Ritayan Mukherjee

Ladakh’s Pathways to the Clouds Built by Migrant Labourers

Many of the labourers who build the mountainous roads in Ladakh are migrants from Bihar, Chhattisgarh and Jharkhand – they brave the extreme weather and risky work because of few livelihood options back home.

Many of the labourers who build the mountainous roads in Ladakh are migrants from Bihar, Chhattisgarh and Jharkhand – they brave the extreme weather and risky work because of few livelihood options back home.

Pema brings her three-year-old son Ngodup to work. They live near Lukung village, close to Pangong Tso lake in eastern Ladakh. A few Ladakhi families also work along with the migrants to build the roads. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

Ritayan Mukherjee is Kolkata-based photography enthusiast and a 2016 PARI Fellow. He is working on a long-term project that documents the lives of pastoral nomadic communities of the Tibetan Plateau.

It is possible to travel across Ladakh because of a network of high-altitude roads in this immense region, most of them projects of the Border Roads Organisation. Many of the labourers who build these long mountain roads are migrants from Bihar, Chhattisgarh and Jharkhand. They come here from May to mid-October every year, ensuring ever-more connectivity for the military to transport supplies, for tourists, and for the people of Ladakh.

I went to Chilling, around 55 kilometres from Leh city, a few weeks ago. The under-construction Leh-Padum highway, which will provide year-long access to the Zanskar Valley when the snow-bound Pensi La pass is closed for six months during winter, passes through Chilling. I planned to stay with the labourers in their tents for a few nights.

The 11 by 8.5 feet canvas tents are overcrowded, home to six to seven men for six months. They sleep on bare rugs on the cold ground, their bags, utensils and other items taking up space too. The tents are usually pitched one or two kilometres from the work sites and are re-pitched as the workers move along the road construction route.

I was unable to manage more than one night in a tent. The wind, dust and cold – it can drop to zero degrees Celsius at night even in the summer – inside the tent is nearly unbearable.

So, I kept visiting them at various other work sites in Ladakh (not just at the under-construction highway) during the day. Daytime is difficult too. The summer temperatures can rise to 35 degrees Celsius and the direct mountain sunlight is harsh. The Ladakh region is spread across altitudes ranging from 11,000 to 18,000 feet. The air is thin. The strenuous labour of building roads in this low-oxygen terrain can be extremely difficult for someone from the plains – and even for locals. The work includes digging the soil, and carrying heavy loads of mud and stones. The men work for around 10 hours a day, six days a week, for a daily wage of Rs 350 to Rs. 600, depending on the task and level of experience.

A group of workers from Bihar and Chhattisgarh near Chumathang village, on the bank of the Indus river, told me, “We don’t have enough safety gear [only a few wear helmets, boots and goggles]. The Indian army has provided some warm clothing for the nights. There’s a scarcity of drinking water too at the work site.”

I met Bhakat Ram Surji, around 50, near Chushul village, working to build a small bridge across the Indus. He is from Jharkhand, and had been in Ladakh for five months. He has been coming here for four years, but, he says, “I dislike working here. The wage is low and the work is difficult. Some road work is so risky that I don’t know if I will see sunrise the next day. I keep thinking I won’t be back again next year. But I come back. I have to because at home there’s nothing I can do consistently for six months”.

Many of the labourers who build roads across the mountains in Ladakh are migrants from Bihar, Chhattisgarh and Jharkhand; they work from May to mid-October in extremely difficult high-altitude terrain.Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

Jiten Murmu (left) from Bihar, with a co-worker, waiting outside their tent near Chilling village for lunch to arrive from another campsite. The canvas tents barely protect the workers during the cold nights. They camp by the roadside and follow the road works as they advance.Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

Prakash Singh from Bihar observing the construction of the Leh-Nimo-Chilling-Padum highway. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

The high-altitude roads in Ladakh are mostly built by manual labour – heavy equipment is sparse. The workers have hardly any safety gear, and use cloth, not masks, to cover their faces against the massive dust. They carry heavy loads on their backs at high altitudes in the low-oxygen air, and have to sit down to catch their breath every now and then. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

Using a drilling rig, a worker is widening the road in a mountain around 50 kilometres from the famous Lamayuru monastery – inhaling dust constantly in thin air where it can anyway get difficult to breathe. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

Sandhya Rani Murmu is from Jharkhand, among the few women at the work sites; she has come to visit her brother, she says, and is pitching in with the road building near Durbok village, between the Chang La pass and Tagste. Mud slides are common at Chang La, so there’s a constant need for labourers. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

Bir Bahadur is from Nepal. Every summer, he comes to Ladakh for six months to build roads. This time, a contractor from Chandigarh gave him this job. He stays in a tent along with five other workers from Nepal. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

Santosh Topno, from Jharkhand, was working on building a bridge near Chumathang, and taking a short break. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

Migrant workers having lunch inside a tent at Chushul village, about an hour’s drive from Leh. Lunch break lasts for an hour. The food is basic, barely adequate for the harsh climate – rice, dal and some vegetables cooked on a stove in their tents. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

The road between Kiari and Mahe bridge viaChumathang gets damaged whenever the Indus cuts through it at different places. Since it’s a crucial route for army movement, workers are called in to fix the road. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

Bhakat Ram is a 53-year-old worker from Koderma district in Jharkhand. He earns Rs 400 a day, and has been coming here for four years. He dislikes the work conditions and says he does not want to return next year. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

Hamid Ansari, 32, is from Ranchi district in Jharkhand. He completed his contract period on October 10 and was waiting for transportation near Tso Moriri to return to Leh. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

Two workers from Jharkhand walk towards their tent close to the Magnetic Hill as the day ends. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/People’s Archive of Rural India

This article was originally published on the People’s Archive of Rural India on November 3, 2017. Read the original here.

‘The Jungle Is Our Mother’: The Transitory Life of the Arunachali Brokpa

A vignette from the lives of the reclusive Brokpa herders of West Kameng and Tawang districts of Arunachal Pradesh who migrate in fixed seasonal patterns at high altitudes.

'The jungle is our mother'. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

A Brokpa preparing for a journey to Chander village, around 12 kilometres from Lagam. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

The Brokpa of West Kameng and Tawang districts in Arunachal Pradesh are a community of reclusive herders of the Monpa tribe. They are nomadic, move around in fixed patterns, and live in the mountains at altitudes ranging from 9,000 to 15,000 feet. They migrate to lower areas during the long winters from October to April, and move to the higher ranges during the summer and rainy seasons, from May to September.

One morning in November 2016, I started on a journey to Thembang village in West Kameng. Thembang is located at an altitude of around 7,500 feet. It is an entirely Monpa village of some 60 occupied houses. The nearest town, Dirang, is 26 kilometres away.

The next day I went to Lagam, a winter settlement of a group of Brokpa. To reach Lagam, located at 8,100 feet, I walked for around 11 kilometres for more than eight hours through dense forest. When I reached at 6 p.m., Pem Tsering, a 27-year-old Brokpa herdsman, welcomed me with a warm a smile.

The next day morning, I saw that Lagam is actually a tiny winter-time hamlet of Brokpa pastoralists. It has one small monastery. Around 40-45 people live here in 8 to 10 stone-and-bamboo houses with tin roofs. In November, the hamlet is full as the herders descend to this lower pastureland. From May to September, Lagam stays mostly empty as the young herders move out with their herds of yaks and horses to higher ground, such as Mago village. The elders usually stay back.

I spent a few days with Tsering and other Brokpa. “It’s always a long walk for us. We walk up to Mago through the jungle every year for summer pastures. It’s 4-5 days of constant walking. We take a break only for the night,” Pem says.

Mago, at 11,800 feet, is located along the disputed McMahon Line which demarcates northeast India and Tibet. To reach Mago in the summers, the Brokpa walk through mountain ranges and passes that are even higher – their route includes Lagam, Thungri, Chang La, Nyang, Potok, Lurthim, and then Mago.

Others can reach the area by road only from Tawang. Indian nationals from outside the region are allowed to stay here for just one night with special permission from the Indian Army. Because of the border dispute, even Brokpa who migrate to Mago have to carry government-issued identity cards

The daily lives of Brokpa centre around simple rhythms. Their major source of income is the yak. They collect its milk for cheese and butter, and sell these items in the local market. A barter system also exists within the community. “They exchange yak and milk products with the people staying in lowland areas, where agriculture is the prime occupation,” says Bapu Pema Wange, a Monpa from Thembang village, and a project officer with WWF-India’s Western Arunachal Landscape Programme. “We [his clan, the Bapu] barter trade with them; we exchange our maize, barley, buckwheat and dry red chilly for their butter, churpi and yak meat. Basically, they depend on us for food and we depend on them for food.”

The royal Bapu clan owns large tracts of inherited land, and charges a tax (usually in kind – sheep or butter) from other clans for grazing rights. But, Wange says, the Brokpa of Lagam have been exempted from the tax because “they take care of our god, Lagam Lama (a statue of natural rock).”

Later this year, by mid-October, the Brokpa will make the descent from their summer pasture. “We walk through the jungle, find resources for grazing and firewood from the jungle,” Pem says. “This jungle is our mother.”

In Thembang village of West Kameng district of Arunachal Pradesh, Jangmu lhopa, a Monpa, is drying baby corn seeds. This crop is a major source of income for the tribe. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

Pem Tsering milking a yak in a high altitude forest in West Kameng district. These animals are actually a hybrid of yaks and other species of cattle, and are called dzo. The Brokpa milk them twice a day. Credit; Ritayan Mukherjee

The Brokpa mostly eat rice (bought from markets at lower altitudes) and yak meat. They eat only a few vegetables like potatoes because the land here is not fertile enough to cultivate vegetables. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

A fire is always lit in the Brokpa kitchen. It helps them to stay warm during the harsh winters. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

Brokpa herders move frequently, from higher altitudes to lower lands, and from the lowlands to the mountain ranges. They carry rations and other provisions. Migrating within their permanent settlements – locations fixed by the community – is a continual process. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

A Brokpa herdsman making butter and churpi (traditional cheese) in his winter settlement in Lagam. Both items bring in some income for Brokpa families. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

Pem’s sister Tashi collecting yak dung. Dung is used as fuel for the kitchen. In the harsh winters of sub-zero temperature and snow, it’s their only source of fuel. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

The school in Lagam village has closed due to a lack of resources. So the kids go to Thembang village for preliminary studies in a residential school; reaching there requires walking through forests for around 11 kilometres. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

The Bropkas are devout Buddhists. Lagam has a small gompa for prayers. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

Returning after collecting bamboos from the jungle. Bamboos are central to the Brokpa’s daily life, and are used to build makeshift kitchens and household items. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

Community bonding is strong among the Brokpa. They often visit different settlements to meet their friends and relatives. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee

This article was originally published in People’s Archive of Rural India.

Four Hundred Years Afloat, Still Knocking on Wood

Images from Mandvi in Kutch, Gujarat, where workers with skills inherited over generations make wooden dhows using sal and babul timber.

Images from Mandvi in Kutch, Gujarat, where workers with skills inherited over generations make wooden dhows using sal and babul timber. Ships made in Mandvi still carry cargo to West Asian countries 400 years after the port was established.

Mandvi shipbuilding yard is located at Bandar Road by the 16th century Mandvi port in Kutch, Gujarat.

Wooden ships here are traditionally called dhows. These handmade vessels are still used to transport cargo to ports in West Asia.

Inside a dhow, workers move large logs of wood by hand.

A worker shapes logs sitting inside a dhow that is under construction.

Balancing act: a worker crosses a high beam in a dhow that will be three storeys high when finished.

The builders shape the logs by hand to match the curves of the boat. Their skills make an extremely demanding task look effortless.

Workers often make use of simple pulley mechanisms to move heavy wood in dhows under construction.

The outer surface or ‘skin’ of a ship, which when completed gives the vessel a finished look. Workers call these patias.

Work in progress inside a dhow.

Friday is the weekly off for workers and so a more relaxed day.

A labourer wields a hammer in repairing the bottom of a dhow.

A group of local kids enjoy the view from the top.

This piece originally appeared on People’s Archive of Rural India.

Read the original article here.

Photo Feature: The Endless Search for Grazing Grounds

A glimpse into the lives of the maaldhari – the nomadic pastoralists of Kachchh who own herds of camels, goats, sheep, buffaloes and cows.

Jat Haseena walking with her herd of Kharai camels in search of water. Every year during the peak of summer, food and water are so scarce that the family changes their location almost every alternate day. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

Jat Ayub Ameen, like others in his community, says he is a satisfied person. “We don’t drink and are not greedy for other people’s property; we listen to our own voice, we walk to our own rhythm.”

I first met maaldhari like Jat Ayub on a dusty road outside Bhuj around two years ago. The maaldhari are nomadic pastoralists of Kachchh – in Gujarati, ‘maal’ refers to the animals (the word means ‘material’) and ‘dhari’ are the people who keep these animals. Their herds include camels, sheep, goats, buffalos and cows.

Many of the maaldhari communities migrate in March-April, just before the onset of summer, in search of green pastures. They return to their villages by July-August, when the monsoon starts. Their migration schedules vary according to the animals they keep. But they all live because they walk.

The major maaldhari communities of Kutch are the Jats, the Rabaris and the Sammas. They can be Hindu (Rabaris) or Muslim (Jats and Sammas), but all the communities share amiable ties and the same philosophies of nomadic life.

For me, photographing the distinctive maaldhari has been a challenge. Unlike high altitude pastoralists who have simple community structures, in Kachchh these structures are complex and take time to figure out – the Jats, for example, include four communities – Fakirani Jats, Hajiyani Jats, Daneta Jats and Garasiya Jats. A few of them settled a long time ago and keep cows and buffaloes. Only the Fakirani keep camels, are nomadic, and move throughout the year, usually within their taluka.

“Those who follow the path of Sant Savla Pir are known as Fakirani Jats,” says Aga Khan Savlani, an elderly spiritual teacher and highly respected Fakirani Jat. Savlani told me that in 1600 AD, Savla Pir gifted a camel to one Devidas Rabari – and this is how the Rabaris started keeping Kharai camels, who they value till today.

The Fakirani Jats are conservative and dislike cameras. Though they welcome visitors with tea made of camel milk, they resolutely refuse to be photographed at length. Most of the families I interacted with rejected my idea of documenting their daily life.

Then I met Jat Ayub Ameen, a Fakirani Jat from Bhachau taluka of Kachchh, a simple and humble man. He moves with his family, including his wife Khatoon and his sister Haseena, and a herd of camels. In early 2016, he let me into his life with my camera.

Though the Jat communities here primarily speak Kutchi, Ameen, around 55, speaks fluent Hindi, which he says he learnt by listening to the radio. Unlike many Fakirani Jats, Ameen and his family don’t live in pakkhas (temporary houses made of reed grass, jute, rope and wood). They sleep in the open, under the skies.

Though Fakirani Jats keep two breeds of camels, the Kharai and Kachchhi, Ayub only owns Kharai camels. And since mangrove plants are a critical part of the diet of these animals, he has to constantly look for grazing grounds. However, due to deforestation and industrialisation, especially along the coastal belt, mangroves have depleted in Abdasa, Lakhpat and Mundra, though in 1982 the forest department had declared these coastal areas a protected zone. Ayub also speaks of the spiralling growth of a plant called gando baavar (prosopis juliflora), which does not allow grasses and other plants that are best suited for the animals, to grow.

But despite these problems Ayub Ameen, like many of his community, says he is happy: “At the end of the day, we get roti and camel’s milk, we have that and go to sleep.”

A Fakirani Jat family on the move near the Chari-Dhand Wetland Conservation Reserve. These families, unlike some of the other maaldhari who are seasonal migrants, move constantly throughout the year, usually within Kachchh. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

In Khari Rohar, Jat Ayub Ameen shares a moment of affection with a newborn Kharai camel. Ayub is from Bhachau taluka of Kachchh, and this year has around 100-110 camels. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

Jat Ameen Khatoon tries to control a grazing Kharai camel in Chirai Moti village in Bhachau taluka. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

Aga Khan Savlani prepares for his namaz before sunset. Savlani is a spiritual teacher and respected elder of the Fakirani Jat community. He lives in Pipar village in Lakhpat taluka. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

Camels are usually sheared once or twice a year just before the summer – the herders use scissors to do the elaborate shearing themselves. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

Camel milk along with rotlo (bread made of wheat and bajra) and tea usually make a meal in a Fakirani Jat family. A full-grown female camel can produce 10-12 litres of milk every day. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

A camel getting ready for a ‘beauty’ contest at a rural fair in the Banni Grassland. To decorate the camels the Jats uses mehendi and other natural colours that don’t harm the animal’s hide. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

Kharai camels drinking water from a well in Mohadi village of Kachchh, close to the India-Pakistan border. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

Jat Ayub Ameen desperately trying to rescue a pregnant Kharai, who fell while grazing. In parts of the mangrove forests the earth is so soft that if a camel falls, it cannot stand up on its own. If it remains supine for around two hours, it can get a heart attack. (In this instance, three of us were able to turn the camel upright within 45 minutes). Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

Fakriani Jat children also move with their parents and learn the skills of grazing camels from an early age. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

A Fakirani Jat kid moving with his herd while a dust storm gathers in summer. Credit: Ritayan Mukherjee/PARI

Sincere thanks to everyone at Sahajeevan, a Bhuj-based trust and non-governmental organisation that works with maaldhari, and to Hardika Dayalani, my creative collaborator and friend, who introduced me to the nomadic culture of Kachchh.

Ritayan Mukherjee is Kolkata-based photography enthusiast and a 2016 PARI fellow. He is working on a long-term project that documents the lives of pastoral nomadic communities of the Tibetan Plateau.

Photo Feature: The Changpas Who Make Cashmere

The nomadic Changpas of Hanle Valley in Ladakh herd pashmina goats, live in high-altitude pasturelands and even retain old barter systems – but their ways of life are changing.

Karma Rinchen is a goba or community elder. A goba must be wise, spiritual and experienced – he has all of these qualities. Courtesy: PARI

En route to Tso Moriri lake in Ladakh, the pastures are dotted with tents made of wool – these are the homes of Changpas, who herd Changthangi (pashmina) goats and are among the few suppliers of authentic cashmere wool of the finest quality.

The Changpas are nomadic pastoralists. Academic accounts state that they migrated from Tibet in the eighth century AD and came to the Changthang region in India – a western extension of the Tibetan Plateau, across the Himalayas. This area, located near the India-China border, is closed to foreign nationals and even Indians must obtain a special permit from Leh.

This photo essay documents the Changpas of Hanle Valley in eastern Ladakh. Around 40-50 Changpa families live here, according to their own estimates.

Hanle Valley is a vast and rugged area – the winter here is very long and the summer is really short. Due to the region’s hard soil, vegetation is scarce, and the nomadic Changpas move during the summers in search of green pastures, across fixed pasturelands in the valley allotted to them by the head of their communities.

I went to Hanle Valley in winter, in February 2015. After a long search, with the help of the villagers, I was introduced to Changpa Karma Rinchen. In the winter, the Changpas live a relatively sedentary life, so I went back in summer 2016. That August, after a two-day wait, Karma Rinchen finally showed up. The next day, he took me to his community’s summer grazing location, a three-hour drive from Hanle village.

Karma’s summer home was really high – at an altitude of 4,941 metres. It sometimes snows here even during the summer. I spent the next seven days with him and his family. Karma, around 50 years old, is a goba or community elder – four units of Changpa families report to him. A goba must be wise, spiritual and experienced. Karma has all of these qualities. “We love the nomadic life because it’s about freedom,” he said in a mix of Tibetan and Ladakhi.

The Changpas are Buddhists, and followers of the Dalai Lama. Besides goats, they also keep sheep and yaks, and many still follow an old barter system, with various communities along a local network exchanging some of the goods they produce.

But the times are changing. Along the way, I saw an under-construction road that will ensure smoother movement for the Indian Army and the Indo-Tibetan Border Police – the road will alter the landscape. And, Karma said, 2016 was not good at all, “…because the cooperative society from Leh has not come yet to collect the wool. Perhaps that is because inferior quality and cheap cashmere wool from China is coming into the market.”

The Changpas live in tents known as rebos. To make a rebo, yak wool is spun into yarn by the families, then woven and stitched together. The material protects the nomads from the extreme cold and icy winds. The rebo is erected over a pit about two feet deep and held in place by wooden posts. A distinct family unit occupies each rebo

A Changpa family stitching yak wool outside their rebo on a summer’s day. Most of their time is taken up by the same cycle of daily activities: herding, milking and shearing. In the middle stands Samdup, a little Changpa boy

Yama and Pema busy making wool. Changpa women are experienced herders; younger women usually take the animals for grazing, while older women participate in milking and making dairy products. The men in the community also herd the animals, as well as shear them and sell the animal products

In the past, the Changpas were polyandrous – multiple brothers married the same woman. But this practice has now nearly vanished

The summer days are so busy that sometimes a lunch break is a luxury – so the Changpas settle for fruit or dried yak meat and a few staples made of barley

Tenzin, a Changpa kid, collecting puffed rice from his father. In the past, little children were taught by their families to count the herds. But this way of life is rapidly changing and most of the Changpa children now go to school in eastern Ladakh

Thomkay, a Changpa herder, gets ready for the day. Each herder spends around 5-6 hours grazing every day. The Changpas share a strong bond with their animals and go to great lengths to protect them

Pashmina goats out for the day at high altitudes: through most of the year, the animals graze in pastures located at a height of more than 4,500 metres

When the herds return after a full day of grazing, it is essential to count them and separate the female goats. Once this is done, the milking begins

Some families, like Thokmay’s, milk goats as well as sheep. Milk and milk products like cheese are an important source of income or barter for Changpa families.

Changpas are among the main suppliers of cashmere wool, which comes from the pashmina or Changthangi goat’s soft undercoat. This undercoat reaches its maximum length in winter, and the Changpas shear in early spring.

Two Changpa women returning to their rebo after collecting shrubs like artemisia for fuel.

At 4,941 metres above sea level, the summers are not quite warm –in Hanle Valley, it can snow or rain at any time of the day or night

This article was originally published in the People’s Archive of Rural India on Febraury 8, 2017 .