Written by Rinchen Angmo

Nas, the food associated root of my existence. The Ladakhi word for barley is nas. For centuries, the people of Ladakh, Tibet, Spiti, Lahaul and various places across the Trans-Himalayas have cultivated barley. In most parts of the aforementioned places, a barley based dish called kholak/tsampa has from time immemorial been a staple diet.

Though I don’t eat kholak as often as I would like to, the dish inevitably becomes a symbol of the root of my food associated existence. I say food associated specifically, because there are various other ways of quantifying roots of existence in different tangible and philosophical spheres. 

In order to make kholak, a little bit of butter tea is poured into a gormo (traditional bowl) and then barley flour is added to it and the two are mixed. With one hand the gormo is rotated clockwise and with the other hand barley flour is mixed in an anti-clockwise direction. This oft unnoticed step is an art in itself. 

At the outset making the dish is fairly simply, but it is the story behind it that becomes important. For it is a story common to many from the Trans-Himalayan world. A story of how our ancestors grew, bartered and consumed barley. In fact, it wouldn’t be an overstatement to say that many built entire economies around barley. 

My village Chemrey has the perfect combination of the right altitude and climate for growing barley. Within Ladakh barley grows better in relatively colder villages, for instance Chemrey is more suitable for growing barley compared to Shey, which is at a relatively lower altitude. My Abile recounts how the people of Chemrey would go to Shey to trade barley with the latter’s wheat. So as a native of Chemrey, I can’t possibly not write about barley. It’s not just about its importance as a source of nutrition but also its significant contribution in building both rural and urban economies back in the day. After all, back then almost everyone in Ladakh consumed barley based kholak as their staple diet. More importantly, since it was a staple diet, everyone’s lives and hence stories inevitably have elements of barley tossed in them. 

My Abile recounts that back in the day they’d carry a lump of kholak to school in their kos (traditional dress). More often than not they would end up eating the kholak before it was time for the next meal. So one day she and her friend hid their share of kholak in the crevices of a field’s wall. However, they returned only to find that the field had been watered and with it their kholak too was drenched in water!

Nowadays, for varying reasons, this staple diet is no longer staple. In Ladakh, this can be traced to: non-local conceptions of “standard” food; a lack of market due to a change in local preferences owing to non-local influences; modern ideas of eating etiquette; lack of accessibility and the lack of its effective incorporation in the modern market dynamic. 

Bread, rice and other food habits have replaced kholak to a very large extent. 

But why does it become so important to eat kholak? 

In Leh, kholak is seldom eaten in homes. In rural areas too, it’s consumption has decreased exponentially over the years. 

Most restaurants serving traditional cuisine don’t have the option of kholak/tsampa in their menus. The severity of the situation is such that most tourists leave Ladakh without even having once tasted its staple diet.

We need to ask why. Why is there such a limited consumption of our staple diet? Is it our globalised mindset? Sheer apathy? Lack of awareness? 

Moreover, in order to ensure its accessibility perhaps food start ups of Ladakh can make barley flour packs more easily available. After all, in order to continue our food practices we have to inevitably include them in the domain of upcoming modern spaces like grocery stores, which have reached most rural areas as well. 

After all, it is not without reason that it is said that we are what we eat. Barley in more ways than one, takes us to the root of our food associated existence: it represents the toil and expertise of our ancestors, the agricultural stories of our civilisations and is one of the links that connects the Trans-Himalayan world. 

So this is an ode to barley, the food associated root of many Trans-Himalayan people(s). 

Barley. An ode to barley.