In the high-altitude city of Leh, where Buddhist monasteries and Muslim neighborhoods share the thin air between China and Pakistan, a long-deferred promise became a wound. On Wednesday, Indian security forces opened fire on crowds rallying behind activist Sonam Wangchuk's hunger strike for constitutional protections, killing at least five people and injuring dozens more — a reckoning born of six years of unfulfilled commitments made when New Delhi stripped Ladakh of its statehood in 2019. The silence that settled over Leh the following morning, broken only by the footsteps of riot police, spo
Five killed as Ladakh autonomy protests turn deadly in India
At least five protesters killed, 30 police officers injured, and dozens more protesters wounded during security force response to autonomy demonstrations.
The city had transformed overnight into something resembling a garrison
Mark
Why did these protests erupt now, specifically? What changed on Wednesday?
Mimi
Sonam Wangchuk's hunger strike became the focal point. He wasn't asking for independence—he was asking for constitutional protections, for the right to govern themselves. That's a specific, achievable demand. When thousands marched in solidarity, it became impossible to ignore.
Mark
The government split Ladakh from Kashmir in 2019. Why make that promise about the Sixth Schedule if they weren't going to keep it?
Mimi
That's the core of the betrayal. The Sixth Schedule would have given real power to local communities. Six years later, nothing. People felt used—their region was separated, but the autonomy they were promised never arrived.
Mark
Thirty police injured, five protesters dead. That's a significant casualty gap. Does that tell us something?
Mimi
It tells us the crowd was large and determined enough to overwhelm police defenses. They weren't throwing stones from a distance. They were close enough to torch vehicles. The police response escalated because they felt threatened, or because orders came down to disperse the crowd by any means.
Mark
Half Muslim, forty percent Buddhist. Is religion part of why they're angry?
Mimi
Not the anger itself, but it shapes how they see the future. Both communities have distinct interests in protecting their land and culture. When the government ignores constitutional protections, it feels like a threat to their survival as distinct peoples.
Mark
What happens next? Does this cool down?
Mimi
Not without movement from New Delhi. The lockdown might suppress immediate protests, but the underlying demand hasn't changed. If the government keeps refusing the Sixth Schedule, you'll see this again—probably larger.
Il Polso
- Six years after New Delhi promised constitutional protections to Ladakh's 300,000 residents, that pledge remains unmet — and the patience of both its Muslim and Buddhist communities has finally fractured.
- Crowds inspired by activist Sonam Wangchuk's hunger strike for statehood torched a police vehicle and set fire to BJP offices, pushing a demonstration into open confrontation.
- Security forces responded with tear gas and batons before opening fire, leaving at least five protesters dead, thirty officers wounded, and dozens more civilians injured in the chaos.
- India's Home Ministry framed the killings as self-defense against an 'unruly mob,' offering no accounting of the dead — a silence that regional leaders say will only deepen the sense of betrayal.
- Leh now sits under heavy lockdown, its streets coiled in razor wire, as the question facing New Delhi is no longer whether to negotiate, but whether further violence will precede any answer.
In the high-altitude city of Leh, where Buddhist monasteries and Muslim neighborhoods share the thin air between China and Pakistan, a long-deferred promise became a wound. On Wednesday, Indian security forces opened fire on crowds rallying behind activist Sonam Wangchuk's hunger strike for constitutional protections, killing at least five people and injuring dozens more — a reckoning born of six years of unfulfilled commitments made when New Delhi stripped Ladakh of its statehood in 2019. The silence that settled over Leh the following morning, broken only by the footsteps of riot police, spoke to something older than any single protest: the cost of governing a people without their consent.
The morning after gunfire rang through Leh's narrow lanes, the city looked nothing like itself. Riot police patrolled streets once busy with tourists. Razor wire blocked the main roads. At least five people were dead, thirty officers wounded, and dozens of protesters injured after security forces opened fire on crowds the previous day.
The demonstrations had gathered around a single, urgent cause: activist Sonam Wangchuk had launched a hunger strike demanding either full statehood for Ladakh or constitutional protections for its tribal communities, its land, and its fragile mountain environment. Thousands answered his call. When the confrontation escalated — protesters burning a police vehicle and setting fire to BJP offices — officers moved from tear gas and batons to live rounds. India's Ministry of Home Affairs called it self-defense against an unruly mob, but offered no acknowledgment of those killed.
The roots of the anger ran back to 2019, when Modi's government separated Ladakh from India-occupied Kashmir and placed it under direct rule from New Delhi. With it came a promise: inclusion in the Sixth Schedule of India's constitution, which would have given residents meaningful control over their own laws and land. Six years on, that promise had not been kept. In a region split roughly between Muslim and Buddhist populations, the frustration had become something both communities shared.
Omar Abdullah, chief minister of neighboring Jammu and Kashmir, gave voice to what many in Leh were feeling — a deep sense of betrayal by a government that had made commitments it chose not to honor. New Delhi, for its part, blamed Wangchuk for inciting unrest and insisted governance talks were continuing. But on Thursday, as police stood guard over a charred armored vehicle and a vandalized party office, the locked-down city waited — not for a negotiation to begin, but to learn whether the guns would speak again before one did.
The streets of Leh fell silent on Thursday, the day after gunfire echoed through the northern city's narrow lanes. Police in riot gear now patrolled where tourists once wandered freely. Razor wire coiled across the main roads. The city had transformed overnight into something resembling a garrison.
At least five people lay dead. Thirty police officers had been wounded. Several more protesters bore injuries from the chaos that erupted on Wednesday when security forces opened fire on crowds demanding greater autonomy for Ladakh, the sparsely populated high-altitude region that sits between China and Pakistan and is home to roughly 300,000 people.
The demonstrations had begun with a specific catalyst: activist Sonam Wangchuk, who had launched a hunger strike calling for either full statehood for Ladakh or constitutional protections that would safeguard the region's tribal communities, its fragile environment, and its land. His cause drew thousands into the streets. They torched a police vehicle. They set fire to the offices of Prime Minister Narendra Modi's Bharatiya Janata Party. Officers responded with tear gas and batons, then with bullets.
India's Ministry of Home Affairs issued a statement late Wednesday framing the violence as self-defense. An "unruly mob" had attacked police, the ministry claimed, injuring more than thirty officers. "In self-defence, police had to resort to firing, in which unfortunately some casualties are reported," the statement read. It offered no accounting of the dead. A police officer, speaking anonymously because he lacked authorization to address journalists, confirmed to reporters that five deaths had been reported. He described the number of injured as being in the dozens.
Ladakh's status as a Union Territory meant it elected lawmakers to India's parliament but remained governed directly from New Delhi. In 2019, Modi's government had split Ladakh away from India-occupied Kashmir and imposed direct rule on both territories. The government had promised to include Ladakh in the "Sixth Schedule" of India's constitution—a designation that would grant residents the power to make their own laws and policies. That promise remained unfulfilled six years later.
The region itself was religiously mixed: roughly half Muslim, about forty percent Buddhist. The anger cutting through Leh on Wednesday reflected a deeper frustration. Omar Abdullah, chief minister of India-occupied Jammu and Kashmir, acknowledged what many in Ladakh felt: betrayal and anger at a government that had made commitments it had not kept.
New Delhi's response blamed Wangchuk for instigating the unrest through "provocative speeches" and insisted that discussions about governance were ongoing. But on Thursday, as police guarded the charred remains of a burned armored vehicle and the vandalized BJP office, the city remained locked down. The question hanging over Leh was not whether the government would negotiate, but whether the security forces would fire again.
Citazioni salienti
In self-defence, police had to resort to firing, in which unfortunately some casualties are reported— India's Ministry of Home Affairs
People in Ladakh felt betrayed and angry— Omar Abdullah, chief minister of India-occupied Jammu and Kashmir
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Crime & Justice