And unquiet flows the Yamuna

The river might be on the verge of dying, but it leads parallel lives in the beliefs, legends, and historical structures it birthed.

Dark, unfathomable, murky, the Yamuna is still “our river” for the people living on its flood plains. It continues to nourish and nurture the ungrateful city. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

The Yamuna flows through some of India’s most densely populated urban and peri-urban areas spread across Delhi and the National Capital Region (NCR). Originating in the high Himalaya, this river has the spiritual aura of the Ganges with which merges. However, this has not stopped people from dumping sewage and plastic and chemical waste into it, so much so that many sections of the river in Delhi are now considered ecologically dead. Waste dumping and encroachment coupled with the effects of global warming have made the river highly unpredictable. Almost every monsoon, it causes devastating floods that wipe away buildings and lives.

A cluster of communities—most of them migrants from Unnao, Kanpur and Begusarai in Uttar Pradesh—have been living in Yamuna Khadar, Delhi, since 1986. They are uprooted each time the Yamuna floods. When the waters recede, they try to piece together their lives again.  | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

When idols are worshipped on the riverbanks, devotees often leave behind plastic offerings, which eventually land up in the waters and add to the pollution. An enormous amount of plastic waste enters the river on a daily basis this way. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

Through this photo essay, I map the river not just in its present state but also in its past forms, through historical facts connected to the Yamuna, legends and beliefs, and architectural landmarks that have either resisted the fury of the waters or vanished in its tides. It is the river that gives life to these stories and structures, and the river, in turn, lives through them.

Chhath Puja celebrates divine feminine energy, often represented as Chhathi Maiya. Women, as the embodiment of this energy, are deeply involved in the festivities. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

Bhudani Devi, 45 (right), alights from her boat at her doorstep. Her home is in the middle of the Yamuna riverbelt in Delhi. Bhudani and her family of 10 use boats to commute for work, fetch food, and to escape the rising waters. For nine years in a row, the family has been displaced by floods. Their condition was worsened during the pandemic. With one of their boats broken, they are now trying to make another with wood from the scrap market. If that fails, they will borrow the river guard’s discarded boat. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

One of the most historical remarkable structures connected to the Yamuna is the Satpula (literally, Seven Bridges) dam, a medieval weir built on one of its streams to provide water for irrigation as well as to defend the old city’s boundaries. It dates back to the time of Muhammad bin Tughluq (1325-51), when the region was ravaged by constant warfare, drought, and famine. The reservoir was meant to conserve water for this parched land, enabling crop cultivation and settlement.

Households close to the riverbody do not get electricity, since the land is disputed. They use solar lights or oil lamps. Some of them purchase secondhand generators. The darkness makes these places dangerous for women. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

Remains of the Satpula dam in Khidki Village, Malviya Nagar, New Delhi. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

Satpula was probably connected to a network of baolis, or stepwells, which catered to the population of the anciety city. The water collected in the weir was thought to have healing properties since the Sufi saint Nasiru’d-Din Mahmud is said to have used it for his daily ablutions. The Yamuna is a sacred presence for Hindus too, who hold that it belongs to the gods. The families that live on the floodplains worship the river in spite of having to face its rampage each monsoon. Of course, imposing divinity on the river is also a way of ensuring that this valued resource stays protected.

Once baolis served not only as a sustainable means of conserving water but also as public spaces. But the British rulers of colonial India viewed them as fertile breeding grounds for water-borne diseases and stopped their use. Some baolis have survived the neglect. This one, in Mehrauli in south Delhi, is called Gandhak ki Baoli. It was built by Sultan Iltutmish in the early 13th century. The name suggests the presence of sulpher (gandhak) in the water, and sulpher-rich water is said to be beneficial for several skin diseases. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

Fish diversity is a good indicator of river health. With waste clogging the river, the Delhi stretch of the Yamuna is biologically dead, as is much of the riverine ecosystem. According to local fisherfolk, fish variety has drastically come down over the years. Puthi fish (belonging to the genus puntius), which can survive adverse environment, is most commonly found in the river these days. Surprisingly, while fishing activities in the Yamuna are threatened by pollution and mining, many farmers are taking up fish farming by filling up ponds with groundwater. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

That has not worked very well as a strategy, given the degraded state of the Yamuna today. However, pollution is killing not just the Yamuna but several other rivers all over the world; dying rivers are a distinguishing feature of the present epoch, the Anthropocene, where human activity has changed the face of the planet. Besides, pollution is just one aspect of the Yamuna’s epic story—the river leads parallel lives in legends and architecture.

Farmers in Uttar Pradesh’s sugar bowl, Lakhimpur Kheri, sometimes protect their crops by playing scarecrow themselves. As light falls on a scarecrow in the cultivated fields around Okhla barrage on the Yamuna, it looks remarkably lifelike. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

The free-floating plastic waste is making the water more toxic. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

Tracing the course of the Yamuna in Delhi, I found active baolis, ancient ghats, and communities living on the floodplains whose social and religious lives are shaped by the river. It is these stories that make up my larger photo project titled “The river ghosts”: the name suggests that while the Yamuna is a ghost of its former self, it is still a haunting presence for the communities nurtured by its waters.

The villagers have to move with all their belongings each time a flood alert is raised. The months of August and September bode danger for the families as the rains and the rising waters disrupt normal life. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

The Yamuna choked with industrial waste and sewage is yet visited by Siberian birds each winter. Their numbers have come down but they can still be seen in the cold months. | Photo Credit: Siddharth Behl

Siddharth Behl is a documentary photojournalist and a National Geographic explorer based out of New Delhi. His works are chiefly social documentaries focussed on climate change, migration, refugees, and historical research.