PADUM: Ladakh is witnessing protests over a mix of grievances — including centrally-driven infrastructure projects like roads, tunnels, power corridors and a proposed solar park, which locals say are being pushed without consent. The region was made a Union Territory after the abrogation of
Article 370 in 2019, and many now argue that the changes have deepened exclusion. The unrest intensified last week when police opened fire on demonstrators in Leh, killing four and injuring dozens as they pressed for statehood and constitutional safeguards.
“They tell us to trust development,” a monk in Karsha, Zanskar's largest monastery, whispered after evening prayers. “But whose development is it, if we have no say in what is built?” The line is repeated in villages along glacial rivers, in nunnery courtyards, in tea stalls in Leh bazaar. It frames a growing unease — that Ladakh, now under direct rule from Delhi, is being reshaped for purposes its people neither chose nor fully understand.
The catalogue of projects is long and accelerating. The 255km Darbuk–Shyok–Daulat Beg Oldi road links Leh to India’s northernmost airstrip. The 14.2km Zojila tunnel, under construction between Sonamarg and Drass, is expected to slash travel time to 20 minutes in winter. South of Leh, the 4.1km Shinku La tunnel is underway to make the Nimmu–Padum–Darcha route all-weather. New alignments such as Hanuthang–Handanbroke–Zingral provide alternate access paths.
Meanwhile, Nyoma airfield is being expanded for fighter operations, and surveyors have marked land on the Pang plateau for a 13-gigawatt solar park — a project that may displace nomadic herders.
Since 2019, over 1,600km of new roads have been laid or upgraded in Ladakh, officials say. The Border Roads Organisation reports having built 3,140km across 43 routes in five years. The stated aims are connectivity, strategic mobility and economic opportunity. But many Ladakhis read the pace differently: not as service but as imposition — and as a sign that decisions are being made elsewhere, for reasons never fully explained. On paper, these are framed as development. On the land, many see instruments of access, resource control and strategic reach.
Much of the work shadows the Line of Actual Control with China. Roads like Darbuk–Shyok–DBO and the Nyoma expansion echo India’s rising anxiety over PLA infrastructure across the border — a quiet arms race in altitude.
Padum, in the Zanskar region, vividly illustrates this tension. Once reachable by a single road and trekking trails, the town of roughly 2,000 people now sees at least four new roads converging, and a fifth via Jammu and Kishtwar in planning. The Nimmu–Padum–Darcha linkage now ties it eastward to Leh and southward toward Himachal. The Shinku La pass, though officially connected, remains vulnerable to snow and landslides.
Heavy rain in Aug triggered multiple disruptions, pushing local officials to warn that high-altitude roads may demand year-round maintenance. “Do we need five approaches to one valley?” asked Spalzen Tenzin, a homestay owner in Padum. “When every flank is opened, we are left wondering — who will come in, and for what?”
Not everyone is against the projects though. There are a few who favour the infra push. Stanzin Dorje, who runs a small restaurant in Padum says that "the roads have cut winter isolation.” “For the first time, we can bring supplies without waiting months. If this is the cost of being less cut off, some of us are willing to pay it.” His view complicates the narrative: development is not rejected wholesale, but suspicion rises when the logic is hidden.
Survey teams have triggered fresh fears. “Lines, tunnels, power corridors — they cross glaciers and map resource pockets,” said Nasir Ahmad, an engineer with a civil society group in Kargil. “No one explains why. People see mining maps even when none are announced.” For youth activists like Gyatso Dorjay in Leh, the deeper fear is land: “Jobs come and go,” he said, “but once outsiders buy land or build resorts, it never returns.”
This blend of suspicion and exclusion has drawn together communities that once diverged. Leh’s Buddhist majority and Kargil’s Shia Muslim base had different responses to UT status in 2019. But the Leh Apex Body and Kargil Democratic Alliance are jointly demanding statehood, inclusion under Sixth Schedule protections, and a public service commission. Monks and clerics now share platforms. “We never expected to be on the same side,” said a Kargil lawyer, “but when both sides feel ignored, unity becomes survival.”
Sonam Wangchuk, who has emerged as one of the most visible public voices in the region, recently said, “Ladakh is seeing faster infrastructure growth since it became a Union Territory. People can’t be happy only with development if their voices are not heard.”
The administration, meanwhile, has maintained that development efforts are in the region’s long-term interest. A recent statement from the UT administration quoted Ladakh’s lieutenant governor as saying: “UT administration is committed to bridging development gaps in Ladakh. People’s concerns will be addressed on priority.”
Delhi also points to 85% job reservations for locals, larger budgets and faster project incentives. Officials argue Ladakh’s frontier location -- sharing its border with Pakistan and China -- complicates any move toward autonomy. But locals weigh these announcements against unkept promises. The tunnels, airstrips, solar parks — all are seen less as opportunities than as tools of control.
Then, there is the ecological fallout. In Aug, Leh recorded 80.2 mm of rainfall — its highest for the month in 52 years, a 930% surplus, according to the Indian Meteorological Department. Flash floods cut off roads and waterlogged airfields. In Sept, warnings of very heavy rain persisted. Locals who once called Ladakh a “cold desert” now say the weather has lost all rhythm.
The Chadar trek, once reliably frozen in Jan–Feb, is now less so. Guides say the river freezes later and thaws sooner. “We used to have a solid four weeks of ice. Now we’re lucky to get two,” said a trek operator in Chilling. The 2025 season may face delays or route changes if warming and erratic rainfall continue.
In Karsha, nightfall brings only silence and questions. The monk gestures at the blacktopped road, distant survey markers on ridges. “Development without voice is not development,” he says. “It is something else. And we do not yet know its name.”