LEH
They were just boys, some in school or college. First there were smoke shells, and then there was firing. Many people were hit by bullets.”
This is how a resident described the confrontation between protesters and security forces that led to the death of four men, including a former soldier, in Leh on September 24.
The protesters, mostly youth, had torched the BJP office and damaged the Ladakh Autonomous Hill Development Council (LAHDC) building. They were demanding statehood and constitutional safeguards under the Sixth Schedule of the Constitution.
For a region long known for peace, the bloodshed was a turning point.
The violence began after two elderly men on hunger strike, led by climate activist Sonam Wangchuk, were admitted to hospital. They went on strike on September 10 to protest delays by the Union home ministry in continuing talks on statehood and the Sixth Schedule.
Although the ministry had invited leaders for talks on October 6, the Leh Apex Body—a coalition of political, religious and social groups in Buddhist-majority Leh—wanted to meet earlier because of the hunger strike. Wangchuk had warned the Centre that the youth could intensify the agitation, but hoped for a peaceful resolution.
After the violence, Wangchuk ended his strike, saying: “My message of peace was ignored today. I appeal to the youth to please stop this nonsense. It only damages our cause.” He also urged the government to be sensitive to Ladakh.
“When violence started, the leaders tried their best to control the situation,” said Tsering Nordon, a social activist who was there. “The youth were so angry that it erupted. The situation worsened, and there was firing. I saw it all. Nobody provoked them.”
She added that Ladakhi youth felt hopeless. “We got it (UT status) without a legislature, and that is why we are asking for constitutional protection,” she said. “Since 2019, hunger strikes have been held for safeguards, and when talks were delayed, it created fear and anxiety.”
Tsering Gurnet, who was also at the site, said he was upset that protesters were being labelled anti-nationals. He said the protest was peaceful until the firing started. “For us they are martyrs,” he said. “We are not terrorists or separatists, but proud citizens demanding our constitutional rights. People outside [should] not believe false claims about Ladakh.”
To control the situation, the administration imposed a curfew, crippling daily life and leaving hundreds struggling for essentials.
Lieutenant Governor Kavinder Gupta called the violence a deliberate attempt to disturb peace. “A hunger strike is a democratic way of protest,” he said. “But recently, some people were provoked by comparisons with Nepal and Bangladesh. There were also talks of burning political offices and attacking homes. This is not democratic.”
Police blamed Wangchuk for the violence and said the firing was in “self-defence” to stop a “massive attack”. They arrested him under the National Security Act and moved him to a Jodhpur jail. DGP S.D. Singh Jamwal said Wangchuk spoke of the ‘Arab Spring’ and examples like Nepal, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. He also mentioned investigation into possible illegal foreign funding.
The clashes had a political fallout, too. On September 27, two Congress councillors—Stanzin Tsepaq and Smanla Dorje Nurboo—were among 12 who surrendered in court. While the others were sent to judicial custody, the councillors, along with Rigzin Dorjey, vice-president of Ladakh Buddhist Association, and Tsewang Dorjey, village head of Tinmozgang, were sent to police custody.
Shafi Lassu, president of the Leh Bar Association, said that police registered cases under Sections 192 (rioting), 351 (criminal intimidation), and 109 (attempt to murder) of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, detaining more than 40 people. “They even booked labourers from Bihar and called them rioters,” he said.
On September 28, amid restrictions, a group of young women gathered at King Singay Namgyal Chowk in Leh to witness the funeral of two of the men killed—Stanzin Namgyal and Jigmet Dorjey. “There were heavy restrictions, but we came to honour the martyrs,” said Chuskit Angmo. “This is not the Ladakh we imagined after UT status. The Centre has ignored the aspirations of Ladakhis. All we ask for are safeguards.”
Her friend Testing Lazes, a teacher, said: “We cannot believe blood has been spilled here. Ladakh has never seen this before. Our demands are within the Constitution.”
To ease tempers, the home ministry invited leaders from the LAB and the Kargil Democratic Alliance (a coalition of political and social groups) for preparatory talks on September 29—this was meant to lay the ground for formal talks on October 6. However, the LAB pulled out, saying peace must be restored first.
“The administration must calm the situation, release detainees and withdraw the baseless label of ‘anti-national’ against Ladakhis. If talks had been held on time, this tragedy would not have happened,” said LAB chairman Thupstan Chhewang. “Talks cannot take place while such allegations hang over us.”
The government’s decision to cancel the registrations of two Wangchuk institutions—the Students’ Educational and Cultural Movement of Ladakh (SECMOL) and the Himalayan Institute of Alternatives, Ladakh (HIAL)—sparked fresh debate. Authorities said the cancellations were because of violations of NGO rules, including issues with land use, financial reporting and exceeding the scope of registration. However, the timing raised eyebrows.
Wangchuk’s wife, Gitanjali Angmo, said the cancellations were an attempt to silence his voice and weaken the movement. “Closing SECMOL and HIAL will not stop people from demanding their rights,” she said. “These are not just Sonam’s institutions—they belong to the people of Ladakh.”