Taming modernity

Though ramshackle and long deserted, the Leh Palace remains an imposing building. Standing atop a hillock, the nine-story structure, inspired by the Potala Palace, dominates the otherwise low-lying Leh 'skyline'. From its roof, visitors get a panoramic view of the windswept valley, encircled by the towering peaks of the Ladakh and Zanskar ranges. Looking out from this vantage point, the town gives off an air of continuity, its web of flat-roofed, mud-plastered houses seemingly forming an unbroken unit. But in reality, there are stark differences between the historical Old Town and the newer areas rapidly developing to accommodate the influx of tourists.

Situated on the slopes immediately below the palace, Old Leh was established during the mid-1600s, when then-King Sengge Namgyal called on well-to-do families to settle beneath his newly built fortress. Today, of the natives occupying around 200 houses, most are in some degree of disrepair. Decades of neglect have meant that this historical neighbourhood, one of the few remaining examples of Tibetan-style townships of yore, is in danger of disintegration. Indeed, the Old Town was included in a list, put together by the New York-based non-profit World Monument Fund, of the 100 most endangered sites in the world. Yet, necessary as preservation is, the consequences of the crumbling of Leh's old town go far beyond the loss of heritage; they tie directly into issues of access to good-quality housing, ecologically viable cities and a host of other resolutely modern and urban concerns.