“People have always been fascinated by the ancient Silk Route; I want to show them a slice of it,” says Adiba Jehan, a fellow traveller I met on my flight to Leh. The 27-year-old is a descendant of the Argon community of Ladakh that was once active on this historic trading route that stretched over 6,500 kilometres, connecting Asia, Europe, and Africa.

　　Seeing my interest suitably piqued, she talks about the number of beautiful old artefacts, dating back to the time of the Silk Route, that are part of her family’s precious heirlooms and romantic tales of yore that have trickled down to be recounted time and again at all her household gatherings.

　　Hoping to document and give them a proper perspective, Jehan quit her job with a wealth investment firm in Delhi and moved back to renovate her 19th-century ancestral home in Saboo, a village on the outskirts of Leh that once belonged to her great-grandmother Maraim di.

　　Homecoming

　　Saboo has also been steadily climbing high on the trekkers’ itinerary. Visitors are interested not just in its rugged terrain. They are also visiting since, in 2003, President APJ Abdul Kalam adopted it as a model village. “Many developmental projects were underway, but then, unfortunately, the 2010 flash floods happened, and most of them came to a grinding halt,” an elderly gent tells Outlook Traveller.

　　However, what gives him hope now are local youngsters who, despite going out for their higher studies, are returning home to put the spotlight back on Saboo and Leh. And among them, of course, is Jehan, who has restored Maraim di's home with local materials—clay, mud, and wood—to give the house, named after her great-great-great-grandfather, Munuwar, its original look.

　　"We named it after him because the house had always been called 'Munuwar ka ghar' (Munuwar's house) long after he was gone. Mumuwar saab had gifted it to his granddaughter Maraim di following her husband Ghulam Rasool's death in a political turmoil in Yarkand (now Xinjiang in China). He didn't want her to be financially dependent on anyone to feed her family of four," Jehan explains.

　　"And Maraim di did just that—becoming a picture of woman empowerment more than 100 years ago."

　　Doing up this house has been an educational and enlightening experience for Jehan. Besides giving a peek into her simple lifestyle, it shows us what the Trade Route meant for the people of the time—not just for the men who went off looking for business opportunities in the challenging terrains of Central Asia and China, but also for the womenfolk who were left behind to fend for themselves for years on end, she adds.

　　The Trail

　　After acclimatising ourselves with about 36 hours of mandatory rest, sipping water every few minutes, and avoiding strenuous activity to keep high-altitude sickness at bay, we were set to embark on a tour of Shangri La (the erstwhile Buddhist kingdom of Ladakh, now declared a union territory). With a plethora of high passes and snow-capped peaks, this region is a picture-postcard landscape. The river here, widely known as Indus or Sindhu (from which India gets its name), is believed to be the longest in the world.

　　A winding mountainous road takes us to the 17th-century Leh Palace, built by King Sengge Namgyal. Its unassuming, simple façade takes you by surprise, but it’s only a matter of time before the Tibetan-style architecture and rustic charm of this nine-storeyed building wins you over. A popular spot for tourists, Leh Palace offers beautiful views of the town down below and the mountains in the distance that light up with the varying sun rays—from golden yellow to rich orange and tangerine—as it travels across the clear blue skies punctuated by fluffy, white clouds.

　　Going past the impressive stone facade of the 19th-century Zorawar Fort built by General Zorawar Singh, we make a quick stopover at the white-domed Shanti Stupa that stands atop a small hill and becomes a familiar sight as we move around in Leh. Built in 1991 by the Japanese Buddhist Bhikshu, Gyomyo Nakamura, it is believed to house Buddha relics at its base, enshrined by the 14th Dalai Lama himself.

　　Gompas & Beyond

　　Ladakh, as is well known, is a land of gompas or monasteries. In fact, over 100 of them are dotted across its scenic landscape. We visit the Hemis Monastery, which is just 45 kilometres from Leh. Unlike most other gompas that stand perched on hilltops, this one is cleverly camouflaged in the twisting folds of the Ladakhi valley. This helped keep invaders from locating it quickly. It is this location that made Hemis one of the wealthiest monasteries in the region. For, whenever attacks were feared, lamas of the other monasteries would keep their gold and other riches in the safe custody of Hemis and later, upon retrieving it, would leave a percentage behind.

　　Dating back to about 1630, this important spiritual centre of the Drukpa lineage or the Red Hat sect houses a huge idol of Guru Padmasambhava, a precious collection of "thangkas" (scroll paintings) and frescoes—some of which have, unfortunately, succumbed to the ravages of time.

　　Another constant that visitors will notice, in all likelihood, are prayer wheels at monasteries and even along roadsides and marketplaces all across Ladakh, ranging from simple, unassuming ones made of tin to beautifully ornate ones. You must rotate them clockwise to earn merit equivalent to chanting the mantra Om Mani Padme Hum 100 times, a lama at Hemis tells us.

　　After a quick visit to the ancient Shey Palace built in 1645, that also houses an impressive two-storeyed-high image of a seated Buddha, we’re on our way to the Hall of Fame on the Leh-Kargil Road. Maintained by the Indian Army, the exhibits of this beautiful museum fill you with a sense of pride as you walk through its different galleries. Besides showcasing the weaponry used in the Kargil War, war documents, and uniforms worn at the Siachen glacier, the museum also honours soldiers stationed in the challenging, harsh conditions of the upper reaches. I found myself transfixed by the some of the letters soldiers wrote to their families, inspired by their tales of bravery and persistence.

　　Going past the Magnetic Hill, which is believed to have a section that defies gravity but has become a must-stop for groups of enthusiastic youngsters who want to click pictures, we stop at the Gurudwara Shri Pathar Sahib. Legend states that in 1517, when the revered Guru Nanak Dev was deep in meditation, an angry demon hurled a huge boulder at him. However, the boulder not only stopped short of where Guru Nanak sat, but it also turned to wax. Seeing this miracle, the demon surrendered to Guru Nanak Dev’s feet and became one of his most ardent devotees. Post a few moments of peace in the quiet environs of the Gurudwara’s prayer hall, we move out, taking some of the delicious "kada prasad."

　　A few kilometres’ drive ahead, another visual experience awaits us: the Sangam—the confluence of the ancient Indus and Zanskar rivers. Set against the snow-capped mountain ranges in the distance, the mighty, gushing waters of the two rivers present an awe-inspiring sight.

　　Wanting to make the most of my last evening in Leh, I sit under the shade of a malchang tree, munching a biscuit-like kulcha made fresh at a nearby tandoor with some noon chai—another Ladakhi speciality. Accompanying our group is a caravan of bikers who, one must confess, are not just a familiar but also an endearing sight all across Ladakh.

　　When I asked 23-year-old Sudip, an engineer, what made him and his group of friends traverse this rugged terrain on a bike, he said, “The challenging, 'Martian landscape' of Ladakh is compelling enough...it's much more exciting than zipping down city roads.”

　　We smile as his friend Priyanshu chips in: "Just like the traders of yore who were once a familiar sight on the Silk Route trail, we bikers are now a familiar sight on Leh's 'biker trails.' We're traders of a different kind." We couldn't agree more.