Children in various apartments of Rajnagar Extension area of Ghaziabad share at least one thought with the kids in Karera village, which lies bang opposite — that the Hindon river which flows in between them has black water, a very foul smell and menacing mosquitoes. Children of both areas are asked to stay away from it. Plagued by grime and narrowed by time, the river stares helplessly at its banks inching closer by the day, month and year. The kids — both in Rajnagar Extension and Karera village — are intrigued by their parents’ insistence at calling this dying nullah a ‘river’. But the parents are not to blame. They have their own share of realities to come to terms with. Only two decades ago, when these parents were children, many of them picnicked and played on its banks and dived gleefully into its crystal clear water. Iridescent aquatic life of the river could be seen up to 10-15 feet of depth.  

Today, as the river moves in and out of public consciousness like an apparition before it flows finally into history — a day experts say is not in distant future — a handful of such flummoxed parents are making the last-ditch efforts to save it from extinction. A curious mix of educated urban people and farmers in the sugarcane belt, they have made a lot of hue and cry, undertaken tiring foot marches, held sit-ins, written articles and made documentaries. They have been doing this for years now. But nothing has moved. Not even a pebble on the banks of Hindon, which wades through its own slime. 

Vikrant Sharma, district coordinator of Jalbiradari, an initiative of Magsaysay award winner Rajendra Singh to conserve water, has a certain gloom in his eyes when he walks the river’s banks with us. “We began working for this river in 2004. And let me make it clear, our efforts so far have drawn zilch,” he says.

Sharma was full of youthful energy then. He would walk for days and miles, meeting villagers along the river’s entire route (from Pur ka Tanda Kaluwala in Upper Shivaliks in Saharanpur district to Momnathanpur in Greater Noida, where the Hindon joins Yamuna) documenting their problems and mapping sources for pollution to the river. He would present his facts and finds to government officials, collaborate with NGOs, follow it up with journalists and meet whoever else promised help. And then would begin his wait till eternity to hear from any of them.

Eight years and several such rounds later, he looks haggard with a pallid face, more-salt-than-pepper hair and sunken eyes. Pointing out at a bend in the river, he says, stoically, “Ninety-five percent of this river is dead.”  

Hindon, historically known as Harnandi, is a tributary of the Yamuna. It runs for 260 km through six districts (Saharanpur, Muzaffarnagar, Meerut, Baghpat, Ghaziabad and Gautambudh Nagar) before it joins Yamuna at Momnathanpur village of Gautambudh Nagar. Among the Indus Valley civilisation sites, Alamgirpur was located on the banks of this river. During the freedom struggle of 1857, several skirmishes between the rebellious Indian soldiers and British forces, including the decisive Badli-ki-sarai battle, was fought along its banks.

In its happier times, which lasted as late as the 1980s, the river was the lifeline to around 400 villages which depended on it for their water needs. While the use of its water was scarce for irrigation, the villages depended on it for drinking water.

An entirely rainfed river, deterioration of the Hindon has been swift. Less than 20 years ago, its sparkling clean water was believed to cure kali khansi (whooping cough). Geographer Dr BB Singh, an expert on western sub-Himalayan region and a former principal of MMH College in Ghaziabad, puts the blame on uncontrollable industrialisation and urbanisation. “A small river is something to conserve. Instead, we pushed in tonnes of industrial effluence down the river’s choking throat, killing it slowly, but surely.”

According to a report prepared by British environmentalist Heather Lewis for the Meerut-based Janhit Foundation, the river, along with its two main tributaries, the Kali (West) and Krishni rivers, had 60 industrial manufacturing units discharging largely untreated effluents directly into the waters in 2007. These included 32 paper manufacturing units, 15 plants for manufacture of sugar and distillation of alcohol and dairy units, textile manufacturers as well slaughterhouses.

Armed with these statistics, Janhit Foundation’s director Anil Rana and his lawyer KK Roy filed a public interest litigation in Allahabad high court in 2007. In response to a court order, the pollution control board filed a counter-affidavit, saying industrial units along the Hindon were regularly treating their effluents before discharging them into the river, and that pollution level in the river was overstated in the report. “It was saddening to see that those entrusted with the task of checking pollution were trying to defend polluters,” says Anita Rana of Janhit Foundation.

But lawyer KK Roy has not given up yet: “The case is coming up for hearing again. We will see how PCB can get away.”

Vikrant Sharma doesn’t buy even an iota of this industries-treating-their-effluents logic. “You don’t need a Gestapo to call the bluff. A visit to a few units would do,” he says. “Some treatment plants are yet to be set up while some others never hummed to life.”

According to Lewis, this heavy loading of industrial discharge directly into the river “places an intolerable burden on its natural ability to assimilate pollutants” .

Key contaminants identified within the effluents of these industries include a very high loading of organic pollutants and suspended particulate matter, heavy metals and frequently pathogens as a result of contaminated raw materials entering the plants.

Cry, the dry river
PK Sharma, a retired professor of geography who lives in Saharanpur, started working to save Hindon’s tributaries in the region after a chance meeting with waterman Rajendra Singh in 2009. “Except for the rainy season, Hindon is mostly dry here,” Sharma says.

It took him five months and abundant support from Aligarh district magistrate Alok Kumar to clean Panvdhoi, an important tributary of the Hindon. Sharma has brought hundreds of concerned citizens as well as many civil servants under his Panvdhoi Bachao Samiti.

Agricultural practices of western Uttar Pradesh have compounded the river’s problems. This region produces sugarcane, a crop known to consume enormous amount of water. “Bumper production of sugarcane in the past two decades has depleted the water table of the region to an alarming level,” says Dr Singh. “In my village, you get drinkable water at no less than 200 feet below the ground,” says Ramveer Singh, former headman of Attor village of Ghaziabad district. Hand pumps here give out yellow water that is unfit for consumption. Only the powerful submersible water pumps work in this region.

As we travel through villages on the banks of the river, we come across sordid realities. Even domestic animals have stopped bathing in the river. Spurt in skin diseases in some villages, malaria cases in others and stomach ailments in some others are common. However, the loss of the river is some others’ gain as well. A shrinking river ceded abundant land to realtors. A considerable part of Rajnagar Extension, a realty hub in Ghaziabad with more than 20,000 housing units built by various big builders, used to be the Hindon’s floodplains in older days, Dr Singh claims.

Residents of Karera village cried foul in March 2012 over construction of a bridge on the Hindon. For the 800m-long bridge, connecting the Hindon Expressway with Karera Road (coming from Wazirabad), the authorities have raised an embankment across the river, which the villagers claim has changed the course of the Hindon. The bridge, to be built by the UP irrigation department, has been sanctioned and funded by Ghaziabad development authority. Villagers allege the bridge is being built to benefit the land mafia and builders. The river, they claim, now flows close to Karera village and will inundate it during heavy rains.

Dr Singh agrees every inch with the apprehension of the villagers. “In 1978, incessant rains caused flood in the Hindon. The Delhi-Ghaziabad link was broken for days. While Grand Truck Road had sunken several feet into floodwaters, the railway link was also broken. Such possibilities can never be ruled out in the life of a river,” he says.

Vikrant Sharma, who has filed a PIL in supreme court against the bridge construction, says, “Bridge on a bend is unheard of. What we are objecting to is the dumping of soil. Why can’t they build the bridge on pillars so that water could flow to the other side easily in case of a flood?” After hearing his plea, the national green tribunal on July 29 directed the GDA and the state irrigation department to clear the debris and muck from the riverbed to ensure free flow and file affidavits after compliance. The matter is still in court.

Environment activist Vijaypal Baghel, who heads the ‘Hindon Vahini’, which has launched several mass campaigns for the river’s cause, resigned from the district groundwater monitoring committee protesting against the embankment, alleging that land in the Hindon’s flood area is being protected for big builders at the cost of endangering the city.

“In Mohan Nagar area of Ghaziabad, the dissolved oxygen (DO) level is 1.5 to 2.  While there is no industry after Mohan Nagar, the DO level is still 0. Surprisingly, everything is fine with the river according to the pollution control board’s reports,” Baghel says. “We have now sent word to Uttar Pradesh chief minister Akhilesh Yadav, who is also an environmental engineer. We hope he will understand our concern.”

So what’s the way ahead? “I don’t know,” says Vikrant Sharma. “I want to raise awareness about the river among schoolchildren. That’s my best bet. I can at least conserve the river in their memory. So that it flows there for another seven-eight decades. Right here in reality, it hardly seems likely.”

(With inputs from Garima Awasthi)