Hearts Fail To Melt But Ladakh Does

I learned from the internet that a group of flamingos is called a “flamboyance.” Interestingly, on the internet, what’s also flamboyant is a motorbike trip to Ladakh. What, then, do you think would be “flamboyanc-ier?” Definitely not that word since it does not exist, but ever ever heard of a ‘padyatra’ from Ladakh to Delhi. Not one but a “flamboyance” of Ladakhis attempted just that.

Delhi doesn’t see many protests from the high-altitude dwellers of Ladakh. So when Sonam Wangchuk and his comrades tried to march to the capital, one might think it’d be a rare moment of welcome, a gesture that could honour a people whose region bears the brunt of hostile borders. But instead of dialogue, Wangchuk was stopped at the Singhu border.

Here was a man with simple demands of constitutional safeguards, regional representation, and environmental protections, being detained at the edges of his own country’s capital. And then, like a cruel reminder, he was left to wait, perhaps confused after ordering his share of Delhi’s famous ‘chai pe charcha’ from Swiggy. Then, suddenly realising it should have been Swiggy Instamart and he is not receiving his promised ‘10 minute delivery.’

And then, just like that, Sonam Wangchuk's protest effort fizzles out, punctuated by the Delhi High Court shutting down proceedings about his right to demonstrate at Jantar Mantar. This paints a grim picture of how the Modi government engages with regional aspirations.

A promise of renewed talks in December through the Home Ministry's high-powered committee sounds nice, but the journey to that promise is littered with troubling signs of how dissent and regional demands are treated in our ‘Vishwa Guru Bharat.’ “This government no longer has the attitude of its last term,” Wangchuk said, revealing the fragile trust that hangs in the air, poised between hope and frustration.

The sequence of events speaks volumes. Let’s unpack this then: when Wangchuk and his comrades attempted to march into the capital, what did they face? Detention at the Singhu border. Released on October 2, they were not greeted with open arms but rather thrust into a labyrinth of bureaucratic red tape, all instead of having real discussions about their region’s future.

The fact that it took an indefinite fast at Ladakh Bhawan, beginning October 6, to prompt even preliminary discussions raises serious questions about the government's approach to democratic expression. “We are ready for the most extreme steps if our demands aren’t met,” he warned, reflecting a desperation that resonates deeply among the people of Ladakh.

By stopping Wangchuk, Delhi Police's message was unmistakable: advocating for Ladakh’s rights doesn’t fit the script of the central government. This blocking tactic has been used repeatedly in recent years, suggesting a pattern in which the government aims to silence those who challenge its narrative or call for accountability. Preventing citizens from entering the capital to protest is effectively a means of containing voices. What better way to avoid the uncomfortable truths of Ladakh than to leave its advocates stranded in red tape?

What are Wangchuk’s demands? They’re hardly revolutionary. The Leh Apex Body and the Kargil Democratic Alliance (KDA) seek Ladakh's inclusion under the Sixth Schedule of the Constitution, a provision that has worked for tribal areas in states like Assam and Meghalaya. Alongside that, their other demands - including statehood, a dedicated public service commission, and separate Lok Sabha seats for Leh and Kargil - reflect basic aspirations for regional autonomy and representation. Yet these basic and boring demands seem to evoke a government response that ranges from evasive to dismissive.

Yet, while the government deploys swift administrative action to contain peaceful protesters, it displays remarkable inertia in addressing Chinese expansion along Ladakh's borders. This contradiction becomes even more striking when considering the region's strategic importance.

Ladakh's high-altitude desert terrain, sandwiched between Pakistan and China, serves as a crucial buffer zone for India's security. The government's priorities appear inverted: quick to block citizens' peaceful expressions of concern, slow to address actual threats to territorial integrity.

Since Ladakh’s conversion to a Union Territory in 2019, following the reorganisation of Jammu and Kashmir, locals have grappled with the consequences of centralised control that appears more focused on aggressive tourism and mineral exploitation than sustainable development.

The region’s unique ecological balance faces unprecedented threats from uncontrolled development and climate change. Glaciers are retreating at alarming rates, traditional water sources are drying up, and the fragile high-altitude ecosystem shows signs of strain from excessive tourism. In this context, Wangchuk’s call for sustainable development and local empowerment is not just relevant; it’s urgent.

His advocacy, grounded in environmental conservation and self-sufficiency, ironically aligns with PM Modi’s own rhetoric about Atmanirbhar Bharat. Wangchuk’s proposed solutions encompass sustainable tourism models, traditional architectural practices that reduce energy consumption, and educational initiatives aimed at preserving local knowledge while equipping youth for contemporary challenges.

Yet the government’s resistance to these proposals suggests a preference for control over genuine empowerment. How can one claim to champion self-reliance while blocking the very avenues that could lead to it?

Prime Minister Modi’s rhetoric often emphasises his vision for an empowered India, but actions on the ground reveal a disconnect. While Wangchuk’s demands embody the very ethos of self-reliance and sustainable development that Modi champions in his speeches, the central government’s actions contradict those principles.

By blocking Wangchuk, the government has disregarded a model of development that seeks to empower local communities. Instead, it appears focused on maintaining control over Ladakh’s resources, leaving local voices unheard.

The Home Ministry's letter promising talks on December 3 with the high-powered committee offers a glimmer of hope, yet the pattern of engagement raises concerns. Why did it require an indefinite fast and legal proceedings to secure a basic commitment to dialogue?

The government’s approach seems reactive rather than proactive, responding to pressure instead of engaging with legitimate regional aspirations. A promise to meet may sound encouraging, but it’s the sincerity behind it that truly matters.

Environmental concerns in Ladakh cannot be separated from security considerations. The region's ecological balance is crucial for maintaining human habitation and military preparedness alike.

Wangchuk's advocacy for sustainable development isn't just about conservation – it's about ensuring the long-term viability of human presence in this strategically vital region. The government's reluctance to engage substantively with these concerns suggests a dangerous short-sightedness in its strategic thinking.

Moving forward necessitates a fundamental shift in approach. Instead of forcing citizens to resort to fasts and court petitions, the government must establish transparent, regular channels for dialogue with regional representatives. The provisions of the Sixth Schedule, far from undermining national unity, could create a framework for sustainable development that harmonises local needs with national interests.

The Modi administration faces a critical choice as it approaches the December talks. Will it offer genuine engagement with Ladakh's demands, or will this be another exercise in deflection and delay? The current strategy of administrative obstacles and reluctant concessions serves neither national security nor democratic principles.

As China continues to alter the geography along our borders, the contrast between the government's internal heavy-handedness and external timidity becomes increasingly difficult to justify. If India is to maintain both its territorial integrity and democratic character, it must find the courage to engage with legitimate internal demands while standing firm against external aggression. The treatment of Wangchuk and the Ladakhi people suggests we're currently failing at both.

The December talks now stand as a crucial test of the government's commitment to democratic principles and regional autonomy. The people of Ladakh have demonstrated remarkable patience and commitment to peaceful advocacy. It's time for the government to respond with more than just promises of future discussions.

The security of our borders and the strength of our democracy depend on getting this right.If the December talks turn out to be just another excuse for the government to hit the snooze button, should we start organising our protests in interpretive dance or let’s bring a pillow and blanket to the negotiations?