Two Banks of a River: The Indus in Ladakh

With songs and stories humming along its banks, across budding pastures and under apricot blossoms, passing hamlets with hails of farmers urging yaks and cows forward, the steady flowing, iridescent blue Indus flows across brown and barren mountains of Ladakh. A short distance from speeding cars on National Highway 1, if one pays close attention beyond the gushing current, one can hear the reverberating sound of rocks rolling on its bed. The banks of the river, cultivated nourishes life for some of the remotest inhabited parts of the grand Himalayas. Snow-clad mountains and glaciers lend its streams to larger currents almost as if glaciers along it are paying tribute. It is the story of a river that crosses some of the most jaw-dropping and serene riverscapes, from the high Himalayas, through a melange of cultures and traditions, down to its delta in the Sindh and out in the Arabian Sea. 

The river’s origin, sometimes hailed as the center of the universe at Mt. Kailash or Meru is in itself a testament to the spiritual attribute of this awe inspiring river. The name ‘India’ derived from the word Indus, its association with the land is ancient. The river gave way to the great Indus Valley Civilization to defining transboundary agreements and has its share of significant impact in Ladakh. The life-giving river, one that has cut through the toughest rocks to find its way, we find poems, songs and art only a mere appraisal of its grandeur. Like it has nourished our ancestors, the river continues to bring life to the thousands of villages and communities along  its course. 

 

(From triptych) Image in Left: Indus flowing through mountains near Phey village in late autumn. Image in Center: The Zanskar River flowing from Pensi-La merges with the Indus at Nimmu village. The rivers change color over the seasons as glacial melt and silt amounts increase or decrease. Image in Right: The Zanskar River falls in the mountain shadow in the late afternoon sun. This is its last length before the Zanskar becomes the Indus at Nimmu village.

The four main rivers in Ladakh, the Shyok cutting across the Nubra valley, the river Zanskar emerging and flowing from Zanskar, the Suru mostly in Kargil and the Indus cutting across the entire region create four main regions of Ladakh. These rivers create the valleys where people have settled over centuries. Cutting across some of the most uninhabitable and difficult terrain, the rivers have shaped awe-inspiring landscapes and formations all along its course. Beyond the evident life providing aspects of these water bodies, the rivers bring an indelible spirit of perseverance, beauty and balance to the people of Ladakh.

Spring: Over centuries the Indus has carved through the hardest rocks creating formations akin to a Boccioni sculpture. Here she flows past cultivated land, clay deposits, rocky mountains and snow peaks. The images display the range of landscapes along  the river’s path.

Summer: The Indus sprawls in the valley plains of Spituk, where farms are cultivated on both sides of the river. Flash floods of 2010 had a great impact on the river’s course, especially in this area. 

Autumn: A stream flows through a wooded area with poplars and willows turning bright orange, yellow and red in late autumn in Phey. 

Winter: A major tributary of the Indus, in the winters with ice formations and its brilliant turquoise color is a wonder. The river’s surface completely freezes over for a few months each winter. Earlier the frozen river would make for the shortest route between Zanskar and Leh. A story is told of a boy from Zanskar studying in Leh who travelled home for the winter vacation and returned before the ice started thawing. Today this route is known as the ‘chaddar trek’, where ‘chaddar’ in Hindi means a sheet or cover, and is on the bucket list of those seeking winter adventures. With growing  numbers of adventure seekers, the risk of trekking on the ice sheet has increased, with a cap on the number of trekkers now enforced. According to local observations,  the rising winter temperatures, partly due to global warming, has resulted in a declining thickness of ice forming each winter.

The village of Photoksar. Deep gullies have formed as the mountain overtime is eroded by streams and increasing rainfall, bringing loosely held sediments downwards. Like some other remote villages, fields make up the majority of the village’s land area in face of younger populations decreasing.

 

 

In Turtuk, like in other parts of Ladakh, water has been used ingeniously. These ideas have innovatively been realized through a range of tools and practices over the centuries. Often in villages there are persons or families appointed to serve a fixed term i.e. three to five years to maintain the waterways and irrigation channels and take care of matters relating to water. Many villages are situated alongside a glacial stream that eventually runs down to a larger stream or river. In the following photos, we see water channels encompassing terraced fields also running along the mountainside near  the village. The substantial head of water provides for good pressure in water pipes and irrigation channels in the village below. Today we see increasing use of water pipelines that connect the stream or reservoirs directly to homes or community water points . 

Life around Ladakh is mostly found near water bodies, predominantly along the Indus. However, it is not limited to these places as we find new ways of moving water from the source to where it is to be used. Sometimes it is lengths of pipes from bore wells dug into aquifers, water channels running for kilometers or even water in containers pushed on carts moving within the urbanized spaces. Many parts in Leh still rely on water tankers and the ‘reda’, a push-cart that is used to supply water to various parts of the town. A daily scene in Leh are the lines of buckets and jerry cans queuing up at common water points at any given time during the day. Similarly, grazing grounds of livestock are found closer to water sources, often in the summer in high pastures at the mouth of the glaciers. Regardless of how a human being or an animal finds its water, we can say that accessibility to water has hugely influenced the settlement patterns of Ladakh. 

There are thousands of glaciers in Ladakh, from small ones to the very large. There are a number that have been studied by glaciologists, geologists and other researchers, but many are not monitored. As we see temperatures increase, and new roads and cars reaching closer to these glaciers, we find a range of threats. Glaciers melting or breaking away is not news. The reasons they are melting however, are many, and some can even surprise the layperson. Some years back I learnt of the blackening of glaciers and snow-cover areas through growing  carbon emissions from vehicles,  increasing the absorption of heat and accelerating the melting process. Reasons like these can be easily controlled by us but are often not. Melting of glaciers, our freshwater repositories, is a potential threat to hundreds of people  living downstream. We have seen an increase in glacial lake outburst floods and the damages it has caused all along the Himalayas. These are scary! 

Waterways are being polluted. We have a number of hydro-power projects that have come up too. Rising temperatures and erratic weather patterns, and episodes of sudden downpours (cloudbursts) have increased the risks to livelihoods and settlements. There is only so much water; can everybody have an equal share? The changes in the mountains are evident, many times before they are visible in the plains, owing to their fragility. Similarly, the changes in our climate are seeming slow, but certainly steady and constant. The impacts of the Indus being dammed has altered life downstream, even if in small way and sudden cloudbursts like in 2010 has taken its toll with massive loss of lives, land and heritage. Sewage water seeping into the waterways with a rise in seasonal fluctuations in the population due to tourism or the unmistakable trail of non-biodegradable waste - we come to see this as our way of life. What is in our control and can we be better stewards of the resources we have been given? 

 

Agrarian practices have built Ladakh. They are weaved into the Ladakhi culture, traditions, architecture and life. From weddings planned in open fields in the winters to specific rooms in a traditional home for grain storage or keeping livestock. For example, in a traditional home one found the ground floor to be the ‘tangra’ where livestock would be kept; this in the winters also worked as insulation for all the floors above. Even the dry compost toilets in Ladakh minimize water usage. Traditionally, winters were the preferred time to utilize the fields for large gatherings like weddings, when the fields are empty and people have time for such events. Today these fields diminish as large hotels and guest houses crop up. Sharing land and  resources built community. Water mills were used to grind barley, but this practice is more visible in remoter parts today. These systems are sustainable and use resources wisely and in harmony with the environment. One cannot say the same of today’s booming industries and infrastructure development. Ironically the same force that turns the grinding stone also turns the turbine and even the ingenious hydro-powered prayer wheel.

 

Prayers have been offered to the great river, ashes dissolved into its currents. The Indus, like all water bodies, is sacred in these regions. The waters have their protectors and spirits that would cause stomach aches if not used in a respectful manner. As we flush our toilets and water our gardens, what do we make of these values and beliefs? The sacredness ascribed to water compelled indigenous communities to use it wisely and conservatively; certainly not, wastefully or thoughtlessly. The containers of water were prayed over, they held a significant place in the home and were designed beautifully. The plastic bucket, while cheaper and perhaps more practical, still pales.  Do we carry forward our water ethics, even as we learn of its declining availability? How can we still build our systems around traditional values connected with water? 

Little over a decade ago, one had not quite imagined skating on frozen ponds and rivers  it at such fast speeds. In the early 2000s,  when few skates were on ice, a younger generation marveled. Many put on a pair of skates, slipping and falling. Winter by winter their continued training have landed Ladakh’s youth on the national ice-hockey teams.

A game of ice hockey is played on the Karzoo pond when it freezes in the winter. The game has gained popularity over the last two decades and is enjoyed by many in the otherwise difficult winter season. 

As melting drops of water become brooks, streams and rivulets, hurrying down the slopes to the river, a trail of life is fostered. Along with the moss that grows on the banks of streams, a host of animals and birds quench their thirst in the arid high altitude. Further down, the streams are distributed through water channels to fields and orchards; children play  along the rushing waterways adding charm and joy to the villages. The old apricot and apple trees have been planted in close proximity to this glacial stream, a representation of harmony. In many of the older villages, the plans for buildings have been made giving due regard to the importance of its waterways. While we have these today, centuries since it was first placed, we are quickly rushing to construct larger buildings and have adopted more unsustainable lifestyles. Can these ancient practices and systems built around water conservation find synergy with infrastructure development and technological advances? 

Photographing and writing about the Indus, hearing old folk tell their stories or experts give presentations, and now working on this photo-essay, I have been moved across emotions and thoughts about water and its central place in Ladakh. Sitting by still brooks or the banks of the raging Suru, I have seen water flow through Ladakh. Laying on the soft grass in a willow's shade along a rushing stream, hearing the soft water following on the flattened pebbles is not only romantic but is still possible. From my position, while writing, on the other side of the bank are sounds of heavy machinery, earth movers, concrete and iron pillars rising higher, sweat under yellow helmets  - a new age coming to the ancient mountains. The river lies in between moving past the familiar and the new. In between the two very different worlds are  Ladakh’s people continuing to grow, thrive, learn, live. There are more questions than answers at this point. Daydreaming in the after sun, in moments of stillness, I wish that one day my child will also see this world, will be able to lay down next to the same streams and leave the world’s stresses for a while, and not have to hear of a way of life once lived or a story that began with ‘once upon a time’.  
 

About Isaac Tsetan Gergan

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Isaac Tsetan Gergan is an artist and photographer based between Leh and Delhi. He received his BFA in Visual Arts  from Emily Carr University of Art and Design in Vancouver, British Columbia. In 2013 soon after returning to Ladakh, he started working with the Ladakh Arts and Media Organisation - LAMO as Arts Officer, where he introduced community art projects and explored the rich visual heritage of Ladakh and the Himalayas. In his seven years in Leh he extensively travelled the region to better understand his family’s history in Ladakh, constantly finding inspiration and bringing back photographs as souvenirs of his journeys. He continues to seek the meaningful bridges in Visual Arts one can build  between history and the contemporary. Currently Isaac leads the team at Art for Change Foundation in New Delhi. Here along with the organisation, he seeks to bring artists together at artist residencies to deliberate and make artwork to positively shape society. 

Email: isaacgergan@gmail.com
Website is https://gerganisaac.wixsite.com/igergan
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/igerganphoto/