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SCIENCE: LEGACY
Search for the SarasvatiSpawned by the myths of history, the legend of a mighty
river endures. A new project to find it could revive an ancient legacy and some of
Rajasthan's parched lands.
By Rohit Parihar and Samar
Halarnkar
The early September sun is fierce enough to set off a
life-imperilling heat stroke. The earth is parched enough to decimate all but the hardiest
of plants. Out here in the cradle of the great Thar desert, on the wind-blown dunes of
Ghantiyal Ji near Longewala -- made famous by a valiant last stand of Indian infantry
against invading Pakistani tanks in 1965 -- the land is notoriously unforgiving.
About 400 km from the dunes in Jodhpur, a team of government
scientists and technicians ready a giant jackhammer drill mounted on a truck, some four
times larger than the ubiquitous rigs that drill for water. Next month monsters like this
will be hauled to the desert, first to the dunes of Ghantiyal Ji and later to seven other
sites in Rajasthan. From their three-storey-high masts, a rotating mechanical jaw with
teeth of superhard diamond will eat into the earth. It will pull up undisturbed, layered
cores of sediment and water from 70 m below the surface. The cores are like calendars:
each layer will reveal a snapshot of a past era, each foot tells the tale -- the climate,
the geography -- of a few hundred years.
It is an epochal history that the dunes hide. For, an excited
band of remote-sensing specialists, hydrogeologists, archaeologists and historians is
increasingly convinced the cores will prove a once-shaky theory that has gained much
ground this decade: this arid wasteland was once the lush basin of the mystical, lost
Sarasvati, a mighty river that spawned religious legends -- and a prehistoric culture not
yet properly recorded in our history books. In the feverish hunt to find more Indus Valley
sites, archaeologists have already uncovered a vast civilisation that they now say centred
not just on the Indus but on a mightier river to its east, a river that does not exist
today
Yet it is not just the lost pages of history this diverse
bunch of scientists seek. "Primarily, the search for ancient river channels is to
fulfil a current need," says D.C. Sharma, chief hydrogeologist of the Rajasthan
Ground Water Board, Jodhpur. "Such channels, as initial surveys reveal, have immense
scope of providing sweet water for drinking and irrigation in saline areas." It is an
attempt to bring succour to Rajasthan's parched present. In 1996, Indian remote-sensing
satellites found evidence of groundwater sanctuaries below the lost river's supposed bed,
which first showed up in 1970 satellite imageries. Desert specialists guided drilling rigs
to some of these ancient aquifers. When the water was carbon dated at the Bhabha Atomic
Research Centre (BARC) in Trombay, it was estimated to be 3,000 to 4,000 years old. This
was the era of the Rig Veda, the ancient Aryan scripture that time and again provides
tantalising references to the existence of the Sarasvati. If the course of the Sarasvati
is properly tracked and established, its old channel could also conceivably be used as a
conduit for canal waters to recharge its forgotten aquifers.
Now "The Reconstruction of Palaeo Drainage
Network in Western Rajasthan" -- as the project is cautiously called to avoid any
semblance of official encouragement of a Hindu slant to ancient history -- has pulled
together scientists from a variety of disciplines. The Central Ground Water Board will
coordinate the Rs 1.5 crore Sarasvati project. The state board has already carried out
geological surveys to identify the type of water available, its quality and its depth,
based on data from satellite images provided by the Space Applications Centre, Ahmedabad.
The Central Arid Zone Research Institute (CAZRI), Jodhpur, has already established the
rough course of some buried channels. At Ghantiyal Ji, scientists from the Physical
Research Laboratory (PRL), Ahmedabad, will collect sediment samples and establish their
age; BARC scientists will do the same for the water drawn.
Enthused by the prospect of finding water where there was
believed to be none, the Rajiv Gandhi National Drinking Water Mission has already
sanctioned Rs 50 lakh, with another Rs 39 lakh to come. Every participating institution
will also pay for its own expenses. Next month's drilling will be followed by seven more
such exercises over an area of 1,000 sq km along strips that satellite imageries and
geological field surveys have strongly indicated to be the courses of ancient rivers. Half
these sites are just above what is now believed to be the last course of the Vedic
Sarasvati before it disappeared around 1500 b.c.
Ghantiyal Ji is one of the five locations marked along a
60-km strip of land that is located above an ancient water channel, believed to be an
isolated section of the Sarasvati around the area where it petered out into the desert in
the time of its geological death throes. Experimental drillings have yielded sweet water
just 30 m below the surface. "We are beginning from the end," says K.S.
Srivastava, a senior government hydrogeologist. "Success here will take us
backtracking along the Sarasvati's course to look for similar channels."
Ambitame, naditame, devitame, Sarasvati. O best of mothers, O
best of rivers, O best of goddesses, Sarasvati. About 4,500 years after the Sarasvati was
eulogised thus in the Rig Veda, many prepare today for its rebirth in India's collective
consciousness. The government drilling project is a great official boost to a band of
scientists and enthusiasts devoted to the legend of the revered river. Some are religious
scholars, some are serious scientists, some are simply fascinated at the prospect of a
mythological rediscovery. Since the '70s they have put together an impressive body of
anecdotal, Vedic and scientific evidence to prove that the Sarasvati was a fact, not an
exotic tale of a vast, underground river still flowing somewhere deep below the
subcontinental mass. "That is purely a myth," laughs V.N. Misra, director of the
department of archaeology at the Deccan College, Pune. "But the subject has been of
interest since the last century."
It was an English engineer called C.F. Oldham who sparked off
the modern search for the Sarasvati. About 100 years ago he was riding on horseback
through the dry bed of the puny, seasonal Ghaggar river, when he realised that there was
no reason it should have a breadth of 3 km in places -- unless it simply occupied the bed
of a much vaster river. He seemed to be right.
In the mid '70s, Bimal Ghose, a geomorphologist at CAZRI
pored over black-and-white images from the satellites of the time. Ghose always believed
the desert's wastes harboured storages of groundwater. He concluded that the dim lines
extending over hundreds of miles from Punjab to Rajasthan looked contiguous enough to be a
prehistoric channel. Recalls Amal Kar, who worked with Ghose at the time: "It was not
difficult for us to convince scientists that such channels along the dry bed of the
Ghaggar could well be the Sarasvati." However, other scientists could not make out
the channels Ghose spoke of on those grainy early pictures.
But the latest satellite colour images clearly show the marks
of a palaeochannel, as wide as 12 km in places, from the Shivaliks to Bhinmal in south
Rajasthan. From there it breaks into five parts, heads towards Somnath and finally
disappears near the coast of Saurashtra. "The marks of the channel nearly match the
description of the Sarasvati's flow given in the ancient books," says P.S. Thakkar,
an ISRO remote-sensing specialist who has worked on the Sarasvati project for 15 years,
poring over mythological references and matching them to satellite images.
Not everyone though is sure that these markings are proof
enough. After all, the north-western arid lands of Rajasthan were once lush plains. The
salt flats of the Rann of Kutch were navigable up to 3,000 years ago. The sea snaked in
deep inland. "I think those who claim that the Sarasvati flowed on this route have
prejudged the issue," argues A.K. Singhvi, a PRL expert on soil dating. "We only
have evidence of floods on this route." He goes on to say that there is evidence of
the Harappans trying various water-harvesting methods. "Why would they do this if
there was a mighty river flowing here?"
The archaeological evidence is strong that there was a river
of some sort. Experts examining excavations of the Indus Valley sites found 175 sites
along the alluvial plain of the Ghaggar, compared to 86 in the Indus area, now in
Pakistan. In an era when civilisations centred around rivers, why did so many settlements
spring up along a dry river bed? This could not have happened, many experts argue, unless
today's Ghaggar was once the mighty Sarasvati. "This should be called the Sarasvati
Valley Civilisation, not the Indus Valley Civilisation," says K.S. Valdiya, a
geologist from the Jawaharlal Nehru Centre of Advanced Sciences and Research, Bangalore,
for whom the search for the Sarasvati has been a passion for close to 30 years now.
Formerly director of the Wadia Institute for Himalayan Geology in Dehradun, Valdiya too is
trying to put together a multi-disciplinary, multi-institutional team of scientists to
help find the river. There are others like him, votaries of the Sarasvati civilisation.
They point to the ongoing six-year excavation of the sprawling Harappan site of Dholavira
in Gujarat and 90 other sites that provide clues to a decidedly riverine existence, like
the figurines of sea-going craft.
Part of this great civilisation ended around 1500 b.c.,
around the same time that the scriptures speak of the Sarasvati's decline. The Varaha
Purana say the river was in decline 3,700 years ago, around the time of the Mahabharata;
the great sage Manu talks of the Sarasvati disappearing into the sands near Sirsa,
Rajasthan. Valdiya says tectonic movements initially pushed up the old Aravalli hills,
cutting off the headwaters of the Sarasvati.
Forced eastwards, the Sarasvati was then progressively robbed
of its waters: first by the Yamuna, then by the Satluj -- both rivers, along with the
Tons, were once a part of its massive expanse. A branch of the Chambal cut northwards in a
channel deeper than the Sarasvati, finally beheading the great river. This new channel
became the Yamuna, which migrated eastwards. Similarly, the Satluj migrated westward. A
geological paroxysm in the Aravallis pushed it into a U-turn at Ropar, Punjab, forcing a
complete abandonment of the Sarasvati, sending the Satluj into the arms of the Indus.
The Sarasvati's demise indicates how dramatic tectonic
movements can change the face of a society. Betrayed by its two snow-fed sources, the
Sarasvati was left with the waters of petty streams rising in the puny Shivaliks. Its twin
sources survive to this day. The Sarasvati was born in the Banderpunch (monkey's tail)
massif in the Garhwal Himalayas. This is today the source of the independent Tons, one of
the Sarasvati's source streams. Beyond the Indian Himalayas in Tibet near the holy lake
Mansarovar is Kapalshikhar, the other source of the Sarasvati. The river is still there,
known locally as the Mang Nang Tsangpo; further downstream a Survey of India map actually
calls it the Sarasvati.
Without its snow-bound origins, the Sarasvati became a shadow
of its former self. Its people migrated upstream and settled in today's Haryana and
western Uttar Pradesh. There seems to be archaeological evidence to this movement: The
total absence of late Harappan settlements in the area of the Sarasvati is in sharp
contrast to the dramatic increase in habitations in the plains of Haryana and western
Uttar Pradesh. There is also a remarkable scarcity of Harappan sites around what are
today's Yamuna and Satluj. This is again in sharp contrast to the archaeological gold
mines turning up in the dry channels of Punjab, Rajasthan and Sindh in Pakistan.
Finally, only flood waters flowed down the Sarasvati's once
vast channel. It remained dry for several centuries, though some water again found its way
in during the early centuries of the Christian era. The Sarasvati's decline and the loss
of its civilisation are an indication of how tectonic shifts can combine with localised
climate change to dramatically transform human settlement. As the shifting Aravallis
chopped off the Sarasvati's waters, the climate too was changing. Over the years western
Rajasthan, once a green, rich expanse with extensive rainfall, gradually turned into a
parched, desert land. Where there was once a torrent of water, there remained nothing but
tonnes of drying sand, a few lakes that survive to this day, and of course the veins of
groundwater under the earth.
The Sarasvati's eclipse also shows how central rivers have
been to civilisation and culture. With the Sarasvati gone, its place in mythology was
taken over by the Ganga. To this day, it is the Ganga that is predominant to India's Hindu
consciousness. But the Sarasvati, as the drilling rigs at Ghantiyal Ji should reveal, has
not disappeared altogether. The great river might never flow again, its spiritual form
might never regain its mythological glory, but its legacies are flooding back all over
again. |