By: Janaki Lenin
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 6, Issue 6, Dated Feb 14, 2009
By: Janaki Lenin
Gharials have finally returned to their Ganga. But rejoicing would be premature, writes PRERNA SINGH BINDRA

NUMBER 09054 lay on the sand, its body glistening in the pale moonlight. There are traces of blood on its tail and long, slim snout – conceivably a result of being jostled in its cramped quarters as it made its long journey:

* over 600 miles of bumpy roads from the breeding centre in Kukrail, Lucknow to the river Ganga in Hastinapur Sanctuary, Uttar Pradesh. It lay unmoving – stressed by the crowd that had gathered. Locals push for a closer look, the media for a visual, the police to hold back the crowds. In the mayhem, a scientist pleads for peace, and gently steers the gharial towards the river. As it glides into the inky depths of water, a cry of “Jai Ma Ganga” rises above the cacophony. How true: the gharial (Gavialis gangeticus) derives its name from the river and has finally come home. Once, thousands roamed its waters, but its numbers dwindled till it was extinct in the Ganga.

The tragedy of this critically endangered species isn’t restricted to the Ganga: it’s been practically wiped out of its entire range, across 20,000 sq kms of rivers from Pakistan to Myanmar. There remain under 200 breeding adults, with a total population of barely 1,000 in three rivers: the Chambal, the Girwa in Katarniaghat, UP, and the Ramganga in Corbett. What brought it to near-extinction was loss of habitat: sand was mined and agriculture took root on banks where gharials breed; rivers were reduced to toxic soups; barrages and dams stilled, or flooded, the waters. And its domain declined to a meagre 200 sq km, just one percent of its former kingdom. Gharials are killed for their leather, too, and many get entangled in nets. Fishermen, rather than damaging their nets, slash its snout, and throw the maimed animal back in the river, where it starves to death.

The first alarm was sounded in 1970, when it was discovered that the India’s gharial population had crashed by 98 percent in three decades. Project Crocodile, launched in 1974, had 16 breeding centres, and when it released 5,000 young gharials, the project was hailed a success. But under two percent survived, and a 2006 survey revealed the population had plummeted to under 200 wild, breeding gharials.

This year’s reintroduction is a joint exercise by the UP Forest Department and the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF). It’s an uphill task – the management of Hastinapur can only be described as abysmal, and poaching is
not infrequent. In fact, 75 gharials were released here in 1997, “but there’s no clue of the fate of all of them, because there was no proper monitoring,” says Bivash Ranjan, Conservator of Forests, Meerut.

“The support of locals is also crucial,” says Dr Parikshit Gautam, Director Freshwater and Wetland Project, WWF. Though the authorities have conducted an awareness drive, there’s apprehension in the air. Jasbir Pehelwan, of Makdoompur village, understands the gharial is vital to the river’s ecosystem: “It will keep Ganga clean, so we must protect it”. But he fails to comprehend how “this big animal with mean-looking jaws is not a threat to our life, our cattle.” But the fact is, gharials only eat fish, and are not known to attack man.

Pressures on its habitat have increased with the dams planned along its habitats. But, before we kill the gharial, let’s remember that what it needs is essentially clean, uncontaminated river ecosystems, which are also vital to the survival of Man. No wonder the gharial is the vahan of the goddess Ganga.