India’s water wisdom in times of climate crisis

The worst impacts of the unfolding climate crisis, on both people and ecosystems, will be felt through its effect on water. In India, erratic monsoons, prolonged dry spells and extreme rainfall incidents are already overwhelming its 1.3 billion citizens.

Relentless groundwater extraction, unprecedented pollution of surface water, and alienation of communities from their water resources have further compounded the water stress situation across the country.

It doesn’t have to be this way. For decades, environmentalists and social scientists have repeatedly pointed to India’s long history and diversity in water harvesting and conservation. For centuries, Indians have crafted ingenious water conservation system of all size and varieties that channel water from rivers and monsoon runoff and nearby hills and elevated areas.

The water is usually directed to storage tanks, sometimes built in a series, with overflow from one becoming runoff for the subsequent one, like Talaabs, Pokharas, Ahars, Johads, and Eris. There is a plethora of such traditional, low-cost, easy to maintain, and community-run examples of water systems all over the country.

A number of these ancient traditional water harvesting, and irrigation practices have survived the test of time and social upheavals and continue to give sustenance to communities through periods of water scarcity.

Ahar Pyne of Bihar

Ahar Pyne is a 5,000-year-old floodwater harvesting system that evolved during the Mauryan Empire to bring water to the undulating and rocky terrain of Magadh, in south-central Bihar. In Hindi, it means to capture rainwater in channels — Aa (to come), Har (to capture) and Pyne (water channels).

Jalsar Ahar, Siur, Nawada, Bihar. Ahars are reservoirs with an embankment on three sides while Pynes are diversion channels laid from the river or the catchment area for impounding water in the Ahars and channels.

Water supply for an Ahar comes either from natural drainage after rainfall (rainfed Ahars) or through Pynes where necessary diversion works are carried out.

Bansi Mohana Pyne, Sakri River, Bihar. 
Water supply for an Ahar comes either from natural drainage after rainfall (rainfed Ahars) or through Pynes, artificial channels constructed to utilise river water in agricultural fields. It is this system that made paddy cultivation possible in South Bihar, which is otherwise unsuited for this crop

Water for irrigation is drawn out by opening outlets made at different heights in the embankment. It is this system that made paddy cultivation possible in south Bihar, which is otherwise unsuitable for this crop. In particular, it helped farmers meet the crucial water requirement for paddy during hathia (the grain-filling stage).

Pyne, Nawada, Bihar

Pynes are constructed by considering various parameters like the slope of the terrain and the location of crops grown. To create a network of Pynes well-connected with Ahars is a labor-intensive job requiring a considerable amount of work and engineering skills. Ahar and Pyne assist in controlling floods by distributing surplus water into its system. Drought is also managed as it makes water available in the reservoir for a year.
Through this system, one Pyne can irrigate up to 400 acres. For decades, the system is not just used to collect, store, and distribute water but also hold people from various castes and classes together resulting in group action for irrigation operation and maintenance.

Farmers checking Pyne level, Nawada, Bihar

Ahar beds were also used to grow a Rabi (winter) crop after draining out the excess water that remained after Kharif (summer) cultivation. While Ahars irrigating more than 400 ha are not rare, the average area irrigated by an Ahar during the early 20th century was said to be 57 ha.
The area irrigated by the Ahar Pyne systems has witnessed a sharp decline and yet, even today, they constitute nearly three-fourths of the total irrigation facilities in south Bihar. More than 60% of these are defunct, and the rest is poorly managed.
These structures not only have relevance for sustainable water management but also have essential socioeconomic importance as it allows community participation and distribution of responsibilities simultaneously opening alternative avenues for earning a livelihood for the local population.

Paddy fields, Siur, Nawada, Bihar

One Pyne can irrigate up to 400 acres. It helps controls flood and drought and acts as a protecting mechanism for the villages. These channels may be of various sizes. The small ones are those found originating in Ahars and carrying the water of the Ahars to cultivable plots.
Ahar and Pyne assist in controlling floods by distributing surplus water into its system. The routine upkeep work involves cleaning and desilting of Ahar and Pyne and maintaining the water conveyance network is done by the cultivators before the onset of monsoon.

All farmers grow the same crop (paddy) all over the irrigation command around the same dates. As a result, agricultural operations undertaken by all cultivators are similar throughout the irrigation command. Since Ahars and Pynes have to be used collectively, all farmers have to synchronise their operations.

Johad of Uttar Pradesh
Baba Bhurewala Johad, Dhikoli, Baghpat, Uttar Pradesh revived by Development Centre for Alternative Policies

Johad, a crescent-shaped dam of earth and rocks found in Uttar Pradesh, Haryana and the Thar desert of Rajasthan, is probably one of the oldest rainwater harvesting systems in India. Archaeologists have dated some of these rainwater storage structures in India as far back as 1500 BC.

The water collected in a Johad during the monsoon is used for irrigation, drinking, livestock and other domestic purposes while recharging the groundwater. During the dry season, when the water gradually recedes, the land inside the Johad is used for cultivation.

Typically, building a Johad involves digging a pit and shaping the excavated earth into a semi-circular mud barrier. A stone drain is sometimes set up, allowing excess water to seep into the ground or connecting it with Johads nearby. When many Johads are built in one area, they have a cumulative effect, resulting in the replenishment of whole aquifers.

The height of the dam varies from one Johad to another, depending on the site, water flow, contours of the land, etc. In some cases, to ease the water pressure, a masonry structure is added for the outlet of excess water. The water storage area varies from 2 ha to 100 ha. The villagers share the expense, supply labour, and materials like stone, sand, and lime.

Reed bed channel, Dhikoli, Baghpat, Uttar Pradesh

In the 1980s, deforestation, reduced rainfall, depleting groundwater, polluted surface water, and the failure of the modern irrigation and water supply systems brought back attention to the forgotten, decrepit and silted Johads. A mass movement for the revival of traditional methods began in Rajasthan and quickly spread to Haryana and Uttar Pradesh.

In the last 20 years, several innovations have improved the efficiency of the Johads. An initiative by New Delhi-based Development Centre for Alternative Policies (DCAP) in the Dhikoli village of Baghpat district of Uttar Pradesh stands out for replication.

In 2001, the Dhikoli block of Baghpat district of Uttar Pradesh was declared a dark zone by the Central Ground Water Board due to excessive groundwater exploitation. With no sewage system in place, the ponds in Dhikoli, like other villages in Baghpat, were overflowing with domestic sewage. DCAP’s project included an innovative reed- bed system, also known as the biofilter system, for treating wastewater before it reached the ponds.

Shamshan Johad, Dhikoli, Baghpat, Uttar Pradesh

Seven years later the villagers of Dhikoli are benefitting from the higher water table that ensures round the year water supply in their wells but also are grateful to the unique sewage treatment system that has also dealt with the menace of mosquitoes and malaria making this traditional system, that came into existence decades ago, as relevant today as it was then and perhaps even more given the water crisis and problems like water pollution, scarcity and climate change.

A 650 ft long channel — 8 ft deep and 10 ft wide — with weirs that had alternating tiny waterfalls and ditches brought the sewage water and rainwater overflow from the village drain to the lower Johad that was constructed on the panchayat owned land.

Since the project was completed and the three Johads have been able to capture around 5.5 million litres of rainwater per annum from the surrounding catchments per year, recharging the groundwater in the process. In addition, every year, 11 million litres of treated wastewater go into the newly made big Shamshan Johad. Several tube wells downstream of the Johads have also reported an increase in the water table.

Lower Shamshan Johad, Dhikoli, Baghpat, Uttar Pradesh

The success of reviving these traditional practices illustrate the urgent need to reengage communities in water management, using simple, low-cost, traditional and highly efficient systems to ensure water security. They demonstrate how empowered communities, having access to and control over water resources, can significantly contribute to reducing poverty and inequality, and achieve prosperity.
The efforts by local communities in India to improve water availability are lauded universally. A widespread revival of these traditional practices will contribute to India attaining its Sustainable Development Goals and ensuring water security, food security, and disaster risk reduction.

Extracted from Water Wisdom in Times of Climate Crisis, published by Oxfam India for the Transboundary Rivers of South Asia (TROSA) project.
First published on Indiaclimatedialogue.

Glacial lake threatens Sikkim’s heritage village

“Mosquitos and tourists!” Chokdup Lachenpa shouts at no one in particular as he takes a long sip of Tongba (hot beer) from his bamboo mug.  As if on cue, the children chorus, “The first is because of climate change and the second is the cause of climate change,” causing much mirth and laughter among the customers.

We are sitting at Chokdup’s daughter’s tiny teashop-cum-bar in Lachen, a small village perched 2,750 metres above the mean sea level (MSL) on the right bank of the Lachen Chu river in North Sikkim. Outside, in the foggy twilight, across the Himalayas, we can see the headlights of a cavalcade of vans and jeeps that will soon bring hundreds of tourists to Lachen for a night’s halt.

A view of the Lachen Valley

Situated on a grassy mountain slope, surrounded by snow-capped peaks and forests of rhododendrons and conifers, Lachen is so beautiful it has been declared a “heritage village” by the Sikkim government. And that is its problem. The tag is accompanied by “eco-tourism homestays” pushed strongly by bureaucrats.

It is the last stop for tourists going to Gurudongmar Lake, 5,430 metres above sea level. Buddhists and Sikhs consider the lake sacred. Now, tourists from Maharashtra and Gujarat seem to be competing with the peripatetic Bengalis to make Lachen the number one tourist attraction in North Sikkim.

Feeling the heat

What most of the tourists won’t know is that Lachen valley is facing a massive climate crisis. Behind those welcoming smiles, the Lachenpas – the local residents, an indigenous tribe of the Bhutia community – are a worried lot. Reduced snowfall, unseasonal rains and the forest fires of last summer have made them all very anxious.

To make matters worse and potentially dangerous, Lachen is in the path of the streams flowing down from the growing Lake Shako Cho. The lake at the snout of the glacier by the same name is growing because the glacier is melting faster. It is identified to be at high risk of causing a glacial lake outburst flood, a type of flood that occurs when the gravel holding in such a lake collapses.

A dried up snow stream in Lachen

According to an independent risk assessment modelling by a group of scientists led by R. Worni, “The natural gravel embankment holding the Shako Cho Lake inside could burst at any time, releasing a tidal wave of water. Thangu, a village of about 100 homes immediately below the lake, would be obliterated. The ensuing flood could also demolish houses here in Lachen, 11 miles farther downstream, especially those near to the unstable bluffs of the lake-fed river that runs just east of the village.”

Climate change and glaciers

Climate change is already decimating mountain glaciers almost everywhere on earth at the rate of 3% every year. In India, Himalayan glaciers have lost about 10% of their volume in the past four decades. The Jemu Glacier, not very far from Lachen, has retreated by around 20 metres per year during 1975-90, scientist Jagadish Bahadur wrote in his book titled Himalayan Snow and Glaciers – Associated Environmental Problems, Progress and Prospects.

Even Gurudongmar Lake, the local attraction, has shrunk considerably, according to the residents, raising a question about the sustainability of the tourism industry. The rich biodiversity is also at risk.

“Lachen was the first village to ban plastic water bottles in India. We have always practised organic farming, we have no industry that emits carbon dioxide, we have no emissions, we own very little, nothing compared to the people from the cities,” Hishey Lachenpa states as she serves me another glass of hot tea.

Hishey Lachenpa in her tea shop

The rest of the teashop customers have left to placate the tourists emerging, after slamming car doors, the babble of Marathi, Gujarati and Bengali demanding tea, hot bath water, soda, room heaters and food.

Hishey is 18 years old and studies in class 12 in a public school near Gangtok. She is back home during the summer vacation to help her mother, who has converted a tiny 12 x 12 feet toehold into her home, grocery store, teashop and bar. Hishey’s father is a monk and rarely visits them. She sleeps here with her mother, sister and an adopted younger brother.

“This year we had very little snowfall. Normally we have snowfall from December to February. This year we had snow only in December and then a little in January. But the rains seem to have come early. It will surely affect the potato farmers in Thangu.” Hishey, who has studied climate change at school, says with some authority. Numerous studies have shown that climate warming has forced plants and animals to higher altitudes.

A flash of lightning heralds the long threatened storm. Two men walk into the teashop with the news that a landslide has blocked the road to Gurudongmar lake and the Indian Army can do nothing about it until the next day. So there is no need to wake up and leave at 3 the next morning. They buy two nips of rum, borrow two glasses and disappear quickly.

Traditional houses in Lachen

Gatuk Lachenpa’s house is the oldest in town, a simple two-storeyed stone, earth and lime structure that withstood the September 18, 2011 earthquake. But almost 70% of such old houses in Lachen have now been torn down to make way for gaudily painted, hurriedly built, brick and cement tower blocks, which look most fragile and unsafe, but will help maximise the benefits of tourism.

“Traditionally, Lachenpas used to cultivate barley, maize and buck wheat for their staple and potatoes, turnips, radishes, cauliflowers for their vegetables. But due to erratic weather and fear of water scarcity in the future, most of them are increasingly abandoning their farms to profit from the booming tourism business,” says Gatuk, a farmer who has just built a 50-room hotel, right next to his ancestral home in the middle of the village.

Minimising negative impacts

“Peak tourist seasons are March through May and September through November.  Seventy percent of tourists passing through Lachen are Indians. They typically stay 1–2 nights in Lachen before heading off to Gurudongmar Lake. It is good business. We have to make the most of it till it lasts. While maximising the benefits of tourism, we have to minimize its negative impacts.”  Gatuk says.

Angden Lama Peak seen from Lachen

Measures like banning plastic drinking water bottles and segregated garbage management and replanting of trees are seen as steps towards minimising the negative impacts of tourism. But Lachenpas do not know how to cope with climate change impacts and least of all about what to do if the lake overhead bursts its banks.

Sikkim’s chief minister Pawan Chamling had once famously said, “Sikkim is a mini-theatre which in a way displays how climate change triggered by non-natural forces at the global level could bring disastrous natural calamities.”

Lachen clearly is the main stage where all the catastrophic scenarios predicted by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) are being played out every day.

“The biggest worry is water scarcity. We used to get about 10 feet of snow but last few years we have only received 2 feet. The barren patches on the Angden Lama peak where our water comes from is a constant reminder of how climate change will change everything for us in the near future.” says Palzar Lachenpa, the current Pipon of Lachen, the traditionally elected head of the local government, the Dzumsa.

“We have only just recovered from the devastation caused by the 6.9 magnitude earthquake of September 2011. All the houses have been rebuilt. Many have added extra rooms to accommodate more tourists. We will never be able to recover from another disaster. We know we are sitting right under its nose, but what can we do?” Gatuk says worriedly about Shako Cho Lake.

Climate calamity

Unseasonal rainfall, unusually stormy weather, landslides, receding glaciers, short winters, accelerated snowmelt, longer summers, fears of water scarcity, failed crops, mosquitoes, crows, tourism pressures and the clear and present of a lake that can burst its banks – Lachen is in grip of a climate calamity but this finds no mention in the Sikkim’s State Action Plan on Climate Change.

“We are doing more than our fair share to reduce carbon emissions but we need more information on adaptation to climate change, we have very little understanding of what is happening. Everything is unpredictable now — rain, snow, summer, winter, everything. We need precise weather information, we need early warnings systems and we need better predictions. More information, any information, to help me and the Dzumsa to better prepare our people for what is to come,” says the Pipon.

First publised on thethirdpole.net .