The Ganga’s Last Roar

Mega dams. Crumbling mountains. Collapsing villages. India’s mightiest river is being chained to kilometres of man-made tunnels. TUSHA MITTAL travels upto Gangotri, tracking a disaster in the making

Free of Fetters: Ganga flows unrestrained at Gangotri. A major project is planned nine kilometres downstream Photos: Trilochan S. Kalra

ALL NIGHT, damp unruly winds have been raking the Himalayan slopes, showering the Bhagirathi valley with torrents of rain. At night, the river flows with a vociferous thud, numbing everything else. At night, the outlines of dynamite are just a blur; it is easy to forget.

But now, day is about to break. Soon the first slivers of sunlight will slant their way over tall timber trees, dive inside the Ganga as she cras - hes against the rocks, and warm the backs of the endangered Ganges dolphin and Hilsa fish migra t ing upstream to Gangotri for their hatching season. In ashrams all along the river bank, saffron priests brace themselves for a holy dip. Villages begin to buzz with routine.

But morning sharpens other shapes and sounds. The high-pitched droning of drilling machines. Yellow helmets. Vacant fields of concrete. Winds howl inside grotesque, hollow tunnels. Sunlight is caught in the wedges of turbines, some churning, some still. Every mega watt of lost electricity costs the nation four to six crores.

Meanwhile, children scurry goats across a bridge that will soon be under water. The warning — part of submergence area, can collapse anytime — has no meaning. The goats must be fed; the children must cross.

India has 4,500 large dams. Until recently, the pristine stretch between Uttarkashi and Gangotri boasted of only one: Maneri Bhali Phase I. But a series of consecutive hydro-electric projects are now in different stages of construction on this 125-kilometre stretch. Five major ones threaten the normal existence of the Bhagirathi, as the majestic Ganga here is called. If they go through as planned, it is feared the Ganga may completely disappear from large stretches, leaving the riverbed limp and dry.

What is happening in the Bhagirathi valley represents a dangerous mindset sweeping the country: the emphasis of national over local, the glorification of the word ‘development’ regardless of what it means on the ground, the shift of scarce resources from communities to corporations, the myth that money can compensate sacrifices made by those at the lowest end of the totem pole, one-dimensional definitions of cost. And the idea that benefits will last forever.

What is happening in the Bhagirathi valley is not only an erosion of ways of living and local cultures, it is an erosion of nature itself. Of life source. It is a movement towards everything industrial, temporary, based on a contract. That is why Attar Singh Panwar fears being mistaken for a city man. That is why hundreds like him fear the world they have known will vanish forever.

To understand the significance of what is really happening in the Bhagirathi valley, you have to begin your trail with the controversial Tehri Dam, operational since July 2006. The lake created by the dam stretches for an astounding 60 kilometers. The waters are blue, dazzling, dead. Not a wave, not even a ripple. The Ganga only seems alive again where the Tehri lake ends. But she will not be allowed to meander free through the spectacular cliffs and gorges for too long.

At a place called Dharasu, several kilometers ahead, the Ganga is intercepted. Steel meshes. Iron beams. A colossal powerhouse. This is the tail end of Maneri Bhali Phase 2 Hydel-project that began operation in January 2008. If you are traveling upstream, stop and have a last look. From here on, you will witness an apocalypse in the making. The head of one project follows short on the tail of another. This means when the projects are done, the Ganga will be cascading from tunnel to tunnel, touching the riverbed for only a few kilometres in between.

To generate the required 304 MWelectricity at Maneri Bhali II powerhouse, water needs to be dropped on the turbines from considerable height. To achieve this height, the river is made to pass through a 24-kilometre long tunnel that originates from the head dam of the hydel project in the city of Uttarkashi.

It is another matter that Maneri Bhali Phase II is only generating 102 MW at present. Or that none of the three operational dams on this stretch — Tehri, Maneri Phase I and II — have ever generated electricity on optimum capacity. Or that all hydel projects are given clearance based on the claim that they will generate power to full capacity 90 percent of the times. Yet, data gathered by SANDRP, a Delhi-based NGO, shows that 89 percent of 208 large dams they studied are underperforming significantly, 49 percent generating less than half the projected output.

“This shows that a large number of unviable projects are getting clearance. We need real assessments of real costs and real benefits. There is no credible mechanism to see only justified projects go through,” says Himanshu Thakkar, founder, SANDRP.

But he knows, even if only justifiable projects went through, the apocalypse would still come. As you leave the Maneri Bhali Phase II power house and drive towards Uttarkashi, you could be fooled. It is tempting to think nothing earthly can tamper with the primordial grandeur of these rolling hills. An atheist might begin to believe in God, or at least in a power far superior than human capacity. But suddenly, the dense green cover of the mountains gives way to chalkwhite pyramids. Jarring heaps of muck and cement — malba extracted from the tunnels — are being tumbled into the river. Drive further and sandy fractures leave you perplexed: these are places where the land has slipped, succumbed, a sign that the mountains are not as strong as they look. There are frequent landslides here, and it is a high earthquake-prone zone.

The river travels on with you to Uttarkashi. The monsoons have replenished the waters now, but in winter, this stretch would have been dry, the water tunnelled. Locals

Unnatural seasons: The flow of Ganga downstream of Maneri Bhali during winter, when maximum water inside the tunnels

say they have crossed it on foot. Jal Vidhut Nigam officials tell TEHELKA that they have a minimum discharge policy, that even during the lean seasons they let out a mere 5-6 cubic meters of water per second to maintain the river flow. Compare this to the 8,63,4000 million cubic meters of water that is estimated to flow from this Himalayan region annually. It is no surprise that environmentalists claim these projects are suicidal, that rocks will be carved no more, that the mighty Ganga will be reduced to a trickle and cease to exist for the 150 million people in this region.

On reaching Uttarkashi, another colossal structure is waiting to greet you. This is the head of Maneri Bhali Phase II dam. Enter the villages of Joshiyada and Kansyan nearby and you will know why the apocalypse will come after all.

To really understand the significance of what is happening in the Bhagirathi valley, you have to imagine the colossal scale of the river, its ecosystem, and the dependent human life that is being tampered with.

The Ganga has been described by the World Wildlife Fund as one of the world’s top ten rivers at risk. It has over 140 fish species, 90 amphibian species, and five areas which support birds found nowhere else in the world. The flora and fauna found along its banks are vital to nutrient and water conservation, and control of soil erosion. 451 million people living in its basin are directly and indirectly dependent upon the Ganga.

ENVIRONMENTALISTS SAY the Ganga’s waters have unique anti-bacterial properties, a kind of self-purifying quality that makes its waters possess oxygen levels 25 times higher than any other river in the world. This unique quality is destroyed when the river is forced to pass through tunnels, where there is no oxygen and sunlight. Hydro-electric projects also alter the basic composition of the riverbed, creating crucial hyrological and biological changes in the river. For example, water quality tested at the Maneri Bhali Phase 1 project inlet the water was classified as “clean”. At the end of the reservoir, the water was shown to be “heavily polluted.” According to a mercury analysis report released in May last year by the Central Pollution Control Board, the Bhagirathi is also being contaminated by increasing levels of mercury.

But that is only the tip of the berg. The Nobel Prize winning report by the International Panel on Climate Change says the Gangotri glacier will recede by 80 percent by 2030, reducing the Ganga to a seasonal river. This means that in barely 20 years, there may not even be enough water for the turbines to churn. Yet the government persists with its mammoth projects. When TEHELKA asked AK Bajaj, Chairman, Central Water Commmision Chairman, for data from water availability and feasibility tests that is mandatory before projects are cleared, he said, “Data of Ganga waters is confidential.”

Local groups have been protesting the damming and tunneling of the Bhagirathi for six years — ever since these projects were first given clearance. Yet, this apocalyptic project only got national attention a few weeks ago when Prof GD Agarwal, a noted environmentalist and former professor of IIT-Kanpur, declared a fastunto- death. With canny understanding, he referred to these projects as “matricide” — the killing of Mother Ganga, sacred to Hindus. Swamis from as far as Gangotri trekked down to Uttarkashi, 125 kilometres away, to support him. The result: Uttarakhand CM Major Gen Khanduri agreed to temporarily stall two projects.

Moving base to Delhi, Agarwal then continued his fast opposing the 600 MW, centrallyfunded NTPC hydel-power project at Loharinag Pala. He only broke his fast last week when the Power Ministry sent him a note assuring him that a committee will be formed to ensure the free flow of the Ganga.

But the real situation is far from clear. Speaking to TEHELKA, Union Power Minister SK Shinde said: “We have decided the water flow must be allowed, but the project also must happen. Technically, we have to find out how this can be done, so we’ve asked for three months time. A committee is being appointed. India’s sentiments are attached to this river Bhagirathi. I don’t want to play with people’s emotions. That is why we have agreed to find a way out.”

The way out, predictably, will be tough to find. Shinde says the 600 MW project cannot be completely cancelled and construction will continue while the expert committee is formed. “An advance of Rs 2,000 crore has been sanctioned. Now you are asking us to stop. I wasn’t the minister six years back. when these projects were started. When the BJP laid the foundation, nobody opposed it.”

What makes all of this more painfully ironic is that India’s push towards a new large dams comes at a time when big dams are being decommissioned the world over.

In America alone, 654 dams have been removed so far; 58 more are slotted for removal, many to restore salmon habitat. In fact, the decline of salmon population has led to landmark judgements. Among the most impressive examples are the removal of the Elwha and Glines Canyon Dam, one of the country’s tallest dams, removed at an estimated cost of $100 million.

“The removal of these big dams is an important change in how the nation views its rivers — a realisation that a healthy, free-flowing river can be one of a community’s most valuable assets,” says Amy Kober of American Rivers, an NGO.

This is not something India’s Power Ministry is ready to understand. Ask Shinde why India continues to promote large dams despite an international movement against then, and he says, “India has a shortage of 30,000 MW. From where are we going to get that power? Look at China. Look at their Three Gorges dam. When China is doing it, why can’t we? For a 1,000 MW project in Tehri we got so much criticism. If you want electricity, you have to sacrifice something.”

Tehri, in fact, is a good example of India’s myopic response to its energy needs. Not a single dam in India has been subjected to a post-project evaluation. Tehri is the world’s 8th tallest dam. Until March 2008, a sum of Rs 8,298 crore had been spent on the dam, far outweighing the initial planned costs. Its projected power generating capacity was 2,400 MW. Currently, it is generating only 1,000 MW, less than half its capacity. Just last week, siltation in the Sutlej river forced the temporaray closure of the 1,500 MW Nathpa Jhakri hydel project.

Moulded water: The river at Maneri Bhali Phase 1 during the monsoon

BUT TO understand the human tragedy of what is happening in the Bhagirathi valley, you need to watch Prem Dutt Juyal as he searches through heaps of faded paper. These are documents he has been collecting ever since the land below his house began to crumble. Juyal is a resident of Jalwal village, located a few kilometers from where Old Tehri once stood. Jalwal and neighbouring villages were not rehabilitated because they were higher than the 840 meter submergence level of Tehri lake. Yet, for the past year, their fields have been imploding, and they are dogged by frequent landslides as the waters of Tehri lake eat into the very foundations of their homes. Furthermore, New Tehri town is 250 kilometres from their villages. The markets where they sold their vegetables, the schools they sent their children to, are all under the waters of Tehri lake. The new ones are out of reach. They live in crushing isolation. But their demand for rehabilitation has no takers.

According to a detailed study of 54 large dams done by the Indian Institute of Public Administration, the average number of people displaced by a large dam is 44,182. India has 4,500 large dams. Even if you assume a minimum of 10,000 people displaced by each dam, this means that 45 million people in India have been displaced due to large dams. In villages like Joshiyada and Kansyan near Uttarkashi, people are just beginning to feel the impact of that particular kind of apocalypse.

It has been six months since Vinoda Devi of Kansyan village started sweeping the floors of a dam office. “They said we will discuss the payment, but I am still waiting.”

Surbir Singh Bist, Kansyan village head, went on an indefinite hunger strike and had to be hospitalised. His demand: “Don’t give our left-over land to third parties, big companies, hotels. Give us permanent government employment.”

In neighbouring Joshiyada village, Badri Semwal has a hardware store on a busy main road. He lives on the top floor. Stand on his terrace, and you can see the waters

Waterfall, man-made: Excess water being released from the Maneri Bhali tunnel

of Maneri Bhali lake creeping up to his home. It is black and dead. A few months from now, his terrace will be under it. “They realised only after they started churning the turbines that we also fall in the doob shetra. Now they are rehabilitating us somewhere in the hills, not to a similar commercial property. How will I survive?”

Other families face the same predicament. Joshiyada market was closed for a week in February in protest, but no one was there to see.

Driving away from Uttarkashi, towards the head of Maneri Bhali Phase 1, you might meet Attar Singh Panwar. You might mistake him for a city man. There is nothing in his faded denim jeans and T-shirt to suggest he has lived for 38 years in the Himalayan wilderness. He is walking back to his village with packets of KurKure and a bottle of Bisleri. He recently started working as contract labour for NTPC. There is nothing about him to suggest he would rather be grazing cattle, or planting potato and rajma in his lost fields. “I was happier when I had my own land. I had independence. I may have lakhs of rupees now (from the compensation) but it will soon go. Money comes and goes. Land is permanent,” he says.

Panwar does not think of himself as a city man. He certainly does not aspire to be one. He has seen what happens when city needs encroached upon his turf. His sister and brotherin- law died in an earthquake in 1991. So did 72 others from his village, situated right above a 9- kilometre tunnel supplying water to Maneri Bhali Phase I. “I am certain the deaths were so high because of the blasting. It has made the land more fragile,” he says.

Drive further towards Pala village and the apocalypse has already begun. The Pala Maneri tunnel is being drilled a kilometer away. Houses here have started cracking. Water sources are drying up. The debris from the tunnel has choked natural springs.

Something out of his control is making Attar Singh Panwar into a city man. Like hundreds of others, he does not want to be one. He’d rather believe in the river his family has lived by for generations.

But the Power Ministry would tell him the Northern Grid needs more electricity. So malls across the nation can blink through the night.