connectivity, with the arduous Zojila Pass remaining prone to accidents and snowbound for much of the year.
Tourism did not grow for long, as the land has an extremely dry climate, little greenery and few attractions by conventional tourism standards. Yet, it began to flourish after Kashmir’s once-famous tourism industry fell apart amid turmoil and disturbances in the early 1990s.
Ladakh also attracted mass attention when adventure tourism came into vogue and travellers began using powerful cars and motorcycles to conquer its highest passes and explore its farthest corners. This phenomenon gathered momentum only after the turn of the millennium, when its road connectivity and tourism infrastructure began to change dramatically.
Despite these challenges, Ladakh has, within a relatively short span, made tourism the backbone of its local economy. According to information published on the Leh Administration’s website, tourism accounts for more than 60 per cent of the total revenue generated in Ladakh, while more than half its population depends on the sector, directly or indirectly, for its livelihood.
True to these figures, Ladakh therefore attracts only quality tourists willing to venture into its far-flung villages in Nubra and Zanskar, as well as the remote corners of Leh and Kargil. These are visitors who have both the resources and the passion to explore places that remain difficult to access.
The land is vast and sparsely populated. It is no exception to travel tens of kilometres without encountering a person or vehicle. In such circumstances, a self-sufficient traveller, equipped with adequate backup in case of a mechanical breakdown, is best suited to undertake the journey.
These circumstances could have been the sole dampener elsewhere, but here they have proved no impediment to what Ladakh has set out to achieve. The result is heartening for both inhabitants and visitors. Yet, a closer look reveals the enormous effort, discipline and dedication of the locals, something that deserves much more than routine commendation.
Being from this part of the erstwhile J&K State, I find the people there unmatched in their commitment to their land. They have made a brand out of Ladakh and are devotedly preserving it too. While we remain more concerned about our personal attire and appearance, the people there seem equally concerned about the appearance and arrangement of their surroundings.
This can be gauged from this personal experience of mine. During a visit to Sani Lake at Padum in Zanskar, I washed my feet in its water while performing ablution. The local caretaker immediately stopped me, explaining that people drank that water and that washing or bathing in it was improper.
It baffled me. By our standards, it was hardly a lake, as its depth was merely a few inches across. Yet, its sanctity as a source of drinking water was enough to prevent its misuse.
It is not for nothing that this land remains so clean and tidy despite its scarcity of greenery and freshwater. I have visited some 30 high-altitude lakes (HALs) in the Kashmir region. Similarly I spent half the year in Jammu when our offices move there. I have also visited Surinsar, Mansar and dozens of other places. Nowhere have I witnessed such effective benchmarks of cleanliness.
Even during my last trek to Kounsarnag, nearly 23 kilometres from the nearest motorable road terminating at Aharbal, I collected dozens of empty wafer packets from its banks. If our trekkers’ sense of ethics is so staunch, then only God can protect the ecological assets that lie closer to human habitation.
Be it Dal Lake, Wular, Manasbal or other water bodies, we have devastated them beyond repair. Our Mughal Gardens, public parks and popular tourist destinations like Pahalgam, Gulmarg and Sonamarg are craving for freedom from people like us.
Now look at the aesthetically endowed places of Warwan and Gurez, which came onto the tourism map only a few years back. Their condition is deteriorating at a breakneck speed. Single-use plastics scattered across meadows and riverbanks are soon going to outnumber the people residing there.
It is incomprehensible why God has bestowed upon us a place like Kashmir, perhaps only to hasten the onset of doomsday. I genuinely find peace when a tourist destination is shut to visitors to allow it time to recover. What other option do we have when people refuse to mend their ways? No power on earth can teach civic sense to a shortsighted people like us. It is only coercion and deterrence that may make us behave properly.
Ladakh has shown us the way here, too. When a tourist reportedly drove his SUV into Pangong Lake, the administration penalised him ₹50,000 under the Wildlife (Protection) Act, for damaging its fragile high-altitude ecosystem. Likewise a total fine of ₹2 lakh was imposed on four tourist vehicle owners from different states for illegal off-roading and performing stunts in protected areas and wildlife zones. They also charge ₹400 per non-local person as ‘Environmental Cess’, desirous of visiting Pangong Lake.
These actions reflect a concern for the environment backed by commensurate enforcement. They also send a clear message to similar profligates who have little respect for legal edicts or local ecology.
It is time we displayed the same urgency in protecting our fragile ecosystems. Ladakh, despite being arid and vast, with brackish lakes and mighty, multicoloured mountains, is not so much susceptible to ecological degradation. Yet, our own natural systems are particularly delicate, and even a slight imbalance can wreak havoc, as recent cloudbursts and forest fires have reminded us.
Nature has given us sufficient warnings. It is time to act, or else write our own obituary, not forgetting to mention the misdemeanors that led to our extinction and the devastation of natural assets we failed to care for, like Nero who played his flute while Rome burned.
(The Author is PG Mass Communication & Journalism from MERC, University of Kashmir. anznoowasim@gmail.com)
