Tales from my solo travel to Markha Valley, Ladakh
Three villages had passed and I had been hearing a distinctly recognizable whistling sound coming from far. I was curious but not so much that I would go after the sound.
I was staying in Markha village that day and suddenly around afternoon, I heard the same sound again. Just like a bollywood movie sequence, I played the protagonist and went in search of it. I reached the source of that sound which was only about 200 meters away from where I was staying.
Speechless. Absolutely astonishing. The grandparents in the family were winnowing the fresh crop of barley with a rhythm of beautiful whistle accompanying it. My curiosity was at the topmost level.
Back in the places where machines could reach, none of this would happen. These machines would take just about 4 hours to accomplish the same task that people in these difficult to reach regions complete in an entire day, working with their families in a rhythm of soothing folk music.
The couple had been doing this for decades—a tradition passed down through generations. In the thin mountain air of Ladakh, where sound carries differently, they had perfected their art of whistling while working. It wasn't just communication; it was a way of making the hard labor feel lighter, more joyful.
Sometimes the most beautiful moments in travel come from the unexpected—not from the famous landmarks, but from stumbling upon a couple in their seventies, whistling together while winnowing barley in a remote Himalayan village.
Written during a solo trek through Markha Valley, Ladakh, 2016.