Bleeding the Chambal Dry
Reckless water hoarding, diversion, sand mining and fishing are
killing a pristine river that once used to recast its vast ravines
every flood. Jay Mazoomdaar on the curse of the Chambal
FOR CENTURIES, dark, foreboding myths saved the Chambal the fate of India’s other great rivers. The Charmanyavati, describes the Mahabharata, originated from a mountain of dripping leather (charma)
after King Rantideva sacrificed thousands of cows. If that was not
intimidating enough, Draupadi, distraught by her humiliation after that
infamous game of dice, cursed that all who would drink from the
Charmanyavati that flowed through Shakuni’s kingdom be damned.
In a culture where rivers are worshipped, such disrepute meant that the Chambal, by all means mightier than the Yamuna, would be slighted as a tributary of the latter. Unsurprisingly, no great cities or shrines came up on its banks. This traditional isolation fostered the badland reputation of the ravines where all manner of black sheep — rebel tribesmen and later bandits — found refuge. But it also helped the Chambal remain one of India’s most pristine rivers.
Even today, it has the highest conservation value among the rivers in the greater Gangetic basin. The Chambal hosts the largest contiguous and most viable breeding populations of the critically endangered gharial and the red-crowned roofed turtle. The river is also one of the most important habitats of the Gangetic dolphin, Indian skimmer, black-bellied tern, sarus crane and a host of endangered turtle species.
One of the choicest wintering sites of migratory birds, the Chambal is also a big contributor of fish stock to the Ganga. For more than a dozen national parks and sanctuaries, such as Ranthambore, Keladevi, Kuno-Palpur, Madhav and Darrah- Mukundra, the river ark is the vital corridor for dispersal of wildlife in an otherwise fragmented forest landscape.
But the Chambal’s splendid isolation, albeit cursed, started to wane after Independence when people living in the arid districts of Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh became too desperate. By 1960, the first dam on the river — Gandhi Sagar — was built on the Rajasthan-MP border.
In the next five decades, six major irrigation projects — Rana Pratap Sagar, Jawahar Sagar and Kota Barrage, Parbati Pick-up Weir, Harish Chander Sagar and Gudha Dam — 12 medium, 134 minor and several panchayat-level projects came up in the Chambal basin. There are hundreds more in the pipeline while work continues on several dozens.
The bane of mainstreaming — storage, extraction and diversion of water, sand mining, fishing and riparian cultivation by flattening ravines — is disrupting the Chambal’s water flow (see graphic), polluting and fragmenting its aquatic ecosystem and the forest landscape that support more than 550 species.
Downstream of Kota Barrage, the river now depends entirely on its tributaries, which are mostly seasonal and heavily harvested themselves. The result is an alarming drop in pre-monsoon water flow and the water level (see graphic). So much so that only 10-15 percent of the Chambal’s 435-km-long, high-potential gharial and dolphin habitat between Pali in Rajasthan and Pachnada in Uttar Pradesh retains the minimum depth required for the species during the driest periods between May and July.
The Trickle
Nobody outside the government knows the Chambal’s discharge and flow rates. It is part of the Gangetic basin, which makes the data classified. So, nobody can tell if the Central Water Commission’s 1992 guideline, that the minimum flow in a river should not be less than the average of 10 days’ minimum flow in its natural state, is being followed while harvesting huge volumes of Chambal water in the name of helping farmers.
Between 1990 and 2007, the average quantity of water used for irrigation by Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh through Gandhi Sagar Dam and Kota Barrage decreased by 22.6 percent and 41.4 percent, respectively, while the use of water for industrial purpose increased by around 300 percent. By 2003, almost 41 percent of all water use was non- irrigational. The impact is evident.
At Kherli village, around 40 km downstream from Kota Barrage, farmers are happy that they get enough canal water from the barrage during the October-February crop season. Less than a kilometre away at Bhakto ka Ghat, one can walk across the knee-deep waters of the Chambal that is barely 15 m wide. “The river’s level will go down by another foot or so by the end of summer, but it never dries up,” assures a farmer in between dips in the canal water.
Of course, it doesn’t. Base flow or groundwater surge keeps big rivers trickling even in the worst of times. Besides, the run-off from the agricultural fields also reaches the Chambal. The irony is not lost on an elderly villager watching the lush fields: “Now, the Chambal waits for a few drops of its own water to flow back via canals and fields. Can you believe we needed boats to cross the river here when I was young?”
The sad trickle continues downstream of Kota Barrage till the Kali Sindh contributes some water. The still narrow and shallow stream gains some respectability at Pali where the Parbati joins in. “At the confluence last April, the depth of Parbati was 3.7 m while the Chambal was just 0.6 m deep. The Parbati’s flow was 0.4 foot per second, the Chambal’s was zero,” says wildlife biologist Niladri Dasgupta, who has been studying the river.
A river’s health depends on the quality and quantity of its water. Barring a few stretches — for example, Rajasthan’s Kota-Keshoriapatan belt where a minor tributary brings industrial effluents — the Chambal’s water is of an enviable ‘A’ category as per the Central Pollution Control Board standards. It is the water quantity — water depth and flow — that threatens the river ecology.
According to studies conducted by the Wildlife Institute of India (WII), the Chambal’s water flow receded to as low as 16.38 cubic metres (or 16,380 litres) per second during June-July in 2009. The average lean flow of the Chambal is 58.53 m3/sec in April. For a perspective, compare this with the peak monsoon flow of 2,074.28 m3/sec in August. The lean flow works out to be less than 3 percent of the peak flow.
“This never happens in a natural system. The dams and irrigation canals were meant for utilising surplus monsoon water. But these projects refuse to release any water in the river channel during the summer months,” explains Dr Rajiv Chauhan, an Etawah-based wildlife biologist who red-flagged the mysterious epidemic that killed around 100 gharials in 2007-08.
Even the overall flow in the Chambal has been showing an annual slide of 3.4 percent since the 1990s. The WII’s Chambal studies statistically established that river depth decreases with a fall in river flow. The minimum flow and depth required for gharials is 151 m3/sec and 5 m while Gangetic dolphins, India’s national aquatic animal, need at least 266.42 m3/sec flow and 7 m deep waters. By 2011, gharials were losing half of their Chambal habitat during February-June, while dolphins found themselves out of depth as early as November.
When riverine habitat shrinks, it also gets fragmented, trapping aquatic animals in relatively deeper segments of the riverbed called pools. Being territorial, gharials don’t leave their own areas for longer stretches of deeper waters. In such a scenario, starvation is a distinct possibility as animals are trapped in pools too small to sustain them with enough fish stock. There are instances when dolphins inadvertently reached shallow waters chasing fish and got fatally stuck.
Shallow waters allow increased human interference, including access to otherwise inaccessible nesting islands. Confined in pools, the animals become vulnerable to secondary threats, such as local contamination, blast fishing or poaching.
Poor river flow also alters the natural morphology of deep pools. Dams restrict siltation and sand deposition downstream, limiting breeding sites of ground-nesting species such as gharials, skimmers and turtles. To make matters worse, dams conveniently release unseasonal water, often during nesting periods, drowning sandbanks and river islands formed by the sediments carried by the Chambal’s tributaries.
http://www.tehelka.com/bleeding-the-chambal-dry/
In a culture where rivers are worshipped, such disrepute meant that the Chambal, by all means mightier than the Yamuna, would be slighted as a tributary of the latter. Unsurprisingly, no great cities or shrines came up on its banks. This traditional isolation fostered the badland reputation of the ravines where all manner of black sheep — rebel tribesmen and later bandits — found refuge. But it also helped the Chambal remain one of India’s most pristine rivers.
Even today, it has the highest conservation value among the rivers in the greater Gangetic basin. The Chambal hosts the largest contiguous and most viable breeding populations of the critically endangered gharial and the red-crowned roofed turtle. The river is also one of the most important habitats of the Gangetic dolphin, Indian skimmer, black-bellied tern, sarus crane and a host of endangered turtle species.
One of the choicest wintering sites of migratory birds, the Chambal is also a big contributor of fish stock to the Ganga. For more than a dozen national parks and sanctuaries, such as Ranthambore, Keladevi, Kuno-Palpur, Madhav and Darrah- Mukundra, the river ark is the vital corridor for dispersal of wildlife in an otherwise fragmented forest landscape.
But the Chambal’s splendid isolation, albeit cursed, started to wane after Independence when people living in the arid districts of Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh became too desperate. By 1960, the first dam on the river — Gandhi Sagar — was built on the Rajasthan-MP border.
In the next five decades, six major irrigation projects — Rana Pratap Sagar, Jawahar Sagar and Kota Barrage, Parbati Pick-up Weir, Harish Chander Sagar and Gudha Dam — 12 medium, 134 minor and several panchayat-level projects came up in the Chambal basin. There are hundreds more in the pipeline while work continues on several dozens.
The bane of mainstreaming — storage, extraction and diversion of water, sand mining, fishing and riparian cultivation by flattening ravines — is disrupting the Chambal’s water flow (see graphic), polluting and fragmenting its aquatic ecosystem and the forest landscape that support more than 550 species.
Downstream of Kota Barrage, the river now depends entirely on its tributaries, which are mostly seasonal and heavily harvested themselves. The result is an alarming drop in pre-monsoon water flow and the water level (see graphic). So much so that only 10-15 percent of the Chambal’s 435-km-long, high-potential gharial and dolphin habitat between Pali in Rajasthan and Pachnada in Uttar Pradesh retains the minimum depth required for the species during the driest periods between May and July.
The Trickle
Nobody outside the government knows the Chambal’s discharge and flow rates. It is part of the Gangetic basin, which makes the data classified. So, nobody can tell if the Central Water Commission’s 1992 guideline, that the minimum flow in a river should not be less than the average of 10 days’ minimum flow in its natural state, is being followed while harvesting huge volumes of Chambal water in the name of helping farmers.
Between 1990 and 2007, the average quantity of water used for irrigation by Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh through Gandhi Sagar Dam and Kota Barrage decreased by 22.6 percent and 41.4 percent, respectively, while the use of water for industrial purpose increased by around 300 percent. By 2003, almost 41 percent of all water use was non- irrigational. The impact is evident.
At Kherli village, around 40 km downstream from Kota Barrage, farmers are happy that they get enough canal water from the barrage during the October-February crop season. Less than a kilometre away at Bhakto ka Ghat, one can walk across the knee-deep waters of the Chambal that is barely 15 m wide. “The river’s level will go down by another foot or so by the end of summer, but it never dries up,” assures a farmer in between dips in the canal water.
Of course, it doesn’t. Base flow or groundwater surge keeps big rivers trickling even in the worst of times. Besides, the run-off from the agricultural fields also reaches the Chambal. The irony is not lost on an elderly villager watching the lush fields: “Now, the Chambal waits for a few drops of its own water to flow back via canals and fields. Can you believe we needed boats to cross the river here when I was young?”
The sad trickle continues downstream of Kota Barrage till the Kali Sindh contributes some water. The still narrow and shallow stream gains some respectability at Pali where the Parbati joins in. “At the confluence last April, the depth of Parbati was 3.7 m while the Chambal was just 0.6 m deep. The Parbati’s flow was 0.4 foot per second, the Chambal’s was zero,” says wildlife biologist Niladri Dasgupta, who has been studying the river.
A river’s health depends on the quality and quantity of its water. Barring a few stretches — for example, Rajasthan’s Kota-Keshoriapatan belt where a minor tributary brings industrial effluents — the Chambal’s water is of an enviable ‘A’ category as per the Central Pollution Control Board standards. It is the water quantity — water depth and flow — that threatens the river ecology.
According to studies conducted by the Wildlife Institute of India (WII), the Chambal’s water flow receded to as low as 16.38 cubic metres (or 16,380 litres) per second during June-July in 2009. The average lean flow of the Chambal is 58.53 m3/sec in April. For a perspective, compare this with the peak monsoon flow of 2,074.28 m3/sec in August. The lean flow works out to be less than 3 percent of the peak flow.
“This never happens in a natural system. The dams and irrigation canals were meant for utilising surplus monsoon water. But these projects refuse to release any water in the river channel during the summer months,” explains Dr Rajiv Chauhan, an Etawah-based wildlife biologist who red-flagged the mysterious epidemic that killed around 100 gharials in 2007-08.
Even the overall flow in the Chambal has been showing an annual slide of 3.4 percent since the 1990s. The WII’s Chambal studies statistically established that river depth decreases with a fall in river flow. The minimum flow and depth required for gharials is 151 m3/sec and 5 m while Gangetic dolphins, India’s national aquatic animal, need at least 266.42 m3/sec flow and 7 m deep waters. By 2011, gharials were losing half of their Chambal habitat during February-June, while dolphins found themselves out of depth as early as November.
When riverine habitat shrinks, it also gets fragmented, trapping aquatic animals in relatively deeper segments of the riverbed called pools. Being territorial, gharials don’t leave their own areas for longer stretches of deeper waters. In such a scenario, starvation is a distinct possibility as animals are trapped in pools too small to sustain them with enough fish stock. There are instances when dolphins inadvertently reached shallow waters chasing fish and got fatally stuck.
Shallow waters allow increased human interference, including access to otherwise inaccessible nesting islands. Confined in pools, the animals become vulnerable to secondary threats, such as local contamination, blast fishing or poaching.
Poor river flow also alters the natural morphology of deep pools. Dams restrict siltation and sand deposition downstream, limiting breeding sites of ground-nesting species such as gharials, skimmers and turtles. To make matters worse, dams conveniently release unseasonal water, often during nesting periods, drowning sandbanks and river islands formed by the sediments carried by the Chambal’s tributaries.
http://www.tehelka.com/bleeding-the-chambal-dry/