Mother Ganges

There are more than a hundred names for a river in northern India. It begins in the Garhwal Himalaya and travels about 1,550 miles to the Bay of Bengal after falling more than 14,000 feet from the Gangotri Glacier terminus. It is more than simply a river for almost a billion Hindus in India and throughout the world. It is the extension of the divine—Lord Shiva. The Ganges River not only carries the prayers of devotees who visit its waters, but it also supports hundreds of millions of people, a large industry, agriculture, and threatened

species like the Bengal tiger and the susu, a blind freshwater dolphin. Ma Ganga—Mother Ganga—is how it is most well known among Indians. For Westerners, it is the Ganges, one of the world’s most revered rivers.

It was a straightforward concept. From its source, follow the sacred waters of this river to the sea. Follow the Ganges watershed from its peak through the Himalaya, over the Gangetic plain, and through the delta until it touches the sea. The trip down India’s lifeline river would be the typical, age-old one, offering a glimpse into the nation’s culture, religion, industry, birth, rites, love, and even death. The aim would be to record the river, its surroundings, and even water quality along the way.

I knew enough about the world through which the river flowed from a prior assignment for National Geographic, where I had traveled to the Ganges many years before, to understand one crucial fact: A sourcetosea mission is theoretically easy. It would be frightening to undertake it. The logistics of every sourcetosea assignment are extremely difficult. They may be confusing in India. Near distant headwaters, communication is either nonexistent or restricted. It may take six months to a year for the permit procedure to bury you in red tape. The process of hiring a helicopter for a scouting/filming trip started nine months ago. The trip itself would last six weeks.

Being a visual storyteller, I was aware that there would be an unavoidable dilemma in the midst of the multitude of beauty, rawness, and chaotic energy that makes up India’s tapestry of life: where and when should I aim the camera?

Have they succeeded, though? I ask in order to keep the philistines away. Although many original owners have sold their land to outsiders, Nandagopal notes that “Thankfully, most of the newcomers have artistic sensibilities and don’t disturb the ethos. ” It would be hopeful to assume that this will persist or that future generations will continue the Cholamandal tradition. Unfortunately, unlike plots of land, art is not as easily influenced by favorable genes. Although the

Our primary challenge, aside from the logistical minefield of permits, communication, and transportation, would be to convey the fervor and respect that people have for their favorite waterway, which drains the southern Himalayas. People from all walks of life, including pilgrims, politicians, socialites, and sadhus, visit the river’s banks to pray, bathe, or simply marvel at its strength. With the exception of hydropower operators and a handful of recreationalists (boaters and fishermen), many rivers around the world frequently go unnoticed. However, the Indian people welcome the Ganges with open arms. And they accomplish this by praying on the river’s banks every day across the whole watershed. Formal prayer meetings featuring music, fire, and speeches are held daily in the sacred cities of Rishikesh, Haridwar, and Varanasi. They are known as aarti, which some people refer to as the “Hindu happy hour.

However, the hundreds of millions of people that use the river give it this collective, spiritual embrace at a price. Pollution and a lack of environmental consciousness are clearly evident throughout much of the watershed. Furthermore, a basic mindset that runs through the same individuals who worship the river’s sacred flow only exacerbates the issues in many regions. This mindset believes that the river is God and, as such, is immune to the risks of overuse, pollution, and environmental damage. In conclusion, people think that the healing effects of the Ganges will cure not just us, but also the river itself. The Ganges paradox is an absurd ecological dilemma, if you will.

This dilemma raises a question for me: What happens to the spiritual force if the actual river perishes?

When I asked Indians whether the Ganges could ever die, many of them answered evasively but admitted to being worried about pollution. One woman, who has resided on the banks of the Ganges for eighteen years, declared with conviction, “If the Ganges dies, we all die. Society dies. ” “After years of cleaning our sins, now it is time to clean the sins placed upon Ma Ganga,” says Madhav, a Hindu monk who grew up traveling the river and who served as my friend and translator for the voyage. The majority seems to concur. One of the main planks of Narenda Modi’s platform in thqqe recent election that resulted in his victory as India’s new prime minister was cleaning the Ganges. Earlier in July, his administration unveiled a 340 million dollar budget for that purpose, which raised expectations throughout the nation.

By covering every conceivable mile of the Ganges, we hoped to gain a deeper understanding of the Ganges conundrum and perhaps even discover answers. We also embraced Ma Ganga day and night, together with expert climbers Jake Norton and Dave Morton. As a translator/guide, Madhav would accompany us downstream. The unclimbed, 22,487-foot Chaukhamba IV summit, which looms over the Gangotri Glacier as if guarding it, would have been our planned beginning point for the expedition.

I worried about the miles of challenges ahead of us as questions of this river’s health rushed through my head. Is it possible to attend the main aarti ceremony in Haridwar? Is it permitted to film in Kanpur’s tannery? The decaying splendor of Varanasi is best captured in what way? Would we even arrive at Sagar Island? Is it possible for us to stay in good health?

Our initial lesson about the river presented itself when we arrived in August 2013, immediately following a record monsoon that caused a glacial outburst flood: The Ganges both provides and takes away. More than 6,000 individuals perished, and thousands more were said to be missing. Miles of roads were destroyed, and entire hillsides were left exposed. Whole towns were obliterated. Our journey took us through communities that grieved with unwavering fortitude. And as we trudged north, I questioned whether it made sense to travel eight days past civilization in order to try an unclimbed summit. The river gods, whether Hindu or not, didn’t seem pleased.

However, we persevered. Our snow/water samples could contribute to the narrative of this besieged, revered watershed. Furthermore, documenting the numerous individuals who live, survive, revere, and even detest this magnificent stretch of water may aid in resolving one of its puzzling mysteries. At least we would include a chapter in the developing tale of a river known as Ma—Mother.