EVERY morning, Sundarlal Bahuguna clambers down the steep path from his tinshed kuti in Tehri to the huge rocks that keep the Bhagirathi in check. There he dips his emaciated body in the ritual bath that he claims gives him strength, together with the honey and bael juice on which he has survived since April 13. Springing from Gomukh above Gangotri, the sacred river passes through a deep cleft in the mountains nearby before winding through the lower Himalayan valleys to meet the Alaknanda at Devprayag where it becomes the Ganga.
Not a 100 metres from where Bahuguna bathes, the Bhagirathi foams into two diversion channels dug into the mountainside, to emerge below the cleft. It is in the space between that the foundations are being laid for the sixth highest dam in the world. The roads scarring the mountains on both sides indicate the gigantic proportions of the proposed dam. It is designed to rise 260.5 m above the present river bed, creating a 42-sq km reservoir upstream in five years.
With his long grey beard and wasted body, Bahuguna looks his part—a prophet warning of disaster. He is pitting himself against the social and environmental callousness symbolised by the advancing juggernaut of the high dam. It seems a highly unequal contest; his makeshift kuti will be the first to be submerged if the waters rise. But he is supported by a wide range of groups concerned with the protection of the Himalayas and its people. Religious sentiment is also involved in a region traditionally known as the abode of the Gods. Significantly, many of his workers are women.
Upstream of the kuti is Tehri, once the capital of the princely state of Tehri-Gar-hwal. The town accommodates 25,000 people and is studded with temples (it is on the pilgrim route to Gangotri), two mosques, schools, courts and other official buildings that recall its status in the glory days. The Maharaja's palace stands on a hilltop above the town; it, too, will be submerged if the dam is filled to capacity. Citizens are already being urged to leave; many have accepted compensation. Some were warned that they should move out this month because the lower areas may be submerged by a flood. Since even the coffer dam is yet to come up, the misinformation has estranged them further from the administration.
Further upstream is a 40 km-long valley which the reservoir will fill. Ranged on the mountainsides are the clean, low, whitewashed houses, with carved wooden lintels, that identify village Garhwal. They are comfortably spaced out on separate terraces; crime is rare. Twenty-two such villages will be entirely submerged in the reservoir; nearly 100 will be partially submerged. The staircase of green terraced fields, sculpted over the centuries, will disappear in the lower reaches. In a letter last year to Narasimha Rao, then prime minister, Bahuguna protested: "To build my ancestral house and the fields, my mother carried earth and stones over her head. There can be no compensation for my mother's sweat."
BAHUGUNA was then led to believe that Rao had agreed to appoint an independent review committee and called off his campaign. He describes his current vrata as an act of repentance for being taken in. He is now concentrating on securing a commitment that the Government will appoint a committee, headed by Justice V.R. Krishna Iyer, to review the project in all its aspects—technical, economic, social, cultural, ecological and spiritual.
After the elections, both subsequent prime ministers wrote to Bahuguna. A.B. Vajpayee expressed his sympathy and H.D. Deve Gowda assured him that he would look into issues he had raised "with care and in detail soon". Instructions have been issued to "stay the shifting of the local population till a final decision is taken on rehabilitation". In his reply, Bahuguna reiterated the demand for an independent review committee.
The most dramatic aspect of the Bahuguna campaign centres on the possibility of the dam collapsing in an earthquake. A placard plastered on his kuti warns: "If the Tehri dam bursts, a 260 m high column of water would wash away Rishikesh in just 63 minutes; 17 minutes later the waters would reach Haridwar." Tehri lies in a quake-prone zone. Seismologists differ on whether the rock-fill dam structure can sustain a strong shock; many of them, including the former Russian advisers, express confidence that there is no risk; others, including Vinod Gaur, former director of the National Geophysical Research Institute, fear there is.
While the earthquake threat has captured media attention, Bahuguna's concerns—as indicated in his list of subjects for review—are much wider. The mammoth project endangers the traditions, culture and social relations of the region. Individual consumerism will be encouraged at the cost of community spirit. The trees being felled and roads blasted raise serious environment concerns. The loose, friable nature of the surface is evident from numerous landslides; it is bound to increase siltation in the reservoir. The Wadia Institute of Himalayan Geology has warned that impounded water will further weaken rock and soil structures.
But the official Tehri Hydro Development Corporation quotes its own experts to counter such fears. Rs 1,200 crore of the estimated total cost of Rs 5,500 crore has already been spent. The project is designed to generate 2,400 MW of badly needed power at a lower cost than could be generated by other means. Delhi is tempted with the promise of additional power and 300 cusecs of water throughout the year.
However, experience has taught that such targets are seldom attained. The upstream Maneri project, near Uttarkashi, is still limping after 20 years. An examination of its problems, and the real costs involved, might help in assessing the future of Tehri.
The Tehri controversy dates back to the early 1960s, when V.D. Saklani, a senior advocate, began the campaign against the inundation of Tehri and eventually took the issue to the Supreme Court. Until crippled by disease, he led the movement against the dam. Then Bahuguna took up the cause. Saklani remains the president of the Tehri Bandh Sangharsh Samiti.
Opinion in Tehri is divided. Many have accepted compensation. There is an air of inevitability about the construction of the dam that the Bahuguna campaign is trying to counter in Gandhian style. The official forces ranged against him are well-entrenched. Talk of corruption is widespread.
The gulf between officialdom and the people is symbolised by New Tehri, the township constructed as part of the project. Laid out on a range high above the valley, like the hill stations created by the British, it is designed as a modern tourist and official holiday resort. In publicity posters, it is described as "the first planned mountain city of independent India". It has magnificent official buildings. Even the jail is fit for foreign tourists. No money has been spared in creating a dream resort town, with a sprawling colony for officials and engineers on its slopes and the huge reservoir below, whereas the focus should have been on rehabilitation. The rows of colour-coded buildings owe nothing to local architecture or tradition. Except for a temple and clock tower, there is nothing to remind the locals of the old Tehri. They will be strangers there.
A fraction of the amount spent could have cleaned up old Tehri and made life easier in the surrounding villages. A project to pump drinking water up from the Bhagirathi to 50 villages near Pratapnagar has been dropped. It was not part of the Tehri project and did not fit its resort-style vision.
