How a remote Ladakh village, home to 17 women, embraced polyhouse farming

If you were to arrive at Ladakh’s Kesar early in the evening, you’d find the whole village—all of 17 women and a handful of children—seated in a circle on the grey, sandy earth of someone’s backyard, using loose wooden floorboards as mats. You’ll see women in salwar suits and sweaters, wearing scarves over their heads and socks under their slippers. You’ll see a pink-and-white ceramic tray with matching pink-and-white ceramic cups, and a thermos or two of tea. The men of the village live wherever they find employment—mostly in Leh, where they work as drivers. The women stay back, raising children, growing crops, and keeping the village alive. 

Kesar village is located on the Changthang Plateau, over 4,000 metres above sea level. It is dry, bitingly cold desert land, barren for most of the year. In the winter months, the mercury plummets to temperatures as low as -30°C. From May to September, there opens a small window of time when the women of the village can grow wheat, barley, and potatoes. This wheat, once it has been harvested and cleaned, is either ground into flour (atta) or dry roasted to make sattu. It serves as their primary food for the rest of the year, weaving itself into their sparse diet: rotis with dal for their main meals, and sattu with their tea. Little else adds colour or variety to their food. For vegetables, they were dependent on a weekly bus to Leh—the closest city, over 180 km away—but they could barely afford it. 

The spaces between the layers of polycarbonate trap air, creating air pockets that keep warm air from escaping, maintaining warmth within the greenhouse even in sub-zero temperature winters.

In 2023, the Sher-e-Kashmir University of Agricultural Sciences and Technology (SKUAST, Jammu) introduced polyhouse farming to the region and trained the village women in controlled-environment agriculture. Polyhouses function as advanced greenhouses made of brick walls and plastic roofs; they trap solar radiation and maintain warmth to allow for year-round cultivation of vegetables. The polyhouse in Kesar village features three sides of mud brick walls for improved heat retention, and a triple-layer polycarbonate sheet, chosen for its durability compared to other types of plastics, as well as its ability to diffuse more light than glass. Moreover, to maximise the sunlight received, the polycarbonate sheet typically faces south. The spaces between the layers of polycarbonate trap air, creating air pockets that keep warm air from escaping, maintaining warmth within the greenhouse even in sub-zero temperature winters. 

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The promise of polyhouses

Polyhouses have been transformative for the village. While they continue to buy pulses from Leh, they now eat the vegetables they grow. Tsering Lamo, one of Kesar’s residents, talks about how the polyhouses have brought food security—something she didn’t have while growing up. “But now, everything is alright,” she says. “We have vegetables, grains—everything.” The polyhouse has also infused variety into their diet. Instead of living on just dal to accompany their rotis, they now have vegetables. This gives them a reason to cook twice a day, and to find creative ways to incorporate their produce into meals. These vegetables also add new twists to familiar dishes like momos. 

The polyhouse has also infused variety into their diet. Instead of living on just dal to accompany their rotis, they now have vegetables.

For miles around, there are only two colours visible: brown and grey. The sky, the mountains, the land—even the sparse vegetation—conform to the palette. The landscape appears majestic and imposing, but also distant and spiritless. The air is suffused with loneliness. In response, a sisterhood has come alive—one that grows food together, cooks together, and eats together. At night, they break off into smaller groups, eating dinner and sleeping over at each other’s houses—living life in an ongoing, alternating sleepover. The polyhouse becomes another weapon in their arsenal; another way to stave off loneliness. Not only are they solving their food problem, but they are also having fun with it, bringing a sense of curiosity, experimentation, and purpose to their time in the polyhouse. They’ve grown not only common polyhouse crops like lettuce, cucumbers and potatoes, but also small watermelons. “This is a newly set-up greenhouse, and we’re slowly figuring out what else we can grow here,” says Tsering Zangmo, with a spark in her eyes.

If you pass them by, the sisterhood will cheerfully call out: “Juley! Juley! Juley!” Juley is used to convey many things—hello, welcome, please, and thank you—with the singular feeling of warmth. The sisterhood of the cold desert thrives. 

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