Ladakh: Folklore sparks unusual claims
When people hear the phrase “pregnancy tourism,” they often think of expectant mothers travelling abroad to secure citizenship by birth for their children. But in Ladakh’s remote Aryan Valley, the concept is steeped in folklore rather than legal benefits.
The Brokpa community—also known as Drogpa or Drokpa—inhabits Himalayan villages such as Dah, Hanu, Darchik, Biama and Garkon. They claim to be direct descendants of Aryans, a belief woven deeply into their cultural identity and amplified by local tourism narratives.
The Brokpas’ physical features—tall frames, fair skin and light-coloured eyes—have long set them apart from other Ladakhi groups. This distinctiveness has fuelled legends branding them as the “last pure Aryans,” said to be descended from Alexander the Great’s soldiers.
The claims of ‘pregnancy tourism’
According to persistent rumours, some foreign women—especially from parts of Europe—allegedly travel to Brokpa villages with the specific aim of conceiving children with local men. The belief is that such offspring would inherit the so-called “pure Aryan” traits.
Stories even suggest that certain men are financially compensated, making conception appear transactional. These accounts, however, often sound more like fiction than fact, and echo the plot of a sensational novel rather than lived reality.
It was this intrigue that led travel vlogger Soumil Agarwal to visit Aryan Valley and ask villagers directly whether such practices exist.
Myth versus reality
Historians and geneticists have repeatedly dismissed the claim of Brokpas being “direct Aryan descendants,” noting there is no scientific evidence to back it.
Similarly, there is little proof that “pregnancy tourism” is widespread or organised. Most stories stem from exaggerated travelogues, guesthouse gossip or hearsay. Anthropologists who have studied the community note that while isolated cases might exist, there is no indication of it being a thriving or accepted practice.
Soumil Agarwal’s inquiries yielded mixed responses: some residents claimed foreign women had indeed sought “Aryan babies,” while others dismissed the notion outright. The village pradhan, whose name was withheld, denied the practice entirely, calling the rumours baseless.
Between folklore and tourism marketing
Some observers argue that the myth has been deliberately inflated—sometimes by locals themselves—to attract more tourists curious about the “last Aryans.” The idea, though unverified, feeds into the romanticised narrative of an isolated, exotic community holding on to ancient bloodlines.
For visitors, the legend often proves more captivating than the truth. “Pregnancy tourism,” whether real or imagined, becomes part of a larger tapestry of myth-making that fuels the region’s tourism economy.
Conclusion
In the end, Ladakh’s so-called pregnancy tourism straddles the line between folklore and gossip. While evidence is lacking, the story endures because it fascinates, not because it is proven. The enduring allure lies less in children born of “legendary genes” and more in the legends themselves—tales that refuse to die, adding another layer of mystery to Ladakh’s cultural landscape.