After J&K, this region has become the new ground for Hindu nationalist groups seeking to assimilate its unique culture into the larger Hindutva narrative.
By Iftikhar Gilani
Nestled in the Himalayan lap, Ladakh’s breathtaking beauty belies the cultural and political nease simmering beneath its serene surface.
Apart from nearby Muslim-dominated Jammu and Kashmir, this sparsely populated region which now has seven districts, with four of them predominantly Buddhist, has become the focal point of efforts by Hindu nationalist groups seeking to assimilate its unique culture into the larger Hindutva narrative.
The recent installation of a statue of Maratha warrior Chhatrapati Shivaji in Ladakh has brought these tensions to the fore.
The inauguration of Shivaji’s statue on the banks of the Pangong Tso lake by the Maratha Light Infantry, part of the Indian Army, has drawn sharp criticism. While Shivaji is revered in Indian history for his valour against Mughal emperor Aurangzeb, his cultural significance to Ladakh is tenuous at best.
Local leaders and activists, including Khonchok Stanzin, a councillor of the Ladakh Autonomous Hill Council (Leh), have voiced concerns over the statue’s relevance and its placement in an ecologically fragile area.
“Let’s prioritise projects that reflect and respect our community and nature,” he remarked.
Political activist Sajjad Kargilli echoed these sentiments, questioning why local historical figures like Seenge Namgyal or Khree Sultan Cho weren’t honoured instead.
Even veterans of the Indian armed forces expressed reservations, with retired Major General Birendra Dhanoa challenging the propriety of erecting such a statue and publicizing it on social media.
He remarked, “Why have a statue of a king in an ecologically sensitive area anyway?”
The placement of the statue at Pangong Tso—a region already sensitive due to its strategic importance along the India-China border—has also raised ecological concerns.
Environmentalists worry that such installations could disturb the fragile ecosystem, already under pressure from tourism and militarization.
The controversy has reignited debates about the imposition of external cultural symbols in a region whose identity is rooted in Buddhism and whose people feel a deep connection to their local traditions.
Critics argue that the Shivaji statue, while a symbol of valour elsewhere in India, feels like an imposition in Ladakh, lacking any historical or cultural relevance to the region.
Sindhu Darshan
Earlier Sindhu Darshan Festival, initiated in 1997 by senior BJP leader L.K. Advani, is another point of contention in Ladakh and seen apprpriation of local ethos by the Hindu nationalists.
Held annually on the banks of the Indus River near Leh, the festival was envisioned as a celebration of the river’s significance in Indian civilization.
For the predominantly Buddhist population of Ladakh, the festival’s overtly Hindu rituals and saffron-clad pilgrims feel alien and intrusive.
Originally conceived as a cultural event, the festival has taken on a distinctly religious tone over the years. Hindu pilgrims from across India perform pujas (prayer rituals) and immerse themselves in the river, treating it as a sacred site.
This has caused unease among local residents, who see the festival as an attempt to appropriate the Indus River, which holds its own spiritual significance in Buddhist traditions.
“It was very weird for me to see people come here and do puja in the typical orange robes. I saw it as a political stunt,” said Rigzin, a young professional from Leh.
The festival has also led to the construction of permanent structures along the riverbank, including a large viewing gallery and sandstone canopies. These structures, according to locals, are out of place and disrupt the natural landscape of the region.
In 2017, the festival expanded to include the Chota Kailash Yatra, a pilgrimage that leads yatris (pilgrims) to the Line of Actual Control (LAC).
Critics view this as a precursor to further encroachments, fearing that the construction of temples and other Hindu symbols could follow.
“Slowly, it gets bigger and they start building temples,” Rigzin added.
Many see such steps as an attempt to convert Buddhists into Hinduism.
“There was an apprehension that Buddhists would be converted to Hinduism, like in Himachal,” said PT Kunzang, vice president of the Ladakh Buddhist Association (LBA).
“But we are told it is just a promotion of tourism. Lots of pilgrimage tours have taken place, and there is no single case of conversion.”
This stance has drawn criticism from sections of the Ladakhi population who feel that the LBA is not doing enough to protect their cultural identity.
In 2019, Ladakh’s separation from the erstwhile state of Jammu and Kashmir was celebrated as a moment of triumph by many in the region.
Separating from J&K
Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s BJP had fulfilled a long-standing demand for Union Territory status, ostensibly addressing years of perceived neglect by Kashmir-based administrations.
However, this initial jubilation quickly gave way to disappointment.
The new arrangement brought Ladakh under direct control from New Delhi, bypassing local political representation and dismantling key decision-making powers of the Ladakh Autonomous Hill Development Councils (LAHDCs).
“We have lost political representation in the current bureaucratic setup and have little say in development projects,” said Sonam Wangchuk, a prominent activist.
Moreover, laws allowing outsiders to buy land and start businesses in Ladakh have raised fears of a demographic shift, potentially threatening the fragile ecosystem.
As per the 2011 census, the population of the Ladakh region was recorded as 274,289 living in a vast area of 59,146 square kilometres. Locals say a more addition of some thousands of outsiders will disturb the local demography. In the whole region, Muslims constitute 46% mostly concentrated in Kargil, Drass and Zanaskar regions. Buddhists constitute 39% and are concentrated in Leh, Sham, Nubra and Changthang districts.
Ladakhi leaders, including those aligned with the BJP, have joined calls for constitutional safeguards under the Sixth Schedule of the Indian Constitution to protect the region’s tribal identity and resources.
Fragile Ecology
Ladakh’s ecological fragility is another source of anxiety. The region’s glaciers and glacial lakes, essential for its water supply, are under severe threat from climate change and unregulated tourism.
In 2022 alone, over 450,000 tourists visited Ladakh, far exceeding its local population. This influx has strained resources and exacerbated environmental degradation.
Activists like Wangchuk have warned against industrial and mining projects that could further endanger Ladakh’s pristine environment. Earlier this year, thousands of residents gathered in Leh under the leadership of the Leh Apex Body and Kargil Democratic Alliance to demand safeguards for their land, culture, and future.
“We celebrated in 2019, thinking we had long waited for this moment, but it was of no use,” said Lhador Rapper, a student who expresses his frustrations through protest songs.
The tension between Ladakh’s Buddhist identity and external influences has deep historical roots. For decades, Ladakhi Buddhists have sought greater autonomy, arguing that their distinct culture and geography were overlooked in the administrative arrangements of Jammu and Kashmir.
The Ladakh Buddhist Association (LBA), formed in 1934, has long advocated for direct Central administration to escape perceived marginalisation.
This demand took a violent turn in 1989 when communal tensions between Buddhist-majority Leh and Muslim-majority Kargil escalated.
Since then, Ladakhi Buddhist leaders have worked to balance their aspirations for autonomy with the need to preserve communal harmony.
As the debate over Shivaji’s statue and other Hindutva initiatives continues, Ladakh stands at a crossroads. The region’s leaders and residents are united in their demand for safeguards that respect their unique identity and ecological concerns.
Whether through the Sixth Schedule or other constitutional protections, they seek a future where Ladakh’s culture and environment are preserved, free from external impositions.
“It’s very crucial for us being tribal and sparsely populated to stand for our rights,” said Rapper.
His words echo the sentiments of a region determined to protect its heritage in the face of growing pressures from both the government and ideological forces. Ladakh’s story is one of resilience and resistance, a reminder of the enduring struggle to balance tradition with modernity.
