India - Changing landscape of the Gauri Ganga 31.10.2013

The changing landscape of the Gori Ganga valley

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In his trek of the Gori Ganga valley in Uttarakhand, Thejaswi writes about the developments he notices in the valley with ghats being blown up to build roads and former crew members now working for hydropower projects.

The unbounded sense of awe and wonder that envelopes me as the Panchachuli pentatops present themselves spectacularly in fading light, is in contrast with non-existent boundaries carved on maps – the latter demand salutation and conformity, which I deeply question. Pic: Thejaswi Shivanand

Since my last visit to Munsiari in 2009, a colour photo printer had arrived in town. This time, we print some passport photographs, but discover that innovation does not extend to the Sub-Magistrate’s office where they issue inner line permits to trek in the Milam and Ralam valleys; eternal delays continue to plague the system. I recall the journey to Munsiari – usually an outpost even to the intrepid tourist – eleven hours from the hot plains through the Siwaliks, past driving rain and minor landslides, and finally, the Greater Himalaya. The unbounded sense of awe and wonder that envelopes me as the Panchachuli pentatops present themselves spectacularly in fading light, is in contrast with non-existent boundaries carved on maps – the latter demand salutation and conformity, which I deeply question.

Ramnarayan and Malika, of Himal Prakriti, the organization that put together our earlier Milam trek, help us this time as well. During our meeting before we leave for the trek, we hear of various other changes that have happened, are happening or are due to happen in the Gori Valley – the planned hydroelectric power projects, a road linking Milam and Munsiari, the state of schools, politics of jungle ownership, the role of women in the local village society, the flow of rivers in Himalayan geological history.

The blast site to build a mountain road to link Munsiari and Milam. Pic: Thejaswi Shivanand

I begin the trek with disappointment as I see Jhimi Ghat, where we camped on our Milam trek in 2009, in a state of being blasted for a mountain road to link Munsiari and Milam. Piles of rubble extend right up to the stream banks along the steep valley, clogging the channel in parts. Dynamite and JCBs alternate in carving up the mountainside where we saw over thirty or more vultures roosting two years back. The hitherto peaceful village is decamped and dusty. The road is planned to continue to the army and ITBP border outposts close to the border with China.

We end the day by climbing to camp at Paton village, the winter home of the Ralam villagers. There are only a few people there, as most have migrated for the short summer in Ralam, which at 3500m is one of the higher seasonal villages. These villagers are migrants from the neighbouring Darma valley, and are ethnically and linguistically distinct from their neighbours in the Bhui village. Apparently, they secured the land ownership rights to Ralam village and its van panchayat from the residents of Bhui in 1964. However, they have been moving between Ralam and Paton for atleast seven or eight generations, as recalled by living memory. Near Paton, we encounter our only amphibian of the trip: a spectacular mottled green frog.

Villagers migrate for the short summer in Ralam, which at 3500m is one of the higher seasonal villages. Pic: Brishti Bagchi

We pass dense forest the next morning beyond Paton, dominated by atleast two if not three species of Maple and Oak, an understory of Rhododendron and a sprinkling of conifers in the upper reaches. The trees grow in thickness and girth as we move, and the understory is a stranglehold of aroids, ferns, lycopods, and an astonishing array of fungi. The last of the rhododendrons are in flower. The dead trees rot in the forest and are part of this landscape. This forest and others in the valley beyond belong to the Ralam van panchayat. The van panchayats are a system in Uttarakhand where the local forests are communally owned by the village and administered by an elected body. The Ralam van panchayat is one of the largest in the state, and controls sizable areas of deciduous and coniferous woodland, and alpine grassland across a steep elevation gradient.

Ralam is the only settlement in the Ralam valley. The Ralam river cuts deep in the valley, braiding on the riverbed before the monsoon excess changes the shade and turbulence of the waters. Theo, also part of Himal Prakriti, joins us and tells us the story of yaks in Ralam that he helped get from Ladakh, via Tibet, several years back. Potentilla atrosanguniea carpeted the floor of the gently rolling slopes with bloody blooms. The glacial landscape is desolate; the brown terminus of the ice flow, the river gushing out, the glistening snow and ice on the mountains above, all remind me of my own insignificance.

The glacial landscape is desolate; the brown terminus of the ice flow, the river gushing out, the glistening snow and ice on the mountains above, all remind me of my own insignificance. Pic: Maria George

Chander, a resident of Ralam, accompanies us as we cross the 4650m Burjikanj pass the next day, with good weather and almost no snow on the climb. The large Milam glacier is at a distance and the two peaks of Nanda Devi and Nanda Devi East are on a ridge across the valley. After an exerting climb, and a quick lunch, we begin the descent to Martoli through deep snow. Chander has to return to Ralam to plant out potatoes and other vegetables. In the short Ralam summer, every day in the field counts and it is Chander’s third day with us. We need his knowledge of the lay of the land, and his wife needs his hand in the potato field.

Martoli, at 3400 meters, is a quiet village in the Milam Valley that comes alive once a year in October for a Nanda Devi festival. Milam and the surrounding mountains have been open to mountaineers and trekkers only since 1993 when permits were first issued to travel in the Milam valley. After the hostilities with China in 1962, the ancient trading route on which it is located closed and trading ceased. The supporting farmer families found the short summers and harsh landscape less inviting. The villages slowly swept into decrepitude.

Milam and the surrounding mountains have been open to mountaineers and trekkers only since 1993 when permits were first issued to travel in the Milam valley. Pic: Thejaswi Shivanand

On our descent from Martoli to Bugdiyar, we encounter Munna, a part of our crew from the 2009 Milam Trek. He now works for one of the companies involved in surveying the Bugdiyar site for a run-of-the-river power project. This involves a series of small dams on the river to divert the water into tunnels running through the mountainside and running turbines. This is a seismically active area, and the river carries enormous amounts of silt that will choke the turbines sooner than later. The riverbed will dry up. The lifeline of the people in the valley will no longer exist.

We reach Munsiari tired and wet. Binaji, who hosted my colleague and I in Shankdura village, makes us feel at home with our first baths in ten days. The next day, we meet the women of the Maati collective at Sarmoli village. They also speak of their work as a collective, the experiences and politics of working with the van panchayat, male domination in the society, the impact of liquor on their lives, experiences of running homestays, to include visitors like us as part of their otherwise busy lives.

Women from Ralam village. Pic: Maria George

I leave Munsiari with an unanswered, perhaps futile question – the meaning of human existence. I haven’t understood it any better since I started at Katgodam, but perhaps I can put it in perspective – the Himalayas, its resilient people, the turbulent rivers, the captivating flora, the fine group of children from Centre for Learning that I went with, all contribute to the question – in the very personal, present and future statements and meanings
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