Almost every Ladakhi farmer originally worked organically. When the government began subsidising chemical pesticides, many people tried them, but most later returned to organic methods after seeing the risks. What remains is unfair competition from subsidised food brought from elsewhere in India. It is larger and cheaper than our produce, even though organic farming requires more labour.
Tourism has brought hotels, guest houses, shops, guides, travel agencies and many new products. It has also created construction, carpentry and plumbing work. Yet much of this work is done by people from outside Ladakh, often for lower wages. Leh appears prosperous compared with surrounding villages, but only a small share of the money circulating through tourism reaches Ladakhi hands.
Young people are leaving farming for seasonal work in Leh. Outside workers also leave in winter, many going to Goa. Taxis are an exception: their number grows rapidly, and they are Ladakhi-owned, helped by government loans.
Rural people are told that tourism is the only way forward, and they stop seeing the potential of Ladakh’s own land and skills.
Traditional knowledge such as natural dyeing, spinning and carpentry is disappearing. A handwoven Ladakhi dress is now expensive, so people buy cheaper imitations. Some villages still use barter, and traditional Ladakhi bread is exchanged rather than sold for money. These practices remind us that not every value can be measured through the tourist market.
Mass-produced goods promoted by Indian celebrities are easier to find than authentic Ladakhi products, even in villages. Prices have risen because tourists can spend more freely, and local people are charged the same inflated amounts.
Healthcare has improved, and subsidised hospital treatment is very cheap, although Western medicine is displacing traditional knowledge. Banking has expanded too. Infrastructure, however, remains extremely poor. Electricity works only a few hours a day, many homes need diesel generators, hotels take water needed by lower-town residents, and there is no proper sewage system.
Military presence has also transformed society. I sometimes feel there are more soldiers than Ladakhis here. Families once sent sons to monasteries; now many send them to the army. Theft has increased, sometimes involving outside construction workers who are left unpaid when a project ends.
Tourism should bring visitors into contact with Ladakhi life, not rearrange our culture merely to make it more convenient to consume.
Even the cultural calendar is changing. A monastery festival was moved from winter to summer to attract tourists, although a genuine religious festival belongs to a fixed date and purpose. Respect for elders and religious figures has weakened, and social cooperation has declined, although the Women’s Alliance still brings people together.
I would like visitors and local people to interact more deeply. At present, too much of the relationship is economic: one side sells and the other buys. Genuine exchange could help visitors understand Ladakh and help local people learn about the world without simply copying it.
Tourism can support Ladakh, but it should not replace farming, traditional skills and community life; the exchange must become cultural and human, not only financial.