Life on the Edge

For the past few weeks, we've been traveling in an area of the Indian Himalaya just west of the Chinese (occupied Tibet, actually) border. The area bears little resemblance to the India of the plains to the south. The population, except for the few intra-border 'colonialist' (i.e. Hindu flatlander) business owners encamping to make money, is mostly Buddhist. In places closer to the Hindu areas, the temples' decorations have adopted a hybrid of the two religions. To my eyes, it doesn't seem to matter so much what religion one practices in mountains like this. The monumental and austere beauty draw out your humility and reverence.

Water is a valuable and scarce resource. Until the past decade or so, when the area was opened up to travelers, farming has been the only way of life in these parts for all of its history. We aren't talking the kind of farming you might be familiar with in the States. This is subsistence level farming on limited, mountainside terraces, irrigated by small streams, growing only the few crops that will survive at this altitude (peas, barley, potatoes, lentils and a few other beans). Life on such a precarious edge leaves scant room for climatetological variation. If the snows don't fall in sufficient amount to provide water, these people are, in the fullest sense of the phrase, high and dry.



In many villages, they have water shortages and ration to certain times of day. To the humble and reverent, you can add that these mountains definitly make you feel vulnerable.