Leh’s mountains of plastic

How did Ladakh, a mountain desert nestled in between the Himalayas and the Karakoram range, turn into a sea of plastic?

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There was a time when this now-ubiquitous material was absent from the capital of Leh. Pollution caused by it was a faraway reality, and people could drink directly from the mountain streams and springs. Today, tourists leave the biggest footprint on the city, with the annual influx measuring twice the very population of the entirety of Leh. The waste generated is much beyond what the city can manage, and it peaks in the summer, averaging at 50 to 60 tonnes. Municipal officer Stanzin Rabgais says that big FMCG brands supply food, snacks and water packaged in single-use plastic to cater to tourists thronging the nearly 1000 hotels in the city. 

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Administrators and activists who are pushing back against plastic overuse and improper disposal all underline one concern: Leh is more fragile than lower-lying regions like plains. At higher altitudes, waste can take twice or even thrice as long to decompose because harsh conditions slow down microbial activity. Tourists visit this beautiful landscape to seek peace and wilderness but leave behind a familiar mark of the cities they come from: their trash. 

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In response, efforts to tackle the problem have emerged from different quarters. In 2017, the local Rural Development Department launched Project Tsangda, a decentralised solid waste management initiative, while citizen-led organisations such as Navikru Eco Foundation work with children on prevention and sustainability. The Women’s Alliance of Ladakh, meanwhile, advocated for a plastic ban in Leh nearly three decades ago. Together, these efforts point to a larger question: how do we rethink our relationship with plastic—and the consumption patterns that produce so much of it—in landscapes that can absorb so little?