Book Excerpt: An ancient legend explains why the Chambal is India’s cleanest river

A gharial on the banks of the Chambal river in Rajasthan. Photo: iStock

The Chambal is a tributary of the Yamuna, which ultimately flows into the Ganga. Each confluence is not just a merging of waters but also the intersection of vital lifelines that harbour India’s riverine fauna. The Chambal provides habitat for an array of aquatic species as well as various creatures that live on its banks. For a fish, a turtle, or a crocodile, flowing water is not just its home but also its frame of reference, the enveloping consciousness that an animal occupies and experiences. Each species that inhabits the Chambal knows this river through an inherent awareness of its transient nature, the way the current moves over, under, and around them. They are as much a part of the river as it is a part of them.

Drifting on the still surface of the Chambal, soon after dawn, we glide past a pair of gharial, both more than 4 metres long. These huge reptiles lie basking on the sandy riverbank in the early light. Their narrow snouts are almost a fifth of their length and lined with sharp teeth that protrude on either side of their jaws. Though gharial may look ferocious they feed almost exclusively on fish and pose no threat to human beings. The male has a bulbous nose, like 228 the cobra’s gaze an oversized wart. This round protuberance, consisting mostly of cartilage, is the source of the gharial’s name because it looks like a clay waterpot, called a ghara in Hindi. Males use it to make buzzing sounds to attract their mates and to signal their presence to other males. They also produce a loud clapping sound by snapping their jaws shut. Out of the water, gharial appear clumsy and awkward, disproportionately fat in the middle, with relatively small legs. But as soon as they slide into the water, they move swiftly and gracefully, propelled by powerful tails.

In Hindu mythology, the goddess Ganga’s vahana or sacred vehicle is the makara, a mythical creature, usually depicted with the head of a lion, the trunk of an elephant, and the tail of a fish. Some have suggested that the makara is a stylized representation of a gharial, while others believe this composite creature is more like a freshwater dolphin which has a similar snout. Both species are found in the Ganga and either could serve as an auspicious symbol of the river they inhabit.

Fossils of gharial, dating back at least 5 million years, have been unearthed in the Shivalik Range at the foot of the Himalaya. These crocodiles evolved in South Asia’s ancient waterways and are endemic to this region. Images of them, easily recognizable because of their distinctive snouts, are found on clay seals from the Indus Valley Civilization. They were once common in most North Indian rivers but by the middle of the twentieth century, gharial had been almost wiped out through hunting and destruction of their eggs. Estimates from 1974 placed the total number, at that time, as no more than 250. Protection of habitat and captive breeding programs have rescued gharial from near extinction, though they are still severely threatened. The Chambal River Sanctuary, which extends for roughly 400 kilometres along the state borders of Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, and Uttar Pradesh, is one of several places where gharial have been reintroduced and this part of the river now has a relatively stable population that is slowly recovering. A female gharial lays anywhere from 25 to 80 eggs which are buried in the sand and hatch after roughly seventy days. In an unusual reversal of gender roles, the responsibility for protecting offspring is assumed by male gharials, not all of whom may have fathered the newborn hatchlings that take shelter on their backs and heads until they can fend for themselves.

Unlike the Yamuna and the Ganga, into which its waters flow, the Chambal is not considered a sacred river and there are no temples, pilgrimage sites, and bathing ghats on its banks. Few large towns are situated along the Chambal and as a result the river has been spared the worst forms of pollution like industrial effluents and urban sewage. Draining from both the Vindhya Mountains and the southern part of the Aravalli Range, the Chambal flows just over 1,000 kilometres before joining the Yamuna. Several dams have been built along the upper reaches of the river, which affect the flow and restrict the migration of fish and other aquafauna. Sand mining also threatens the habitat of rare species that breed on its shores. The final stretch of the Chambal, roughly 150 kilometres before its confluence with the Yamuna, is fed by numerous ravines that carry seasonal run-off into the river, more than doubling its volume during the monsoon.

The Chambal Ravines are famous for being a lawless maze of wild, eroded terrain where legendary dacoits hid out. Part of the reason this region became a refuge for bandits was because the Chambal serves as the state border between Uttar Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh. Dacoits were able to escape back and forth across the river after committing their crimes. The most famous of the Chambal dacoits was Daku Man Singh, whose village, Rathore, lies near the section of the river I am visiting.

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Bachchu Singh, a naturalist and guide accompanying me, recounts legends of these dacoits, along with the mythology and folklore of the river, which is said to be cursed. He tells me the story of an ancient king named Rantideva who performed an epic yagna, or sacrifice, in which thousands of animals were slaughtered. Their blood turned the river red and its banks were littered with rotting carcasses and hides. The Mahabharata contains a reference to this river, which is called Charmanvati, referring to leather drying on its banks. Chambal is believed to be a derivation of that name. Because of the bloodshed and pollution caused by this wanton sacrifice, Bachchu explains that the Chambal is considered unclean. He also mentions that the infamous episode in the Mahabharata, when the Kauravas attempted to strip off Draupadi’s sari, also occurred nearby. For this reason, Draupadi cursed the river, saying that anyone who drank its waters would be consumed by an irrepressible urge to seek vengeance. Ironically, the river’s tainted mythology has spared the Chambal from excessive human encroachment and made it one of the cleanest and least polluted rivers in India.

Excerpted with permission from The Cobra’s Gaze: Exploring India’s Wild Heritage by Stephen Alter. @2024 Aleph