Nayar river is vanishing — a yatra reveals conservation goes beyond science and policy
A Nayar river yatra (procession) from source to confluence was recently undertaken in Uttarakhand to explore the river in its entirety through ecological, philosophical, environmental, social, economic and cultural lenses. In an age when climate change and global warming dominate public discourse, the journey aimed to rediscover the deeper significance of this quiet Himalayan river for our collective future.
Held from April 21 to 28, 2025, the expedition traced the course of the non-glacial Nayar river from the alpine meadows or bugyals of Doodhatoli in Uttarakhand. Inspired by Aristotle’s idea that “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts,” the yatra became an inquiry into the deep interconnections between people and nature.
Echoing the spirit of the Askot-Arakot Yatra, this initiative focused on the subtle but lasting changes in the fragile Himalayan landscape, encouraging participants to engage with the river not merely as a waterbody but as a living force shaping local life, culture and ecology.
The environmental caravan brought together researchers, writers, environmentalists and students. Its goal was not merely to observe the Nayar river but to understand it as a living ecological system connected to the region’s geography, culture and economy. Flowing through Uttarakhand’s Himalayan landscape, the journey offered key insights into water conservation, sustainability and community stewardship.
The river is a lifeline that sustains the region’s biodiversity, agricultural traditions, cultural memory and rural livelihoods. Sadly, this once-sacred stream is now crying for help, seeking rejuvenation.
Doodhatoli forest origin point for Nayar
Rising between 2,000 and 2,400 metres across Chamoli, Pauri and Almora districts, Doodhatoli is known as the “Pamir of Uttarakhand” for its ecological and strategic value. It hosts alpine meadows, natural grazing lands and dense forests of deodar, kharsu and kail. It is also hydrologically vital, giving rise to five non-glacial rivers — Western Ramganga, Atagad, Western Nayar, Eastern Nayar and Vuno — that sustain the region’s ecology, agriculture and culture.
The Nayar river does not originate from a single spring; rather, it is formed by the confluence of thousands of rivulets emerging from bugyals, agricultural fields, villages, village forests, man-made water harvesting structures (chal-khals) and vegetation-fed streams.
From Doodhatoli, two rivulets begin: one flowing east as the Eastern Nayar and the other west as the Western Nayar. They meet near Bhanghat (close to Satpuli), forming the Nayar, which eventually joins the Ganga at Vyasghat.
Therefore, to protect this vital non-glacial river, conserving only Doodhatoli is insufficient. All feeder villages, forests and traditional water sources, each contributing life and flow to the river, must be protected.
Traditional pastoralism and forest protection laws
‘Doodhatoli’, meaning ‘vessel of milk’ in Garhwali, once sustained a thriving pastoral economy. Around 50,000 cattle grazed in its lush meadows and dairy products from seasonal shelters (chhanis) were sent to distant villages. The name reflects the region’s former abundance, likened to a bowl brimming with milk.
This harmony was disrupted by strict forest protection laws that discouraged pastoralism, forest produce collection and seasonal shelter use. As a result, traditional land care practices — like enriching soil with organic manure and aerating it through grazing — have declined, harming forest health and reducing water discharge.
Today, only a few elders return in summer to honour these traditions. With limited jobs, innovation and rigid policies, the younger generation is leaving. Doodhatoli now stands as a quiet witness to ecological change and a fading cultural legacy — urging thoughtful revival.
After the Chipko Movement, forest management in Uttarakhand underwent major changes. Intense debates emerged about the ecological impact of traditional pastoralism—particularly grazing in bugyals—on the fragile Himalayan ecosystem. While some argue grazing causes harm, others believe regulated, seasonal grazing supports ecological balance and helps herbs and flowers thrive.
During the yatra, travellers noted that the grazing ban in Doodhatoli’s bugyals has negatively affected the ecology. Old trees are drying, some have fallen and there is little new plant growth—signs of disrupted natural regeneration. Grazing has been absent here for decades.
Several scientific studies support regulated grazing. A 2010 paper published in the journal Ecology Letters showed how it aids biomass balance, nutrient cycling, and vegetation health.
In Chamoli’s Valley of Flowers, the grazing ban led to the dominance of a few grasses, reduced biodiversity and increased fire risk. A 2003 paper in the journal Plant and Soil and a 2005 paper in the journal Conservation Biology also found that stopping grazing can harm biodiversity. Many experts now recommend rotational grazing to restore ecological health.
Nayar river struggling to survive
The Nayar river is facing a severe and complex crisis. A 2017-18 report by India’s Department of Science and Technology on Himalayan water sources revealed that nearly 50 per cent of perennial sources in the region have dried up or seen major decline.
Multiple factors contribute to this: the breakdown of community-forest ties, neglect of traditional systems like khals and chals, farmland abandonment and a contract-driven government planning model. Schemes like Har Ghar Nal, Har Ghar Jal extract water from distant sources without efforts to revive traditional ones. Over 50 pumping stations now operate in the Nayar basin, drawing water but returning only pollution.
Meanwhile, climate change, falling recharge levels and unchecked urbanisation are further depleting the river. Aquatic species like the golden mahseer are nearing extinction, reflecting the river’s deteriorating health.
What were the yatra taught us
The Nayar river yatra was more than a geographic exploration, it was an ecological pilgrimage. Two groups traced the Eastern and Western Nayar to their confluence at Satpuli, then walked together to Vyasghat. The aim was to revive emotional and cultural bonds between local communities and the river. Through dialogues, folk songs, rituals, and community pledges, the idea of river conservation was brought back into public consciousness.
Key recommendations included:
Afforestation with native species,
Revival of seasonal, regulated grazing,
Protection of traditional water sources, and
Integrated river basin management.
Saving non-glacial rivers like the Nayar calls for long-term cultural and community-driven efforts beyond just technical fixes.
The Nayar river journey revealed that conservation goes beyond science and policy — it is tied to memory, folk culture and collective identity. Nayar represents the connection between humans and nature; by bridging science and culture, the journey showed that saving a river means saving a civilisation.
The crisis of drying Himalayan rivers urges us to rethink development and restore our bond with nature. The Nayar journey is a shared new beginning — where saving the river is saving ourselves.
Prem Bahukhandi is trustee, Friends of Himalaya
Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth