Jagmohan Sharma
“O” the people of Jammu, pay attention and listen to me carefully. I am an important part of Jammu’s landscape. I am an important element of Jammu’s heritage. I take pride in the fact that Ienjoy the status of the lifeline of the people of Jammu.
I was named Ranbir Canal by a State Council Resolution on 05.11.1903 during Maharaja Pratap Sing’s reign. This name was assigned to me even before I came to in habit this world. In that sense 5th of November is my birthday. Jammuites have forgotten this important date, but I haven’t.
How can I?!It’s my birthday after all!
My worldly and active existence came into being, though, in 1905when waters were diverted from the left bank of the Chenab River (Chandra-Bhaga) and with great gusto started flowing along my newly constructed banks, my robust shoulders. It was a sheer delight as I felt the ice-cold waters flowing through my lap into parched lands. I could feel the delightful fragrance of mother earth after my waters came in contact with the parched dry soil.
My birth wasn’t simple. There were quite a few still-birth seven during the reign of Maharaja Ranbir Singh, as the prevalent technology and engineers of the time were unable to design the slope that could easily roll the waters from River Chenab to the intended areas of Jammu’s periphery, RS Pura and Samba. These areas were largely dry, draught prone and craving for water through the ages. These areas completely depended upon rainfall to meet their water requirements. Any failure of rains meant draught and continuing hardships for the people of the region.
It is unimaginable for Jammuites today to understand the magnitude of difficulties faced by the people of these areas which were bereft of water in those days and the kind of life the inhabitants of these areas were compelled to live in. These areas had no possibility of prosperity. There was no agriculture or horticulture. Humans, animals, birds and other living beings would thirst for water. Making arrangements for water was a full-time job, especially for the woman folk.
Maharaja Pratap Singh was fully abreast of the difficulties being faced by the people of these areas. He wasn’t deterred by the failed attempts to construct the canal during Maharaja Ranbir Singh’s time or thereafter and did not give in. He ensured that the clean and cool waters of the River Chenab reached the parched plains of Jammu, RS Pura and Samba to quench thirst of the people and the animals and flora-fauna alike and meet their irrigation and other requirements. It wasn’t easy but he constructed 60 km of my main body and around 400 km of smaller arteries feeding water to far flung villages. Cart roads were also constructed along my banks which facilitated the movement of people.
I vividly remember the jubilation in the areas where waters started flowing for the first time. I could hear and feel the joy of the young, old, women and children. I could hear their heart throb in delight. I could hear them sing, dance and pray to the Almighty for the arrival of water in their areas. I could understand this as their dreams of a better future were now possible. It’s a different matter that my own heart took a dip and gave me some anxious moments while my waters crossed underneath the wide expanse of River Tawi. The anxiety didn’t last too long as my waters came out again on the opposite side of the river.
My water also operated a small hydro power station (quite big for those days) with a capacity of around 3KW. Electricity from this powerhouse was used to lift water from Tawi river for the people of Jammu city. Thereafter, the hitherto operating steam run machine was shut down. I am told that the power house fed power to a few houses as well and lit them up. Today, the powerhouse doesn’t work but the heritage building in which the old machines are housed stands stoically as a memorial to the glory of the past. I have a hope that someday the building will be converted into a museum exhibiting the journey of power sector in Jammu and Kashmir along with a tinkering lab for the students interested in various aspects and dimensions of power sector.
Now I am almost 120 years old. I have been a part of the joys and sorrows of the people of Jammu all through these years. I’ve been witness to people dipping their mangoes and melons in my icy waters and relishing them on my banks to the accompaniment of chatting, laughter and joy during the hot summer months. I’ve seen children jumping into my waters and splashing it over their friends and colleagues. I’ve felt a sense of pride when many of these children learnt swimming in my lap. I am witness to people taking walks on my banks which are now in the process of being beautified and renovated. I’ve seen people taking walks, chatting and exercising in open air gyms established along my banks. I am also witness to the joy of mighty chinar trees on my banks that have grown to their fullness providing cool shade to the humans. I am also witness to the grand “melas” that would be organized on my banks especially on Baisakhi.
However, over the last few years, I have started feeling a sense of anxiety and a feeling of fear for my life. Candidly speaking I am fearful of my continuing existence. My banks are being beautified, but my soul is squirming. My beautified banks have no meaning unless my soul is pure, clean and pollution free.
My soul shivers and my heart sinks when I feel the plunge of garbage filled polyethylene bags and rubbish of several types into my soul, my waters. I find people with glitzy cars and wearing costly costumes stopping along my banks and over my bridges and unashamedly dropping their unwanted stuff into my waters.
In fact I am being treated as a garbage dumping body by the rich, the poor, literate and illiterate, men and women. They belong to every stratum of society. However, I am shocked more by those who carry an air of being literate/educated and pollute my waters proudly. Once upon a time my pristine waters were considered to bepious. I can’t understand as to how society hopes for betterment of its “Bhagya” while playing with the “Bhagya” of the pristineand piouswaters of Chandrabhaga flowing calmly and gracefully between my banks.
It’s a tragedy of sorts that the people of the yore, who today are termed as ignorant, elevated the status of the rivers and water bodies to a level of gods and goddesses while the modern breed of “educated” ones have no qualms about filling up these water bodies with garbage. This status of gods and goddesses was attributed to the water bodies so that the society in general would respect their piousness and would instinctively refrain from polluting them for good of the community.
It’s unfortunate that more the society reaped the benefits of the “modern education” the more they became the polluters of the environment and especially of water bodies.
A walk along my banks will reveal hundreds of locations where garbage is just dumped. Even the large garbage collection bins are placed along my banks and are usually overflowing into the canal.
I am also witness to the several religious ceremonies that are performed by the followers of Sanatan Dharm on the “Ghats” along my banks. One such “ghat” is built near a place called Muthi. I have been witness to thousands of families performing ‘shradh’ ceremony in memory of the deceased members of their respective families and friends over the years. As part of the ceremonies the “Sanatnis” are required totake a dip in my waters.
I feel like screaming and warning these people not to touch my waters or to take a dip in it as there is a nullah (flowing from inhabitation above)spewing all kinds of polluted contents into my body just 500 meters upstream. These people are literally “purifying” themselves with polluted and contaminated waters. I want to tell them that they must go home to take a bath instead of taking a dip here, but I can’t because I don’t have a voice. I am voiceless!!
This is not the only place where dirty nullahs from nearby localities exit their dirty content into my waters. There are several others too, all along my length. Sometimes I feel like a sewage carrier rather than a water carrier. I pity myself as I stink. My soul feels the pain because of the continuous pollution caused by humans inhabiting along my banks as well as those coming from far and wide to torture my soul. My soul is blistered!!This is not what Maharaja Pratap Singh had built me for. He must be feeling disillusioned and disgusted with the people of Jammu; very, very disillusioned and disgusted!!
Pray “O” Jammuites!!
This suffering of mine should end, not for my sake but for you and for your generations to come. You are taking my waters and their bounties for guaranteed, but I can foresee that your actions and activities will very soon cause my extinction. Your garbage bags have already blocked several of my arteries. The pollutants are poisoning the ground water. In the immediate future the world-famous rice crops of RS Pura and vegetables will also be impacted. Human and animal health will also be adversely impacted because of your irresponsible behavior and wayward and rowdy attitude towards me.
It is high time that the people of Jammu, the civil society and the Government put their resources together to give relief to my body and soul so that the future generations can continuously reap the benefits of my presence and my waters. I pray for good sense – “sadbuddhi” – to all the stakeholders.
Remember, I am Ranbir Canal and your existence is closely linked to mine. If I continue to exist continuously you will also exist in continuum or else be ready for a catastrophe of your own making. Don’t tell me tomorrow that I didn’t warn you. This is a warning from me – the voiceless Ranbir Canal!!
Remember the old Dogri adage: “Manav jutha, paaninahaye; paanijuthakithe jaaye” – a polluted human can purify him/herself with water; but where can polluted water go for purification.”
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