When Dr. Muktadil received his posting to Zanskar, his family’s worries weren’t quiet whispers—they were openly spoken concerns. The youngest in his family, raised in Kashmir, he had always drawn strength from his sister, the one who inspired his own journey into medicine. And though his family honored the Kashmiri tradition of nurturing at least one doctor in every household, they were uncertain about his decision to leave the familiarity of home for the unknown wilderness of Zanskar.
“I was determined,” he said, remembering the moment he set out. “But even I didn’t know what I was in for.”
The journey to Zanskar was a trial in itself, winding through sheer cliff faces, twisting roads, and unforgiving weather. The mountains seemed to loom higher with every mile, their silence an ominous welcome. By the time he arrived, even his resolve felt worn thin. And yet, the true test had only begun. Resident doctors who had come before him didn’t hold back their stories—accounts of endless winters, sub-zero nights, the quiet so profound it filled your bones. And the isolation was complete: without a reliable internet connection, Zanskar was a land as remote from the rest of the world as the stars above.
“I remember wondering if I’d made a mistake,” he confided. “There were nights I felt completely cut off. It’s a village that moves at its own pace. The mountains are always watching, and in some ways, they keep you… humbled.”
But Dr. Muktadil persisted. He learned to navigate the unpredictable weather, the narrow mountain trails, and the solitude. The community—simple, authentic, and without pretenses—gradually became his new family. He grew to understand their needs and their way of life, and he came to treasure their resilience.
Then, within a year’s time, something extraordinary happened. Connectivity arrived in Zanskar. The once silent village now hummed with the subtle power of the internet. A simple click could bridge the distance between Zanskar and his family in Kashmir, between a diagnosis here and a specialist’s opinion miles away.
“It was as though someone had opened a window, and suddenly I could see beyond the mountains,” he said, his eyes bright with the memory. Telemedicine consultations became a possibility, and he was able to access resources that once seemed out of reach. “It changed everything. Patients who might have had to travel hours, risking health and weather, could now get expert advice right here in the clinic.”
With the internet’s arrival, Zanskar’s remoteness softened. Not only did he have access to medical knowledge and resources, but he could finally reconnect with his family, sharing laughter and stories as if he’d never left. The homesickness that had haunted him at the beginning now seemed to fade into the background, and for the first time, Zanskar felt like home.
Yet there was more to this journey. The internet also connected Dr. Muktadil to something deeply personal. With it, he could reconnect to his roots, reaching back to memories of his own childhood in Kashmir. He shared stories of his community’s grit, of the strength woven into the fabric of his culture. “The portrayal of Kashmir in the media…it rarely captures the warmth, the pride, and the traditions that bind us together,” he shared. “Kids today in Kashmir are growing up with new dreams, ones that my parents’ generation couldn’t have imagined.”
He smiled, recalling his sister and the dreams she had instilled in him. It was her vision of a doctor’s life that had brought him to Zanskar. And now, it was this place—the stark, solitary beauty of it—that had taught him to be the kind of doctor he had always aspired to become.
And so, as Dr. Muktadil faces his next assignment, he finds himself reluctant to leave Zanskar, a place that had once filled him with dread. “Funny, isn’t it?” he chuckled softly. “Now, I can’t imagine not being here. This village, these mountains, and now…this connection to the world. It’s strange how home can find you in the most unexpected places.”
In Zanskar, the internet is more than just a tool; it’s a lifeline, a bridge, and perhaps most importantly, a way for dreams to cross borders. For Dr. Muktadil, it is the difference between feeling isolated and feeling a part of something far greater—a testament to how even in the remotest corners of the world, a simple connection can redefine not only a place but also a person’s heart.
What does it take to bring the internet to one of the most remote places on Earth? At 4,500 meters above sea level, Hanle in Ladakh is a secluded valley where connectivity has long been a distant dream. Surrounded by mountains and a vast, open sky, this remote area in India is home to the Indian Astronomical Observatory and a small local community. Yet, against all odds and after months of relentless effort, our team at MUFT, in collaboration with the Indian Institute of Astrophysics, has achieved the impossible—delivering internet connectivity to Hanle’s observatory and villages.
Into the Heart of Ladakh’s Wilderness
Our journey began at the base camp in Stok, Leh. After months of strategizing and preparing, we loaded the equipment, ready for the 4,500-meter ascent into Hanle.
Day 1 Fueled by a mix of anticipation and nerves, the team spent the first day in final preparations, strategizing every detail of the route ahead.
Day 2 The trek began in earnest. The drive through Ladakh’s vast, rugged landscape was awe-inspiring, with snow-capped peaks and miles of stark wilderness as far as the eye could see. This was no easy terrain, but the thrill of the mission and the collective determination kept us moving forward.
Our first attempt to establish a connection from the base station fell short. But in Hanle, failure wasn’t an option. We regrouped, recalibrated, and forged ahead.
The challenges in Hanle extend well beyond the road’s ruggedness. Without a stable electric grid, power shortages are common here. We relied on solar power, but even that isn’t dependable half the time, so we supplemented with diesel generators—a delicate balance, especially at these altitudes and temperatures.
Day 3 This was the breakthrough we had been waiting for. After extensive testing and troubleshooting, our link finally went live. We celebrated this milestone quietly but intensely—it was a collective victory. The observatory base camp was now connected for the first time.
Our next step took us to the defense personnel quarters. In collaboration with the army, we established internet connectivity for the signals division, enabling them to test the connection’s stability and speed.
Finally, we reached out to local families in the area, connecting a few homes with broadband access. It was a historic first for Hanle, bringing the promise of connection and opportunity to its residents.
Day 4 Temperatures plunged below freezing, yet the warmth of success radiated among the team. With the unwavering support from the Indian Institute of Astrophysics, we began establishing connectivity around the observatory itself. Standing alongside these dedicated scientists was a privilege—they, too, are accustomed to working in extreme environments from Hanle to Antarctica, all in the pursuit of discovery.
A Historic First for Hanle
As we completed our work, the realization set in—Hanle was no longer isolated. The observatory and surrounding communities were connected to the world, a groundbreaking shift for this remote area. For MUFT, this project was more than just another milestone; it was a triumph over one of the most challenging terrains, and a promise fulfilled to a community that had waited for years.
In the coming months, our services will become commercially available to all of Hanle, transforming how its people connect and communicate with the rest of the world. Here, the stars will always shine brightly, but now, they’ll be joined by a new kind of light—a light of opportunity, learning, and connection.
On the road back from Hanle, Ladakh, our team encountered something extraordinary. In the remote beauty of Gompo village, we met a group of women who could only be described as the Ladakhi Clean Up Heroes. With no financial aid or government support, these women regularly gather in groups of five, each covering different stretches of land, to pick up trash left behind by tourists. Their efforts are a stark reminder of the increasing litter problem in Ladakh, driven largely by the influx of domestic travelers.
What stood out most was their sense of responsibility. Without complaints or demands for resources, one woman simply said, “This is our home. If we don’t take care of it, who will?”
The Growing Problem
Tourism has brought economic benefits to Ladakh, but it has also resulted in a surge of litter, particularly from domestic Indian travelers. Pristine landscapes are now blemished with plastic bottles, wrappers, and waste. As these women explained, the trash problem has escalated over the past few years, threatening the beauty of their homeland.
Amy Vanakan, a photographer from Colorado who documents disappearing cultures, joined us and shared her reflection on this: “Being a traveler is such a privilege, so please be respectful of other people’s homes.” Her words echo a sentiment we must all remember: travel is not just about experiencing new places but also about leaving them as we found them—or better.
Action Over Words
The Ladakhi Clean Up Heroes embody action. Their work, done without fanfare or outside assistance, is a powerful example of what real environmental stewardship looks like. Each group covers a stretch of five kilometers, and their dedication is a reminder that even the smallest efforts can create meaningful change.
Littering is not just an environmental issue—it’s a reflection of how we value the places we visit and the communities we impact. The responsibility to keep these places clean extends to everyone, young and old alike. Teaching this sense of accountability is crucial if we want to preserve not just Ladakh but every natural space for future generations.
Why It Matters
Littering shows a lack of respect for the environment and the people who live in these spaces. It’s easy to think that one discarded bottle won’t make a difference, but when millions of people think the same way, the damage becomes significant.
They remind us that protecting the environment doesn’t require grand gestures—just simple, consistent action. If these women, with no outside help, can make a difference, so can we.
As we left Gompo village, their message resonated deeply: “If we don’t take care of it, who will?” It’s a call to action for all of us, to be more mindful of our impact and to take responsibility, no matter where we are. Through our actions, we must educate the young and old alike on the importance of keeping our planet clean.
After years of struggle, the Government Primary School is now connected to the internet—an achievement that has breathed new life into the small school. For the teachers and students, this connection is not just about accessing digital resources; it’s about bridging the gap between their world and the vast possibilities beyond. It has ignited a sense of excitement, hope, and transformation that now pulses through every lesson and every day.
For years, the school faced challenges most urban institutions wouldn’t think twice about. One such challenge was marking student attendance. In a world that has embraced digital systems, the teachers in Stok were instructed by the government to submit attendance online. But there was a problem—there wasn’t any internet at the school. To comply, teachers were forced to leave the school grounds daily, laptop in hand, in search of a weak mobile hotspot signal just strong enough to mark attendance. It was an exhausting and inefficient process, one that stole precious time away from teaching and created unnecessary stress.
When we arrived in Stok for an initial survey, we knew that providing internet to this remote village wouldn’t be straightforward. Our team, specializing in connecting some of the most challenging areas in India, quickly realized that the landscape and lack of infrastructure would complicate the installation. At first, we considered installing the internet access point near a large Buddha statue in the village, but upon further inspection, that location proved unsuitable.
Undeterred, we brainstormed alternative solutions and eventually came up with an unconventional idea: installing the device on a tree. From this elevated position, we were able to run cables to the school building, securing a stable connection for the first time. It wasn’t an easy task—routing the cables through the village and ensuring the devices were secure in Ladakh’s harsh environment required precision and creativity. But once everything was in place, the results were transformative.
Now, the teachers at the Government Primary School in Stok can mark attendance from within the school itself, saving valuable time and energy. No more trekking around the village in search of a signal. But this improvement goes beyond the simple act of marking attendance. The government has long intended for schools like this one to introduce digital learning, and now, thanks to the internet connection, that goal is within reach. As soon as the school receives computers and other resources from the government, students will be able to participate in online lessons and access the same wealth of information available to students in more connected parts of the country.
For the teachers, the new internet connection is equally life-changing. Up until now, they had to complete government-mandated training sessions from home, as the school lacked the necessary infrastructure. With the new connection in place, teachers can now access online training materials and resources on-site, giving them the tools they need to improve their skills without leaving the school grounds.
The journey to connect the Government Primary School in Stok wasn’t without its obstacles. From assessing the terrain to securing the infrastructure, our team faced a series of technical and logistical challenges. But the reward—bringing a vital resource to a school that needed it desperately—made it all worthwhile.
This project highlights the importance of bringing digital access to even the most remote regions. With reliable internet now a reality, the Government Primary School in Stok is no longer limited by its location. Students and teachers alike can look forward to new opportunities for learning and development, and the groundwork has been laid for further digital progress in the village. The success of this connection is a reminder that with the right solutions, even the most challenging environments can be bridged to the digital world, bringing lasting benefits to education and the community.
“I believe education empowers you to think in 360 degrees. And in today’s world, that empowerment is incomplete without the internet.”
In the far-flung village of Turtuk, perched on the India-Pakistan border, Dr. Abdul Hameed has become a pillar of education and a source of hope. He is not just the only PhD holder from this small village; he is a symbol of resilience and commitment to the betterment of his people.
Dr. Hameed teaches at the local higher secondary school in Turtuk, despite his many academic qualifications. His story is not one of self-promotion but of selflessness—choosing to return to his roots and give back to the place that raised him. “I was in the first batch of students to complete higher secondary here,” he recalls, noting the severe challenges they faced with a lack of resources, especially teachers. “My 11th grade year was wasted because no teacher was available to teach. I had to take re-admission, and later, I had to leave Turtuk for Jammu to continue my education.”
Yet, the difficulties didn’t end with his determination. The financial strain was overwhelming. “My father made only ₹3000 a month, and the expenses of staying in Jammu for studies were too high. I couldn’t make it work.” But Hameed persisted. He traveled across the country, eventually earning his PhD from Banaras Hindu University (BHU). His journey wasn’t just about personal achievement—it was about paving the way for the future generation of Turtuk.
The Internet: A Missing Lifeline in Turtuk
For Dr. Hameed, the struggle to access education in his youth is eerily mirrored in the experiences of his students today. The pandemic revealed a harsh truth—without internet access, children in Turtuk were falling behind. While most students across India adapted to online learning, Turtuk’s students were left stranded.
Dr. Hameed took matters into his own hands. He traveled to Delhi and pleaded for educational technology to be provided to his school’s 11th and 12th-grade students. “You can never predict unforeseen circumstances like the pandemic, but children shouldn’t suffer because of them,” he explains. His voice carries the weight of someone who has seen too much wasted potential due to circumstances beyond control.
Yet, it’s not just about overcoming the obstacles of a global health crisis. Dr. Hameed emphasizes that internet access is critical for students to stay competitive—not just regionally or nationally, but globally. “To learn any skill today, it’s important to have the internet. The world is moving forward, and if our children don’t have access, they’ll be left behind.”
The Bigger Battle: Cultural Challenges for Female Students
In Turtuk, the battle for education isn’t just about technology. Cultural norms present an additional layer of difficulty, especially for female students. “In Asian culture, girls are expected to help with household chores—carrying water, cooking, cleaning. By the time they’re done, they’re too tired to focus on their studies,” Dr. Hameed explains, his voice heavy with concern. These young women, who should be inspired to pursue their dreams, often lack role models and the encouragement they need to persevere in their education.
The internet, Dr. Hameed believes, could be a powerful tool for these girls, offering them exposure to ideas, stories, and opportunities beyond the limitations of their village. “They need to see that there’s a world out there where they can compete, where they can excel.”
The Internet: Tool or Distraction?
However, Dr. Hameed is not blind to the darker side of internet use. He frequently warns his students about the dangers of wasting time on social media, drawing a powerful analogy: “The internet is like a knife. You can use it as a tool, or it can become a weapon against you.”
It is his dream to spread awareness about using the internet wisely. He advocates for counseling sessions not just for students but for parents, urging them to understand their children’s unique needs and potentials. “Every child is different,” he often tells parents. “You can’t apply the same parenting style to each one.”
A Teacher’s Pride and a Vision for the Future
Like any dedicated educator, Dr. Hameed feels a deep sense of pride when his students succeed. But he is quick to point out that his role is as much about learning as it is about teaching. “I am constantly learning from my students,” he says with a smile.
His vision for Turtuk is clear—he wants to see the students compete on a global stage. And for that to happen, the village must have access to the internet. “Education isn’t just about acquiring knowledge. It’s about empowerment, about thinking critically and creatively. And in today’s world, the internet is a key part of that process.”
Change is inevitable, Dr. Hameed says, but Turtuk, like many other remote villages in Ladakh, lacks exposure. It’s not that people resist change; they simply haven’t seen what’s possible. For him, the internet represents that exposure—the window to a world of possibilities that his students have yet to fully grasp.
As the village’s only PhD holder, Dr. Abdul Hameed’s mission is far from over. He’s not just fighting for internet access; he’s fighting for the future of Turtuk, where every child can dream of competing not just with their neighbors, but with the world.
“First, we used to think, what is this thing called internet? Now it is such an essential in life that I have to go to Turtuk from Thang every morning to get some kind of connectivity,” says Goba Ali.
In the shadow of the imposing Karakoram mountains, where the Shyok River carves its way through a rugged landscape, lies Thang, the last village on the Indian side of the India-Pakistan border. This remote hamlet, often forgotten by time and progress, is home to Goba Ali, a man whose life has been marked by separation, survival, and an unwavering hope for connection.
Thang’s isolation is more than just geographical; it’s a place where the digital age has yet to fully arrive, where the internet is a luxury rather than a given. For Goba Ali, a farmer, botanist and self-taught innovator, the quest for connectivity is not just about convenience but a bridge to a world beyond his village’s confines.
The story of Thang and Goba Ali unfolds like a thriller, with a journey that begins in a place steeped in history and sorrow. In 1971, when the Indian army captured Turtuk and three other villages from Pakistan during the Bangladesh Liberation War, the border moved, and with it, the lives of many, including Ali. Separated from his parents, he and his brother were left behind with their ailing grandfather in a land that was suddenly foreign yet familiar.
Ali’s childhood was shadowed by the pain of loss and the longing for reunion. For decades, he dreamt of seeing his parents again, a dream that came true in 2014 when he finally received a passport. Crossing the Line of Control into Pakistan, he was greeted by a stranger who embraced him with tears of joy. The stranger’s emotion stemmed from a shared history—Ali’s father who had served water to the Pakistani army, and it was this memory of him using borrowed binoculars to catch a glimpse of his sons across the border was still vivid in the stranger’s mind.
For ten months, Ali lived with his parents in Pakistan, cherishing the time they had lost. But the reunion was bittersweet. Before his return to India, his mother made a poignant request: to visit the border every Friday, dressed in white, and exchange glances through binoculars. This ritual, filled with hope and despair, continued for years until his mother’s passing. The grief of separation, it seemed, was too much for her to bear after the reunion. Ali’s father followed her soon after, leaving Ali with the heavy burden of guilt, believing he was the reason for their untimely demise.
Despite the sorrow, Ali never let his spirit falter. Back in Thang, he became a man of the land, tending to his fields and innovating eco-friendly products in Leh, Ladakh, a dry and arid region. He learned the value of hard work, honesty, and resilience—traits he attributes to his upbringing by the Indian army officers who raised him and his brother. These officers, who belonged to different faiths, provided not just shelter but lessons in discipline, ensuring that the boys were never defenseless against the world’s cruelties.
Ali’s life in Thang, however, remains a story of contrasts. While he works tirelessly to improve living standards in his village, his sons have chosen different paths, leaving him to carry on alone. Yet, he doesn’t complain; he sees his work as a duty, one that is guided by the hand of a higher power. “Everything is possible when he is looking out for you,” he says, reflecting on his life with a quiet sense of gratitude.
In the winter months, when the fields lie dormant, Ali travels to Delhi or Himachal Pradesh, seeking respite from the harsh Ladakhi climate. It’s during these times that he reconnects with the world outside, yet the lack of internet in Thang remains a constant thorn in his side.
After the 2020 Galwan Valley clash between India and China, there was a glimmer of hope. A prominent telecom company was set to connect the border towns, and a site near Ali’s home was deemed feasible for a network tower. But the dream was shattered when local complaints and political agendas derailed the project. The village, along with the tourists who visit, continues to struggle with connectivity, a vital link to the outside world that remains elusive.
Ali is not just a man of the land; he’s also a man of ideas, with a YouTube channel where he hopes to share his life and work. From vlogs about his agricultural practices to workshops on eco-friendly products, Ali’s channel is a window into a world that few get to see. However, the lack of reliable internet in Thang has made it challenging for him to upload content regularly. Having consistent connectivity would not only help him share his story with the world but also inspire others who face similar challenges.
As we continue our work, we aim to make this a possibility. We are committed to bringing the internet to Thang, ensuring that Ali and others like him can connect, share, and thrive in this digital age. The journey is far from over, but with perseverance and support, we believe that the last village of India can soon be a beacon of connection and hope.
