We do not have any
respect, let alone reverence, for the world of nature because we do not
fundamentally have any respect, let alone reverence, for ourselves.
It is because we
have lost the sense of our own reality that we have lost the sense of every
other reality as well.
n Phillip Sherrard
It was a virtual deluge. And
the city of Chennai went down under. There was water everywhere. The clouds had
opened up. The clogged drains were overflowing. The roads were flooding...
It was as if Mother Nature, repeatedly
and systematically subjected to gang rape by mankind, was asserting in no
uncertain terms that she was infinitely more powerful than man. It was a
reinforcement of the known, but conveniently forgotten, fact that man, with all
his technical resources and sophisticated gadgetry, was as helpless as an unattended
toddler in the woods when she unleashed her fury...
The 15th and 16th
of November 2015 was the morbid statistician’s delight. 71 die due to rain
havoc said one. Highest single day rainfall in two decades, said another.
Cyclone ravages to continue for two more days, screamed a third...
Chennai was not the only
affected territory in Tamilnadu. Days earlier, another cyclone had battered
Cuddalore to the extent that the demarcation between “kadal” (sea) and “ooru”
(land) was obliterated and the region became one continuous sheet of water.
Power was switched off in
many water-logged places as a precautionary measure. Boats were pressed into
service in the heart of the city to convey people to safety. Police and fire
department personnel waded through hip-level, often chest level water helping
the aged, the women and the children to high grounds. With water flooding the
ground floors of several apartment complexes, the denizens climbed upwards to
the higher floors, leaving the furniture, refrigerators and computers to be
ravaged by the flood waters. Water snakes, scorpions and millipedes made their
way into households along with rats and bandicoots. While clear rainwater
gushed through the otherwise filthy Cooum, stinking sewage overflowed into
households spreading the fear of water-borne diseases...
The State Government’s
disaster management system worked with seamless efficiency and within hours of
the rains stopping, most of the water had been drained out and the process of
restoration of power was on in a phased manner, while a set of officials went
about surveying the affected areas and assessing the damage.
But having said that, the
Government also has to shoulder the blame for it poor state of preparedness for
the annual monsoon fury. Tamilnadu is almost totally dependent on the North-East
Monsoon for its annual requirement of water. And the NE Monsoon is
traditionally notorious for its cyclonic weather. Every year two or three
cyclonic storms hit the coastal regions of the state. And the water these bring
in their wake takes care of the needs of the people – daily consumption,
agriculture and industry.
Every year, by the end of a
torrid summer, the state gets starved of water. The water level in reservoirs
start receding. Indiscriminate mining of sand from river beds have rendered
most of the rivers in the state bone dry. In most rivers, the rocky bottoms
stand exposed and when it rains, the water just flows away into the sea without
percolating into the soil. Most village-level ponds and lakes have been
encroached upon to construct dwellings. The few ponds and lakes that have
managed to survive have not been de-silted or deepened in years and have become
shallow. Their floors are hardened; and when the rains do come, the rain water
does not percolate down to recharge to sub soil aquifers. On the contrary, the
water stagnates and very soon overflows, causing flooding of the neighbouring
areas. The green cover over vast areas, which had caused localised condensation
of moisture causing welcome summer rains have all vanished.
Even in the city of Chennai,
with its winding open gutter which answers to the name Cooum, riverbank
encroachments, not just by impoverished slum dwellers but by educational
institutions and even apartment complexes continues unabated with the tacit
approval of the authorities. Barring the rain water harvesting scheme ushered
in by the Jayalalithaa-led AIADMK regime about a decade ago, no worthwhile
system has been put in place in the state for effective water management. As a
result, when it rains, it floods. When it does not rain, the state is gripped
by drought!
Immediately in the aftermath
of the monsoon fury, there will be a flood of activity in the corridors of
power. Reports will be prepared. Schemes will be drafted. And then some new
issue will come up. Everything will be forgotten. The schemes will be
forgotten. The reports will gather dust. Until the next drought. Or the next
monsoon. Years will come and go. Governments will change. Thousands of crores
of public money will be spent on vexatious exercises. But a crucial public need
like effective water management will remain unaddressed.
Tamilnadu boasts of one of
the oldest dams in the world – the Kalanai built by the Chola Emperor Karikala
Chozhan in the 2nd Century AD. It bears testimony to the fact that
effective water management had been thought of almost 1000 years ago. Sadly,
when we talk about water management in the state, we still have to use a
1000-year-old example to make our point. The tanks and reservoirs that existed
when the British left our shores may have been sufficient for the Tamilnadu of
the 1940s. Since then the population has increased manifold. Cities have grown.
Villages have become urbanised. Industries have increased. And the need for water has grown
astronomically.
It is time to wake up. A
comprehensive plan for effective management of precious water resources has to
be drawn up, involving experts. And this has to be implemented with no
political interests coming in the way. Otherwise this sequence of alternating
floods and drought will continue until slowly, but steadily this state will
become uninhabitable.