A New Paradigm of Water Management

Too much or too little? An excess of anything is bad, no matter how good it seems. So let it be with the monsoons. When the Indian Meteorological Department (IMD) predicted a better-than-normal monsoon[1], nobody took it seriously. Now it seems they are correct as many parts of India have got more rain than they normally do; all but five of the country’s meteorological regions have been so blessed. But we seem to lack the capacity to capitalize on this bounty even though India is pockmarked with hundreds of dams and barrages, all designed to hold water.

Instead, we are flooded for a few weeks, and then face water shortages for the rest of the year. Why is it that each time the heavens open up, we are drowned in water?

There are many reasons. Our rivers, lakes and other natural reservoirs and water channels are choked and encroached. They have been robbed of their ability to transport water safely and hold it. The dams and barrages are not designed to handle such large quantities of water even though we had heard that dams are built to handle a one-in-a-hundred years flood. This makes you think – where did the data for assessing this flood come from? From measuring the water flow? From what I have seen of this measurement, it is a joke – the people taking the measurement stand on a bridge, throw in a ping-pong ball on one side, rush across and see how long it takes to appear on the other side. That gives them the speed of water, but what about the depth and width of the river? Then we have alarming report of the Bhakra Nangal dam tilting under the weight of the impounded water; the authorities are expectedly quick to dismiss this as normal[2].

Year after year, the dams and allied infrastructure we have built has proved to be ineffective at controlling floods. Every year, the authorities are forced to open the sluices when it rains heavily, flooding downstream areas. There seems to be constant tension between the power, irrigation and flood departments; nobody seems to be on top of the basic problem that this method will not work anymore either to store ‘excess’ water or prevent floods.

One is a design issue, the other is a management problem[3]. There is a growing view, worldwide, that building dams is too simplistic a solution for controlling floods, irrigation or even generating power. In summer when power demand peaks, the reservoir levels are too low to generate power to fill the gap.

Can we instead look at a new paradigm of water management, one that is not purely technology driven and focused on large reservoirs[4]. One that considers all forms of surface and sub-surface storage, watershed treatment and people’s participation. Dams also have a high social and environmental cost. Besides, their cost-benefit ratio is often doubtful since the data on which they are designed is unreliable. For instance, the Narmada dam simply does not have enough water to meet the needs of people living at the tail-end of the catchment[5]. It seems this deficiency will now be made good by diverting ‘surplus’ water from the Tapi river.

My contention is, small is good, viable and doable. Small is acceptable to user communities and can be scaled up to provide water security. Small can provide water storage of the same order that a large dam can albeit without the social, environmental and financial costs. Small can be designed in keeping with the local geology, micro-climate, labour, material, water available and end-use. For example, people make stone and mortar underground storage tanks with a surface catchment area in Rajasthan; these tankas can store a full year’s drinking water[6]. Pookhris in Assam impound water from the Brahmaputra or other river for human use and help maintain the groundwater levels. These small structures for catching and storing water are also easy for the local people to manage.

There is a sound geo-hydrological reason for small schemes. Reservoir induced seismicity (RIS) is one of the great safety concerns of dams[7]. Will the water stored behind them force its way into a deep fault and trigger and earthquake? Can the dam survive such a quake? Reservoirs may raise water levels downstream and in surrounding areas, but as they are mostly in hilly areas this does not benefit anybody. Associated canals help recharge aquifers en route, but there have been many reports of waterlogging than of any accruing benefits. Small schemes, on the other hand, suffer from fewer such ailments. There is little risk of RIS since each holds only a small quantity of water. They help recharge shallow aquifers and increase soil moisture in neighbouring fields. They can be deepened or widened to increase storage capacity at little cost by local people. They store rainwater runoff near the point of use and are thus an assured source of water for most of the year without the need for a costly distribution mechanism. Women particularly find them useful since they do not have to walk long distances. Nearly all small structures have a way to get in and out, making it easy for women to get at the water.

The utility of small schemes can be simply and cheaply extended. If more capacity is needed, an existing pond can be deepened by manual dredging; nearly two-thirds of all work under the Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme is on creating or restoring water structures[8]. Sometimes, if a new one is needed, it can be built on the village commons or if no such suitable location is available, on a person’s field (by consent) who can be compensated with land elsewhere. Many tanks can be linked by canals so the overflow of one fills the next, maximizing the catchment area of each. As they are made of locally available mud and stone, with minimal use of cement and iron, people can make them without any special equipment. All existing structures are located where rainwater runoff converges thus occupying low land that is unsuitable for any other use.

These small schemes are good for recharging aquifers. They can be used for deep aquifer recharge as well provided the water quality is good. Water from a tank can be channeled to an abandoned deep tube well (preferably high yielding, or a re-bored one to increase recharge speeds) if the main purpose is groundwater recharge. Another ways to force recharge is to fracture rocks (in hard rock areas) with explosives. A more expensive option is to build underground reservoirs or sub-surface dams in areas with porous soil. Storing water underground is probably the most sensible thing in a hot country like India where evaporation losses are high and the cost of the option needs to be weighed against that of providing water from other sources. Before using surface water for groundwater recharge, it is essential to test the latter’s quality.

Small structures have evolved in situ; people are familiar with their construction and maintenance[9]. In places where they have been restored, such as Rajasthan and Tamil Nadu, people have developed their own ways of keeping the water clean by keeping animals out and preventing people from defecating or dirtying the pond or its catchment. Now, this approach is being called a best practice by international agencies such as the World Bank[10] and Asian Development Bank[11]. Several state governments have started programmes for tank restoration in addition to mega projects.

New technology can help make these structures more relevant in today’s world. GIS mapping can help optimize their location and size. An integrated approach at the micro-watershed level can improve the quality and quantity of water and reduce siltation. I’ve already mentioned a couple of other new methods to improve groundwater recharge. Women’s work load can be further reduced if a system to provide piped water to all households is built, sourcing water from the pond; the pump for the system can be solar- or wind-powered.

However, small schemes also have challenges especially when it comes to local ownership and department issues. Different government departments control village ponds and they community ownership of these resources is anathema to them. It needs an enlightened local leader or NGO to break this spiral of mutual dependence, a race to the bottom, and get people interested in taking back their control of their resources. So it is not only time for a paradigm shift in managing water resources but also for a generational change.

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[1] Indian Meteorological Department, Ministry of Earth Sciences, Government of India; http://www.imd.gov.in/section/nhac/dynamic/Monsoon_frame.htm

[2] Newspaper reports, August and September 2010

[3] Dutt, Umendra; http://punjabnewsline.com/content/bhakra-reservoir-being-operated-casual-adhoc-manner/24068

[4] McCartney, Mathew and Smakhtin, Vladimir, 2010. Water Storage in an Era of Climate Change: Addressing the Challenge of Increasing Rainfall Variability; International Water Management Institute

[5] Jauhari, V P 1999. Operation, Monitoring, and Decommissioning of Large Dams in India; Paper prepared for Thematic Review IV.5; World Commission on Dams

[6] Mishra, Anupam. Radiant Raindrops of Rajasthan; Gandhi Peace Foundation, New Delhi

[7] ibid

[8] Department of Rural Development, Ministry of Rural Development, Government of India

[9] Jacob, Nitya 2008. Jalyatra, Exploring India’s Traditional Water Management Systems; Penguin India

[10] Deep Wells and Prudence: Towards Pragmatic Action for Addressing Groundwater Overexploitation in India. The World Bank. 2010

[11] Rehabilitation and Management of Tanks in India – A study of select states, 2006. Asian Development Bank

Whither rivers

India’s arteries are choking. Her rivers, the lifeline of hundreds of millions, are over-taxed, polluted and encroached. They are being mined, dammed and emptied of water. Save for the four monsoon months, most rivers are streams of drains, depending on how many cities they pass through. This year people gaped in awe at the River Yamuna (I am sure they were over-awed by other rivers elsewhere too) as for the first time since 1978 looked like a river and not a drain.

Mining constitutes a major, and largely unrecognized, threat to our rivers. The others are high profile and get a lot of press but mining passes mostly unnoticed. Miners extract thousands of truckloads of sand and stones from river beds across the country to feed the ever-hungry construction industry. Some of the mining is legal but most is not. Rivers also receive the waste water from mines; the Damodar river[1] flows black with the effluent from the coal washeries along its course and the Mandovi and Zuari rivers (Goa) are similarly poisoned by iron ore mines.

Mining rejects comprise clay that hinder plant growth and have a high concentration of iron, manganese and alumina. Over time, they increase acidity in soil and reduction of fertility.[2] This is at the receiving end, and the story of only two rivers but they are illustrative. The Damodar has the misfortune of passing through one of the world’s richest mineral belt. The others rise in hills that have some of India’s best iron ore.

Consider what quarrying has done to the Arkavati river just outside India’s cyber city, Bangalore. This used to be a perennial river and supplied water to Bangalore; a 45 minute drive out of the city brings you to the old British-era water works that was supplied via aqueducts from the river. Now, the pumps stand silent in the giant pump-house and the aqueducts are broken in many place. The river is dry, caused in large part by granite quarries in its upper catchments and sand mining[3]. Because of this, water does not reach the river any more but accumulates in mining hollows. The monumental dam built to divert river water to the volute siphons, and from there to the water works, holds no water.

The holy Ganges is no exception. Across the ghats in Varanasi, in the low season, I have seen tractor-loads of sand being ferried away, as also in Patna. I am sure in other towns and villages that live off the river, the story is the same. People cart away what they need, and to feed their greed. In the process, they destroy the ability of the river to perform its ecological functions. The sand is critical to allowing water recharge. It is also crucial for filtering the water before it percolates into the ground, or reaches wells located along the river banks. Removing sand and gravel in quantities greater than the river can replenish increases the velocity of water and changes its flow, speeding up the erosion of banks. It speeds up aquifer depletion. The sand and silt are rich in nutrients and poor people farm on river beds in the dry season; indiscriminate mining denies them this meager subsistence.

In Madhya Pradesh, the state government exempted sand and gravel mining in river beds from environment clearances. As a result, miners have literally devoured the river beds of all its rivers, major and minor, disregarding any environmental concerns. In Kerala, the Bharathapuzha river has been mined almost to death; groundwater levels have fallen dramatically and people in the Palakkad district, that depend heavily on the river for water, face a regular summer drought.[4] The Kali river in Karnataka is similarly afflicted; there is massive illegal sand mining in the Chandewadi and Ilavadabe forests. [5]

Outside Delhi, the Aravalis are being chopped into the ground by petty miners who supply stones to the city’s thriving construction. It did not help that the Commonwealth Games created an unprecedented demand for this construction material and has had a pull effect on the building industry in the entire region. As a result of this mining, at least three lakes – Suraj Kund, Badhkal and Damdama – have dried up while others are nearly dry. The rain water that used to fill them no longer reaches the lakes; it fills up the craters left behind by the miners.

In all these, and more, cases, it is apparent that there is no regulation; mining flourishes under official and political patronage. Court orders to shut down mines are observed in the breach because the enforcers are part of the problem. The mines outside Delhi have been shifted and shut twice on the orders of the Supreme Court but the problem continues.

Given this, what can we realistically do to reduce the impact of mining on our rivers. Where rivers are polluted by the tailings of mines, it is possible to reduce the impact by treating water before letting it into rivers through settling ponds and flocculation. Additional filtration can remove the total suspended solid load to acceptable levels. The mining companies have to install these devices to check pollution.

To reduce illegal sand and gravel mining is tougher since most of it takes place at small scale ‘under the radar’. However, a few things can reduce its impact. The local administration or non-profit organization can identify and mark ecologically sensitive areas along rivers where mining is forbidden. Areas where mining has exhausted all available resources should be treated through watershed development and/or natural regeneration. A new framework for rehabilitating mined-out areas is required that can be used by miners as well as local people. It is essential to enforce tribal rights where mining happens on tribal land through the existing laws. Local communities and NGOs should be legally empowered to enforce rules to control mining and restoration of degraded land.[6] Nothing, however, will work as well as making the law enforcers do their job and this is where the importance of better governance lies; the simple act of holding miners accountable can control and reverse most of the ill-effects of sand mining on our rivers.

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[1] The River Damodar, Rainwaterharvesting.org; http://www.rainwaterharvesting.org/crisis/River-Damodar10.htm

[2] Rank, J. S. 2006; Study of the effect of mining rejects on degradation of soil and river ecology; Workshop on Science-Policy Interactions on river basins and coastal zone management, National Institute  of Oceanography, Goa

[3] Patel,  Bharti; Sharing of water between rural, urban and peri-urban areas located along Arkavati river basin in Karnataka; Svaraj, Bangalore

[4] Bagchi, Proloy, 2010; Unregulated sand mining threatens Indian rivers; Ground Report; http://www.groundreport.com/Health_and_Science/Unregulated-sand-mining-threatens-Indian-rivers_1/2918116

[5] Rao, Bhargavi, and R. Padmashree; Sand Mining in the Kali Valley; Environment Support Group, Bangalore

[6] Kumar, Pankaj, and Gopalan, Ramya, 2007; Impact of Mining on Water Availability and Quality; Solution Exchange Water Community, New Delhi

Village democracy built on water

In August 1993, Rajendra Singh stood on barren land outside his ashram and proclaimed, “This will be a jungle in 10 years.” In October 2003, he goes for morning walks in that jungle.

A simple philosophy has gone a long way to restoring the agro-eco-climatic zone around the Sariska National Park, about 100 km east of Jaipur in western India, comprising a complex system with five main rivers and their tributaries. “Conserve water and protect forests. Rebuild the links between people, forests and water,” Singh says is the sum and substance of his work.

Nansa Ram, 65, wizened by walks in the Bhairon Dev forest, exemplifies this link. For four years till 1995, Nansa Ram took a pot of water from his Bhaonta village about two hours’ drive from Jaipur, into the hills every morning and poured it into hollows in the rocks. This wizened man of about 65 felt this was his duty to the wild birds and animals that lived in the hills above the village.

Nansa Ram stopped taking water to the hills when an anicut was built to check the flow of water and a little lake formed behind it. “My mission of seeing that the wild animals and birds of the forest had water was fulfilled,” he says.

Why did this man, a shepherd, decide to pour a symbolic pot of water every morning in some hollow in the rocks? It’s a hard trek up the hills carrying nothing at all, not to speak of a pot of water weighing several kilos. “When I started grazing goats in these hills, there were no sources of water through the summer. The goats survived because we had water in the village. I thought the wild animals and birds here would die if they didn’t get water to drink. So I started carrying a pot of water a day for them.”

Nansa Ram had taken one small symbolic step towards rebuilding the traditional links that existed across the land between people, forests and water.

This relationship sustained the human and natural resources of the region for millennia. Then, over a century ago, the links began to break.

The British Imperial Capital shifted to Delhi in 1910 and its huge energy requirements were fed from the wood from these forests. After independence in 1947, the Indian Forest Department continued the policy of selling firewood and timber to contractors and also prevented local people, who had lived with the forests for centuries, from either getting wood or other forest produce for their own use. The Indian Forest Department long considered forests to be a source of revenue rather than resources to be conserved.

“When the village people saw these last vestiges of forest that they had protected being hacked, they lost the feeling of ownership over forests and their stake in protecting them. They also joined in the plunder of the greens,” said Kanhaiya Lal, a project manager with Tarun Bharat Sangh, the non-profit organization that Rajendra Singh heads. TBS works out of an ashram about 80 km from Jaipur.

Things changed in the late-1980s when the Bhaonta village elder Sunder heard of a man who worked on water in a village a few kilometers away and went to meet him. “I asked Rajendra Singh to come and build an anicut in the hills above the village to help us recharge our village wells. When he came and saw the place, he said he could not do it and instead helped us dig a pond at another place.”

That was in 1989. Many anicuts and johads have come up around the village in a complex system of water conservation and harvesting. People now grow up to three crops a year where earlier they could barely manage one. Cattle and goats have lots of fodder and water. Wildlife from the nearby Sariska Tiger reserve stays out of the village as there are water sources in the hills; a few years ago it used to raid fields and water in the village.

The crowning glory of Bhaonta’s water conservation work has been creating the Bhairon dev Lok Van Jeev Abhyaran, or people’s wildlife sanctuary. This sanctuary is spread over 14 square kilometers and has been formed by the people of 5 villages who decided to protect their common lands, as also wasteland, that lay between their villages. In just seven years, the hills are green and covered with shrubs that will grow into trees. The Abhyaran is proof that people willing, old cultural links between man, water and forests can be revived, with dramatic effects.

Bhaonta’s is not an unmitigated success as is also the case with Rajendra Singh’s work. The major challenge to carrying forward the Bhaonta experiment is from other villages in the neighbourhood. They feel there are ample natural resources now and don’t feel the need to create more. In one village, Aghar, for example, that is much bigger, there are many people who have no connection with the land or forests. A sizeable percentage of the population produces hooch for which they need wood. Rather than pay, they go into the sanctuary and cut what they need. Others from the village follow their example.

“In a large village like ours with 5000 people, only those with a stake in agriculture are concerned about the environment. Traders, those making hooch and other such people have little interest in protecting it,” says Gauri Shankar, shopkeeper and farmer. “The TBS’s work has been extremely successful in Bhaonta because it is small and more people have a stake in farming.”

In other words, it is an economic necessity to protect the environment. If forests die, water sources dry up and agriculture suffers. Domestic animals also die and eventually so does the village. Small villages are more sensitive to environmental changes than large ones. This means that the TBS model will work only in settlements up to a certain size and fail in other cases.

Rajendra Singh reluctantly admits this. They have had the most dramatic effects in places where the population has been small and relatively homogenous in either caste or economic constitution. The system breaks down when the population grows larger and people from too many castes and walks of life enter the fray.

The solution to this has been to bind smaller villages together in a sort of scaling up operation. Realizing that the model works with small populations functionaries of Tarun Bharat Sangh have organized the Aravari Sansad, or Parliament. This is a collective of people from 72 villages, each of which sends two people, one a farmer and the other, a water conservationist to six-monthly meetings. This larger-than-village entity

The Sansad takes major policy decisions that govern the lives of the villagers such as fines to be imposed on people who let cattle overgraze, or cut green firewood for trees for fodder. It also works with the district administration to maintain law and order and reports offenders to the police. At times though the parliament has taken on the administration as when the state irrigation department tried to take control of the water resources created by village people. The district administration recently demolished the Parliament’s building.

“It is important for people to feel they have a collective voice and that they are not alone in the fight to protect their forests and water,” explains Rajendra. “It also overcomes the problem of uneven distribution of water due to varying commitment levels of people in different villages.”

It is not a confrontationist approach but a lead-by-example one that he and Kanhaiya hope will work with villages like Aghar. “They also live in the same place and benefit from the work being done around them. In time they will realize the value of this and will contribute,” they say, confidently.

Rajendra’s Aravari formula is simple, more like a touchstone than a chemical that can be poured on water. Learn with humility; understand popular needs; make people suggest their remedies; start small; deliver cheaply. These re-establish the links between people, forests and water.

The enthusiasm of the people working for a better future, both as staff of the TBS and in villages, is proof that both believe they can make a difference. It isn’t enough to talk about it but to do and show what is possible if the people decide to take their fate into their own hands rather than blame the government for their ills and then expect the same authority to rectify them. The people of Aravari have taken the lead to show what can be done with a true-bottoms up approach. And to think this is, inadvertently, what Nansa Ram, started off when he poured pots of water into crannies in rocks in the hills above Bhaonta.