“Where noble thoughts are translated into effort, a land and its people become sacred.”
Amla Ruia
“Where noble thoughts are translated into effort, a land and its people become sacred.”
It was after much deliberation that I arrived at the title ‘The Silver Raindrops’ for today’s talk. Now that we are saddled with this title, I would like to ask you, “What would you do if droplets of liquid silver started falling?” Would you continue to sit here or run out, quickly place a vessel where you could collect the maximum silver raindrops in a given period of time? Whatever rain falls from the sky is nothing less than silver — which is exactly how our ancestors used to look at rain.
Today, we Mumbaiites associate rains with slush and discomfort and want to get rid of it as though it were the plague! The scenario is likely to worsen because of the indiscriminate felling of trees, greenhouse gases and the pollution of our water and air.
So let us start loving the rain showered on us by Indra Dev. The time has come for us to take a few lessons from our forefathers who managed their water without assistance from the government. The true measure of this skill lies in how they were able to take care of their water needs in the most water-deficient area of India, the Thar desert and regions bordering Rajasthan. Rain-bearing winds start out in two directions for Rajasthan, southwest from the Arabian Sea, and southeast of the Bay of Bengal. Thus, the people of Rajasthan became very conscious of directions and erected beautifully sculpted pillars that indicate the various directions. By the time the winds reach the Aravali Hills, they can deliver only very little rain to most of Rajasthan. It is no wonder that people are looking for the faintest hint of clouds on the horizon.
People in this region have no less than 40 names for clouds, each referring to the cloud’s likely pattern. Anxious they certainly are, but not distraught, because they have fully prepared themselves to catch the silver raindrops. Children’s games are also associated with clouds. There is ‘Aanth Chhote Haath’ (eight little hands). Holding four corners of a bedsheet, children go from door to door asking for a fistful of rain, singing endearing songs of their beloved deity, Krishna.
There is a big psychological and physical lesson to be learnt from this simple exercise. Like little drops of water make the mighty ocean, little grains collected from here and there have the capacity to satisfy everyone’s needs. Taking a cue from the kids, elders take it upon themselves to collect whatever meagre rain falls in the desert into water bodies which are to last them for the whole year. These water bodies in turn recharge their wells where the water remains all year round.
The French Embassy, during their research on water management, came upon two books written by Anupam Mishra, which have been translated into 25 languages. These books have knowledge on our ancestral methods of water harvesting. After having studied these books, the French Embassy said that the Thar desert must be removed from the category of a desert, because a desert is where there is a lack of water, but here, every house has a source of water. Let us see how they implemented this ambitious plan.
The first part was that the mindset of the entire populace was tuned to doing as much harvesting as they can for themselves. When the common man of India joined the great struggle for Independence we could shake off the mighty British empire and, similarly, our forefathers overcame extreme water scarcity by uniting community effort. Mahatma Gandhi was our leader during the struggle for Independence, but for the Rajasthanis, Krishna is the leader and he is enshrined in every heart! This is how each one of them became a leader in the crusade against the scarcity of water. They built a crescent-shaped water body which changed the lives of these people. They took it upon themselves to improve their situation and were able to reach the pinnacle of proficiency in water management. Where noble thoughts are translated into effort, a land and its people become sacred.
They kept their surface water clean. They designed special pillars which were erected to mark the start of the catchment. The people would not encourage a baraat, or hold melas on the catchment ground, nor would they graze their cattle on it lest they leave their droppings there. Another pillar is an indicator of the water level in their water bodies. Each sign shows up to which level what activity can be undertaken.
They built massive tanks which hold up to 3–4 lakh litres of water each, so that no enemy could lay a siege to the fort and pressurise the king into surrendering owing to a lack of drinking water. Another ingenious thing our ancestors did was to plant forests or aranayas in the desert. They would first dig a pond, wait for the rains to fill it, then plant the trees all around. Generation after generation nurtured these sacred groves known as orans, which sounds very similar to urin, meaning becoming debt-free. In this case, the villagers wanted to be free of debt of their ancestors who had planted these groves. No grazing, chopping or pruning would be allowed here. All medicinal herbs were grown and the kingdom of the hot, dust-laden, dune-shifting winds would be restricted as soon as it would come to the edge of this sacred grove.
A well thought out tradition of our forefathers was that each family would be given the responsibility of looking after one species of trees. For instance, if you were nominated to look after the Peepal, your family would continue to do so, generation after generation. Another would take the Ashvat, a third the Kejdi or the Royda, and so on and so forth. Compare their love for the environment with the way we have plundered our planet. Alas! We fall short of their example by a long way.
According to the suitability of the terrain, there is another kind of construction which was practised by our forefathers called Khadeen. It is a very popular and effective way of water harvesting today, and is commonly called the check dam. Here, the masonry work acts as the spill-ware and the urban bund which may extend to as much as 1,300 feet allowing huge quantities of water to be held, forming unbelievable lakes in the desert. This is possible on a hilly terrain where the entire range acts as a catchment for the lake. When this water stands on the dam for some time, chances of a rivulet starting from here become very high.
We have been instrumental in making 151 such check dams at a cost of Rs. 7.5 crores for the villagers. For this year itself, an income of Rs. 189 crores has been generated through cattle rearing and Rs. 130 crores through farming.
Where the underground water and earth is salty, they built the catchment 2–3 feet above the ground so that rainwater remains untouched by the salinity of the soil. A lot of work on these structures is done by women, as most of the able-bodied males have left the village in search of a livelihood. They are always well dressed in colourful clothes and choose to remain ornamented so that their lives don’t feel drab. Their songs picturise Krishna and Radha, working alongside with them, tilling the soil and lifting stones. Thus, they make their drudgery light.
Villagers who actually have no money to spare still manage to contribute by collecting stones and gravel for the structure and contribute through physicial labour. This generates a sense of belonging and ownership, making the development sustainable and long-lasting.
Then there is the absolute flat type of terrain, where there is no run-off and all the water goes straight into the ground. Here, the ancestral way is to build pakka johads, which serve as swimming pools besides fulfilling other needs. They are scientifically designed to catch and hold all the rain water. This can then be accessed for drinking, irrigation or bathing and are so crafted that animals can walk into their own enclosures where the water passes through a small opening.
Let us talk about the really difficult areas with little water and no source. Here we can recall the well-known idiom, ‘necessity is the mother of invention’. About 30–40 feet below the surface of the earth, wherever a hard rock is found, a narrow tunnel like hole is dug vertically. Try to envision the difficulties of digging a deep, deep hole in sandy soil. The experts who undertake this difficult task are known as chejaris or cherwanjis. They work as a twosome. Small quantities of sand are dug by one and the other lifts it up in a little bucket. The sand on all sides of the tunnel is held by the coils of a 3″ rope, freshly prepared from a local grass called kheep. As one advances further down, one more coil of the rope is wound around the tunnel. In places, if need be, mortar is put to hold the rope in position. Where it becomes insufferably hot — 30 feet below the surface — a fistful of scorching sand is thrown from above into the tunnel. The excess heat entering the tunnel sets currents of air in motion and relieves the heat inside. The kui, once ready, will squeeze the moisture from the sand all day long and collect it as water at its base from where people can fill their collapsible buckets made of leather and carry home the precious drinking water. All in all, it speaks of relentless perseverance, their scientific understanding of the elements and their indefatigable spirit.
This talk would hardly be complete without touching upon the following three aspects of working in the field of water.
First is the generation of the highest degree of punya, second, moral development and third, spiritual enhancement. Our shastras have stated in no uncertain terms that the highest punya is bestowed upon us by providing water to the thirsty. We are also indebted to our rural brethren because they provide us with the food that we eat. It therefore becomes our duty to provide sufficient water in some villages at least. It is not necessary to limit ourselves to the village of our origins, as we need to work with a wider perspective and think of the whole country as our own. Mere association with water helps to strengthen the moral fibre of our character. Water embraces everyone with the same degree of affection. It does away with any boundaries and becomes one with every form.
Let us look upon the ground realities of Mumbai. If we practised water harvesting — with the amount of rain we received — we would have been completely water-sufficient. No more theft of water from the villages that lie in the catchments of the lakes — Tansa, Powai and Modak Sagar. No more expensive pipelines to be laid. Do you know that Mumbai takes away all their water and leaves them high and dry? Is this justice? Today, in Alibaug, where a lot of prestigious homes are coming up, there is no municipal water supply and sewage system in some areas. Each property has to manage its own sourcing and disposal. The practice here is to make percolation pits to constantly recharge groundwater. Bores are dug and they yield plentifully because they are being recharged with fresh rainwater. Western thought considers this kind of development the best, as it does away with the laying of expensive pipelines and sewage systems where huge amounts of garbage and toxic wastes have to be accommodated somewhere.
Water harvesting in Mumbai will also do away with floods. Also, as all our water would find its way into the earth, instead of being spilled on the roads, Mother Earth’s thirst would be quenched, and she in turn would provide sufficient water through bores and wells.
So from this day forth, let us all try to be totally joyful about the silver raindrops that are showered on us so plentifully.
Mrs. Ruia has been a very generous donor to the Rotary Foundation in the past and also to the Rotary Foundation via Rotary Club of Queen’s Necklace. Also, Rotary Club of Queen’s City has done a lot of water harvesting work together with Mrs. Ruia.