There are times when jumping the gun is dismissed as no more than a naive, knee-jerk response of overzealous fools. But at times it could turn out to be a cruel joke. Like the river of hope which supposedly surfaced in the Kutch region after the killer temblor but which, seemingly, is nothing more than an unkind hoax in a land where water is scarce.
Thanks to a flurry of reports in the media, quake-shattered Gujarat and rest of the country found a reason to celebrate amid the gloom and doom last fortnight: the apparent discovery of a "river" in the famously arid Kutch, 'borne out' by a clutch of satellite images. But before the week was out, this was turning out to be a dubious 'discovery' spun by over-enthusiastic scientists and sensation-hungry newspapers. Shailesh Nayak, a geologist and head of the marine and water resources at Indian Space Research Organisation (isro), Ahmedabad, says: "Earthquakes don't create rivers or river channels. Water creates a channel or occupies an existing one."
When the first satellite images of the so-called river, taken by isro, were flashed in newspapers, speculation ran wild. Was this the awakening of the mythical Saraswati from its subterranean depths? Was it the Indus straying back to its ancient course? It turned out to be nothing of the sort.
"So much hope has been generated by these reports," laments Nayak. A hope that scientists like him find premature. Early rumours of a river discovery were fuelled by three sets of satellite images of the Kutch region—taken on January 23, January 26 (about two hours after the earthquake) and February 4. The presence of water was clearly evident, particularly in images of the Rann of Kutch, because of the sharp contrasts created by the white colouring of the immense salt pans that cover the desert, the blue tell-tale signs of moisture and the black patches indicating pools of standing water. All three sites displayed increased moisture-content immediately after the quake. But on February 4, there appeared to be a decrease in moisture in the central region, while in the eastern region, it had all but disappeared.
According to Nayak, the western region assumed prime interest because both blue (moisture) and black (standing water) patches were showing in the maps. But Nayak is quick to caution that it's too premature to conclude that a post-earthquake river flows. For that, satellite reports have to be observed for at least a month. If further reports show that the water has dried up, all rumours of a river will safely be put to rest.
But if water persists or increases, it could suggest that tectonic movements have tapped an abundant source of groundwater in Kutch. Such water might accumulate and flow like a river. That doesn't necessarily make it a river though. In geological terms, there are strict criteria for flowing water to be termed a river. For one, the water, as in the case of a seasonal river, should be flowing at least for some part of the year. It can't appear temporarily as a result of regional seismic activity and disappear. Whether the water generated in the western Rann will flow permanently can only be confirmed after more satellite pictures come in.
Nayak delves into history to hold up a more likely explanation for the water discovered in the western Rann. Till the massive earthquake of 1819, a tributary of the Indus flowed into the western Rann and emptied into the Kori creek.But after the quake, a fault ridge called the Allah Bund, 90 km long and up to 5.3 m high, changed its course and it flowed into Pakistan.
After the January 26 quake, underground water, pressured by tectonic tension, found its way out of cracks in the ground. The palaeo-channel (ancient underground channel) of the Indus could be fulfilling that requirement.
So, how old is this newly emerged water that might be flowing down a palaeo-channel of the Indus? The Rann, intriguingly an ocean when Alexander came to India in 365 BC, is a parched wasteland filled with marine sediments. This makes it unlikely that the groundwater released by the quake is from recent rainfall. Once again, the answers will come after samples of the water undergo radioisotopic tests.
What earthquakes do create are hot springs, geysers, mud pools and a raised or lowered water table. Normal occurrences that have been reported all over Kutch. In Lodhai, Dhung, Kotai, Kunariya and Habai, small springs of water were reported in the initial days following the quake. In Udai village, for instance, close to Jimri, a pool bubbles feebly with surfacing groundwater—its edges are already drying up.
There were also sensational photographs and reports about people in Nehar, a small village on the way to Bhachau, rejoicing after water "sprung up" there. The facts are more sober: the village has a makeshift well, dug by hand, in which the water level has risen. "Before the quake, the water in this well was brackish and too low down for us to access it," says Ibrahimbhai Sumar, who owns 100 camels. "But after the quake, the water level has risen and the water now is as sweet as grapes."
But a reputed newspaper chose to play up the story carelessly on its front page, triggering off interest among scientists as well. It carried a photograph of the women of this village with a caption saying they were filling their brass pots in a surge of newly surfaced water. The report prompted V. Subramanyan, a geologist at iit Bombay, to make a trip to Nehar in search of the water. He discovered what Outlook had already found: a 13-year-old Nehar resident, Ransodji Shah, with a very different story to tell.
Recalls Shah: "A newspaper crew came here four days ago. They were looking for a river and couldn't find it. So, while a tanker was filling up the village's earthen canal, they lined up the village women around the canal and told them to dip their pots into the water. That's how they shot their pictures and printed lies about our village."
The scientist, whose utterings about the imminent discovery of a river created a flutter, is incidentally a botanist with isro. P.S. Thakker has also admitted interest in the mythical River Saraswati. He enthuses that the long-lost river might have surfaced in the central Rann after the earthquake. Other scientists disagree with Thakker's theories. In fact, these theories have created some embarrassment for isro. And if the February 4 satellite reports are to be believed, the so-called "mythical river" in central Rann is disappearing again.
If the hype and hoopla about a new river is set aside, one question still remains. Can a pre-existing river channel filled with newly surfaced water slake the thirsty Kutch region? isro scientists believe it's too early for good tidings. For starters, the water must be abundant enough to meet the needs of the region.Second, it must be potable—not a strong likelihood in the salt-encrusted Rann. But tds (total dissolved solids) and tss (total suspended solids) tests, as well as fluorine tests, will ultimately determine whether this water can pass its way between human lips. Thirdly, the river must have the potential to be rejuvenated by rainfall. In the drought-affected Rann, where rainfall is scanty, geologists don't see this happening.
Neither does Amirbhai Ilyas Sumar, one of the oldest men in Udai, a village in the thorny, desert region of Moti Banni, about 60 km from Bhuj. "A river?" he marvels. "Here? Even my grandfather and my father haven't seen a river here. It hasn't rained in two years, where's the river going to come from?" And the much-hyped river of hope seems all set to leave behind a dry bed of disappointment.
The River of Hoax
An ISRO scientist and media hungry for scoops jump the gun to see Saraswati/Indus in an underground channel
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