Curfew descended over Ladakh this week after a rare and deadly eruption of violence left at least five protesters dead and nearly 80 injured, shaking the usually tranquil Himalayan region to its core. On September 25, 2025, authorities in India’s northernmost territory imposed sweeping restrictions in the districts of Leh and Kargil, banning gatherings of more than five people and shutting down businesses as security forces patrolled eerily empty streets. The unrest, which began a day earlier, marked the worst violence in Ladakh in decades and underscored deepening frustration over the region’s political future.
What sparked this sudden upheaval in a place better known for its stark beauty and strategic significance? According to BBC and The Independent, the protests erupted over long-standing demands for full statehood and job quotas for Ladakh, a high-altitude desert bordering both China and Pakistan. The flashpoint came when hunger-striking activists—demanding greater autonomy and constitutional protections—fell gravely ill and were hospitalized in Leh, the territory’s main city. Public anger over the perceived neglect of these protesters quickly boiled over into violence.
Demonstrators, many of whom were rallying in solidarity with prominent climate activist Sonam Wangchuk, set fire to vehicles and the local office of Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). In response, security forces fired tear gas and wielded batons in an attempt to disperse the crowds. The Indian Ministry of Home Affairs stated, “In self-defence, police had to resort to firing, in which unfortunately some casualties are reported.” More than 30 police and military personnel were injured during the clashes, and the ministry described the crowd as an “unruly mob.”
Witnesses described scenes of chaos and fear as smoke billowed from torched vehicles and the BJP office. Shops and businesses shuttered their doors, and the streets—usually bustling with tourists and locals—became deserted. “A mob motivated by his [Wangchuk’s] provocative speeches left the venue of the hunger strike and attacked a political party office as well as the government office ... It is clear the mob was guided by Sonam Wangchuk through his provocative statements,” the home ministry asserted, according to The Independent.
But Wangchuk himself, in a video message released Wednesday, called for calm: “We do not want instability in Ladakh and the country,” he said, urging his supporters to “stop the violence forthwith as it only causes harm to our cause and further deteriorates the situation.” He ended his 15-day hunger strike that same day, but not before the unrest had spiraled out of control.
The roots of Ladakh’s discontent stretch back to August 2019, when the Modi government stripped the broader region of Jammu and Kashmir of its statehood and semi-autonomy. Ladakh, previously part of Jammu and Kashmir, was carved out as a separate Union Territory—meaning it would be governed directly from New Delhi, with only limited local representation in India’s parliament. While some Ladakhis initially welcomed the move, hoping for more focused development, those hopes soon faded. Fears grew over potential land grabs, loss of traditional livelihoods, and threats to the fragile mountain ecosystem.
The demand for full statehood is about more than just political power. If granted, Ladakh would gain its own elected assembly and government, allowing residents to craft laws and policies that reflect local needs. Many are also calling for inclusion in the “Sixth Schedule” of India’s constitution, which provides special protections for tribal communities and allows for significant autonomy in administering land, resources, and cultural affairs. Despite repeated promises, New Delhi has yet to deliver on this front, fueling frustration and suspicion.
Sajjad Kargili, a local leader, voiced the community’s hopes: “The government should act with wisdom, resume dialogue at the earliest and address people’s aspirations.” His plea echoed across Ladakh’s diverse population—about half Muslim, 40% Buddhist—who have watched as talks with Indian officials have repeatedly stalled. Another round of negotiations is scheduled for October 6, 2025, but skepticism runs high after years of unmet promises.
For many Ladakhis, the stakes are existential. The region’s thousands of glaciers are melting at an alarming rate, threatening water supplies and livelihoods. Pollution, exacerbated by an increased military presence since the deadly 2020 standoff with China, has only worsened the crisis. Ladakh’s border location means it is not just a pawn in India’s internal politics but also a flashpoint in its fraught relationships with both China and Pakistan. The Indian army maintains a heavy presence, and the scars of past clashes—like those in 2020 that killed at least 20 Indian and four Chinese soldiers—still linger.
The recent violence has left Ladakh’s communities reeling. Chering Dorjay, co-chairman of the Leh Apex Body (the main group fighting for regional autonomy), confirmed that five protesters had died and many more were critically injured. The number of wounded, nearly 80 by some estimates, included both civilians and security personnel. “The violence was the worst in Ladakh in decades and signalled waning patience with the Indian government,” The Independent reported.
While the government has accused activists like Wangchuk of stoking unrest, many in Ladakh see the protests as a last resort after years of peaceful advocacy failed to yield results. The hunger strike, which drew widespread attention, was intended as a nonviolent call for dialogue and reform. Yet, as tempers flared and the government’s response turned forceful, the situation slipped beyond anyone’s control.
The aftermath has left Leh and Kargil under curfew, with residents anxious about what comes next. The usually vibrant towns are now guarded by security forces, and uncertainty hangs in the air. The Indian government’s next moves—especially in the upcoming talks—will be closely watched, not just by Ladakhis but by observers across India and its neighbors.
For now, the people of Ladakh wait. Their demands—for statehood, for environmental protection, for a say in their own future—remain unresolved. Whether New Delhi will heed their calls or double down on security remains to be seen. But one thing is clear: the events of this week have changed Ladakh, perhaps irreversibly, and the echoes of protest and loss will not fade easily from the high mountain air.
