In the high-altitude expanse of Ladakh’s Changthang plateau (~5000 meters), where the sky stretches vast and unbroken, the Changpa nomads have lived in rhythm with the land for generations. Their way of life is woven into the fabric of movement, following ancient migration routes, reading the wind, listening to the unspoken language of the mountains. But the world is shifting.

The winters are harsher, the pastures thinner. What was once an unbroken cycle of survival is now an open question. Roads carve deeper into the landscape. Settlements rise. Younger generations leave, drawn to the cities, to a life that promises more security but asks them to trade something sacred in return. What happens when a culture built on movement is asked to stand still?

While researching for my film project Ghost of the Mountains, I spent time with a Changpa family from Kharnak, witnessing the quiet resilience etched into their faces, the tender strength in their daily rituals, and their enduring love for a life lived on the edge of impermanence. Their warmth, their stories, and their connection to the land moved me deeply. Through this ongoing series, born out of my time with them, I hope to share a glimpse of a world unseen.

For me, each frame is a prayer to the land, a question carried on the wind: How does one hold onto a way of life that slips like sand through fingers? This project is more than photography; it is an act of preservation and reverence. These images hold space for their stories, their struggles, and their quiet defiance against disappearance.

Here, amidst the silence of the mountains, the Changpa teach us what it means to endure, to belong, and to listen—to the land, to history, to what is being lost.