Life in Motion: Roles of the Changpa

To live alongside the Changpa is to witness life deeply intertwined with land, livestock, and tradition. Out here, every role is essential, every hand has its purpose—and often, many.



The Changpa woman moves through her day with a kind of a rhythm.

At dawn, she’s milking yaks and goats, later turning that milk into butter, curd, or dried cheese—churpi, as it’s called here. Between cooking and cleaning, she lights the butter lamp and offers the seven bowls of water, a quiet daily ritual woven into her routine. Her fingers are skilled—able to weave clothes, carpets, tents, rugs—creating beauty and warmth with whatever is available. 

When needed, she herds, grazes, cares for children, looks after elders, trades pashmina and dairy at local markets, and takes decisions that guide when and how the family migrates. She does not wait to be asked—she leads.



The men too have their own dance with the landscape

Long days are spent with the herds—guiding sheep, goats, yaks across vast, unpredictable terrain. They’re the ones setting up the rebos, the sturdy yak-hair tents that weather storms. They walk for days to trade in Leh, protect the animals from snow leopards and wolves, and carry forward rituals—both Buddhist and shamanic. They craft pabu, the traditional leather shoes, and handle the butchering that sustains the family through the harsh winters.



Migration is the way of life for them. Some tribes move two to four times a year. The Kharnak, six. Their route is known, yet never easy—high-altitude summers, valley winters. Semi-nomadic, always listening to the land.



In all of this—migration, ritual, labour, survival—there’s no separation between life and work, between man and woman. There is only the everyday.