How traditional archery has evolved into a modern, competitive sport in Ladakh
Steeped in folklore and everyday customs, archery, once a male-only sport in Ladakh, has now also seen young girls from the region making a mark, as competitions at village festivals have given way to UT-level talent hunts and national participation
For years now, 62-year-old Motup Namgyal’s days have revolved around archery, or rather, the teaching of it. A resident of Changthang in Leh, for the past four decades and more, he has devoted his life to the promotion and development of professional archery in Ladakh. His association with the sport had begun in the remote highlands of eastern Ladakh decades back, when he competed with...
For years now, 62-year-old Motup Namgyal’s days have revolved around archery, or rather, the teaching of it. A resident of Changthang in Leh, for the past four decades and more, he has devoted his life to the promotion and development of professional archery in Ladakh. His association with the sport had begun in the remote highlands of eastern Ladakh decades back, when he competed with village elders in a local tournament, using a handmade bow and arrow. Then, in 1986, Motup participated in the trials of a regional talent hunt, in which experts from the Sports Authority of India (SAI) were present. "I was selected and awarded Rs 500, a big encouragement at the time. Later that year, in December, we were called to Nehru Stadium [Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium in New Delhi] for intensive professional coaching in archery," he recalled.
When he returned to Ladakh, it was with the mission to coach others in competitive archery. By his own estimate, Motup has trained over 2,000 students in competitive archery, many of whom, he says, went on to join paramilitary forces or compete at the national level. In 2021, during the Covid pandemic, he crossed the gender divide in Ladakhi archery, training girls in the sport for the first time.
But Motup, though an icon of competitive archery in the region, is by no means the sport’s only expert in Ladakh. Nor is archery a recent interest for the place.
A cherished tradition across Ladakh, in both districts of Leh and Kargil, archery was once central to summer festivals and rural life in places like Nubra and Shakar-Chiktan. Padma Shri Morup Namgyal, 72, who has archived hundreds of Ladakhi folk songs, sees archery as inseparable from the region’s oral traditions. The epic Kesar-e-zGrums — sung in Ladakh, Baltistan, and Tibet — is filled with tales of archers and enchanted arrows. “One song speaks of three arrows,” he explained, “white to strike, red to draw blood, black to kill.” Each arrow is a work of precision: its length measured from the archer’s shoulder to the bow, tipped with iron (digo), feathered with hawk quills (tha-nkar), and coated in yak horn resin (rus-prin). “If made correctly, the arrow will never miss,” Morup added, quoting the epic.
Beyond folklore, archery seeped into everyday customs— especially in Buddhist households. A child’s birth is marked with an arrow wrapped in a khatag (ceremonial scarf). During traditional weddings, the bride’s companion carries a khataq-wrapped arrow — part blessing, part protection. Arrows, often kept in the prayer room (Chod-khang), are blessed before tournaments.
In Kargil’s Shakar-Chigtan valley, springtime meant archery festivals in the villages. Writer Kacho Asfandyar Khan recalls how teams were formed under community elders, competing before the sowing season. “The village would come alive,” he said. “Winning teams hosted feasts. If someone had recently passed away, archers would first pay their respects and visit the family. After that mourning ended, the celebration began.”
There are other beliefs and customs revolving around archery that are a part of the rich fabric of Ladkahi life. The bull’s-eye (tsagey), often imagined as the ‘eye of the enemy’, was no ordinary target. Crafted from sand and black yak skin, surrounded by a ring of soil and feed to protect arrows, it turned every match into a performance of precision and pride. Players marked arrows with distinct feathers. Bowstrings were rubbed with butter. The act of hitting the tsagey brought applause — and at times, communal reverence. There was even a belief that one who strikes the bull's eye would be blessed with a baby boy.
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Now, thanks to grassroots efforts in the past 10-15 years and institutional support, archery has evolved from an ancient tradition into a modern sport in Ladakh. With training camps in villages across Ladakh and growing youth participation in national events, archery is being reimagined as both a means of empowerment and a bridge to cultural preservation.
One area in which modern, competitive archery has stolen a march over the traditional sport is in the participation of women. “Women traditionally weren’t allowed to touch them [bows and arrows] — it was seen as a bad omen,” Morup observed.
Coach Motup Namgyal (left) in traditional Ladakhi costume. By special arrangement
But in Taksha village of Nubra, Motup began coaching women in archery during the Covid pandemic. “Traditionally, women were discouraged from participating in archery. We started in 2021 and the following year held trials for the nationals. Today, around 200–300 girls are being trained in Taksha.” One of Motup’s students, 12-year-old Stanzin Chosdon from Taksha village in Nubra, is already a double gold medalist. Within just three months of training, she struck gold at the Khelo India tournament and the Yodha Cup, both organised in Leh.
“My father used to play traditional archery and seeing his dedication made me want to try,” said Stanzin. She soon tried out for the nationals and was among six young archers — four boys and two girls — selected for the Jaipur Nationals, where they ranked in the top 16. “It was our first experience at such a level. The standard was high, and we got to interact with players from across India. It made me realize how much work is needed to improve,” she added.
Stanzin was among 50 children from her village who took part in archery coaching, part of a larger grassroots movement that began in 2021, when the community organisation Sog Phandel Sokspa in Taksha village decided to promote archery among girls. Nubra, long known for its skilled archers, had a rich tradition of archery—but mostly for men. Around 200 girls have been trained so far, and 12 girls and three boys have represented Ladakh at the national level over the past four to five years.
“Unless parents inspire and invest in the sport through equipment and coaching how will children excel? Four years ago, we made a decision as a community to pass on this tradition with purpose. Now, we’re seeing the results,” said Jigmat Lotus, Stanzin’s father and president of the Sog Phandel Sokspa. He further added that taking inspiration from their village now women archery was gaining ground across other villages of Ladakh as well.
“The transformation has been incredible,” says Panamik councillor in Ladakh Autonomous Hill Development Council (LAHDC), Leh, Tsering Sandup. Sandup, who had been among those to have spearheaded the initiative, added, “First, we broke gender stereotypes. Then we realised the boys too needed focus. We now support both, equally. Our goal is not just participation but excellence.”
Workshops and summer residential training camps have become a regular feature in Ladakh, supported by the LAHDC, the Indian Army, and community donations. This year again, five archers from the region were selected for nationals.
Still, challenges remain. Young archers returning from nationals describe being overwhelmed by the quality of infrastructure, equipment, and professional support available elsewhere. “They have sports psychologists, nutritionists, coaches, and fully equipped stadiums,” says Sandup. “In comparison, we’re still growing. We need a sports council, a UT-level policy for archery, and more structured support from departments like DYSSO [Department of Youth Services and Sports].”
Lobzang Sherab, general secretary of the Archery Association of Ladakh and councillor Khalsi constituency, says that since the formation of the UT-level body in 2020, the association has worked tirelessly to promote modern archery across villages. Coaching camps and workshops have been held across remote areas, including Changthang, Khalsi, and Nubra and the association, with the help of volunteers, has sent 70–80 children to national events in the past five years, he adds.
However, he believes archery’s growth cannot rest solely on the association's shoulders. “The administration and its concerned departments must play a proactive role, especially by strengthening school infrastructure to promote archery,” he said.
He also emphasises the need for national-level facilities in Leh and Kargil to enable year-round training under professional guidance. “Archery is a mental sport. But we don’t even have a single NIS [National Institute of Sports]-certified coach in Ladakh. This must be prioritised. A functional sports council is urgently needed,” he said. “Government support has been minimal despite our repeated outreach,” he further alleged.
Ladakh has also seen structural developments in recent years with the establishment of the SAI State Centre of Excellence in Leh, which includes archery as one of its key disciplines. However, Tahir Hussain Zubdavi, joint director, Department of Youth Services and Sports, Ladakh, admitted that tournaments at the school and college levels remain limited. “The department is working on every sports discipline, and we’ll be requesting the archery association to collaborate on organising more events in educational institutions.”
Not everyone in Ladakh, however, is happy with the boom in modern, competitive archery.
According to Mohammed Sadiq Hardasi, an author and historian from Kargil, until the 1980’s and ’90s, the sport was a vital component of Ladakhi culture, played in its original spirit. “Bows were made of Ibex horn, and later of wood. Everything was produced in the community and used by the community. But now in local tournaments people are carrying modern bows worth lakhs, while following the rules of the traditional sport,” he said. While a traditional bow costs between Rs 1,500-3,000, a modern bow is priced between Rs 40,000-2,00,000.
For Sunetro Ghosal, a wildlife scientist and editor of the International Association of Ladakh Studies (IALS) Journal, the issue with modern archery was that it “undermined diversity”, with everyone following the same system. “Ladakhi method for preparing bows and arrows is different from, say, the ones of Uzbekistan, both rooted in their culture,” he said, of traditional archery.
One example of this is 60-year-old Haji Hasan from Trespone village of Kargil , who works as a calligrapher and a mason. His village was once famous for its bow makers. “But in the past 15 years, the demand for traditional wooden bows has completely vanished. I hardly make bows and arrows as there is negligible demand,” said Hassan.
Girls in traditional attire participate in a contest. By special arrangement
Haji Sadiq Shalti, a national-level archer from Kargil, too remembers a time “in the ’80s” when they “didn’t have fancy gear”. “Some used traditional Juu bows (made of ibex horn). Others made do with willow bows (tankung). But the spirit was strong.” He fondly recalls local tournaments during Nawroz celebration (in March), where villages competed for Dah-mar (local butter) or Dah-Gron (a larger feast—often a sheep or goat). “At the Dak Bungalow in Kargil, teams from all over would gather—it wasn’t about winning medals, it was about honour.”
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While Ladakh has also been making a mark in other sports, such as ice hockey in recent years,
Motup emphasises that the position of archery was unique in the region — it is the only sport that can be practiced here all year round. “My dream is that our youths should excel in this sport and bring medals for the nation in events like the Olympics and international platforms,” he added.
