The Sound Hits You First
You hear the horns before you see anything. Deep, guttural, the kind of sound that seems to come from the mountains themselves rather than from instruments. It reverberates off the whitewashed walls of Hemis Monastery and settles somewhere in your chest. Then the drums start — not keeping time exactly, more like punctuation marks in a conversation you don’t quite understand yet.
The Hemis Festival runs for two days each June or July (the dates shift with the Tibetan lunar calendar, so double-check before booking anything). It commemorates the birth of Guru Padmasambhava, the 8th-century Buddhist master who’s credited with bringing Tantric Buddhism to the Himalayas. Hemis Monastery, about 45 kilometers southeast of Leh, is the largest and wealthiest in Ladakh — though ‘wealthy’ is relative when you’re talking about a building perched at 3,600 meters in the middle of the Indus Valley.
What the Cham Dances Actually Look Like
The cham is the centerpiece, and it’s stranger than photos suggest. Monks in heavy brocade robes and oversized painted masks move in slow, deliberate circles around the courtyard. The masks are vivid — wrathful deities with bulging eyes, animal faces, skulls — and the costumes must weigh a fair amount, because the dancers move with this careful, almost underwater quality.
Each dance sequence tells a story from Buddhist mythology. Good triumphs over evil, dharma is protected, that sort of thing. I won’t pretend to have followed every narrative thread — without a knowledgeable guide or at least some background reading, a lot of the symbolism goes over your head. The movements and music carry their own weight though. There’s a hypnotic quality to watching masked figures spin slowly while horns drone and cymbals crash at irregular intervals.
The festival climaxes with the destruction of an effigy — symbolic annihilation of evil forces. And then there’s the thangka. Every twelve years, Hemis unfurls a massive silk painting of Guru Padmasambhava. The last one was apparently in 2016, which would put the next at 2028, but I’d verify that before planning a trip specifically around it.
The Courtyard Circus
Outside the dance area, the monastery grounds turn into something between a village fair and a flea market. Vendors spread blankets with turquoise jewelry, Tibetan prayer beads, handwoven shawls, and small bronze statues of varying quality. Bargaining is expected but keep it reasonable — these aren’t factory goods.
Food-wise, you’re looking at butter tea (an acquired taste — salty, fatty, oddly comforting at altitude), thukpa, and momos. The momos are fine. Not revelatory, just solid dumplings that hit right when you’ve been standing in the sun for three hours. Some stalls sell apricot juice and dried fruits from the valley — the apricots are genuinely good, small and intensely sweet.
The crowd is a mix that shouldn’t work but does — Ladakhi families in full ceremonial dress (the women’s perak headdresses are extraordinary), groups of monks, Indian tourists, European backpackers, a few serious photographers with absurd telephoto lenses. Everyone’s crammed into a courtyard that wasn’t designed for this many people.
Getting There Is Half the Problem
Leh is the gateway, and getting to Leh is not trivial. Kushok Bakula Rimpochee Airport (IXL) has flights from Delhi, but they’re weather-dependent and cancellations happen. June is peak season, so book flights early — not ‘a few weeks before’ early, more like ‘two months out’ early. Prices spike and availability gets thin.
From Leh to Hemis is about 45 km, roughly an hour and a half by road. You can hire a taxi, join an organized tour, or take a shared jeep if one’s running. During the festival, there’s usually more transport available, but ‘available’ in Ladakh can mean waiting around for a while.
The altitude issue is real and non-negotiable. Leh sits at roughly 3,500 meters. If you fly in from Delhi (which is basically sea level), your body needs time. The standard advice is two full days of acclimatization before doing anything strenuous — and standing in the sun at a monastery courtyard at 3,600 meters counts as strenuous, even if it doesn’t feel like it. Acute mountain sickness is no joke: headaches, nausea, worse. Don’t skip the acclimatization days to fit more into your itinerary. Just don’t.
The Parts Nobody Mentions
Sunburn. At 3,600 meters, UV exposure is brutal, and it sneaks up on you because the air feels cool. Bring proper sunscreen (SPF 50), a hat, and sunglasses. I’ve read accounts of people getting burned through their shirts.
Toilet situation: basic. The monastery has facilities but expect queues and don’t expect luxury. Bring your own tissue.
Phone signal is patchy at best around Hemis. Don’t count on being able to look things up on the fly or post in real-time.
The courtyard gets genuinely crowded by late morning. If you want a decent spot to watch the dances, you need to be there early — 7 or 8 AM early. By 10, you’re watching between heads. Some people bring small folding stools, which seems smart.
One more thing: be respectful during the dances. This is a religious ceremony, not a performance. Ask before photographing monks up close. Most are fine with it, but asking is the baseline courtesy.
Sorting Out Logistics
Flights to Leh aren’t cheap during peak season, and accommodation in Leh books out. Guesthouses and small hotels are your main options — there’s nothing resembling a resort chain. For booking flights, CheapOAir sometimes turns up decent fares on Delhi-Leh routes, though availability fluctuates.
For activities around Ladakh beyond the festival — monastery visits, rafting on the Zanskar, Pangong Lake trips — KLOOK and KKday list packages. I’d compare prices across both; sometimes one has a better deal on the same tour. Trip.com is worth checking for hotel rates too, especially if you’re flexible on dates.
If you’re doing a longer India trip, a SIM card makes life easier for booking transport and maps. AeroBile rents travel SIM/WiFi devices that work in India — useful if your phone’s locked or you don’t want to deal with getting a local SIM (which involves paperwork).
When You Leave
The drive back to Leh after the second day is quiet. Dust on everything, ears still ringing slightly from the horns. The Indus River runs alongside the road, absurdly turquoise against brown mountains. At some point you realize your lips are cracked from the altitude and you forgot to drink enough water again.
Back in Leh, the guesthouse owner asked how it was. I said the masks were incredible. She nodded like she’d heard that before and brought tea.