We reached the Da village 160 kms from the city. The Leh-Srinagar Highway goes till Khalse and then turns right towards Batalik. After Batalik, the mountainous landscape becomes arid comes across in different earth shades. Deep down the gorge a river roars away, witnessing on its way small villages.

We crossed several army barracks on our way to enter Da village, rising by steps to a paradise that lay ahead. It is believed that many years ago, the people of the Dard sect (a descent of the Aryans) had come from a region called Gilgit, to settle down here. The people of this tribal sect are extremely primitive in nature and don not conform to any societal norms. They however, were tried to be harnessed by Buddhist leaders some centuries ago. However, they still maintain a very primitive lifestyle and call themselves ‘Bonpa’ or ‘Drokpa’. The tale of their settling down in this region is replete in their cultural songs and dances, folk lore and word of mouth down the centuries.

Legend goes that 3 brothers of a particular family from Gilgit, had established themselves by their good deeds, which invited frowns from many. Soon they had to leave their place and came to Da village for some rest. At that time Da village was not a proper habitat. To ward off cold, they had used straw as shoe padding. Some part of which fell on the ground and breathed in conducive weather to grow up into healthy crops. Later they were pursued once again by their enemies, but they came back and settled here after they witnessed the delightful growth of crops in this place. This tale of valour still goes around as word of mouth in the folk lore of the Drokpas.

We got down from our jeep and started up the steps, which marks the entrance of the Da village. We soon came to a place which was full of greenery. Mostly apricots have filled up the trees and lie strewn on the ground. Apple and walnut trees are also found in abundance. Among other vegetations, wild grapes and poplar could also be seen. A little away lay farming grounds for tomato, turnip, cauliflower etc. A villager came up to us and offered us some fruits.

As we rose up the steep incline, more and more verdant fields filled our view. The whole place was thick with apricots. Farming lands of the place were also surrounded by apricot trees. The whole landscape in this part witness’s small water falls here and there. In a word Da’s landscape is like paradise on earth. Men and women carry fruit baskets at their back and these are filled with apricots. We soon reached our accommodation here, Skiabapa, a place encompassed with fruits and flowers. The place was small with 4-5 living rooms and a dining room, the terrace replete with grapevines and apricot trees.

Keeping our luggage, we went in for a tour, deeper into the village where we saw cows and sheep flock at different places. Small stone houses and greenery were all around. In this village the number of animals a family possesses, determines its social position. We saw girls working and playing acre after acre apricots were given to dry in the sun. A prayer ring is located centrally in the village and behind that is a monastery.

While little children were peeping from here and there, adults smiled and greeted us saying ‘jule’. We soon saw two girls coming and took their photographs after taking permission. They were dressed in traditional Drokpa costumes carrying animal skin in one hand and flowers in another. We exchanged communication in Hindi as well as sign language. We soon went towards the monastery and were let in by an aged woman. The idol was breathtaking with light falling on its face from a window above and candle light lighting it up from the base. We soon moved out to be faced with more apricots being dried over the roof. An old shepherd was flocking sheep. He was wearing a loose overall and a shoe with crossed strings, more looking like a Greek man.

We came back to the guest house before darkness descended and met with three Italian tourists. Later talking to the manager cum chef cum hotel boy Suptu in broken Hindi, we came to know more about the legends and lifestyle of the Drokpas as he himself was a Drokpa. We finished our vegetarian dinner at 8.30 in the garden full of apricots and grapevine ad went off to sleep immediately after. The room ad a great view from two glass windows. The room could accommodate 5 individuals between the beds and the floor. As the outside scenery was more visible from the floor bed, we chose to spend the rest of the night there. The outside looked breathtaking.

The next morning we went across to the village once more, where it was waking up from its slumber and was readying for the chores of the day. Some were about to go out with their flocks of sheep, some with cows and some were ready for the fields to collect apricots. We noticed a letter box tied to the truck of a tree. Also noticeable was the great influence of the Kargil war over here, as many house doors were made of gun cartridge boxes and the men folks often wearing army uniforms. We were told that littler boys had gone to provide food to Indian soldiers regarding little for their own lives.

We kept drinking the beauty of the place for the last time. This paradise set amidst the arid landscape is quite different from its surroundings. Etched with abundant greenery, crops, flowers and fruits, this whole valley is full of life. The extreme climate of the surroundings has not been able to touch the place. In a word, this place is abound with food, drinks and ayurvedic treatment and other social norms making the Drokpas self sufficient in their own ways. The people of this place are beautiful and are very cordial. Da village is in fact quite different from any other place in Ladakh. The drokpas are also spread over some other villages such as Hanu, Biyama and other villages close by. However, the dialect, lifestyle and social norms are quite different from Da village.

We soon turned to leave this beautiful place post a simple breakfast of bread, jam, butter, omelets and apricots. Looking back at the valley, the picture of a happy lifestyle hit us where people were contended and ever smiling. We came across the same child of the last evening and this time too he ran away after emptying his collection of flowers and apricots in our hands.