A stark Himalayan hillside glistens in the midday sun somewhere on the spectacular National Highway 1A in India’s Ladakh region. Widely praised for its stunning “moonscapes”, Ladakh is one of the world’s highest and driest plateaus with a predominantly Buddhist population. This mountain spot and moment, too, was rather Zen-like for me, a simple koan to the magnificence of monochrome that nature often throws at you. Its austere contrast also perhaps recalls - in inverted fashion - one of the world’
Tashi, novice monk, poised to score a hit while playing sockball on a sunny afternoon after classes with his buddies 'in the open' at the ancient Lamayuru Buddhist monastery in Ladakh. Perched on a craggy grey-white Himalayan hillside at 3,510 meters, the 11th-century 'gompa' is among the largest of its kind. A friend and I joined in and soon had the little monks howling in delight as they tried to catch that swirling ball thrown high into the mountain air.
Ali, shopkeeper, and his shepherd pals share a moment of warm, understated camaraderie in the tiny Himalayan town of Dras, once at the crossroads of the old Silk Road. Dras, apparently the planet's second coldest inhabited spot (with temperatures that dip to -45°C), derives its name from the local Balti word for ‘hell’. Ali loved the picture and carefully wrote his address on a scrap of paper requesting a print. I lost it on a trek and should send one to the Dras post office I guess.
