Avidha Raha

Vishaka George

Editor

large_01-DSC_0834-AR-Matho_women_bring_thangkas_back_to_life.jpg

medium_01-DSC_0834-AR-Matho_women_bring_thangkas_back_to_life.jpg

small_01-DSC_0834-AR-Matho_women_bring_thangkas_back_to_life.jpg

thumbnail_01-DSC_0834-AR-Matho_women_bring_thangkas_back_to_life.jpg

01-DSC_0834-AR-Matho_women_bring_thangkas_back_to_life.jpg

Restoring Thangkas – paintings on silk appliqué or cotton that usually depict a Buddhist deity – is not for the fainthearted. “If there is even a minor mistake in restoration, like if the shape of an ear gets a little twisted [and different] from what it originally looked like, people might take offence,” says Dorjay Angchok, a resident of Matho village.  “It is a sensitive job,” states the resident of  Matho, a village 26 kilometres from Leh. Matho, with a population of 1,165 people (Census 2011) is almost entirely Buddhists.   The fears of Angchok and others from her community have been put to rest by a team of nine skilled Thangkas (also spelt Thankas) restorers who have travelled back in time over hundreds of <a href="https://mapacademy.io/article/thangka/">years</a>, to understand, recognise and discern the centuries-old painting patterns locked in these ancient works of art. Each century had its own elements, style and iconography. The Thangkas that these women from Matho restore are all from the 15-18th century, says Nelly Rieuf, an art restorer from France who trained the women in restoration work. “Initially, the villagers were against women restoring Thangkas,&quot; says Tsering Spaldon, &quot;but we knew that we were doing nothing wrong; we were doing something for our history.”Buddhist nun Thukchey Dolma says, “Thangkas are efficient teaching tools about the life of the Buddha and various other influential lamas and bodhisattvas.” Dolma is at the Karsha nunnery in the remote Zanskar tehsil of Kargil district in the newly designated Union Territory of Ladakh.

Tsering and other restorers, who are from farming families, are part of an organisation called the Himalayan Art Preservers (HAP) and they specialise in restoring Thangkas. “Thangkas are difficult to restore compared to other historical paintings since the silk cloth is rare and of extremely pure quality. Dissolving only dirt without harming the paints or cloth is tricky,” says Nelly.  &quot;We started learning preservation work at the Matho gompa [monastery] in 2010. It was better than sitting idle after finishing Class 10,” says Tsering.Besides Tsering, the other women are: Thinles Angmo, Urgain Chodol, Stanzin Ladol, Kunzang Angmo, Rinchen Dolma, Ishey Dolma, Stanzin Angmo and Chunzin Angmo. They were offered Rs. 270 rupees a day, “a significant amount, especially considering our remote location and few job opportunities,” says Tsering.  Over time, “we realised the relevance of restoring these paintings. Then we started to appreciate art and history even more.” In 2010, the Matho Monastery Museum helped catalyse things for the damaged Thangkas. “There was an urgent need to restore the Thangkas and other artefacts of religious significance. We started learning about this restoration work around 2010,” says Tsering. She along with the others decided to take the chance and get trained in restoration.

The time taken to repair a Thangka depends on its size. It varies from a few days to a few months.&quot;Thangka restoration rokna padta hai sardiyon mein kyuki fabric thand mein kharab ho jata hai [We only stop the Thangka restoration work during the winters because the fabric gets spoiled in the cold].”Stanzin Ladol opens a large register with work samples carefully catalogued. Two images placed side by side on each page –  one before restoration and the other showing the improvement afterwards. &quot;We are very happy we learned how to do this work; it has given us a different career to pursue. All of us are married, we have children doing their thing, so we spend a good amount of time occupied with restoration work,&quot; says Thinles as she chops vegetables for dinner.&quot;We wake up at 5 a.m. and  try to finish all our housework, and farm work,” says Thinles. Her colleague Tsering chimes in to say, “Kheti bohot zaroori hai, self-sufficient rehne ke liye [Our farm work is very important for us to stay self-sufficient].” It’s a long day for the women. “We milk the cows, cook, send our kids to school, then we have to keep an eye on the cattle that have gone out to graze. After all this, we come to HAP and start work,” says Thinles.

The restorers say that almost all funds go towards making new Thangkas. “Hardly any people nowadays understand the heritage value of these many centuries-old Thangkas, and discard them instead of restoring them,” says Dr. Sonam Wangchok, a Buddhist scholar, he is the founder of the Himalayan Cultural Heritage Foundation, based in Leh. “Now nobody says anything to us because many years have passed and we have been doing it regularly,” says Tsering, speaking briefly to the initial resistance they met from people in the village. &quot;Hardly any men take up this job,” points out Noor Jahan, the founder of an art conservation atelier based in Leh, Shesrig Ladakh. “It is mostly women who are art restorers here in Ladakh.” And their work is not limited to restoration of Thangkas but they have also moved into restoration of monuments and wall paintings.  “We want more people to come here and see our work,” says Tsering. The sun is going down in the mountains and she and the others will soon return home. A growing concern is the lack of expensive restoration material, says Stanzin Ladol who feels, “this work is important to us not because we make a big profit out of it, but because by doing this, we get satisfaction.”The job has given them much more than the skill to restore these ancient paintings, it’s also equipped them with more confidence. &quot;This has also gradually changed how we used to communicate – earlier, we would only speak in Ladakhi,” says Tsering with a smile, “But now we are also learning to be more fluent in English and Hindi.”

In Matho: bringing Thangkas back to life

உயிர்ப்பிக்கப்படும் தங்க்காக்கள்

ਮੈਥੋ: ਥੰਗਕਾ ਕਲਾ ਵਿੱਚ ਮੁੜ ਸਾਹ ਫੂਕਣ ਦੀ ਤਾਕਤ

ମାଥୋରେ ଥାଙ୍ଗକାକୁ ନୂଆ ଜୀବନ ଦେଉଛନ୍ତି ସ୍ଥାନୀୟ ମହିଳା

മാദ്ധോയിൽ: ഥാങ്ങ്കകൾക്ക് പുതുജീവൻ പകരുന്നവർ

ಮರುಜೀವ ಪಡೆದ ಮಾಥೋನ ಥಾಂಕಾಗಳು

माथो में थंग्का को मिला जीवनदान

માથોમાં થાંગ્કાને જીવતદાન

माथो मं थंग्का के नवा जिनगी

माथो में थंग्का कला के मिलल नया जिनगी

মাথো নারীদের শ্রমে সংরক্ষিত হচ্ছে থাংকা চিত্র

মাথোৰ মহিলাসকলৰ শ্ৰমেৰে সংৰক্ষিত থাংকা চিত্ৰকলা

ماتھو میں تھنگکا پینٹنگز کو ملی نئی زندگی

Matho

At present, we can only accept donations in Indian rupees by Indian citizens. All donations made to the CounterMedia Trust are eligible for exemption under Section 80G of the Income Tax Act, 1961. Here is a copy of our exemption certificate.


India is bigger than New Delhi. And people need to know more about the rest of this vast nation.


Younger, media-saturated generations are growing up knowing little about their country, but a lot about the elites of a few metros and towns. For a narrowly-owned, commercially-driven media, the dumbing down of a nation is part of standard operating procedure. The last available data of the Centre for Media Studies (CMS, Delhi) show us that reports from New Delhi account for 66 per cent of news on the front pages of major dailies. The CMS data also found that just about 0.24 per cent of front page news came out of rural India. The TV channels are not much better.PARI exists to change that.We are a non-profit organisation. We publish under creative commons, and do not charge readers a subscription fee or put-up advertisements. Nothing is behind a paywall and we are completely free-to-access by anyone. We guard our independence and receive no direct grants from governments and corporations, nor any funding that could dictate our content. So, we are dependent on volunteer labour, donations from individuals, foundations and institutions that see value in independent and free media.PARI is changing the way Indian journalism reports and documents the rural.India is more than the elite of a few metros and towns. We report on rural lives and livelihoods, languages, communities, migrants and more. We need your help to pull off this most ambitious of Indian journalistic endeavours. The scale of this effort costs money. Donate generously - and spread the word about PARI.&nbsp;

Donate FAQs


Let’s get you acquainted

Welcome to PARI

All our content is, and will forever be free to consume. If you enjoy our work, you can support us by becoming a volunteer or by donating to help fund our work.

Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

In Matho: bringing Thangkas back to life

Local women in Ladakh are the first to restore centuries-old Tibetan Buddhist paintings

Related stories

A rain-scented walk in Sivagangai

Living on ravaged land

Biswas and the bamboos on his bike

Recycling energy, Godda style

Bhadels of Goa

Pookadai: still throbbing with morning life

Koli Kadlas

Malnourishment high among children of migrants: study

Wheels of the rural Indian West

Living Under a Red Cloud in Bellary

Vedla – earrings of the Maher community

Dreaming of water, drowning in debt

Kali: the dancer and his dreams

Farmer's diet worse than a convict's

In Yavatmal, life goes on

Suicides are about the living, not the dead

Death of a carpenter

Hoisa Shigmo!

Women farmers: weaving a life in Anantapur

Defiant in Dhinkia

Spice and all that's nice

Kerala's Green Army

The ‘jugaad’ not-a-mobile

Health as someone else's wealth

Calibrating in a Kudumbashree assembly unit