Written by Rinchen Angmo.

‘Tibetan Caravans’ is a book by Abdul Wahid Radhu le from Ladakh. Reading Wahid le’s book made me realize the importance of recording one’s life accounts for future generations. Since ‘History’ is often manipulated by various powers, individual stories become increasingly important. After all, it is through these individual stories that one gets a glimpse into a world that would otherwise have been forgotten, fabricated or made foreign.

Wahid le’s book assumes great significance in terms of documenting the waning days of trans-Himalayan trade as well as eye-witness accounts of the systemic attempt of the destruction of Tibetan culture and Tibetan Buddhism by the Communist Party of China in its early days of occupation. Moreover, it provides a glimpse of life in the trans-Himalayas before ‘modernization’ reached its doors.

The late Wahid le belonged to the influential Khwaja (Radhu) family, which played an integral role in the Lopchak missions. They were one of the foremost trading families of their time. Back in the day, trade was a highly honoured profession in Ladakh, one that required long caravans across the trans-Himalayan silk route. The book begins with his first Lopchak mission in 1942; two years before the last Lopchak in history, as per his account. The Treaty of Temisgang, finalized in 1684, gave rise to the Lopchak and Zhungtsong missions. The Zhungtsong (government trade) mission was sent from Lhasa to Leh ‘to maintain good relations of friendship and commerce between Ladakh and Tibet’ (Wahid, Loc 545, 549). Lopchak was an official mission sent from Leh to Lhasa; a primary objective of which was to present gifts to His Holiness the Dalai Lama. It also enabled the caravanners to carry out their own trade. Wahid le mentions how ‘Every two years this official expedition left Leh, our small capital, to go to Lhasa to deliver gifts to the Dalai Lama. This caravan thus contributed to maintaining good relations between Ladakh and Tibet, two countries which in reality formed one nation’(Loc 536).

What I treasure about this book, is the openness with which the author understands the world around him and the intelligence with which he values the traditions of Tibet and Ladakh.

Also, this book made me realize that though every place in the trans-Himalayas is now universally acknowledged as remote, we need to question how this remoteness is quantified, by whom and in relation to whom? Within the trans-Himalayan world, our own location, knowledge systems and culture(s) are not ‘remote’ entities to us. It is because the trans-Himalayan world itself has been deliberately separated into different fragments by different nation states, that this idea of remoteness in relation to the other has become apparent. Of course, the reality of remoteness in relation to ‘modern’ epicenters and knowledge systems cannot be discarded, but we need to ask ourselves how these notions of remoteness disappear or appear or vary when we look at our own epicenters and knowledge systems within the trans-Himalayan world.

Maybe, this book is more about questions than answers. The author’s questions about the world around him; his account of his first Lopchak mission in 1942, two years before the last Lopchak mission in history; the monumental changes occurring in the two places dear to him: Ladakh and Tibet; the final chapters of the trans-Himalayan caravans; the barbaric attempt by Communist China to destroy Tibet;  and the changing geo-political landscape of the trans-Himalayan world. The book is about the author’s continuous metamorphosis in a world where everything is changing; his caravans to Tibet and the trans-Himalayas, his efforts to contribute to the Tibetan cause; his understanding of the lapses of the modern education he’d received; his stories in Leh, Lhasa, Shigatse, Pamir mountains, Srinagar, Darjeeling, Kalimpong and so on.

Many of these places formed quintessential centers of the trans-Himalayan trade routes that are now closed off by borders higher than walls. But surely, ties between stories and friends and merchandise connected over thousands of years cannot be severed by mere walls. And this book is one that brings back to us those stories; stories that belong to us and to whom we belong. What one learns through the author is that a sense of belongingness is not defined by the designations of our identity but by the emotions within our heart. Hence, this books carries it with it the message of the beauty of connections; a dominant sentiment in the trans-Himalayan world.

On a personal level, somehow I could relate acutely to the feelings of attachment that the author enunciates vis-a-vis Ladakh and Tibet and the trans-Himalayan world. To catch a glimpse of one’s attachments being articulated by a fellow Ladakhi in a book, was not only a novel but also a rewarding journey. I may sound melodramatic, but while reading the author’s account of his journeys across the trans-Himalayas, I found myself transported to those lands; lands now arbitrarily made distant through artificial borders. Somehow, the author’s accounts swept me in a whirl of nostalgia.

Of course, everyone will have some points of disagreement with a few of the author’s viewpoints, but that is inevitable. Moreover, the poignancy with which he recounts the lost days of the trans-Himalayan caravans and travels is sure to touch a chord in the heart of every trans-Himalayan. In a world of identity politics, this heartfelt book by a Ladakhi Muslim caravanner about his travels to and attachment to Tibet is a reminder to think beyond petty ‘differences’. It is also a reminder that connections are not only defined by your ‘identity’ but also by your emotions and karmic ties. It is a reminder to open your heart.

Reading the ‘Tibetan Caravans’ felt like a journey. And maybe someday, I too will venture on my own Tibetan caravan.

Works cited:

Wahid, Abdul Radhu. Tibetan Caravans: Journeys from Leh to Lhasa. Kindle ed., Speaking Tiger.