In India, these waterways are more than just sources of sustenance—they are sacred, storied, and deeply interwoven with the cultural, economic, and spiritual fabric of the land, write BKP Sinha and Arvind Jha
Throughout history, nature and human civilisation have shared a profound and enduring connection. From the earliest human settlements to today’s sprawling urban centres, societies have evolved by adapting to their environments, harnessing natural resources, and responding to ecological challenges.
Among the many gifts of nature, rivers have stood out as lifelines of human progress. They offered fertile plains for agriculture, freshwater for sustenance, and navigable routes for trade and communication. From the Nile in Egypt to the Ganga in India, these flowing bodies of water became the cradle of civilisations.
In India, rivers are revered as divine entities-symbols of purification, continuity, and life itself. As Jawaharlal Nehru eloquently wrote in The Discovery of India, the Ganga is the very soul of India-an eternal, flowing force that carries the memories, aspirations, and history of its people. Its waters, ever in motion, embody the essence of civilisation: deeply rooted in tradition, yet constantly evolving.
Nowhere is the life-giving power of rivers more evident than in the rise of the Indus Valley Civilisation, which thrived around 2500 BCE along the banks of the Indus and its tributaries. It stands as one of the most advanced urban societies of the ancient world, marked by planned cities, drainage systems, and a high degree of social organisation. Major centres like Harappa in Punjab and Mohenjo-Daro in Sindh-both in present-day Pakistan-reflect how rivers nurtured the growth of early civilisation.
Its success was deeply rooted in the fertile alluvial plains shaped by the annual rhythm of the Indus River, whose seasonal floods replenished the soil and made intensive agriculture possible. To manage and optimise these natural cycles, the inhabitants developed efficient irrigation infrastructure-canals, reservoirs, and wells that supported farming even in semi-arid conditions. Staple crops like wheat, barley, peas, sesame, and cotton were grown and stored in well-ventilated granaries, carefully designed to protect against pests and spoilage. This agricultural prosperity not only sustained a significant population but also facilitated long-distance trade with Mesopotamia, Persia, and Central Asia.
Centuries later, under the Maurya and Gupta empires, cities such as Pataliputra (modern-day Patna) flourished as major political, administrative, and cultural centres. The Ganga played a pivotal role in this transformation, serving as a vital artery that connected distant regions of the empire.
This riverine connectivity spurred the growth of market towns along its banks, while organised systems of taxation regulated commerce and ensured a stable flow of revenue for the state.
During the Mughal era, the Ganges retained its strategic importance, enabling the movement of armies, officials, and resources, which supported military campaigns and strengthened administrative control across northern India.
Textiles from Varanasi, black pepper and other spices from the southern interior, and precious stones from the Deccan were among the key goods transported along these inland waterways. Surat, on the Tapi River, became a prominent port for the export of cotton and spices to the Persian Gulf and Red Sea regions.
Varanasi on the Ganges thrived as a centre of silk weaving and religious pilgrimage, drawing merchants from across Asia. Hampi, on the banks of the Tungabhadra, served as a hub for trading diamonds, horses, and metal goods.
This legacy continued into the colonial period when river transport became a crucial component of imperial trade strategies. The Hooghly River in Bengal, a distributary of the Ganges, emerged as a key route for the export of jute, indigo, and textiles.
Even in the post-independence era, rivers continue to shape the economic and cultural foundations of India.
As the population grew and food security became a national priority, the role of rivers in agriculture became increasingly vital. The Green Revolution of the 1960s, which dramatically increased food production, was largely concentrated in river-fed regions like the Punjab and western Uttar Pradesh, where perennial rivers such as the Sutlej, Beas, and Yamuna provided the necessary water for intensive irrigation.
The steady flow of these rivers enabled the expansion of vast canal networks, which distributed water efficiently across agricultural lands, supporting multi-cropping and the widespread cultivation of water-intensive staples such as rice and wheat.
In the eastern plains, especially along the Ganges and Brahmaputra, agriculture remains closely tied to the seasonal rhythms of these rivers. Annual floods, though sometimes destructive, deposit nutrient-rich silt that rejuvenates the soil, making the region one of the most fertile in the country.
Over generations, this natural abundance has supported the cultivation of key crops such as jute, sugarcane, and rice, forming the backbone of rural economies and livelihoods. In Assam, farmers practice bao rice cultivation in low-lying floodplains, where rice is sown during the monsoon and harvested as floodwaters recede. Tribal communities in the Himalayan foothills cultivate wet rice on terraced slopes, using traditional channels that efficiently divert water from perennial mountain streams.
The Brahmaputra and its network of wetlands-known locally as beels-support one of India’s richest inland fisheries. Communities living in these floodplain ecosystems rely on seasonal fishing cycles, often using age-old techniques that harmonise with the natural breeding patterns of indigenous fish species.
In the deltaic regions of West Bengal and Odisha, rivers such as the Mahanadi and Subarnarekha support expansive estuarine wetlands and mangrove forests, sustaining some of the most biodiverse coastal ecosystems in the country. These brackish zones are teeming with life, offering vital habitats for fish, crustaceans, and migratory birds.
Moving into the heart of peninsular India, the Godavari and Krishna rivers nourish vast agricultural belts across Telangana and Andhra Pradesh, where crops like sugarcane, turmeric, paddy, and pulses thrive. Their deltas rank among the country’s most productive rice-growing regions, while coconut, banana, and chilli are cultivated intensively along their banks. The Tungabhadra River in Karnataka irrigates fields of cotton, groundnut, and sunflower. It also sustains a network of traditional tank irrigation systems (man-made reservoirs designed to capture and store rainwater, originally developed for dryland irrigation), some of which date back to the Vijayanagara Empire.
In Kerala, the landscape is defined by a dense network of shorter rivers flowing swiftly from the Western Ghats to the Arabian Sea. Here, a unique synergy exists between river systems and coastal backwaters. These interconnected waterscapes nourish paddy fields and coconut groves while enabling integrated farming practices. One notable example is pokkali, a traditional method where rice and shrimp are cultivated in rotation within the same field-an ingenious adaptation to the region’s seasonal cycles of salinity and freshwater flow.
In contemporary times, with the swift advance of urbanisation and industrial expansion, the relationship between rivers and civilisation has grown increasingly intricate. What were once lifelines of prosperity are now entangled in the complexities of ecological strain and human ambition. Yet history offers sobering lessons: the very rivers that gave rise to flourishing civilisations have also witnessed their decline-often as a direct consequence of humanity’s disregard for natural rhythms.
The fading course of the Sarasvati, long linked to the decline of the Harappan Civilisation, and the recurrent floods of the Kosi, Brahmaputra, and Mandakini serve as stark reminders of what unfolds when ecological balance is ignored-echoing Garrett Hardin’s warning against the overuse of shared resources and Rachel Carson’s call to acknowledge the environmental cost of human ambition.
Civilisations that endured were those that listened to the land, respected its limits, and moved in rhythm with it. The question before us today is not whether nature will shape human destiny-it always has. The real question is whether we will heed its warnings and choose a sustainable path before the rivers run dry or wild again.
(The writers are former principal chief conservator of Forests, UP and Maharashtra. Views are their own)
