Mridula Ramesh is the author of critically acclaimed The Climate Solution... Read More
The history of Delhi can be told as a story of water... Read More
Mridula Ramesh is the author of critically acclaimed The Climate Solution... Read More
The history of Delhi can be told as a story of water... Read More
In as early as 2019, all water samples collected in Delhi failed to conform to BIS standards, and Kolkata and Chennai were not too far behind.
The crisis we are now witnessing in India’s water systems is not just one of demand-supply imbalance and heavy pollution of rivers and streams. This crisis is the manifestation of short-term considerations and pressures to tackle food security, migration and urbanisation, and industrialisation and not paying heed to the silent voices of the environment. For a long time, especially since the British regime, our development pathways have viewed the natural resources of water, land and forests as instruments of development instead of viewing humans and resources as part of sublime nature. Our development targets and trajectories tormented India’s water. And now water is tormenting us through deficit, depletion and scarcity, floods and droughts, storms and landslides, pollution and contamination. This book helps the reader to understand what and how we can change to come out of this spiralling crisis.
Our rivers are under siege and at the same time the low and falling water storage—both above and underground—is a serious hydrological faultline. Deforestation of the upper catchments of rivers and sand mining and encroachments in the flood plains have drastically reduced the capacity of rivers to hold and recharge aquifers. As the author quotes from the Madhav Gadgil report, “…it has been torn asunder by the greed of the elite and gnawed by the poor, striving to eke out a subsistence”.
A river must flow and nourish. If it does not flow, it is not a river. Our cities face annual crisis cycles when municipal taps run dry, but the contours of the crisis are shaped by wealth, geography, and patterns of water use. For the wealthy, water is peripheral; for the rich or middle class, water is important but not yet central, and it is only for the poor that life revolves around water. When the cities swallow their lakes, ponds and wetlands, the water resilience disappears. This pattern is repeating itself across most Indian cities. Given the paucity and unpredictability of municipal water, households have access to water through tankers and borewells. Households and tankers mine groundwater, and after several years, as borewell after borewell begins to run dry, populations face a serious challenge. A 2019 study by World Resource Institute showed a tanker water to be 52 times more expensive than piped water in Mumbai, and 12 times more expensive in Bengaluru, and the poor are hit the hardest.
Trying to solve the water crisis without managing the demand is like trying to clap with one hand. Without a good handle on data on the actual demand (policy planning still uses three-decade-old projections by the National Commission on Integrated Water Resources Development), we can’t even agree if there is a crisis. The collateral damage is also the questionable quality of the supplied water. In as early as 2019, all water samples collected in Delhi failed to conform to BIS standards, and Kolkata and Chennai were not too far behind.
“The future depends on what we do in the present” and this aptly applies to managing the water futures of India. Plentiful and free groundwater and canal supplies have sculpted India’s growth story thus far. If dams were our temples, borewells were perhaps the answered prayers. However, without appropriate curbs, prices and demand management, the power of the technology can be destabilising. The real power of technology is unleashed when we manage it. Three technologies hold key to India’s water security—improved forests in the catchments, a natural technology; rejuvenated tanks for storing monsoon water, a time-tested traditional technology; and large-scale sewage and wastewater treatment, a modern technology. Further, water needs to have an economic value to support its development and distribution, and as a way of signalling respect for India’s water.
The brilliance of the book lies in its convincing reasoning, evidence, and research-based arguments, and a well-organised discourse providing a 360-degree view of the important water issues of India. Each chapter starts with a carefully curated quote, which at times is provocative and at others, witty, like “a fool with a tool is still a fool”. The flow of the chapters is smooth and the prose alternates between shades of philosophy, fact-of-the matter, argumentative, and, at times poetic. Still, the author could have been concise. The mismanagement and improvement of public irrigation systems could have been covered in greater detail. Watershed is a must-read for water policy planners, professionals, civil society organisations, and everyone interested in understanding and improving India’s water.
Bharat Sharma is Emeritus scientist, International Water Management Institute, & senior visiting fellow, ICRIER, New Delhi
Watershed: How We Destroyed India’s Water and How We Can Save It
Mridula Ramesh
Hachette
Pp 415, Rs 699
Angel investor and founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute on her new book about India's water crisis and how to overcome it, the economics of managing water, and the role of industries, investors and startups
Climate change is arguably the greatest disruption of our time, and it speaks through water, writes Mridula Ramesh in her recent book ‘Watershed: How We Destroyed India’s Water and How We Can Save It’. The Madurai-based founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, who is an angel investor in over 15 startups focussed on cleantech and climate entrepreneurship, says there is no silver bullet to build India’s water resilience. But making our lakes vibrant, spurring the forest economy, creating micro-storage for farms and managing India’s sewage can create well over a million jobs.
In an interview with Forbes India, she talks about how water’s undoing has been because of its ubiquity and invisibility, how women and their workforce participation suffer more as a result of water shortage compared to men, why most climate change talks are centred around carbon instead of water, and how startups, industry and investors are responding to the urgent need for water management and sustainable practices. Edited excerpts:
Q. You write that affluence is related to increasing water use, and by 2030, due to rising population, urbanisation and wealth,half our water needs will be unmet. How bad is the situation right now and how is this going to play out?
Throughout the history of India, climate has changed many times, and every time, the same patterns [repeat]. Even the Indus Valley Civilisation,where people were masters in managing their water and did almost everything right, just disbanded, so to speak. So the situation is bad, but going back to the unspoken nuance in your question, the situation is also unequal. Some suffer more than others. For the wealthy, even if they consume the most amount of water per capita, water is still peripheral. Water is not expensive for them. They probably have borewells, live in neighbourhoods that allow recharge of groundwater, and have access to technology that can help them cope. For those in the middle [middle-income group], during most of the year, water is not a big deal. It is not that they cannot afford water, but how they will manage until the tanker gets to their houses, or the borewell gets working again.
For the poor, however, the situation is horrific, particularly the women among the poor who get affected the most. It is the question of women having to wake up in the night, push, jostle, fight for their bucket of water, collect it and carry it back home. You and I, if we do not get good sleep or are exhausted, we remain groggy and unproductive through the day. If women’s health and productivity continue taking a hit [due to more domestic and care responsibilities compared to well-rested male counterparts as a result of water issues], how effective are they going to be in the workforce?
If you ask me what has caused this crisis, it is the fact that water has become invisible. There is only provision, no management. How many people have a water meter in their house? How many people know exactly how much water they consume? The poor and the economically vulnerable will know exactly how much water they have and how much they consume. When we did a survey among 2,000 households, the wealthier people had no clue how much water they used, but as we went down [the socioeconomic strata], people knew precisely how much water they were using, and they managed it well. But that is not the only scale at which water needs to be managed, it needs to be managed at the household-level across the spectrum. You are going to see Day Zero creep up across cities and as that happens, there is no way to do anything other than to manage demand, meter water usage and collect more data around water.
Q. Most climate-related talks are centred around coal and carbonisation. Why has not water not been front and centre?
Q. Does it seem like we focus on water only when circumstances become too dire?
Q. An important thread in your book is to put a price on water. How could we implement this across socioeconomic strata, and even for that matter, across geographies where water availability and access are not the same?
Q. In industries like thermal power, steel, engineering and textiles that guzzle water, is there a mindset shift in terms of investing in sustainability?
Q. So given this K-shaped pattern in adopting sustainable practices, how do we incentivise smaller industries to manage water?
Q. While more companies are making climate-related disclosures, they are not very forthcoming about how climate change has impacted them or how climate-resilient their strategies have been. Do you see this changing?
Q. Do you see investors being more conscious about investing in companies that adopt sustainable practices?
Q. What do you look for in startups as an angel investor?
The crisis of water is frightening and we haven’t even seen the tip of the iceberg, says the author and cleantech investor
What does the great famine of 1877 — brought on by a confluence of a failed monsoon and colonial avarice, and exacerbated by a cholera outbreak that killed millions in India — teach us about water management today?
The famine’s official death toll was over 5 million, which was a huge underestimate. What struck me was how short public memory is. If you ask any Indian about famines, they will not mention the 1876-77 famine. So, the first thing is to remind ourselves that this happened and people died and it reshaped India in so many ways. The second thing to recognise is just how capricious the Indian monsoon can be. Yes, it comes every year, but it can change dramatically over the years. The 1877 El Nino is one of the strongest on record. Climate models are predicting that future El Ninos may well become more powerful. So, imagine if something like that happens: back then, we were only 220 million; today we are 1.3 billion. Those days, we grew resilient millets — that’s what most of us ate. Today, we grow and eat strains of rice and wheat that are less able to cope with the vagaries of the monsoon. To me, the biggest message is that the crisis of water is frightening and we haven’t even seen the tip of the iceberg.
Then there is the variety of lived experiences. Even during the famine, there were farmers in Tirunelveli and Tanjore who had access to regular irrigation and were doing very well. But what about the landless labourers in Arcot? When you read accounts of what happened, it’s really tragic. This diversity of lived experiences has parallels today. A wealthy farmer with access to a functional borewell during a drought will do well. But what about landless labourers or a small farmer caught in a rainfed farm — which is most of our farmers — what will they do?
How important is it to invest in reviving traditional water management methods such as Alwar’s johads and our ubiquitous stepwells?
I think it’s the most critical thing we can do. If I had to summarise the book in a single sentence, it is that we really got our water right once. We understood that our capricious cloud messenger has certain facets; it is geographically variable, highly seasonal, highly temporally skewed. Most of India’s rainfall takes place in just 100 hours. And as El Ninos and larger factors enter and exit the stage, the rains vary substantially over the years. Whatever water policy or intervention you frame has to keep these factors in mind.
Once upon a time, we understood this. Our kachcha tanks provided storage, addressed geographical variability, provided space for intense rainfall and addressed inter-annual variability. Similarly, the kallanai shows that ancient Tamils understood the sophisticated sedimentation processes when a river branches out into several streams. Today, many of our interventions strive to control water. Because they come from the colonial mindset that is shaped by a British water regime, which is very different from the Indian one.
How did the ‘borewell revolution’ change India’s relationship with water?
The borewell has transformed India like few other technologies have. I don’t think we have fully recognised its power. The first thing a borewell does is accentuate inequality. It is an expensive affair, which means much of India cannot afford one. It accentuates inter-generational inequality, because today many borewells are running dry, leaving the next generation of farmers in the lurch. We didn’t imagine that something that seemed endless would run out. But it is running out, and it is opening up a new conversation.
Tell us about your personal journey to water security when your borewell ran dry in Madurai and you found yourself entirely out of water in 2013.
Initially, we thought it was to do with the motor failing, which also speaks to the level of ignorance in this field. We never once thought that water could run out. It was our ‘aha’ moment: we realised we had to manage our demand. Once we decided to do that, there was a need to look at data, to see where the water was going. Once we got the data, it started speaking its own story and told us where to act. We discovered that the kitchen was consuming a ridiculous amount of water and we reduced the water pressure in our taps. We began using RO-reject water for our garden after testing for TDS. We upgraded our rainwater harvesting system and now use different qualities of water for different purposes.
You have described water as ‘female’.
Who bears the brunt if water is not available? Women collect water. It is a sickening, horrible job. You get up at two in the morning and elbow your way to get one or two pots. People talk of water being free. It is not. The poor pay the highest price for water, especially in the compromises made in terms of time and health. The price some paid for water during the Chennai water crisis was substantially higher than what Singapore charges. One woman I interviewed was paying 66 paise per litre; in contrast, the highest water tariff in Singapore is 19 paise per litre.
Why is water management not political priority?
Water provision is politically very salient. But managing water is a less politically powerful proposition. In the book, I took case studies from Gujarat, Punjab, Madhya Pradesh, Delhi, Maharashtra and Telangana and studied how politicians look at water. We asked over 900 people if they would vote on water and waste and most people said no. This was in the middle of a drought. Party, candidate, cash mattered more. A few people said if you give me a water connection, I will vote for you. This was about provision, not management. Only one person said they would vote for someone who desilts canals. Why is this? My hypothesis is that life is so uncertain. If you are an urban, economically vulnerable person, such as a maid, a cobbler, a shop assistant, or someone from rural India who subsists on rainfed crops, life is uncertain, credit costs are high, anything that does not happen in the here and now does not matter at all. Your outlook is a question of a couple of weeks. Which makes the provision of water powerful political capital, but the management of water political suicide, because management takes time. This is depressing and empowering in equal measure, because it means managing water is our responsibility.
In "Watershed: How We Destroyed India's Water and How We Can Save It", Mridula Ramesh lays bare the past and present of India's water and underlines why it is crucial to secure its future now.
Water availability in India has been decreasing for decades, leaving several parts in a cruel day-zero situation, shuttering factories and pushing farmers over the brink and by 2030, the country may fail to meet half of its water demand, warns a new book
Ramesh also warns that there can be little doubt that the many hues of water crises plaguing India will get worse.
"Within each of them lies a shared seed - a disrespect, a disdain for India's water facets. A warming climate and changing demographics are stressing those facets and exposing fault lines. Coming out of the crisis requires a change in mindset, a different way of looking at the world, and recognising and respecting India's water facets," she writes..
The book delves into the factors that have led India to this crisis, tracing 5000 years of history, joining the dots between key issues of concern in the country today - from extreme weather events and farmers' protests to water-related geopolitics and the role of clean-tech - and providing practical and scalable solutions to them.
"Over the past 150 years, we have radically changed what we grow and eat in India: from a nation primarily growing millets in the 19th century, we have become a rice-and-wheat-growing behemoth," Ramesh writes in the book, published by Hachette India.
Agriculture is the largest user of India's water, and this transformation places tremendous stress on the water because the country's biggest breadbaskets Punjab and Haryana don't get much rain, she says.
According to her, rising urbanisation adds to the stress.
"Between 2011 and 2030, more than 200 million people will move to India's cities. Even if each of them gets just 85 litres per day, this still translates to billions of litres more water that need to be transported to cities daily," the book says
"This transformation requires massive spending on dams and canals, making urban water supply inherently expensive. Given India's rising population, urbanisation and wealth, about half of India's overall water demand may go unmet by 2030," it adds.
Ramesh says the warming climate is changing India's water from something mundane and plentiful into something volatile and precious that needs to be managed with great care. "This pulling-the-carpet-from-under-your-feet shift is spelling the end for industries, and birthing new ones while transforming others. In this new world, the evolving preferences of customers, investors and the government makes mainstreaming water in one's business strategy a source of competitive advantage," she writes.
"Businesses (and their leaders) exist on a spectrum. Some get that this change is happening. Others don't. And as with every change in the history of business, this one too will create a new cohort of winners and leave those who don't adapt in the recycle bin," she argues. The book takes a long view and offers solutions that have been proven to work at scale and within political realities. It shows why and how India's water is unique and so vulnerable to climate change, politics, and geopolitics.
It also addresses other key topics like why is water more central than carbon for India's climate change story, why and how will the dam that China is building near the LAC in Arunachal Pradesh reshape the geopolitical landscape of the Northeast, and will the river interlinking scheme help overcome the water crisis.
Ramesh, who is the founder of Sundaram Climate Institute and author of "The Climate Solution: India's Climate-Change Crisis and What We Can Do About It", takes readers through thousands of years of history to track how India's water has reached this critical point.
From stories of ancient water-engineering marvels in the Indus Valley and Tamil Nadu to how water shaped medieval Delhi; from the burning fields of the country's Northwest to the hilsa's curtailed journey; and from the forests of Kanha and dams in Arunachal Pradesh to Kanpur's tanneries, "Watershed" seeks to uncover how India's fate is gradually being sealed by the extremes of drought and floods.
Ramesh suggests a number of actions for the government, saying much of the policy can be implemented regionally and implementation should be prioritised in high climate-risk regions, where political competition is low.
"Celebrate lake festivals. This is especially required for historic waterbodies like those in Delhi," she suggests.
She also feels a Jal Survekshan survey should be rolled out covering water supply, rainwaterharvesting capacity, percentage of sewage treated and reused, leaks and non-revenue water across municipalities.
Pollution, be it of air, water or noise, has been a perennial problem in India. Consequently, a water crisis looms over the nation’s future, the effects of which are felt in urban centres in all corners of the country, especially in the South. Some experts believe that by 2030, India will fail to meet even 50% of its water demand. How did we reach this breaking point and how will we work our way out of this crisis? The Wire‘s Mitali Mukherjee speaks with Mridula Ramesh, author and founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute whose recent book, Watershed addresses just these problems.
No respite: Many Indian cities have slipped into a bipolar reality of floods and drought
The battleground appears to have shifted in the farmers’ protest from the repeal of the three farm laws to a legally binding MSP. Leaving aside issues of implementation-practicality, the several-billion-dollar questions are for which crops should MSP be legally binding, where, and for how long? For context, consider that we have gone from being a nation of 220 million eating primarily millets in 1881 to a 1.3 billion rice-and-wheat-eating behemoth today. The price for this transformation has been paid largely from the groundwater reserves of the northwest. It’s unclear how long that water will last — one high-level state government committee opined that the groundwater could run out in 20-25 years in Punjab. Between 1966 and 2010, Punjab’s annual rainfall has averaged 662 mm, while the rainfall between 2011 and 2020 is 653 mm — not a big fall, but still a fall. How long can farming continue if this fall continues, as some climate models predict?
Already, bores are being deepened at a high cost. An attempt to conserve groundwater squeezed crop cycles and caused farmers to burn stubble, contributing to the winter spike in pollution. Given this context, should MSP, a policy tool forged during the droughts of the mid 1960s, be used to encourage the growing of a water-hungry crop in India’s dry northwest?
Consider, India’s monsoon does not deposit 1,100 mm of rain equally: places like Jaisalmer get about 165 mm, while some parts of the North-East see five metres in a matter of months. Before the British, Indian farmers grew their crops largely in keeping with locally available water and opted for crop varieties that could cope with the vicissitudes of India’s temperamental rainfall. But the British changed that with the canals bringing water in and railroads carting produce out. All at once, Indians began to believe that we could grow what we like, where we like. The Green Revolution with its borewells and the ascendance of central procurement of rice and wheat only strengthened that belief. Only now, as the climate warms, and wet regions become wetter, and dry regions grow drier, that belief is being questioned.
Apart from being geographically varied, India’s rainfall is highly seasonal, temporally skewed and varies across years as global phenomena like the El Nino exert their influence. When we ignore these facets, we create faultlines that erupt into crisis. Just last week, South India — Andhra Pradesh, Tamil Nadu and Puducherry — were confronting rivers in spate intent on sweeping away everything in their paths.
Earlier, we had the ameliorating influence of tanks that could help moderate intense rainfall and parley between dry and wet seasons. When we began seeing tanks as uncool (and dry tanks as prime real estate), and borewells as sophisticated and convenient, many Indian cities slipped into a bipolar reality of flood and drought.
Speaking of ameliorating influences, we must not forget forests and the glowing embers of an incipient water crisis in the North-East. The Jal Shakti of the Brahmaputra comes from both the plentiful rainfall and the emerald forests of Arunachal. Forests trap the rain and send it into cerulean streams which coalesce to form large rivers that feed into the Brahmaputra. In a water-scarce world, both China and India eye those waters hungrily. Moreover, the steep descent of many of the streams sing the siren song of hydropower — a renewable energy source that has become increasingly valuable in a planet short of carbon space. China plans a huge dam (three times the size of the Three Gorges) on the Brahmaputra, just a few kilometres away from the Line of Control. Will forests be cleared to build this dam, or others like it in this region? Will such a dam be able to cope with intense rainfall, which the loss of trees will only make worse (think Kerala floods)? What about the very real risk of earthquakes? Will the dam become a capricious hydro-disciplinary tool?
These are knotty questions with few easy answers, but almost every water crisis in India stems from our disrespect for the tempestuous nature of India’s cloud messenger. And so, any action begins with respecting this variability. This means building water storage — something India has too little of. This means keeping forests intact to smoothen the intense rainfall and maintain dry season river flows. This also means sustainable crop practices and urban planning that requires giving water its space. Many of these actions go against both powerful and popular forces. As the farmers outside Delhi exult, what about the next generation of farmers who will confront a dry land in which to grow a water-hungry crop? What will they do? What will we do?
In ‘Watershed’, Mridula Ramesh writes that India is facing its worst water crisis ever, and some say it will fail to meet half its water demand by 2030.
In the summer of 2013, we ran out of water in our home in Madurai. Like many others, we depend on the water that our borewell supplies, but after drilling past 500 feet, we hit a slushy bottom – our borewell’s way of telling us to look elsewhere. An electrician familiar with the workings of our house for decades said the house had never run out of water, which made us inclined to believe this water outage was a passing problem and more to do with the working of the borewell. My emails from this period reflect our concern with the functioning of the borewell and the muddiness of the column rather than with any fear of the aquifer drying up. Like many, we believed that the supply of underground water was endless.
How mistaken we were. In a year, we were spending thousands of rupees to buy water. By that time, I had personally gone from a climate-change ignoramus to knowing enough to fear that something may seriously be amiss. We are fortunate in having a large garden, but only after buying water did we understand just how much water it took to maintain – paying a meaningful price for water had forced us to look closely at our demand. That’s when we realized we did not know how we were using our water or, indeed, how much we were using. We had a vague suspicion that the garden and the bathrooms were the biggest culprits and perhaps the RO unit might be wasting too much water. So, we began monitoring RO use and how often the garden was watered. We tested and found that the raw water from the borewell needed filtration, as the TDS levels were too high for domestic use, but we also discovered that the RO unit was rejecting a lot of perfectly good water.
With a very young baby in the house, we were not open at the time to experimenting with drinking water quality. Instead, in 2014, we captured the water rejected by the RO unit in a tank, and after ensuring the TDS level was acceptable, we began using this in the garden. At first, our water consumption did not go down. It was only later, in 2015, when we fitted water meters around the house that we found the reject water wasn’t reused, it was just being tossed into the drain. The meter readings proved invaluable in other ways as well. Within a month of readings, we realized we were losing a lot of water when the overhead tank overflowed. We fixed a float valve: now, whenever the level of water rose to a preset level in the tank, the borewell motor would be automatically shut off. In the kitchen, which came up as a water guzzler, we took a leaf from South Africa’s water-saving journey and reduced the pressure of the water in the taps. This lowered the amount of water used in the kitchen without the need to be constantly watchful.
Finally, we lowered the amount of water rejected by our RO unit, despite the technician telling us that membrane life would be affected. Here, I must admit, I relied on the advice of an engineer at a desalination plant in Israel, who said that given our input water quality, reducing the amount of water rejected was a no-brainer. The membrane’s life has not fallen. We then fitted a meter on the reject water tank, which helped us track and ensure that the garden was watered with reject rather than raw water. This reuse was a game changer in bringing down our freshwater consumption. My neighbour – who transports and uses higher-quality water for his garden – warned us that our plants may die with reject water. We do test our input and reject water regularly to both decide how much water to reject and ensure the reject water is safe to reuse. Despite the use of reject water, if you were to visit our home, you will see a lush almost-jungle in the backyard.
Within a few months, we stopped buying water, but continued to innovate. Over time, my understanding of our water has improved, and I have realized that our relationship with our water is a journey. Like any journey, there have been some bumps on the road. I opted for a new type of water-saving water closet, which, though it was a reputed brand, failed to work in the most embarrassing fashion, with a ‘will-it-won’t-it’ flushing anxiety, which is undesirable. We now keep a bucket handy to help with flushing.
On the other hand, we have our victories as well. We renewed and added to our very old rainwater-harvesting (RWH) system. Whenever it rained heavily, we noticed that the rainwater – our rainwater – was escaping into the street. We dug a ditch, with a grill above it, before the gate, to channel the rainwater into a harvesting pit rather than let it flow into the street. We use compost and mulch extensively in the garden, so any rain falling there is sucked into and stored in the soil. We send no part of our food waste or garden waste out of the house; all of it becomes compost (or biogas). Compost is really black gold as it changes soil structure to make soil more water-friendly, even while helping plants thrive. We relish the succulent tomatoes and spinach that the garden – run on reject water and compost – provides.
It takes the reader from the deserts of Rajasthan to the wettest spot on earth
It is often said that if climate change is a shark, water is its teeth. Mridula Ramesh's book, Watershed, delves deeply into India's relationship with water, be it with its many rivers or its unique monsoon system. She discusses how the people who valued water, and had so many to means to store and conserve it, are today in a situation of water stress.
The book may sound like reference material for research, but it is actually many books rolled into one. It is a travelogue, as it takes the reader from the deserts of Rajasthan to the wettest spot on earth, Meghalaya. It is a historical read as it jumps from one millennium to another. At one point, Ramesh has taken us back in time to the Indus Valley Civilisation; at another, we join her in unravelling the various layers of Delhi's history, till we finally discover Anangtal Baoli, supposed to be Delhi's oldest step well. The Baoli in Meherauli Archaeological Park is obscured by a “battlefield of garbage”, a telling image of how India's relationship with water has changed from reverence and respect to shabby disregard and insult.
Ramesh, founder of Sundaram Climate Institute which focuses on water and water solutions and education, points towards the British colonising of India as the point in time when the country's relationship with water began changing. Deforestation, changing crop patterns, and a slew of “improved'' technologies introduced then continued, and worsened, post-independence leading to the present-day crisis when borewells have sucked out the last drop of moisture from the bottom of the water table and when piped water in the national capital reeks of ammonia. She writes how an Indian's personal relationship with water is telling about the individual's economic status. She writes: For the rich, water is peripheral. In the middle sections of society, water becomes important during summer or during a drought. For the poor, life revolves around water. Will it come? When? How much?
The book is written in an interesting manner. Water, naturally, is not a dry subject. Ramesh, however, makes it dance in a myriad way to her narrative. Her chapters are replete with anecdotes, sometimes personal, often some nuggets from history that are largely unknown. She writes about Partition, when Cyril Radcliffe came to cut up the country. As he looked at the Punjab, he suggested that perhaps the canals and fields they irrigated should be treated separately. Jinnah reportedly told him to get on with his job, he would rather have Pakistan deserts than fertile fields watered by courtesy of Hindus. Nehru showed equal disdain, telling Radcliffe that what India did with India's rivers was India's business.
The result was two countries--one which has the headwaters of the main rivers that drained the land across the border. One country looked helplessly at the control the other had over its waters, the latter looked enviously at the green fields these waters were nurturing. The Indus Water Treaty was signed only in 1960. “Would India have agreed so readily to this sharing of waters if it had not needed to be in the World Bank's good books? Or Indians had not grown used to eating wheat rather than millets. If ever there was a lesson for living within one's water endowment and financial budget, this was it, she says. “But the deed was done..... neutering any hydrological discipling tool that India possessed.''
Title: Watershed
Author: Mridula Ramesh
Publisher: Hachette
Pages: 415
Price: Rs 699
Mridula Ramesh is a leading climate and water expert and author of Watershed: How We Destroyed India’s Water and How We Can Save It and The Climate Solution
Chennai and water share a broken relationship. Come November, parts of the city flood. This year people prayed for the rains to stop and for lake sluice gates to remain shut, scarred as they were by memories of the deluge when they were opened in 2015. But when summer rolls around, the same areas that a few months earlier stood in knee-high, murky-brown water are parched. What causes this bipolar water reality? Seasonality. India’s water is highly seasonal — more so than almost any other country in the world. India’s rain is also highly temporally skewed — most of India’s rain falls in just hundred hours. That’s it. Our ancestors understood these facets of India’s water, and to bridge the gap between seasonal supply and perennial demand, they built water storage in the form of tanks. Tanks, or man-made lakes, act as receptacles for the local rainfall to flow into, which then recharges groundwater. Indeed, in a study of over 50 tanks, the Sundaram Climate Institute (SCI) found that areas close to a tank had far higher groundwater levels even while giving a place for intense rainfall to flow into. Thus, tanks reduce rainfall volatility — they lessen the odds of flooding during downpours, and add to your groundwater in the summer.
Sadly, tanks are disappearing across India. Mumbai’s Byculla area once held a 3.9-acre tank. The tank is now gone, and the neighbourhood often floods. Chennai’s T-Nagar was once called Long Tank, a giant tank that spread over 6 square miles where the Chennai Boat Club held its winter regatta, as crews competed in a mile-long course. That tank too has disappeared, and the neighbourhood faced flooding in this current spell of Chennai rains. It also doesn’t help that broke municipalities cannot build more stormwater drains or clean out the ones available.
More importantly, why are India’s tanks vanishing? The problem began with the British, who saw tanks as breeding grounds of infection. They preferred engineering works that offered a handsome return on British capital, even while giving administrators greater control over the city’s water supply. Very different from tanks, where access and benefit were controlled by communities. And so, the British encouraged the filling up of tanks. The onslaught on tanks intensified post-Independence, as the great cities of India became magnets for migrants. As the masses poured in, they needed places to stay, and amenities like bus stations, hospitals and schools. But where would the land come from? The dry tank bed. As cities grew, farmers sold their land and with it, lost their rights to the tank’s water. This allowed the administration to take over the tank, fill it up and create ‘new’ land in the heart of the city. It helped that people, thanks to British brainwashing, saw tanks as ‘unwholesome’, especially neglected tanks where solid waste and sewage added to the unsavoury picture. Soon, tanks disappeared and morphed into neighbourhoods, like T-Nagar. Did anyone miss them? Not really, because groundwater and piped water acted as opiates to numb the loss of water resilience.
But then, the climate changed. While COP 26, and popular climate discussions (or ‘blah blah blah’, as Greta puts it) revolve around carbon, the climate itself speaks loudest through water. And two of its starkest utterances are the shrinking number of rainy days in India, and the rising incidence of extreme rainfall events. Take a photo on your phone. Now increase the contrast to maximum and look at the photo again. This is what a hotter climate does to India’s water — it increases the contrast of water across time and space. Now you see why, as the climate heats up, the smoothening effect of tanks is missed.
It’s going to get worse — a lot worse. Even if we cut emissions to zero (#impossible), the seas will rise — probably by at least 20 cm by 2050. Then, large parts of Chennai (and Mumbai and Kolkata) may fall under water during some part of the year. Meanwhile, in summer and in El Niño years (think 2019), drought will intensify. We’ll really miss the tanks then. If we continue on this path, we risk being dropped from global supply chains (China+1 anyone?) — who wants to locate a factory in a place that floods every other year? And if that happens, those potential jobs evaporate. What can we do? SCI found that a good way to make tanks resilient was to reforge stronger bonds between a tank and its surrounding community. In cities, this includes re-imagining tanks as local tourism hubs, and providing the necessary infrastructure. SCI found that such a tank could support 100+ livelihoods while providing a safe place for the waters to flow into. Climate resilience and development in one neat package — all it needs is reimagination.
Mridula Ramesh is the author of critically acclaimed The Climate Solution – India’s Climate Change Crisis and What We Can Do About It, and the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, which focuses on waste and water management. She is an active angel investor in cleantech start-ups, with a portfolio of over a fifteen start-ups.
Mridula sits on several angel investment groups and is involved in initiatives to spur entrepreneurship to build climate resilience. A graduate with distinction of Cornell University (with majors in Chemistry and Microbiology), with an MBA from the Kellogg School of Management, Mridula worked at McKinsey in Silicon Valley before returning to India. She teaches a class on climate change at the Great Lakes Institute of Management and is a regular columnist for Firstpost and has written for the Hindu, Live Mint, Bloomberg Quint and Conde Nast. She is the Executive Director of Sundaram Textiles and lives and experiments in Madurai in a net zero-waste house with her husband and two children. She is part of the Advisory Committee, UNDP India National Circular Economy Project, part of the Board of Trustees of World Wildlife Fund, India and the Chairperson of the Board of Governors, of NIT, Andhra Pradesh.
The history of Delhi can be story of water, where the many cities of Delhi represent an ever-shifting compromise between protection, providing drinking water, and, earlier, adapting to a wavering river.
Let us begin our journey at Delhi’s earliest avatar, Purana Qila. Some say this was the site of the envy-inspiring capital of the Pandavas — the heroes of the Mahabharata who created their capital, Indraprastha, by clearing the Khandava forest. For now, let us leave aside whether or not this was historically true. Buddhist tradition speaks of a Kuru kingdom with their capital at Indapatta. Upinder Singh’s work, A History of Ancient and Early Medieval India, makes note of mentions of a settlement called ‘Indraprastha’ in the 14th century Afif’s Tarikh-i-Firuz Shahi as well as a 14th century stone inscription.
Two centuries later, the 16th century Ain-i-Akbari of Abul Fazl says Humayun’s fort was built at the location of the Pandava’s capital. The site has been continuously occupied from pre-Mauryan times to present day. In fact, Dr Vasant Kumar Swarnkar, superintending archaeologist, The Agra Circle, who led the excavations in Purana Qila in 2013/14 and again in 2017/18, told me that as late as the 20th century, there was a village called Indrapat inside the fort walls of Purana Qila.
Water Body at Purana Qila. All images courtesy the writer
While the Mahabharata poetically describes a palace with multiple ponds and of a city surrounded by ocean-like moats, archaeological evidence is more circumspect, limiting itself to speaking of the drains and ring wells from the 3rd to 4th century BCE. I asked if the presence of the ringwell implied that the river once flowed closer to the site. Dr Swarnkar replied that the excavation had found a rammed brick jelly floor around the ringwell with two post holes, possibly for bamboo poles to stand in. This would allow someone to mount a pulley on this structure, and pass a rope through it to draw water from the ringwell.
The unadorned presence of the ring well presence does show that the settlement had water readily available at shallow depths — or, that the city lay next to a river. Carbon dating has established this to about 4th century BCE. Dr Swarnkar went on to say that there were 18 terracotta rings to this ringwell. The ASI team dug deeper, a metre below the last, deepest ring of the ringwell. And there, in that tiny one foot by one foot space, they found a few sherds of Painted Grey Ware, an indication of a far old settlement, perhaps even 1000 BCE. It is perhaps too early to draw a firm conclusion. This is, however, a motivation to dig more. What happened to this civilisation?
The river Yamuna is steeped deep in India’s history. Puranically, she is the daughter of Surya, the sun, and his wife Sanjna, the goddess of clouds. Sanjna, unable to bear her husband’s luminosity, closed her eyes during a moment of intimacy with him. Enraged, Surya cursed her, that the child of their union would be dark and the god of Death and Dharma, Yama. Distraught, Sanjna tried to attract her husband again, but she was unable to stop shivering at his power and wrath. Surya cursed her again, saying their daughter will be the fickle one, shivering and shaking like her mother. Yamuna was that daughter. ‘The fickle one’ is an appropriate name for the Yamuna, who has frequently changed her course in the past. Of course, a river changing course translates to flooding, and, indeed, there is evidence of a flood in the archaeological dig at Purana Qila. River overcame city, as it had so many times in so many places.
A single river never exists in isolation. Instead, it is fed by several tributaries — often tiny streams — that drain small areas and coalesce to form a larger river. In Delhi too, many tiny streams flowed from the ridge into the Yamuna. These remain dry, or form tiny trickles for much of the year, and then swell in the monsoon. To match the seasonal supply of water with the constant water demand of a city, the many kings of Delhi built small dams across these streams, to form the lakes, which helped quench the thirst of the people.
Our next stop in our water history is away from the river, farther up the ridge, near Surajkund. As the second millennium unfolded, protection was worth more than widespread availability of water, in what was to become a particularly unsettled time. But, this meant managing water became important. We could stop off at the Anangpur Dam or Anangpur Bundh, in today’s Haryana, which helped harvest rainwater. The builder of Anangpur Dam belonged to the Tomara Rajput dynasty, who ruled over parts of Delhi and Haryana in the turn of the first millennium. Some distance away lies Surajkund, (from Surya = Sun, Kund = Tank), a large, terraced, roughly circular tank spread over six acres held to be built by the Tomara king, Surajpala, in the end of the first millennium. As this ‘newer’ Delhi lay some distance from the river, a tank like this played a critical role in replenishing groundwater, which keeps up water levels in shallower wells nearer to people’s homes. When I visited the kund, the Sun was just setting, creating a magical tableau of orange light bouncing off exposed stonework, reminiscent of a Roman amphitheatre.
In another sensibility, this might have been a huge tourist attraction — a grand, 1,000-year-old water conservation structure. Sadly, even on a day when thousands shopped in the adjacent Surajkund mela, I had mostly stray dogs for company.
As we move forward in time, we continue moving up the ridge, increasingly going to the high ground that is so valuable in a troubled time. The next avatar of Delhi takes shape in the more defensible Lal Kot, several hundred feet above the Yamuna. Some sources suggest that Lal Kot was perhaps a border outpost, meaning it was sparsely populated, which lessened the need for water. But Qutbuddin Aibak made it his capital, and slowly, the city’s population grew. The ridge was more secure to be sure, but lay a distance away from the river, and made the job of providing water to a large population that much harder. Sultan Iltutmish built the tank, Hauz-i Shamsi, in 1231 CE, inspired by a dream of the Prophet guiding him to the spot. When my friend Abhishek and I visited the lake in 2020, weeds had overcome the tank.
An inveterate medieval traveller, Ibn Battuta, covered 75,000 miles in his 29 years of travels. In his Rehla (or Journey), he describes the Hauz-i-Shamsi as a large, rainfed tank, two miles long and a mile wide, which provided Delhi with her drinking water. More than that, it was a site of camaraderie, and farming. Battuta specifically commends the melons grown around the tanks. But the population kept rising, and the city began spreading toward the river.
Which brings us to Siri, and Hauz Khas. Today, Hauz Khas is located in a park where families relax and lovers canoodle, but in the 14th century it was a sign that a new powerful ruler was rising. Allaudin Khilji created his capital, Siri, around it. This was a period of frequent drought. Combined with a growing population, the city needed to spread closer to the more dependable waters of the river, and to add a large tank to harness the rains. Hauz Khas and a capital a little down the ridge met both needs admirably.
Back in Lal Kot, in the Mehrauli Archaeological Park, we began our search for the Anangtal baoli, reputedly the oldest baoli in Delhi. Walking through this largely deserted park seemed strangely momentous: we were passing through centuries every few steps. We passed Balban’s tomb — Balban who was kidnapped and sold as a slave to Iltutmish, who not liking the boy’s face condemned him to a group of bhishtis (or water-bearers); Balban, who through sheer iron will, rose to join the 40 Turkish slaves who made up the group of ministers in the Delhi Sultanate. Balban, who served Raziya Sultana, daughter of Iltutmish, as her chief huntsman, and upon her falling, her half-brother as well. Balban who served Nasiruddin, as the true power behind his throne for years, before finally rising to become the Sultan in 1266.
We passed by the ruins of the Lal Kot, the Tomara clan’s fort, before coming up into Rajon ki Baoli, passing a large fenced-off lake on our way. Rajon ki Baoli is a gorgeous four-storeyed stepwell built during the Lodhi Period, around 1512 A.D, several centuries past Balban’s life. It literally means the stepwell used by masons (Raj = Masons), and consists of a rectangular tank, with a well at one end, and the other side having steps leading down to the water. The two longer sides of the rectangle have covered corridors, with beautiful arches, and a terrace to one side.
At Rajon ki Baoli, the archaeological renovation meant that the baoli held water when we visited, which meant we could not see the lower storeys. What was visible was the lack of love in catering to visitors. Few signs. No guides. This baoli has stood as an important, but under-appreciated part of history. The history of the aam-admi, not of emperors and kings, but of friends gathering to chat. Of mothers bringing their children to play, while they gathered water for their family. Today, it can serve as a job-generating micro-business. Stunning, green, peaceful. In my mind’s eye I can imagine the baoli hosting a glamourous party (or 10) as in the days of yore.
We saw a group of guards and asked one for the whereabouts of Anangtal Baoli. He offered to show us, and together, we stepped out of the park, and walked a little way to Gandak ki Baoli. In less than 200 metres, as a crow might fly, we had moved 300 years into the past. Gandhak Ki Baoli was built by Iltutmish for the Sufi saint, Qutbuddin Bakhtiyar Kaki. This stark baoli is named ‘Gandhak’, meaning sulphur, probably alluding to the nature of the spring that fed the well. Possibly because of this, and because of the association with the saint, the waters are believed to have healing powers. It is a deep baoli, and thanks to the renovation, was full of water. The guard whispered that bathing was banned because, recently, a boy had drowned in the waters. We saw an old man sitting on the steps, splashing in this little oasis, a step away from the busy street, yet existing in what was, to all intents, a parallel universe.
We walked a hundred metres of so northward, and came upon the imposing tomb of Adham Khan, the son of Akbar’s wet nurse. Akbar was fond of Maham Anaga, his nurse and guide, but did not brook Adham Khan’s scheming and murder of Shamsa-ud-din, his prime minister and foster father. Akbar caused Adham Khan to be thrown down from the ramparts of his fort, not once but twice. His death broke his mother’s heart, and she died just 40 days later. Akbar is said to have accompanied her funeral procession from Agra to Delhi for a short distance. The grand tomb houses Maham Anaga’s remains and is a sign of the coming of age of Akbar.
We walked northeast from the tomb, and after a hundred metres or so, turned left into a short path leading to the Yogmaya temple. The outer structure is new, but the temple itself is considered ancient. Who is Yogmaya? Many believe her to be the sister of Krishna. Krishna was the eighth child of Devaki and Vasudeva. But Devaki’s brother, Kamsa, feared her children. For he knew of a prediction that Devaki’s eighth child would make an end of him (incidentally, Agrasen, or Ugrasen ki Baoli is named after Kamsa’s father). So, Kamsa locked Devaki and Vasudeva in a prison, and every time a child was born to them, he killed the baby. When Krishna was born, through a series of miracles, Vasudeva replaced him with a baby girl. When Kamsa tried to kill the baby girl, she transformed and told him that his destroyer was very much alive. Yogmaya is said to embody the power of Krishna, the secret behind why he is considered the stealer of hearts.
The Yogmaya temple is also associated with a charming festival, one which goes back a couple of centuries, to the fading days of the Mughals, in the reign of Akbar Shah II. The year is 1809, and the problem is that the emperor wanted his second son, Mirza Jehangir, to succeed him. However, the British resident, Archibald Seton, wanted Sirajjudin Zafar (AKA Bahadur Shah Zafar) to succeed. Naturally, Mirza did not take this lying down, and fired upon Seton one evening. Seton escaped, but was furious. Flexing his political muscles, he exiled Mirza to far-away Allahabad.
Mirza’s mother, Mumtaz Begum, was worried. Some say she promised to lay a chador (cloth) of flowers at the shrine of Qutbuddin Bhaktiar Kaki if her son was returned safely to her. Others add that she promised to lay a pankha (fan) made of flowers to Yogmaya as well. When 1812 rolled around, Mirza came back, and the Mughal court moved from Shahjahanabad to Mehrauli, in gratitude, carrying a chador and a fan crafted from flowers. Merrymaking was in the air. The men swam in the nearby Hauz-i-Shamsi. Merchants displayed their wares to cater to the varied appetites of the Mughal court. Wrestlers competed for rich prizes, and fireworks were lit from boats on the Hauz-i-Shamsi. The Emperor laid the fan in the Yogmaya temple and then laid the chador at the Sufi shrine. After the days-long festivities, the Mughal court returned to Shahjahanabad. After Akbar Shah’s passing, Bahadur Shah continued to celebrate the Phool Walon Ki Sair (Procession of Florists) with great pomp. The annual festivities were broken during the First War of Indian Independence in 1857, and then again in the period before India’s actual Independence.
We asked the priest at the Yogmaya temple if he knew of the baoli. He gave us a vague reply; another person said he was born in that locality (he appeared to be in his 50s), but had never heard of the baoli. Perhaps we were talking of the Gandhak-ki-Baoli? Disappointed, we left. But to our surprise, our friendly guard was waiting for us, and he was smiling. At last, he had found it! We left the temple, and turned right, and went past a few houses and came upon what appeared to be a giant waste dump. Sanitary napkins, bottles, rubbish of every description, pigs. Wading through the rubbish, after a bit, we could see the baoli, some distance away. It existed!
We asked the priest at the Yogmaya temple if he knew of the baoli. He gave us a vague reply; another person said he was born in that locality (he appeared to be in his 50s), but had never heard of the baoli. Perhaps we were talking of the Gandhak-ki-Baoli? Disappointed, we left. But to our surprise, our friendly guard was waiting for us, and he was smiling. At last, he had found it! We left the temple, and turned right, and went past a few houses and came upon what appeared to be a giant waste dump. Sanitary napkins, bottles, rubbish of every description, pigs. Wading through the rubbish, after a bit, we could see the baoli, some distance away. It existed!
We gingerly made our way through the garbage, and came to this completely unadorned baoli in the middle of a thicket of forest. The city faded away, and the centuries fell away. We were standing in front of possibly earliest existing baoli of Delhi. In a sense, Anangtal Baoli reflects our relationship with water. Once prized, cherished, shepherded. Today, like India’s water, this 1,000-year-old structure is unloved, its true value forgotten.
The above text has been excerpted from Mridula Ramesh's upcoming book, The Watershed.
Mridula Ramesh is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It, published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
Our previous column ended with the question: “How do we get the economically vulnerable to care about water management?”. In this, the concluding piece, let’s see if we get to an answer.
Warning: Spoilers ahead for fans of Game of Thrones (and for those who aren't, please skip to the end of this paragraph) — there is a conversation between Daenerys Targaryen, who has at great personal cost helped rid Westeros of the threat of the Army of the Dead, and Missandei, her advisor. Missandei says that the people of King’s Landing (and Westeros) will be grateful to Daenerys for her action and will support her claim over Cersei, the current occupant of the Iron Throne. Daenerys responds that Cersei will never let the people believe that the Targaryen queen saved them, because, she, like all effective rulers, understands the key role of spin.
The importance of spin or "narrative" cannot be overstated in a democracy — not just in crafting the message, but also in our echo-chamber world, selecting the appropriate messenger and the medium. Today, popular narrative spins ‘provision’ (of water, versus 'management') as being poor-friendly. That must change if we want to make water management resonate with the voters.
Consider an expensive ‘provision’ for farmers — setting the Minimum Support Prices (MSP). The government allocated more than Rs 1,15,114 crores towards the Department of Food and Public Distribution in 2016-17. This works out as annual subsidy of more than Rs 12,000 per agricultural household. That’s a big-ticket provision which addresses a key voter issue — better prices for agricultural produce. But does it really?
What many of us don’t appreciate is that many (most?) small farmers do not even know what the MSP of their crop is, and if even if they did, it’s at best a theoretical, out-of-reach concept, as most of the small farmers sell their crop to private traders.
In the same vein, the Rs 11,000 crores that Maharashtra allocates annually for electricity subsidies reach a tiny percentage of larger farmers who own borewells — they don’t benefit small and marginal farmers. To wit, only 18 percent of Maharashtrian farmland is irrigated!
So why is this narrative persisting? We will answer that in a bit.
Changing the Narrative to ‘Provision cannot last’
Recently, I was asked if the more economically vulnerable sections of our population understand what climate change is. It’s an important question. My answer was that they understand it far better than those of us leading air-conditioned, cocooned lives.
But I’m less sure that they understand the mechanism — that the warming is caused by greenhouse gases generated by development that has passed them by. That the disasters they see around them — flooding, unseasonal rain, drought, intense and increasing heat — will get worse. Fani highlighted the dangers of too much water and wind; while it will take a while to get the specific attribution of whether or not Fani’s power derived from a warmer climate, what is more settled is that a warmer climate makes more powerful storms more likely. Will provision work in such a world?
Moving to our cities, today, the informal residents, powerful and local councillors conspire to encroach flood plains and erstwhile water bodies. This made/makes sense for now. But with annual flooding becoming a reality in many Indian cities, will this equilibrium hold?
Moving to a key voter issue in Delhi: Air pollution. Subsidising power for farmers in Punjab to grow rice for the rest of us to eat made sense. But when Punjab cancels water-sharing agreements because it does not have enough water to lavish on its rice and wheat crops, does it continue to make sense? When burning the rice straw to speedily make room for the wheat crop results in smogging the capital, does holding to a procurement target and an MSP make sense for paddy grown in Punjab?
The two buckets-worth of water that comes on alternate days could become two lota-fulls every third day as our population rises, and millions pour into cities and we run out of groundwater. In such a world, which we are just at the doorstep of, does the free water of yesterday make sense? Our groundwater running out exposes the limits of the provision-centric-strategy in warming, populous, urban world.
Management-as-a-narrative doesn’t stand a shot unless we increase time frame of our audience.
One way to do that is to reduce uncertainty in the economically vulnerable sections, by ensuring more regular incomes — i.e., an income-guarantee scheme. Please note, this needs to be targeted carefully: towards only the most vulnerable as they are the ones who are bypassed by the subsidy regime. Income transfers must be periodic — i.e., not a one-shot bonanza once a year, but a regular weekly or monthly trickle, which matches well with their cash outflows. Lastly, this income scheme must replace subsidies, not be doled out in addition to subsidies. The last thing India needs is a ballooning deficit. But many pundits say the first rule of politics is that what has been given cannot be taken away. Perhaps, just perhaps, by giving something tangible and regular to the poorest, we can facilitate their support for cutting subsidies, especially when they find, in actuality, nothing is leaving their pockets.
Surveying political manifestos and recent political actions like the Pradhan Mantri Kisan Samman Nidhi, we see that most political parties have jumped on to this somewhat-universal income bandwagon. But will such schemes cut the subsidies (as they ought) or kill fiscal prudence? We can only reflect on past political careers to make that call.
A woman from Beed in Maharashtra could not care two hoots about water price in Madurai — it would not get her to vote one way or another. But if she were to believe that charging Maharashtrian farmers for electricity would result in her not having to wait and fight for water in summer, she may lean in and say, “Tell me more”.
Water pricing is not ideally placed in national policy (but it was great to see it one political party’s manifesto) because water is a state subject, and as such the pricing decision is too. But in a dry city — like Chennai, for example, when it is reeling under the heat and most people are paying exorbitant explicit prices for water, pricing water through official channels by displacing private suppliers becomes politically sellable. Speak of the heroism of plumbers who fix leaks, of bureaucrats that repair meters, of school children who adopt a water body. In the summer, in a dry city, you will find a cheering audience.
Who should sell this story to the voters? Not the political parties, because as per the 2018 Azim Premji/Lok Niti study, they are the least trusted. Would it be inappropriate for the most trusted — the military, the Supreme and High courts — to comment on this subject? Hmmm. Who else do Indians trust? That’s a crucial question. A Pew study suggests that Indians are quite trusting of their media organisations. But national media organisations spend a lot of time on national and state elections and spend far lesser time on local issues. Could that change? Until it does, at a local level, the story could be told by local well-respected leaders and the civil society, who are likely to support solid initiatives in their own turf because they too will be impacted regularly by it.
There you have it — a good way to address the water crisis is to make it a local (municipal) compelling voting issue. But when moving action (i.e., moving to water management) and narrative to a local scale, we run into two road-blocks: money and talent. Many of us are trained to think of scaling up — nationally, internationally. As a result, talent migrates upwards where the money and the glitz reside. Bureaucrats begin their careers at the local level and move up nationally and internationally beckoned by power and glamour. Municipal management becomes hard when talent is scarce and budgets are comparatively tiny.
Enter civil society. Civil society can partner with the government to add capacity at the municipal level: to hold an honest mirror to the quality of service; to help design, plan and communicate; to work should-to-shoulder. The only problem is that the power/glamour issue operates powerfully on civil society too — many of them are in the nation’s capital or in larger metros. Could (should) that change? To some extent, that is tied to the donor agenda.
Lastly, if municipal governments choose to price water, they can tap private capacity to deliver part of the service. Then, in F1 parlance, it’s game on!
Given that we are in the midst of a national election, is there anything that the national parties can do to improve water resilience? Yes (but this is not a complete list). One is to indicate a shift in priorities — like what was done when the Prime Minister stood on the ramparts of the Red Fort and highlighted the importance of toilets. He made speaking of our sewage in public kosher. That’s a big deal.
Another is the Swachh Survekshan, which infuses the spirit of competition into waste management and brings forth some transparency in the performance at municipalities. This is an idea that can be easily carted across to water. Third, there is an argument to be made for consolidating all roles into a single ministry/department so that decision making becomes easier. The last, but not the least, is the meaningful management of our forests, whose resilience we neglect at our own peril.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
Why do voters care about provision over management of a resource like water? That was the question we left open in our previous column. I’ll answer that question by asking (and answering) a different one: What is the appropriate time and the appropriate scale at which to deal with water issues in a democracy?
Let’s start with scale first.
If it is to do with provision (and division) of waters — the answer is to deal with it at as high a level as relevant.
Consider Delhi as a case in point. The Niti Aayog ‘Composite Water Management Index’ stated that:
‘India is suffering from the worst water crisis in its history and millions of lives and livelihoods are under threat.’
The report went onto say that several Indian cities were likely to run out of groundwater in the next decade. Like throwing a lit match into the smouldering embers, an author of a more recent study reinforced this message. Dr Virendra M Tiwari, director of the National Geophysical Research Institute, whose institute conducted this study, was quoted as saying
“We have no clue how much ground water storage is left in the region. But what we clearly know is that the picture is very grim.”.
Delhi’s Jal Board supplies about 900 million gallons per day. Where does this water come from? From the Yamuna, the Ganga, from the Bhakra storage, from the ground and a tiny bit from recycled water. Let’s take the Yamuna, which supplies the largest chunk of Delhi’s water. The control of these waters lies with Haryana — giving the power to quenching Delhi’s thirst to Haryana, especially during the lean (and critical) summer months.
Haryana periodically flexes its hydrological muscles, most notably during the Jat protests of 2016. These protests came about because members of the Jat community demanded quotas for jobs and education. In February 2016, protestors held the Munak canal to hostage significantly reducing Delhi’s water supply. A panicked Delhi Chief Minister took to Twitter, tweeting:
“Spoke to Rajnath ji also and apprised him of grave situation. He has assured that army is being sent to munak canal” and “Spoke to Haryana CM. He has assured that he will immediately send army to ensure safety of munak canal”, followed by “We've completely run out of water. I appeal to the centre with folded hands to immediately intervene and get munak canal started in Haryana” [sic].
These 139 characters speak volumes of what is wrong with water management in India today. The army was sent in to take control, which it did, post which waters were released to the nation’s capital. The Delhi Chief Minister then tweeted:
“Thank u army, thank u centre for securing munak canal back. Great relief for delhi” [sic].
The two states — upstream and downstream — continue to bicker about the actual quantity and quality of supplied water. More recently, the Delhi Jal Board has dropped its cases against Haryana to ensure water supplies continued in the lean season. Haryana, in turn, squabbles with Punjab over its share of water in a case over Punjab’s termination of water-sharing agreements with other states that has gone to the Supreme Court. Several Northern states look hungrily at the Indus Water Basin, whose waters primarily flow into Pakistan.
Clearly, when it comes to provision, especially when while dividing river waters which are shared by many states (and even countries), the national scale maybe more appropriate.
But wait a minute. Is this the full story?
Haryana, for its part, said “300 cusecs of water supplied by Haryana to Delhi is being wasted by Delhi due to leakage and pilferage” in an affidavit to the Delhi High Court. Haryana is not alone in making this accusation — other studies have placed Delhi’s water loss to about 40 percent. Lack of metering, faulty meters, theft, leaks due to aging, rusty and creaky water infrastructure all contribute to this sorry state. For that matter, Delhi is not alone in losing a large chunk of its water to theft and leaks — most cities in India share this dubious honour. Fixing leaks and theft comes firmly under the head of “management” (as opposed to provision), which is best performed by local governments.
Delhi’s groundwater crisis also owes some share to the 200 MGD of groundwater being drawn by private sources — controlling and optimising this extraction and use is again a local issue. Meanwhile, Delhi generates a fair bit of sewage, which appropriately treated can easily meet some part of its water needs — flushing and landscaping. to name just two. This is already being done at scale in the peripheries of many Indian cities, especially Bengaluru.
This may be the approach that finally cracks Delhi’s water problems too. Seen purely in the present, the division of waters looks to be a topic for national or legal arbitration. But we make policies not just for the present; in the future, as water grows more scarce, upstream geographies will become increasingly reluctant to loosen their grip over the waters that originate and pass through their boundaries. In this situation, management will progressively assume greater importance in the hydrological toolkit than it has now. Conversely, the more we lean on provision (i.e., a greater share in the Indus System waters, for instance), the less motivation we will have to manage our water. But it is important to note that because sewage and leakage are both something entirely within a single government’s control, it does not need an external government to be part of the solution. In that sense, it is more feasible.
So why aren’t voters saying they will vote for the politician who cuts leakage? Water management is poorly suited to politics, because of one word — timescale.
A Question of Time
For the average Indian, income is highly uncertain. Consider the case of residents of informal settlements in the cities. Many of these residents have a patchwork of jobs — they are our auto drivers, waste pickers, household staff, cobblers, part-time tailors, petty shopkeepers. They are, in fact, what makes Indian cities tick. But their incomes are far from predictable; if there is a puncture, that’s an hour’s income gone for the auto driver, a sick child means a day’s income lost for a maid, a customer may not pay, or a chance accident could ruin the stock. Their expenses, on the other hand, are fixed: rent, school supplies, medical bills, alcohol, food. Expensive credit wedges the gap between precarious cash inflow and steady cash outflow.
Apart from a fickle income, there are other forms of uncertainty. Imbibing poor quality water, air and food, health becomes uncertain. Even with an electrical connection, whether or not power flows is uncertain. The quantity and timing of water availability is uncertain. Whether a teacher will come to class on a given day to teach one’s child is uncertain. All this uncertainty translates to a sky-high discount rate applied to future cash flows promised by today’s investments.
Now, tell me, if your cost of credit varied between 50 and 100 percent, how long would your outlook horizon be? A week? Maybe two. The uncertainty of the lives of our main voters dictates their short term outlook, and may help explain why we are a more transactional society. Where choices are made favouring the immediate rather than the long term and on upfront cost and timing, rather than value of life-cycle impact. This explains why poorer voters prefer to vote for someone who gives them ready cash, or to someone from their own caste, who they can more reliably approach when something predictably goes wrong.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
Your guide to the latest election news, analysis, commentary, live updates and schedule for Lok Sabha Elections 2019 on firstpost.com/elections. Follow us on Twitter and Instagram or like our Facebook page for updates from all 543 constituencies for the upcoming general elections.
Many urbans Indians have far too little water — just over two buckets a day to drink, bathe, cook and wash. Many more poor rural Indians would find agriculture more remunerative if they had better access to water. That’s why it’s so perplexing that water, and specifically water management, is not a raging political issue.
Why is this? We can bemoan the political impotency of water; but finding a solution requires us to both acknowledge and attempt to understand the present situation.
At the heart of the politician-water nexus is the need to balance different interests — between groups and within the same group. Take the case of Maharashtra, where it’s reported that voters say: “Whoever fixes the drought will get my vote”. Seems straightforward enough. And doable too — as Israel has shown. Where is the problem?
Agriculture is the single largest user of water in India. Now, as per the All India Survey of Governance Issues and Voting Behaviour 2018 study by the Association of Democratic Reforms (ADR), many of Maharashtra’s rural constituencies place “Availability of Water for Agriculture” as a Top-3 voter issue. But it is not the only burning issue. The same ADR survey says that the rural Maharashtrian voter cares about electricity for agriculture almost as much water availability. Rural voters also prize getting “Higher Price Realisation for Farm Products”.
But what really muddies the waters is the caste equation. A 2018 study by Azim Premji University and CSDS-Lok Niti confirms many of our private suspicions — the majority of Indians will favour a candidate from their own caste. In the case of Maharashtra, 54 percent of respondents from Maharashtra would favour a political leader from their own caste. This preference becomes more pronounced when the educational attainment of the respondent is lower.
Now, consider the choices in front of the politician. Make water more available for all? He will need to price water, build out last mile connectivity of canals, compel politically powerful farmers to practise rotation and also change MSP to reflect water usage and pricing (make sugarcane less remunerative, as compared to say, Jowar). Tell this to any politician — and if she is honest — she will likely laugh long and hard and then say this is political suicide. How much easier (and effective) to subsidise electricity and provide a higher MSP and put a candidate from a politically compelling caste up for election?
In 2018-19, agricultural consumers were subsidised by over Rs 11,000 crores by other classes of electricity consumers in Maharashtra. But even that subsidised tariff is not paid fully. As of June 2018, cumulative arrears of agricultural consumers exceeded Rs 26,000 crores. Clearly, providing subsidised (and forgiven) charges for electricity is an tangible and expensive action. But is it ‘fixing the drought’. Not quite: only 17.8 percent of the cropped area is irrigated — i.e., the subsidised electricity is benefitting a small fraction of farmers, given that typically, only the wealthier farmers own the borewells. We will come to that later, but it is important to note that this subsidy means that the politician is seen to be acting on voter interests by doing something both tangible and expensive.
Meanwhile, urban voters, notably in Mumbai-North, Pune and Nagpur, as per the ADR survey want their drinking water now, if you please. City fights with farm for its share of water. The narrative behind competing interests is founded almost entirely on rights, which places severe constraints in terms of timescale and levers of actions that the poor (yes, you read that right) politician can take. Recent farmer protests have demanded forest rights, drought compensation, loan waivers and better prices for their products. Politically, the sub-text from the protests is crystal clear: it is an exhortation for politicians to provide (and divide), not for the government to manage.
Long ago, every drop of water came because of a role performed — maintaining a bund, clearing a channel, desilting a tank, paying a share of a crop. It did not come for free. Balancing different demands was somewhat easier then. But our history has transformed water from a responsibility to a right — a dole — first from our colonial rulers to now, from our political leaders. This makes provision, powerful political capital.
Consider the water situation in my own city, Madurai. Last year, Sundaram Climate Institute discovered that residents in several localities get water only once every few days in a communal tap. Anecdotal reports suggest that the situation still prevails.
This is clearly unacceptable, and we would expect that residents would care that so much water continues to be lost to leaks. Should they not protest “Meter the water and arrests those leaks, I say”. Au contraire. Despite sporadic protests on water scarcity, ‘drinking water’ is not even a big enough in Madurai to figure in the Top-3 issues as per the ADR survey. In the 39 constituencies surveyed by ADR in Tamil Nadu, only 7 constituencies placed water in the Top-3 voter issues, while none of the urban centres placed ‘Drinking water’ in the Top-3 voter issues. If you were a politician standing in national elections, would you address or look through such protests?
Digging a little deeper into the study, we find that one of the lowest governance priorities of voters is encroachment of public lands. Urban water availability in dry regions with seasonal rainfall (as seen in Tamil Nadu) rests firmly on well-functioning public tanks and lakes. However, tanks are choice encroachment targets. When linking channels between tanks are encroached, downstream tanks in a system of cascading tanks become dry — providing enticingly empty land in crowded city centres. Thus, when voters openly tell politicians that they don’t prioritise preventing encroachment, they are clearly signalling that water management is unlikely to be rewarded. Supporting this narrative are the results of the recent state elections: governments such as Telangana , who prioritised populist measures (free electricity) over water management, before elections, won.
Tamilian political parties understand this all too well and have framed their manifestos accordingly. Some feature a cash transfer to segments of the population, while others promise crop loan waivers and free electricity to farmers. None of these measures will serve to alleviate water scarcity in the state. Indeed, features like free electricity for farmers, coupled with a higher MSP for water-hungry crops such as paddy and sugarcane will only make it worse.
Why do voters prioritise provision, and not care about management? We will take that up in the next column.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
Your guide to the latest election news, analysis, commentary, live updates and schedule for Lok Sabha Elections 2019 on firstpost.com/elections. Follow us on Twitter and Instagram or like our Facebook page for updates from all 543 constituencies for the upcoming general elections.
In 2013, amidst unusual heat, Mridula Ramesh remembers her family running out of water at her house in Madurai. She had just had a new baby, and with a difficult pregnancy and delivery behind her, she was finally at home after having a corporate career for several years. This meant she had time to reflect – to step outside the “corporate bubble” for the first time, in a very long time and wonder about the sudden and drastic changes to her environment.
So far, environmentalism had been peripheral and not central to her life.
She says, “Could the unusual weather we were having – the hot hot days and no rain – have something to do with climate change? Once I started digging, it startled me that (a) this was a big deal and (b) why was no one talking about it – people were of course talking about it – but in elitist circles – but not to average everyday folks in a language that they resonated with.”
Ramesh, who has had an Ivy League liberal undergraduate education, wherein she transferred from the engineering school into pure sciences – Chemistry, Biochemistry and Genetics – is the founder of Sundaram Climate Institute (SCI), which focuses on waste and water solutions and educating individuals and corporates on the same. She has also written the book The Climate Solution which discusses practical solutions for combatting climate change in India.
She started her journey by educating herself, and then teaching a class at a local school. At the suggestion of one of her students, she began to write a column in The Hindu discussing climate change.
“But in the six years since then, global emissions have risen, not fallen. Global CO2 concentrations have gone up from less than 400 ppm to 412 ppm. Water shortages have become front and centre. Madurai had its worst drought in living memory in 2017. In that sense, things have not gotten better. But we were the only house not to buy water in 2017 – to that extent, we have become climate resilient. In that sense, things have gotten better,” she adds.
Even when the President of the most powerful country in the world denies the very existence of climate change, the author feels that convincing the public about the reality of climate change is not difficult in a country like India. However in the US, climate change is seen as important, but not the most important issue one needs to worry about.
“It’s harder in the US – where the benefits of curbing climate change are uncertain (because they are so dispersed and uneven) while the costs are very concentrated and often fall on shoulders that are powerful today (Fossil Fuel companies) – that’s why it’s a harder sell.
…Corporates are a different story – many actions that cut emissions make economic sense in a country like India with a strong carbon price, so that is happening. But many countries, including the US, do not have a strong enough price on carbon to make it worthwhile for corporates to curb emissions. And in a democracy, only the voters can change that.”
Ramesh elucidates that climate change is the most ‘un-equalising’ force – far stronger, in her opinion, than technology or financialisation.
“While some benefit, many suffer. And the problem is that many of those who caused historical emissions (relevant because past emissions cause current warming) don’t necessarily suffer from the warming. This makes action far harder to come by.”
However, she says that climate resilience is all about individual action, that it’s amazing how much one can do, once they become aware. There are 5 entire chapters in her book devoted to individual action – how to move, live (energy/waste/water) and eat – and many of those actions are not difficult to take on an everyday basis (once you have a system in place), and save you money.
“One suggestion is to monitor your water and waste footprint – i.e., how much you use and waste every day – of both solid waste and water. I recently conducted a survey in a class I taught, and it was unsurprising but sad, that most students had no idea how much water they used on a daily basis, nor paid for it. How will you optimise a “scarce” and “precious” thing if you don’t measure it or value it?”
The author, who also funds clean technology startups, informs that climate change also adversely affects women.
“First, is risk to employment – this is a big deal, given that right now, the majority of Indian women don’t work, and the Indian female workforce participation has fallen from a poor 35% in 1990 to a terrible 27% in 2017. Most Indian women who do work, work in Agriculture, which is going to be hit hard by climate change by a combination of (a) rise in temperatures, (b) temperamental rainfall and changing pest patterns. Now, as it gets hotter, working outside becomes increasingly dangerous and because over half of India’s farms are rainfed, yields will fall, if we don’t adapt. Leaving less of a surplus for the women workers.
Secondly, there is a risk related to the roles women play. I discuss this more in the book, but briefly: more frequent flooding affects children the most. Who typically looks after children at home? Women. More sick children = less leisure time/more leave from work for women.
The third group of risks from a warmer climate to women is the increased risk of violence. One part is direct violence – studies have shown that as the temperatures rise, the incidence of violent behaviour, such as domestic violence, increase. The second part is more dangerous. When rains fail, a study by Sekhri and Storeyguard over 583 districts in India, shows dowry deaths tend to increase.”
When the author started writing, talking and teaching about climate change several years ago, many thought this was a midlife crisis gone badly wrong. Thankfully, she doesn’t get too much of that now as she continues to write and teach. The studies are also expanding at the Sundaram Climate Institute – which gives them a better understanding of how to intervene to build some resilience.
She concludes, “Politicians, bureaucrats and thought leaders across the political spectrum are beginning to talk of a water price – which is a good thing. But voters still don’t reward water or waste management, or indeed slow acting, important measures that build climate resilience. That needs to change for us to have hope.”
Mridula Ramesh is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, an organisation focused on waste and water solutions, and education. She is also an active angel investor in cleantech startups. A graduate with distinction from Cornell University and an MBA from Kellogg School of Management, Ramesh worked at McKinsey in Silicon Valley before returning to India. An executive director of Sundaram Textiles, she currently lives and experiments in a net zero-waste house in Madurai. Renewable Watch met her on the sidelines of the Jaipur Literature Festival 2019 where she spoke about her new book The Climate Solution, her opinion about renewables in India and the challenges in its growth. Edited excerpts…
When I talk of climate change action, I think of energy as the easy piece because it reduces costs. One reason for this is that India has a meaningful carbon price. One way we can get a greater buy-in for a carbon tax in countries like the US, where “tax” is a bad word, is by paying the revenue back to the people as a carbon dividend. For industries, electricity is one of the major costs, and, so, learning how to manage and optimise it is one of the key priorities.
The textile industry is one of the earliest and the largest owners and users of wind energy plants in India. Sundaram Textiles Limited (STL), part of the TVS Group, has received a total plant maintenance (TPM) award from the Japanese Institute of Plant Maintenance (JIPM). One of the main “losses” addressed by TPM is the energy loss, which encouraged STL to become highly energy efficient. STL set up five wind turbines between 2005 and 2009.
We also have biogas plants at home and at the factory, which run on food waste mostly. Converting wet waste into biogas is an area that has not received as much attention as solar in India, and, in my book, I talk about the aspects that one needs to look at from a climate change perspective.
India is on track to meet at least two of its climate change targets. However, what we need is quality, and accessible and timely data for better designing solutions. Action becomes easy once you have granular, timely and accurate data – something I’ve written about extensively. At home, we have four different qualities of water upwards of 15 metres, to measure what is used where and how. This is what allows us to become water independent, with design changes that make for “easy action”. In our factories, we have more than 100 water meters and this has led to a reduction in water usage by more than a million litres per month. We have a higher number of energy meters, which lets us intervene at a machine, and often, at a sub-machine level.
Today, commercial and industrial tariffs, due to cross-subsidisation, are high. This makes it much easier to sell energy efficiency/renewable energy solutions to the commercial and industrial consumers. Residential rooftop solar is also gaining traction, with the solar-as-a-service model catching on. If we can crack solar storage and microgrid solutions, we can really make progress on green energy access!
In the agricultural sector, the issue is more complicated. Borewells are mostly owned by rich farmers and and run on solar-powered pumps, which can lead to ground water depletion, and are a highly unequal water access strategy. Pricing electricity for farmers is a more efficient strategy from a water management perspective. In rural India, solar power DC microgrids represent an economic way of addressing the issues of both energy access and energy emissions, but entrepreneurs are worried about payment risks and the grid coming to town. Farm loan waivers, a favoured pre-election tactic, no doubt shares some blame for the poor repayment culture.
We need to reframe the climate change issue in the language that resonates with the user. Don’t talk about emissions and warming in the decades to come to someone who does not know where and when his next paycheck is coming from. Talk about the issue of water availability and flooding, and the heat in summer or the temperamental rains destroying the harvests.
Waste is a big problem in India, encompassing segregation, lack of awareness, changing mindsets, government priorities, hygiene, and costs, etc. In your opinion, what are the solutions to these issues?
I did a waste management workshop in Mumbai and focused on “poka-yoke” – a Japanese term that means “mistake-proofing” or “inadvertent error prevention”. In this context, the importance of designing waste management systems to work without constant supervision is crucial. We are hovering between net zero waste and net negative waste at home. The best part is that there is no smell, which is a common problem in most of the waste management solutions.
Our biogas plant at home saves us about a gas cylinder a month, or more when there is more waste. The same applies to our textile factory. We undertook waste mapping (that is, where is it coming from and what to do with it?) at the Meenakshi Temple and set up a biogas plant using food waste and elephant/cow dung.
Also, asking the government to do everything is an ineffective choice. I think, having the prime minister talk about toilets at the Red Fort is spot-on and is leading to a mental re-set. But true action on waste begins with its segregation at home, at the source. In that sense, action has to come from the bottom up.
There is a story of how biogas can be made at scale from wet waste. It is about a venture I have invested in, which is doing this in Bangalore. Recycling of plastic bottles into yarn is already being done in India. We, at the Sundaram Climate Institute, are making bags with it, instead of using virgin polyester, which is costlier and results in fresh emissions.
Another way to get this up to the societal level is by engaging children. I wrote a set of children’s stories and am designing a full curriculum on waste management, including composting. This will be taught using games, cartoons, etc. and has already been piloted. It should be ready for roll-out by March this year, in English and Tamil. Our pilots show that the children loved it, and more importantly, they understood it. So create climate change awareness – do it with kids.
The private sector is an under-tapped resource. We all know that technology can solve the day and I have an entire chapter dedicated to this. We need to incentivise technology. In the US, artificial intelligence and robots are solving aging and labour problems. In India, there are no meaningful markets created in the areas of water, last-mile agriculture or solid waste. Startups will help this sector as their incentives are completely aligned with addressing the issue. They do not make money until they provide solutions that work.
For example, there is a company called Ergos, which provides farmers a digital platform backed by a grid of rural medium and micro warehouses at farm-gate for storage, credit access, and forward linkages. Essentially, they rent government storage out and make it accessible to farmers, and bring down spoilage rates from 25 per cent to 2-5 per cent. Plus, the receipts given to farmers help them access credit through their tie-ups with public sector banks. This can be scaled up with the right investment and the startup can make money through processing fees, storage, etc.
The startups are mostly begun by older entrepreneurs as the work is more frustrating and requires more patience. I have invested in Bengaluru, Chennai and Delhi among other places, in more than 12 startups, eight to nine of them in cleantech (non-solar). Startups are a great way to address climate change, and here waste management is not simply a low-hanging fruit; it is a fruit that’s fallen to the ground.
I did not play the victim card when our home ran out of water in Madurai. We were paying Rs 40,000 a month for water. The realisation that this was not someone else’s problem, but mine, to fix, and then realising that it is not only fixable, but also not-that-hard-to-do was my biggest “a-ha” moment. Large-scale suffering and migration will set in if we do not take care of the climate and water issues.
In our previous column, we saw how the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT) defanged the dam as a geopolitical source of advantage. But the more relevant question to ask is — will securing the Indus secure India’s water future?
To answer that question, we need to understand what use the water is put to. The largest use of water on both sides of the border is agriculture.
Since Punjab supplies food for the rest of India, it’s useful to consider the population growth of India as a driver for Punjab’s agricultural growth.
From the signing of the Indus Waters Treaty to now, India’s population has tripled, and grown more wealthy, meaning more people needed more food. How did India meet the challenge?
At the time when the IWT was signed, India was plagued by drought, and desperately needed a cheap source of food. India also wanted to conserve her forex for capital imports, so it was critical that she could pay for her food imports in rupees. The US PL480 programme seemed made to order — supplying wheat paid for in rupee terms.
Between 1954 and 1965, more than $2 billion worth of American wheat (primarily) and other agricultural commodities were shipped to India, which the nascent nation paid for in its local currency. The scheme pleased both India and the US: American farmers found a market for their surplus wheat, India saved her foreign exchange for infrastructure, and India’s urban citizens got their reasonably priced atta from fair price shops. Life was good.
This sanguine state of affairs changed in the mid-1960s, when, stung by the temerity of India to criticise US action in Vietnam and wage war on an important ally (Pakistan), the US tightened the noose on its wheat shipments. India, after two back-to-back droughts in the mid-’60s had to beg for wheat and literally lived ‘ship to mouth’. This set the stage (and the priority given) for the Green Revolution, promising as it did, the Holy Grail of self-sufficiency in food.
But while the Green Revolution ensured that yields skyrocketed and that India became food-import-independent, it also upended the old agricultural equilibrium. With its emphasis on intensive irrigation, efficient crop varieties and technology, the Green Revolution got farmers in Punjab to use the most productive methods, with good quality inputs.
India’s democratic exigencies accelerated the change by providing free electricity to drive agricultural borewells, generous support prices for paddy and importantly in Punjab, top-class procurement of the crop from its farmers. This last point is important. Punjab outperforms many other states in crop procurement from farmers and in making sure most of its farmers get the MSP rate for their paddy crop. This efficiency makes farmers paddy-growing addicts.
As a result, Punjab saw the area under rice shoot up from under 50,000 Ha in 1973–74 to 2.8 million Ha in 2011–2012. Moreover, Punjab’s extensive irrigation infrastructure is driven primarily by ground water. New farming practices combined with free electricity explains the shocking depletion of the water table, with over 80 percent of Punjab’s groundwater blocks being overexploited.
‘Punjab is not meant to grow paddy. Because of free electricity, we grow paddy,’ says a farmer I spoke to, who manages 90 acres in Punjab. ‘It’s ironic. We don’t eat rice here, and yet we export our water when we grow rice and sell it out of the state.’
In downstream Pakistan, life is not much better — it’s curiously similar, in fact. A recent World Bank report says,
“While irrigation dominates water use in the country, the four major crops (rice, wheat, sugarcane and cotton) that use 80 percent of water contribute only 5 percent of Gross Domestic Product (GDP). Poor water management is conservatively estimated to cost 4 percent of GDP or around $12 billion per year.”
Both countries are caught in growing the ‘wrong’ crops in a water-inefficient way as a result of both a colonial past and the democratic realities of the present. Both countries are in crying need for water management, which their current political realities make it hard to do. Indeed, water management is not a successful electoral gambit either — so let us not hold our breath on this one, just yet. Meanwhile their colonised minds are hung up on water provision and division, especially on and of the Indus.
First, demand will continue to increase. Quite apart from rising populations and increasing wealth, climate change is expected to increase water requirements by 5-15 percent by 2047 in Pakistan. It’s fair to say the number will be similar in India. Fights are breaking out — not between countries, but within each country: Sindh vs Punjab (Punjab dwarfs Sindh in water withdrawals) contrasted with Haryana vs Delhi.
First, demand will continue to increase. Quite apart from rising populations and increasing wealth, climate change is expected to increase water requirements by 5-15 percent by 2047 in Pakistan. It’s fair to say the number will be similar in India. Fights are breaking out — not between countries, but within each country: Sindh vs Punjab (Punjab dwarfs Sindh in water withdrawals) contrasted with Haryana vs Delhi.
Second, we have a new participant in this game.
Let’s not forget that China is beginning to get into the Indus game: first by building a dam in its own territory, and then by financing a set of dams in Pakistan. Any future negotiation in the Indus will have, tacitly or overtly, a Chinese cast.
Third, the waters themselves will become more volatile. The Indus waters look to become far more uncertain as the climate warms. There are several studies that show rising temperatures will melt glaciers faster. This is important because the glacier melt runoff contributes a significant proportion of the river flow. But to understand the overall state of river flow, we need to consider the impact of snowfall in catchment areas as well.
Putting all this together, studies appear to suggest that annual runoff may increase in the short term, but likely decrease in the longer term. Something to keep in mind, when we construct dams in that area. It also appears likely that the volatility between and within years is likely to increase.
Floods and droughts? Build more dams, some might suggest. As we rush to build yet more dams in the name of flood control, it maybe prudent to consider whether they are up to a job in a climate that is changing all too rapidly.
Fairly soon, we will be confronted with a choice regarding our water future. It’s easy to say that ‘turn off the tap’ or ‘build a wall’. But the soundest way of securing our water future is managing our water present. Water pricing is beginning to take tentative steps forward in India. And communities which have run out of both ground and municipal water are discovering the glories of sewage. So focussed have we been on the seasonal Indus waters, that we tend to forget that both countries have ample access to a secure, non-seasonal, plentiful, (relatively) untapped source of water — sewage. The total quantity of sewage produced in the Punjab may not satisfy its thirsty farms, but it can help a little.
What are Punjab’s options to optimise water use? Stop procurement of paddy. Not possible. Not even conceivable. But perhaps we should start thinking about how to ‘sour the milk’. Replacing food subsidy by a universal basic income is one possibility. Price power for agricultural pump sets. Not possible. Again, replacing the power subsidy with a universal basic income is a possibility. Treat sewage to supply agriculture. Hmmm. This is one intervention that may be politically (and economically) feasible, especially if done in a decentralised fashion.
Almost two centuries ago, the British prioritised provision of water in the Punjab via the canals over local management. Today, we face a similar choice: focus on provision and face an uncertain future or focus on management and secure that future. Ironically, since both countries are democracies, it is up to the people to elect political parties based on their water management policies.
But will we tomorrow?
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
Your guide to the latest election news, analysis, commentary, live updates and schedule for Lok Sabha Elections 2019 on firstpost.com/elections. Follow us on Twitter and Instagram or like our Facebook page for updates from all 543 constituencies for the upcoming general elections.
(This article is being re-posted from our archives on World Water Day 2019.)
Recently, there has been a bit of a bother that Delhi is at the epicentre of a growing groundwater crisis. Like any bother, this one was sparked off by a study: “We have no clue how much ground water storage is left in the region. But what we clearly know is that the picture is very grim,” Dr Virendra M Tiwari, Director of the National Geophysical Research Institute, whose institute conducted this study, was quoted as saying.
Can we run out of groundwater?
Will we run out of groundwater?
Why are we running out?
Can we do something about it?
Yes, we can. I got into the climate change space because running out of water at home burst my bubble like the one with which so many of us surround ourselves. More generally, the peripheries of cities like Bengaluru and Pune in India are running out of groundwater, and with no municipal supply, these residents exist in a sort of “Day Zero”, dependent on rapacious tankers for their daily water.
You will need to know his income, his expenses, what assets he owns, and what his obligations, or debts are.
Applying this to water, this means we need to know how much water we get (rain, river flow (both over and underground)), how much we use (in households, industries and farms), how much we lose (to evaporation, and importantly, to leaks), what is the size of our water reservoirs – both over and underground, and finally, what are our obligations – do we need to share water with downstream users, or leave some below ground for our grandchildren?
Coming to the “costs”, we have a poor understanding of our use of water – one reason for this is the lack of meters. Unfortunately, the average level of metering in Indian cities varies from 13 percent to 24 percent. Using a financial analogy again, if only quarter of the expenses of a company were reported, would you invest in the stock?
The AAP government tried to get more people to adopt meters, by giving 20,000 litres per month free if one had a metered connection. Perhaps it was no surprise that revenue went up, as the number of metered connections rose. But now, when the scheme looks to be discontinued, many organisations are protesting that free water should be given even without metering.
After all, you don’t pay, and the municipal staff face no penalties for leaks, while the process to fix the leaks is both labyrinthine and arduous. Easier to wait for the next headline to divert attention.
About 90 percent of India’s groundwater is used in agriculture, and here the problems are even more acute. Think: how does one access groundwater in a farm? Through a borewell, which is often powered by electricity. Who owns these borewells?
This makes free agricultural power plain regressive by allowing the more powerful to extract a common resource such as groundwater cheaply and preferentially. Given free water, it’s no wonder the Economic Survey shows Indian Agriculture’s water productivity is abysmal.
But why is this happening? Why are we not managing our water better?
In a recent talk I attended, of senior politicians from across the political spectrum, in response to a question asking if pricing water for agriculture was politically feasible, one politician openly said that it was political suicide, while the two others dodged the question entirely. Blame this on the narrative that both the population and the politicians believe: water is a right, it cannot be priced, and to do so is undemocratic. Only, in a water-scarce country, this philosophy leads us down to the path of collective water suicide – to Day Zero – where we will run out of groundwater.
Can we avoid this fate?
It begins with changing the narrative: water is a responsibility, something that has always been part of the Indian ethos, until that changed with the British rule. Once that shift occurs, the solutions are plenty – metering, smart pricing, upping storage and sewage treatment to name just a few.
When we ran out of water, and were paying thousands in buying water, we installed upwards of 15 meters in our house (and 100 meters in the factory), to understand where and how we were using (and losing) water.
In a financial analogy, we are creating a non-volatile revenue stream. Moreover, pricing electricity for farmers is not political suicide: incumbent governments have won time and again after doing so as in Madhya Pradesh.
But that doesn’t resonate with elections today, where, unfortunately, water management is not a winning electoral platform. But with water running out, it might just become one.
(The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net. This is an opinion piece and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)
This is the second in a two-part series. Read part I here.
Coal via the largesse that coal mining creates for special interests is a (black) golden goose. Moreover, the job-providing potential of Coal India, with over 300,000 employees, is a big and a very different deal from renewable energy job potential as far as the political economy is concerned. Consider this, a campaign promise can be “I will give you xx jobs in this district, if I win”. Now the winning candidate can call up the Coal India management and demand xx jobs are given in the said district. The dynamics of renewable energy jobs are different – they are dispersed, and often not steady jobs. Thus, the 432,000 jobs in the Indian renewable sector do not quite translate to as desirable a political resource as coal jobs.
But the real nub of the problem lies elsewhere. On paper, growing, developing India desperately needs power, and more electricity supply. But because so many do not pay for the power they consume, State Electricity Board (SEB)s lose money for every unit of power they sell. So real, hungry demand – the kind that pays ready cash – from the major buyers of power, the SEBs, is not forthcoming.
To address this issue, the Central Government brought the Uday Scheme in 2015, where in exchange for some financial breathing space (i.e., the state governments would issue bonds to fund the losses of the SEBs), the SEBs would tighten up their governance act, notably by stemming AT&C (Aggregate Technical and Commercial) losses, and by reducing the gap between the cost of procuring a unit of electricity and the revenue from distributing (and selling) that unit of electricity. But the reformers underestimated just how deep the rot went. While bonds have been issued, the disappointing progress of several key state governments shows the disinterest in both the citizens and the governments in decent electrical governance. At some level, many voting Indians neither pay tax nor pay for their electricity, which means the financial repercussions of poor electrical governance do not immediately resonate with them.
The poor payment culture has other ramifications: solar-powered DC microgrids are a cost-effective and clean way of providing power to the last mile in rural India. But many entrepreneurs are wary of payment risks in supplying power to a citizenry that is unused to paying its electricity and used to “dues” being waived prior to elections.
There is another, more structural reason for lower demand: the falling energy intensity of GDP (See Figure 5).
One reason for this is that as India has developed, it has not developed quite like its planners expected. The economy has tilted more towards services than manufacturing, often consuming less energy. The other reason is the key role has been played by technology to provide the same value using less energy. A shining example of this is the 326 million LED bulbs distributed under UJALA, which helped save about 8GW of peak demand (or 5 percent of peak avoided). If India continues down the path of energy efficiency (especially in air-conditioning), the energy intensity of its GDP is expected to fall further.
India is already rethinking its need for future coal plants, which is manifesting itself in massive planned plant cancellations, as seen from the Global Coal Plant Tracker Database. The Draft National Electricity Plan in December 2016 has said:
However, given plants already under construction, this is likely to exert a downward pressure on PLFs of operating plants. Not good.
The financially chilling part of the report is table 5.8, which details PLF of thermal plants under different scenarios of renewable energy adoption.
Case (a) If India adds 115 GW of renewable capacity (wind/solar) between 2017-2022, the plant load factors would fall to 47 percent. Additions have been slower than that, but may accelerate as solar prices fall, as they are expected to do. The (financial) stress would really hit the roof/ break the bank then.
Case (b) Even if India only reached 125 GW of renewable capacity by 2022, i.e., about 13 GW per year between 2017-2022, thermal plant load factors would still fall to 52 percent.
The economic argument — both in the falling costs of an imperfect substitute, and in the increasing competition — works against coal.
Something’s got to give. Either demand for thermal power must shoot up (unlikely for the reasons outlined above), pricing for thermal power must increase, or thermal power supply has to fall.
Let us deal with supply falling first. One way is for India to think of burning coal differently.
Option 1: Age — Older (and smaller) plants tend to be less efficient in converting coal to electricity, and thus score poorly in all the criteria. For the same amount of water used, there will be less electricity produced. For the same cost of coal burnt and the same amount of fixed expenses, there will be less revenue generated – a financially and emissions-poor outcome. Older plants tend to be more polluting. India has a lot of those. As per the IEEFA report, 40 GW of thermal capacity was commissioned prior to 1993. The only issue is political optics – taking a profitable-but-polluting public sector plant with coal linkages and power purchase agreements in place offline to benefit a private party stinks to high holy heaven of crony capitalism. One potential workaround is a JV so that benefits are more equally and transparently shared.
Option 2: Location — A 2018 report by WRI states 40 percent of India’s thermal plants are situated in highly water stressed regions. This means they are prone to shutdowns, because there is simply not enough water to go around – especially in times of drought. Shockingly, the report states: “These plants have, on average, a 21 percent lower utilisation rate than their counterparts located in low or medium water-stress regions — lack of water simply prevents them from running at full capacity.” As the climate warms, many dry regions are projected to become drier still, intensifying this particular problem. And as these shutdowns become more frequent, not just the plant load factor but the efficiency of the plants also falls further.
Another aspect of location are thermal plants located near population centres. Plants located in highly population dense locations score poorly on the pollution impact and water scarcity/sharing issues.
Option3: Not yet online and older technology — Any upcoming plant with older subcritical technology which is yet to begin construction. Given that retrofitting is more expensive than design, these plants will fail to emission standards even before they are built. Why throw good money at them, when the sector is already stressed?
A flat Rs 400/tonne cess does not truly reflect the emission impact for coal – aligning it with how it is burnt – i.e., a cess more reflective of the efficiency with which coal is used, may be a more effective approach.
This begins with more meaningful pricing.
One option, as the Economic Survey has suggested, is to load up the stranded asset cost onto the social cost of renewables. The other option, and one I like, is to adopt hourly pricing for electricity. This already exists in some forums, such as IEX, but needs to become far more widespread. The elegance of this option starts with the fact that India’s power consumption is not constant over the day or over the year (See Figure 6).
Indeed, we see peak demand at night around 8-9 pm. At some level, equating solar power with thermal power is a false equivalence, because of the timing and temporality of supply. Hourly pricing, rather than a flat rate, will help accentuate that difference (and hopefully incentivise solving the storage piece of solar). Indeed, by paying a flat rate for thermal power, we are levying a temporal tax on thermal power (because solar/wind has to be evacuated preferentially).
One last point on pricing and subsidies: India’s forests and her water are her most powerful weapons and shields against a warmer climate. Both of those are unpriced in this current debate on coal. That cannot continue.
The second aspect of rationalising demand is for all consumers to pay for the power they consume. Some of the populist exemptions, such as free agricultural power, are often plain regressive, where the more powerful hide behind the fig leaf of the economically vulnerable. While studying tank ecosystems around Madurai, we found for instance borewells are almost always owned by the larger, politically-well-connected farmers. Thus, free agricultural electricity allows them to extract a common resource such as groundwater cheaply and preferentially. Pricing electricity for farmers is not political suicide: incumbent governments have won after doing so, for example in Madhya Pradesh. Doing so may well reduce the energy intensity of India’s GDP even more.
Moreover, replacing subsidies and farm waivers with a Universal Basic Income works politically well with the reality that the voter’s time frame is too short and his life too uncertain to care about longer term issues. Let’s not hide behind the poor; eliminating subsidies maybe the key catalyst in marrying climate sustainability with financial sustainability.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
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Defanging the Hydro-Threat
What might have been had India not been partitioned? Had Jinnah not died? Had China not taken over Tibet?
In a previous column, we saw how the Indus Valley was transformed by the British — a transformation rooted in securing a territory and prioritising immediate revenue gains over longer term local resilience. These changes paled before the Partition of the Punjab.
Weaponisation of the Indus
Partition. The line drawn across the Indian subcontinent accommodated political and religious pressures, while neglecting water realities. The Indian and Pakistani leadership were too mentally colonised to revert to their pre-British reverence for water. Cyril Radcliffe, a man who had little knowledge and far too little time, drew a line severing a land in days which had stood as one for millennia. When he suggested that perhaps the canals should be treated separately, Jinnah told him to get on with his job and that he would rather have Pakistan deserts than fertile fields watered by the courtesy of Hindus, while Nehru seemingly said that what India did with her waters was her business.
Thus when the line was drawn, the bulk of the lauded irrigation canals lay in Pakistan while the headworks were in India. The Indians were unhappy because, as Ashutosh Mishra writes:
“Pakistan ended up with 18 million acres of irrigated land for 22 million people in the Indus River system. India received 5 million acres for 20 million people.”
This was worsened by the exodus of Partition, where many had to leave their fertile fields and cross the border. Eastern Punjab looked enviously over the line at the rich Pakistani lands, which just days before had been theirs.
Pakistan faced an existential crisis because it was fully vulnerable to India’s ability to ‘turn off the tap’ at the Ferozepur headworks, which lay in Indian hands. Here, we see a potent example of the ‘weaponisation of dams’.
Dams, or the temples of modern India as Nehru called them, are powerful, curious things. On the one hand, they help store water and assist in flood control. They generate hydroelectric power, which with very few direct greenhouse gas emissions, is considered a ‘green’ source of power. Dams can provide thousands of jobs during their construction, as the Hoover Dam did during the Great Depression of America, and act as visible symbols of the power of a nation — the ‘temples of modern India’ indeed.
Dams, however, have their disadvantages. When a river is dammed, the water accumulates behind the dam creating a reservoir and submerging anything that might have existed there before — homes, forests or cities. This is a problem for the former residents. Dams also prevent the movement of silt carried by the rivers to cross the dam with the result that the fertility of the areas downstream is limited. Farmers often talk about the water being ‘thinner’ and less nourishing when a river is dammed. Moreover, dams can trigger seismic activity — especially the truly large ones constructed close to geological fault lines. Think of what millions of tons of pressure exerted by the water held in the reservoir can do to a fault line. Many consider the Great Sichuan Quake of 2008 that killed 70,000 and left millions homeless to be caused by the Zipingpu dam, located 5 km from the quake’s epicentre.
Dams are also potent geopolitical weapons. After all, the flow of a river is controlled by the dam. It can be increased or reduced, potentially reducing flooding during peak rainfall and reducing drought by releasing water during lean times. However, if the dam is controlled by another country, the control itself is a potent tool of ensuring the good behaviour of downstream countries — which brings us back to the Indus.
The rivers which flowed from India to Pakistan did not pause for Partition.
To protect the interests of the downstream population, a standstill agreement was signed on 18 December 1947, which provided that the allocation of water in the Indus system would be maintained until 31 March 1948.
In October of 1947, thousands of raiders (aided and abetted by the Pakistani Army, as many believe) entered Kashmir and proceeded to loot and plunder. This action forced the hand of the indecisive Hindu Maharaja to ask the Indian army for help and sign the Instrument of Accession. Over the winter and the spring, the first war between the newly minted nations continued. Names like “Poonch” and “Uri”, which light up in our minds because of current-day associations, were battlefields where boundaries were secured and defended by military action.
The Standstill Agreement expired on 31 March 1948. India flexed her hydrological muscles by turning off the water flow on 1 April 1948. As a result of which, 5.5 percent of the sown area watered by canals dried up just before the critical sowing period in Pakistan. Lahore lost its main source of municipal water. With millions of refugees to be fed, Pakistan had to consent to an agreement that required it to pay for whatever waters it received through the Indus river system. The dam proved to be a potent and strategic weapon indeed as a ceasefire agreement followed shortly thereafter in August 1948. The majority of Kashmir became a formal part of India.
Neutering the weapon: Enter America
This is where the story becomes most interesting. Why did India, who ‘held all the cards’, as AA Michel quotes a Pakistani negotiator as saying, move to a situation where it neutered its advantage? Seen in pure negotiating terms, India had the superior in-going negotiating position — upstream, with a functioning tap to compel obedience in an inimical neighbour, with no real need to please that neighbour. How did that transform to a treaty where Pakistan not only got unfettered access to 81 percent to the waters of the Indus river system, but also got to defang India’s tap (and got India to pay for part of that privilege)?
To answer that question, we must step back to understand the global zeitgeist at that time. As the 1940s gave way to the 1950s, Britain gave way to America, and the Great Game morphed into the Cold War, pitting American capitalism against Russian communism.
1950 was a momentous year. China occupied Tibet and signed a 30-year pact with the erstwhile USSR. America needed a foothold in the sub-continent. Pakistan seemed ideal: small, poor, and with a location to die for (adjacent to both Afghanistan and China). America’s wooing of Pakistan began with inviting Pakistan’s Prime Minister Khan for an official 23-day state visit to the United States beginning on 3 May 1950. During this visit, it is alleged that President Truman requested Pakistan's premier to let the CIA set up a base in Pakistan (something he was said to have refused). To hedge its bets in the subcontinent, the World Bank advanced a $18.5 Million loan to India for Damodar Valley. America had thus inserted herself into the affairs of the subcontinent. This was a colonialism by commerce and the philosophy spread around the world, some argue, by the actions of the World Bank.
America’s insertion deepened with the visit of David Lilienthal, or Mr TVA, as he was called. Lilienthal was a member of the Tennessee Valley Authority, a dam system set up during the Great Depression, to provide power to several American states. He visited India in 1951 as a personal guest of Nehru and later Pakistan as well and wrote a set of influential articles that characterised the Indus waters as an engineering problem not a political one.
Was this naivete?
After all, Lilienthal’s experience was grounded in the TVA, which was a very different beast. The TVA did not cater to irrigation needs, did not have to deal with two inimical countries — it was an organisation created during the Great Depression, to provide power and employment, and not sensitive to politics or timing of water flows. Lilienthal countered this by saying, “plenty of water in the Indus system (in the western rivers to be sure), and two-thirds of it was running waste to sea”. He was sure the answer lay in engineering and finance (“perhaps with World Bank help”).
Certainly, the commercial potential of a giant Indus Water System with the engineering contracts, the orders for steel and concrete, the lucrative consulting contracts was vast. As a fascinating aside, in the construction of the Mangla Dam in PoK, 280 villages were submerged. As per the Institution of Civil Engineers, to which the lead engineer of the project belonged, one of the incentives given to the ‘submergees’ was a UK work permit. Apparently, ‘Around 70 percent of Britain’s Pakistani community’ originate from the community displaced by this dam.
Even framed as an engineering problem, was it fair to say there was enough for future needs? To be fair, climate change at that time was not then in anybody’s mind space. Coincidentally, Charles Keeling was soon to head to California to begin his CO2 readings that revolutionised our understanding of how our planet’s climate worked. But was it fair, based on a cursory visit, to say, that for two nations with burgeoning populations and rising economic, an engineering solution was sufficient for managing the waters of the Indus?
Or was it spin?
After all, embedding itself in an Indus water treaty, was a good way for the World Bank (and America) to entrench itself in the affairs of the Indian subcontinent, to guard against Russian incursion.
Eugene Black, the President of the World Bank, and a friend of the well-connected Lilienthal made a visit to India and Pakistan the subsequent year, and persuaded the two nations — upstream and downstream — to agree to World Bank mediation, to agree to a new kind of standstill agreement and to send engineers to sort out the issue independent of the politics, and importantly of Kashmir.
The next few years saw the engineers put forth their estimates of what current and future uses would be, that put paid to Lillienthal’s blithe claim that there was water enough for everyone. Meanwhile, around the engineer’s closeted discussions, the world began to change. India began to construct the Bhakra Nangal Dam on the Sutlej, upping Pakistani angst on their share of the waters. Bigger moves were made on the global chess board. Pakistan sank deeper into an American embrace, agreeing to accept American military aid in 1954 and join SEATO (whose stated aim was to prevent Communism from gaining ground). The American alliance came with benefits — after all, the World Bank was headquartered in the US.
“Apart from being an impartial, patient, and persuasive mediator, the Bank also politely adopted tough postures in the interests of the negotiations and threatened to pull out if its independent proposals were overlooked. This threat worked on Pakistan, which, being the lower riparian, needed the Bank to be involved. India, too, was keen to keep the Bank in the loop for want of a second five-year plan, which required substantial economic aid that the World Bank could arrange.”
American angst increased with the French loss to Communist forces in Vietnam. But the die was perhaps truly case when the Indian Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, visited the Soviet Union in June 1955, and, in return, Nikita Khrushchev visited India later that year with the USSR formally supporting Indian sovereignty in Kashmir. The lines had been drawn: US-Pakistan vs Russia-India.
1956 saw Pakistan lease space to America in the Peshawar Air Station to US for intelligence gathering. The World Bank meanwhile released its Aide Memoire, acknowledging the timing of water required additional storage facilities and link canals than originally planned for. India, naturally, baulked at the $2.3 billion bill. It was an uneasy stalemate, as the focus shifted to economics of the issue.
Losing the Battle: Water and Finances
Then drought struck India. Predicted losses to agriculture in India were 50 percent during the drought of 1957–58. This partially contributed to the unfolding balance of payments (BOP) crisis in India. The BOP account turned from a surplus of $38 million in 1955-56 to a huge deficit of $620 million in 1957-58. This was due to both heavy imports of capital goods to develop heavy and basic industries as per the Second Plan and food imports to support a growing population. India also became dependent on the wheat imported via the US PL480 programme that allowed for payments in local currency. India had to rely on the World Bank's good offices to put together a consortium to fund its external currency needs.
Those good offices came with strings attached.
In 1959, when Eugene Black visited India, he got Nehru to agree to the Indus Water Treaty, wherein the three western rivers would go to Pakistan (with a small portion for India to develop for Domestic Use and the generation of Hydroelectric power), and moreover, for India to pay £62,060,000 towards the cost of replacement works that allowed Pakistan to break free of the Indian headworks. Additionally, India would, for a 10-year transition period, continue to supply water to Pakistan. To sweeten this pill, the Bank would sanction a loan towards a Beas Dam. Eugene Black had a busy and productive 1959: he managed to persuade friendly governments to committed $541 million in grants to Pakistan towards the total bill of $893.5 million of Pakistani infrastructure needed.
Would India have agreed so readily if she had not needed to be in the World Bank’s good books? That’s a question only history can answer. If there ever was a lesson for fiscal prudence, this is it. But the deed was done. In short order, in September 1960, the Indus Waters Treaty was signed, neutering any hydrological disciplining tool that India possessed
For 12 years, there had been peace between India and Pakistan. Just over 4.5 years after the treaty was signed, the second Indo-Pak war began.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
On 14 February this year — a day when popular culture has sweethearts reaching for each other — 40 members of the Central Reserve Police Force of India lost their lives in a suicide bomber attack in Pulwama. Subsequently, the Jaish-e-Mohammed (the army of Mohammed), a Pakistan-based terrorist group, claimed responsibility for the attack. In the days that followed, one suggestion for retaliation has been to “cut off” the waters of the Indus to downstream Pakistan, because, in the words of India’s Prime Minister, “blood and water cannot flow together”.
Can we ‘turn off’ the tap though? After all, the Indus (and her tributaries) are mighty rivers — the annual flow of the Indus is estimated to be upwards of 200 cubic kilometres. That’s going to need one hell of a tap (it has been done, as we will see later). So, the question becomes, if we can, how? And even if we can, should we? To answer these questions, we will need to first examine history, explore the present and visit the future, to unravel the skeins that make the up the narrative of the Indus river system.
This involves appreciating the irony that characterises the Indus River basin: that amongst the earliest records of the geography of the modern-day Islamic Pakistan is the Rig Veda, the most sacred text of the Hindus, who form the majority of Pakistan’s inimical neighbour, India. The Rig Veda describes the Indus, or the Sindhu as:
“The Rivers have come forward triply, seven and seven. Sindhu in might surpasses all the streams that flow.”
“Most active of the active, Sindhu unrestrained, like to a dappled mare, beautiful, fair to see.”
The Atharva Veda, not to be outdone, adds:
“Ye rivers all, whose mistress is Sindhu, whose queen is Sindhu.”
The Vedic people called the Indus Valley the Sapta Sindhu. But when the Persians invaded the region circa 500 BCE, they called the land “Hapta Hindu” (the “s” in Sanskrit is morphs to “h” in Persian), which gives birth to the words “Hindus” and “Hindustan”. But we get ahead of our story.
Some 2,000 years before the Persian invasion (and many believe several millennia before that), a flourishing civilisation existed in the Indus Valley, named by modern historians — quite originally — as the Indus Valley Civilisation (IVC). We have no idea what the inhabitants of this civilisation called the Indus because we are yet to decipher their script. But we do know they were masters of water management from the eloquent non-verbal language of the tanks and drains they left behind.
At its peak, the Indus Valley Civilisation spanned a thousand individual cities/sites. Like other civilisations of its time, the periodic flooding of the river, and the dispersal of the silt was crucial to growing crops in the IVC. To allow their cities to thrive, they were often built on an elevation, with sophisticated engineering to carry water to and sewage away from every house.
The river was central to their civilisation – providing drinking water, carrying away sewage, and importantly serving as transport to enable trade. Cotton textiles are thought to have originated here, with cotton textile fragments dating to 2750-3250 BCE found at Mohenjo-daro. The goods of the IVC reached distant shores: the Mesopotamians called the IVC ‘Meluhha’, and were customers for many of their wares. Clearly, they were a sophisticated, egalitarian civilisation who appreciated the value of managing water all too well.
Why did such a sophisticated civilisation disappear?
While there are several theories of why the IVC declined, one key factor appears to have been climate change. Around 4,800 years ago, the Indian Monsoon began to weaken, causing agriculture to suffer. The Meluhhans responded by changing the crops they grew to the drought resistant millet, but while that action appears to have postponed the decline, it did not stop it.
Yama Dixit of Cambridge University, and her team, studied the sediments of a small lake in one of the Harappan sites. The lake they studied, Kotla Dahar, was a closed system, filled only by rain and groundwater; the only way for water to leave was to evaporate. This meant they could directly link the water composition of the lake with the rainfall patterns and temperature of the region. To study rainfall patterns historically, they first dated the different sediment layers of the lake through radiocarbon dating. Then they analysed the snail shells found in the lake for relative concentration of two forms (isotopes) of oxygen — the heavier Oxygen-18 and the lighter Oxygen-16.
The snail’s shells are formed from the water of the lake, meaning their shells will reflect the composition of the lake water. In times of drought, more water would evaporate, meaning the lake water — and by extension, the snail shells — would have a higher fraction of the heavier Oxygen-18. This meant the ratio of the two oxygen isotopes in the snail shells found in any particular sediment layer was now an indicator for the intensity of drought in that region in that time period. The team's data showed that around 4,100 years ago, there was a spike in the relative amount of Oxygen-18 suggesting that rainfall decreased radically during that time. Of course, there are uncertainties of +/- 100 years in the exact timing of these events, but the trends themselves are reliable especially given that they correlate with other finding pointing to an overall drying around India and the world.
There was another finding that was more frightening: around this time, the snails disappeared from the sediment, suggesting that the lake had become seasonal, rather than permanent. Their study suggested that regular summer monsoons may have weakened considerably for some 200 years.
Two hundred years — that’s dramatic. It shows us the kind of events that may occur when climate changes. We sit here today, so arrogantly confident about our climate, that it does not even figure in how we judge our own performance or the performance of our leaders. We forget that there were times, just a geological blink ago, where the Indian Monsoon weakened for two centuries. Think of what might happen to our powerful world if the Indian summer monsoon were to weaken for 200 years. More than half of India’s farms are rainfed – what would the farmers do, if the monsoon weakened, not just in devastating back-to-back droughts, but for decades at a stretch?
Our story does not end here. Over the ensuing centuries, invaders have passed through the Valley, bringing change to the subcontinent. Alexander’s visit, in particular, while he did not cross into the subcontinent, and he did not stay, acted as a pole star for subsequent invaders. It is one particular “invader” I would like to focus on for next time. One that changed the Indus Valley decisively and laid much of the groundwork for the hydrological fractures of today.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
The British transformation of the Punjab — disruption and imbalance
In column one of this series, we looked at how water shaped the Indus Valley Civilisation, and inspired the Vedic inhabitants. Moving forward by a few millennia, we come to the British, who, with the defeat of the Sikh empire, annexed the Punjab to their Empire. History’s rhythmic drumbeats echo loudly in the valley, and in how the British transformed a community-based rural economy to a market-based economy, one that was (arguably) ill-equipped mentally to make that transition, leaving it vulnerable to external shocks. Since this is key to understanding the question we asked: “Can the tap (of the Indus’ flow) be turned off?”, let us delve in by dissecting the transformation in four different ways: philosophy, markets, impact on local resilience, and geopolitical considerations.
Philosophy and Infrastructure — Control, Profit and Colonise
To the Rig Vedic denizens of the Indus Valley, control of Nature would have been unthinkable — they marvelled at the “unrestrained” nature of the Indus. To the British, however, the “capricious tyrant” of a river was a threat, an impediment, which — properly harnessed — became a revenue-generating asset.
Same river system, two vastly different philosophies.
To effect this, the British surveyed the land, its inhabitants, and then transformed the Indus river system through their canals, and the spirit of community through land reform. The focus, you see, was on maximising extraction, not adapting to what was. It’s useful to think of canal infrastructure as a physical manifestation of a particular philosophy. Seen that way, the canal colonies represented the ultimate subjugation of Nature to serve the will of Man, as Ian Talbot writes:
“The transformation of six million acres of desert into one of the richest agricultural regions in Asian was a stupendous engineering feat that was seen as the colonial state’s greatest achievement.”
Control
First, the canal system functions as a unit, with some canal colonies dependent on water from another. For instance, The Lower Bari Doab Canal, part of the Triple Canal Project, diverted water from the Jhelum to the Chenab, and from the Chenab to the Ravi – an early ancestor of the River Linking Scheme, if you will. The local community’s control was ‘ceded’, structurally, to a non-local distant power. The canal systems depended on a single controlling unit to decide water allocation, release and timing – setting the stage for an upstream controller potentially “turning off the tap”. Was this threat always part of the design? After all, this way the farmers needed to remain in the ‘gora sahib’s’ good books, because he, the sahib, had his hand on the figurative button which delivered water to a dry land.
Profit
Second, for all the paternalistic or “civilising” spin around the canals, they represented a hard-nosed, highly profitable, revenue-generating investment for the Raj:
“A few figures will show what a wonderful success the Chenab canal has proved financially,” wrote CH Buck gleefully, in 1906. “…irrigates annually about 2,000,000 acres, while there is a net profit to the State of £450,000, which gives a return of 23 percent on the capital cost”. The Raj profited in other ways as well. The freight alone on carrying away the “goods” of wheat, cotton, other food grains and oil seeds amounted to an additional £450,000. A handsome investment indeed.
An important point to consider is that the profit was possible only because so much ‘new’ revenue came out of those lands. This largesse that the canals provided went almost entirely to Pakistan upon Partition — something that was a sore point, which we will consider in a later piece.
Colonise
Third, the canals were a key weapon in the colonisation armoury, by securing the devotion of those militarily loyal to the Raj. How? The canals converted dry land, which received little rainfall, into irrigated land capable of producing one or two crops per year. The land became valuable only because of the non-local rainfall that was brought by the canals. This now-valuable land became a powerful new resource for the Raj, which could be given as largesse to loyalists. For example, Baba Sir Khem Singh Bedi, received about 7800 acres from the Lower Sona Parag Colony. Bedi was a great catch, he was a direct descendant of Guru Nanak, so had spiritual street cred. He also supported the British militarily in the first war of Indian Independence (also called as the Indian or Sepoy Mutiny) in 1857.
Initially, the land was granted to primarily to peasant cultivars, but not the landless labourers:
“well-to-do yeomen of the best class of agriculturists, who will cultivate their own holdings”.
Land was also given to government pensioners and retired soldiers (if their service was held to be good enough) and to others the Raj believed it should reward.
As time went on, the later canal colonies acquired more of a distinctly military character, with land grants based on horse breeding, and reward for good army service. It also translated into the “Punjabisation” of the army: in 1929, 62 percent of the British Indian Army was Punjabi. This is an important historical relic that influences decision making today. While post-Partition, the Indian army began to geographically diversify their recruitment, the Pakistan army continued with its Punjabi tilt (in 2001, 71 percent of the Pakistan army was Punjabi). The result of which is, Punjabis call the shots (and the water) in Pakistan.
Ushering in a ‘Market’ Economy
Arguably, the most profound change came by replacing community-rooted and managed farming, with a quasi-market (after all, the British called the shots) approach to farming. Earlier, during Sikh rule, as the indefatigable pen of Septimus Thorburn, a British settlement officer of the Raj, writes,
“There being little money in circulation, most payments, including land-revenue, were made in kind. The revenue demand, therefore, corresponded with each season's yield.”
The British changed this with the summary settlement, where based on the speedy judgement of a few survey officers, community ownership of land was sundered, and land titles were conveyed to those found cultivating the land. Importantly, however, the peasants had only occupancy rights and not proprietary rights over their land. This ensured their good behaviour towards their imperial landlord.
But, as Thornburn writes,
“The result is a sort of elaborate Doomsday Book, which permanently fixes individual rights in land and water”
But the most profound change was converting a variable tax, based on the actual yield, to a fixed tax based on an assessment of the ‘productive’ capacity of the land and historical yields. Thornburn notes:
“Without doubt a grave error was made upon annexation, in suddenly substituting for an elastic kind of assessment a fixed cash assessment.”
This asked a farmer, who had never handled coin in his life before…to pay to his Government twice a year a fixed sum of money — crop or no crop.”
At a time of drought, he would now need to borrow to pay the tax. This is where the summary settlement played its part: individual ownership came with important new collateral, which could be leveraged to raise credit. The combination of a fixed tax and a new source of collateral to a population unused to credit was explosive.
“At the same time converted collective into individual ownership of land…we made an unconditional gift of a valuable estate to every peasant proprietor in the Punjab, and raised his credit from the former limit of the surplus of an occasional good crop, to the market-value of the proprietary right conferred.”
This created the ascendancy of the money lender, which had profound implications for Partition (the Congress, for instance, was seen as the urban party) and Indian agriculture of the future. But this particular community-to-individual and local-to-non-local had one more implication.
Undermining local resilience
Because the emphasis shifted to ‘water from elsewhere’, and on a fixed tax, many farmers shifted to cash crops like cotton. Combined with the fact that community began to recede in importance, community-driven activities such as small-scale irrigation began to be neglected. As Mike Davis writes in Late Victorian Holocausts,
“In the Late Victorian Punjab, as Singh has shown, the neglect of small-scale irrigation improvements in the noncanal districts brought about increased dependence upon rainfall and thus greater vulnerability to drought.”
This is not unique to the Punjab. We have seen this same pattern repeat in the neglect of the cascading tank system around Madurai.
There was also a widespread change of the microclimate of the area by decimating forests. Thorborn writes in his Musalman and Money-lenders,
“Villages were therefore few in number, and much of the best arable land in the country-particularly in the broad valleys of the Punjab river beds was jungle.”
Entire forests, thousands of trees, were cleared to provide timber to underlay the new railway tracks that would carry the freshly harvested wheat and cotton to the port to feed the British machine. Others write of this widespread, brutal transformation of a landscape. Pallavi Das quotes from the Public Works Department Proceedings of 1861:
“It is found that the deodar timber is admirably adapted for railway sleepers, and every region in the hills, from the Indus to the Sutlej, is ransacked to provide the requisite supply. The resources of the Jhelum and Chenab are almost exhausted, and hitherto the forests on the Sutlej have been entirely neglected ... The forests close to the water edge have long since been cleared away, and it is only at a distance of a mile or more from the river base that trees are found.”
Thus we see the transformation of Punjab left it vulnerable to external shocks. But for the British to extract from the Punjab, to subjugate the Punjab and to secure the Punjab was key. Was there another reason?
Geopolitical compulsions — the Russians
The 19th century witnessed a security and strategic threat — the Russian threat to North-Western India. The Russian Empire expanded in Central Asia, and, by 1850, it was about a thousand miles from the British Indian Empire. Some believe that the militarisation of the canal colonies, and securely bringing them under British control, were in some part motivated by strengthening the frontier against potential Russian action. If so, it only shows how ironically history rhymes, because a century later, this was a similar motivation that drove American actions in the Indus Valley — which is what we explore next.
Read the third column in this series on Firstpost.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
Recently, there has been a bit of a bother that Delhi is at the epicentre of a growing groundwater crisis. Like any bother, this one was sparked off by a study: “We have no clue how much ground water storage is left in the region. But what we clearly know is that the picture is very grim,” Dr Virendra M Tiwari, Director of the National Geophysical Research Institute, whose institute conducted this
Anxiety on this front was already heightened by the Niti Aayog report published in 2018, that said several cities would run out of groundwater in the next couple of years. But, are we indeed going to run out of groundwater?
Let me answer this, by breaking this up into four further questions:
Can we run out of groundwater?
Will we run out of groundwater?
Why are we running out?
Can we do something about it?
Yes, we can. I got into the climate change space because running out of water at home burst my bubble like the one with which so many of us surround ourselves. More generally, the peripheries of cities like Bengaluru and Pune in India are running out of groundwater, and with no municipal supply, these residents exist in a sort of “Day Zero”, dependent on rapacious tankers for their daily water.
Where? Delhi? This is harder to answer without precisely understanding the water flows involved. Consider a financial analogy: how will you know if a person will run out of money?
You will need to know his income, his expenses, what assets he owns, and what his obligations, or debts are.
Applying this to water, this means we need to know how much water we get (rain, river flow (both over and underground)), how much we use (in households, industries and farms), how much we lose (to evaporation, and importantly, to leaks), what is the size of our water reservoirs – both over and underground, and finally, what are our obligations – do we need to share water with downstream users, or
Coming to the “costs”, we have a poor understanding of our use of water – one reason for this is the lack of meters. Unfortunately, the average level of metering in Indian cities varies from 13 percent to 24 percent. Using a financial analogy again, if only quarter of the expenses of a company were reported, would you invest in the stock?
The AAP government tried to get more people to adopt meters, by giving 20,000 litres per month free if one had a metered connection. Perhaps it was no surprise that revenue went up, as the number of metered connections rose. But now, when the scheme looks to be discontinued, many organisations are protesting that free water should be given even without metering.
Not knowing how much we consume, coupled with skewed pricing, means it doesn’t hurt as much as it should when Indian cities lose between a third to a half of their water to leaks.
After all, you don’t pay, and the municipal staff face no penalties for leaks, while the process to fix the leaks is both labyrinthine and arduous. Easier to wait for the next headline to divert attention.
About 90 percent of India’s groundwater is used in agriculture, and here the problems are even more acute. Think: how does one access groundwater in a farm? Through a borewell, which is often powered by electricity. Who owns these borewells?
While studying tank ecosystems around Madurai at Sundaram Climate Institute, we found that borewells are almost always owned by the larger, politically well-connected farmers.
This makes free agricultural power plain regressive by allowing the more powerful to extract a common resource such as groundwater cheaply and preferentially. Given free water, it’s no wonder the Economic Survey shows Indian Agriculture’s water productivity is abysmal. But why is this happening? Why are we not managing our water better?
In a recent talk I attended, of senior politicians from across the political spectrum, in response to a question asking if pricing water for agriculture was politically feasible, one politician openly said that it was political suicide, while the two others dodged the question entirely. Blame this on the narrative that both the population and the politicians believe: water is a right, it cannot be
Can we avoid this fate?
Yes
It begins with changing the narrative: water is a responsibility, something that has always been part of the Indian ethos, until that changed with the British rule. Once that shift occurs, the solutions are plenty – metering, smart pricing, upping storage and sewage treatment to name just a few.
When we ran out of water, and were paying thousands in buying water, we installed upwards of 15 meters in our house (and 100 meters in the factory), to understand where and how we were using (and losing) water
We discovered the glory of sewage – yes, you read that right. Unlike fickle rain, sewage is reassuringly present, which makes treated sewage a wonderful source of water for meeting some part of our needs.
In a financial analogy, we are creating a non-volatile revenue stream. Moreover, pricing electricity for farmers is not political suicide: incumbent governments have won time and again after doing so as in Madhya Pradesh.
But that doesn’t resonate with elections today, where, unfortunately, water management is not a winning electoral platform. But with water running out, it might just become one.
Described as the ‘greatest literary show on Earth’, the ZEE Jaipur Literature Festival has always been a sumptuous feast of ideas. To be held from January 24th to January 28th, the annual festival will be back with a diverse mix of the world’s greatest writers, thinkers, humanitarians, politicians, business leaders, sportspersons and entertainers on one stage. These speakers will converge to champion the freedom to express and engage in thoughtful debate and dialogue on an array of topics.
Planet Earth is in grave danger and the world is in panic mode. The disruptions of climate change can no longer be ignored. The 2019 edition of the ZEE Jaipur Literature Festival will have timely and urgent conversations on environmental issues that need serious attention. From salvaging nature and natural inhabitants to smart waste management and harnessing the sun’s potential to yield energy for clean air, speakers from all walks of life will deliberate on these topics through a literary prism.
In the session Climate Change: A Call to Action, academic at Australia’s Griffith University Darryl Jones, alongside Norwegian writer Maja Lunde and Indian author Mridula Ramesh will be in conversation with Marcus Moench, founder of ISET-International. This panelof distinguished environmentalists and climate warriors will speak of their experiences and learnings, and discuss the ingenuity and initiative required to adapt to changing climate conditions while attempting to reverse its shattering consequences.
The panelists for the session Waste of a Nation: Swacch Bharat will examine the crisis of waste management that threatens to engulf the country. Professor of Anthropology and South Asia at the Australian National University Assa Doron,journalist and educationist Shubhangi Swarup, and Sanchaita Gajapati, founder of SANA, will be in conversationwith Robin Jeffrey; a visiting research professor at the Institute of South Asian Studies, Singapore.
They will have an impactful discussion on different aspects of sanitation practice and their implementation including the traditional kabaadiwalas, ragpickers, and the stigmatised sanitation workers working in inhuman conditions with sewage and toxic chemicals.
Rural India continues to remain on the periphery of media consciousness, even as agrarian woes proliferate and compound every day. The session Gaon Connection: Addressing Rural Distress, will examine the causes and consequences of this indifference and the issues that need to be consistently highlighted to address this imbalance. Here, Sanchaita Gajapati, will join journalist and author Vikas Jha, and Neelesh Mishra, founder of Gaon Connection, India’s biggest rural media platformfor a conversation with Namita Waikar, author of the novel The Long March and the managing editor of People’s Archive of Rural India.
Solar energy is the green activist’s buzzword as the cheapest and fastest-growing power source on Earth. Its potential is nearly limitless — every hour the sun beams down more energy than the world uses in a year. In the session Towards Sun and Clean Air, corporate powerhouse Naina Lal Kidwai and Varun Sivaram, senior research scholar at the Columbia University Center on Global Energy Policy, will discuss how solar power can become the centrepiece of a global clean energy revolution with Marcus Moench.
While climate change is hurting nature, inhabitants of the natural world are also at risk. Having written several books for children and young adults, including international bestseller The History of Bees, which examines our relationship with nature and humanity, master storyteller Maja Lunde, will also be in conversation with Pradip Krishen. Imagine a World Without Bees will be a session to mull over the pertinent question - What would happen if bees disappear? Lunde will bring alive the human and planetary consequences of disturbing the balance of nature.
Janaki Lenin, author of My Husband and Other Animals,will be joined by her husband Rom Whitaker,a renowned herpetologist and wildlife conservationist. The session named after her book will be a crucial one on the balance of man and nature. Another author, Isabella Treewill tell us the story of the Knepp experiment; a pioneering re-wilding project in England’s Sussex countryside which uses free-roaming grazing animals to create new habitats for wildlife. In the session named after her book Wilding: The Return to Nature, Tree will tell us how she and her husband, Charlie Burrell, made a spectacular leap of faith; they decided to step back and let nature take over. Personal and inspirational, Wilding challenges conventional ideas about our past and present landscapes and points the way to a wilder, richer future where farming and nature can work together.
For over a decade, the five-day programme has hosted nearly 2000 speakers and welcomed over a million book lovers from across India and the globe. Here’s to yet another year of the literary jamboree set against the backdrop of Rajasthan’s stunning cultural heritage and the Diggi Palace in capital Jaipur.
1. The panelists for the session Waste of a Nation: Swacch Bharat will examine the crisis of waste management that threatens to engulf the country.
2. Janaki Lenin, author of My Husband and Other Animals,will be joined by her husband Rom Whitaker,a renowned herpetologist and wildlife conservationist.
3. In the session Towards Sun and Clean Air, corporate powerhouse Naina Lal Kidwai and Varun Sivaram, senior research scholar at the Columbia University Center on Global Energy Policy, will discuss how solar power can become the centrepiece of a global clean energy revolution.
Jaipur: The twelfth edition of the ZEE Jaipur Literature Festival, the world’s largest literary festival, accessible and open to all, ended on a high today as the Festival announced a total footfall of around 400,000 over the last five days and hosted over 500 speakers from around 30 countries including Iceland, Norway, Germany, Finland, Ireland, Uganda, Australia, America, England, South Africa, Denmark and China. Over 250 Sessions featured conversations, debates and dialogue spanning themes ranging from the classics, war, espionage, intelligence, politics, environment and climate change, gender issues, entrepreneurship, science and technology, along with broader areas such as fiction, adapting screenplays, mythology, crime, history, cinema, art, activism and the psychological aftermath of migration.
Conversations on the final day showcased a multiplicity of voices, from iconoclast novelists to experts and policy veterans, reflecting the truly global and relevant reach of the ZEE Jaipur Literature Festival. With a large chunk of the audiences representing the young, the Festival’s outreach to shape minds and inspire imaginations has tremendous transformative potential. As always, the Festival empowered participants through the stories it told and the importance it continued to emphasise upon the idea of dialogue to seek solutions – something which the divisiveness of the modern world chooses often to dismiss.
The day began with After Trainspotting which had the quirky Scottish author of the cult book Trainspotting, Irvine Welsh, in conversation with Chandrahas Choudhury. Welsh’s work is characterised by a raw Scottish dialect, an edgy, brittle humour and a brutal depiction of Edinburgh life in all its junky seediness. Talking about how his perception of his own work has changed since the Trainspotting movie came out, Welsh said, “You tend to see the actors’ faces rather than the characters and you have to do the terrible thing of reading your own books to get the description of the characters.”
At the NEXA Front Lawn, Breaking Free: A New Kind of Beautiful had Manisha Koirala, Germaine Greer, Madhavi Menon and Sonal Mansingh in conversation with Sharad Paul in a discussion about breaking prejudices in perceptions of female beauty. Koirala stated that it was one’s “art and personality” that make someone beautiful. Madhavi Menon tried to find the reason for the rising number of people who are unhappy with their body; “Capital-ruled media thrives on the concept of Divide and Rule (men and women).”
Beginnings and Endings had Anjum Hasan, Andrew Sean Greer, recent DSC Prize for South Asian Literature-awardee Jayant Kaikini and Mahesh Rao, in a session moderated by Paul McVeigh, where the momentum of the beginning and the sense of an ending which define the circumference of the short story, was in focus. “I really do like quiet beginnings,” said Mahesh Rao, while Anjum Hassan stated that she doesn’t “begin with an idea of the story as a plot, it’s more an impulse”.
Are we sleepwalking into our future? By 2062, we will have built machines as intelligent as us. In The Future is Now, Professor of Artificial Intelligence Toby Walsh and Data Journalism Professor Meredith Broussard, in conversation with Anupama Raju, focussed on how A.I. will evolve and the choices we need to make to ensure that we remain in control of our own narratives. Raju started things off on an ominous note, announcing, “In 50 years, we’ll probably have a robot conducting this session.” While all the panelists called for better understanding of AI and machine-learning, Toby Walsh had a positive outlook; “Computers will help us build a more rational, fairer, and more transparent world.”
The Wonder of Pāṇini’s Sanskrit Grammar was a fascinating discussion in which British Indologist and SOAS Sanskrit Lecturer, also an ordained mahant from the last Maha Kumbh, James Mallinson, introduced Vikram Chandra who shared his passion about the Sanskrit language and its most abiding grammarian, Pāṇini.
In What We Talk About When We Talk About Rape, intrepid journalist Sohaila Abdulali in conversation with Namita Bhandare, spoke of the issues and the silences around the subject of rape as part of the Women Uninterrupted Series. Sohaila, who was gang-raped as a teenager in Bombay, shared her story, as well as those of many others throughout the world, and gave her take on the global conversation about rape in her book of the same name written from the point of view of a writer, counsellor and activist. Sohaila said, “I see people worrying that women will lie and say that they have been raped, but I lied and said that I hadn’t been raped to avoid being locked up,” while talking about the police’s reaction when she tried to report the incident. Namita Bhandare said, “The only time when a raped woman is believed without hesitation is when she is dead.”
Ben Okri was back to what he does best, apart from when he is writing – speaking about his latest work, The Freedom Artist, and about his life, inspirations and experiences. In conversation with Chandrahas Choudhury, the Man Booker Prize-winning author also mused over the theme of relevance of language in the field of literature. “We’re inflamed by the public language of politicians – the demonizing language of politicians,” he observed and praised the liberating role of language in the field of literature. He made special mention of poetry in this regard, saying “poetry keeps language functional at the highest level”.
The Devil’s Advocate: The Untold Story had Karan Thapar in conversation with Sagarika Ghose where he discussed his book The Devil’s Advocate. The session was a delightful one with Thapar and Ghose engaging in a free-wheeling, candid and effervescent conversation where uncomfortable anecdotes from Thapar’s vast career of interviews were touched upon with the effortless ease found amongst old friends. The session began with Thapar confessing that he had a crush on Benazir Bhutto. He also touched upon his much-discussed interviews of Amitabh Bachchan in which he had asked the latter about his affairs; his rather gnarly interview of Jayalalitha who had openly told him she hadn’t enjoyed talking with him; his relationships with and reminiscences of LK Advani, Indira Gandhi and Sanjay Gandhi – all of which form the core of his book and memoir The Devil’s Advocate. At one point, the session also had Thapar declare, “There is nothing pejorative about being part of Lutyen’s media!”
Swachh to Swasth Bharat had Amitabh Kant, Marcus Moench, Mridula Ramesh, Naina Lal Kidwai and Parameswaran Iyer in conversation with Sanchaita Gajapati. Even as India continues to battle relentlessly for basic hygiene, the Banega Swachh India Campaign, now in its fifth year, has been able to spread awareness about cleanliness and sanitation practices which have empowered citizens with better health. In this session, experts and policy-makers discussed objectives, strategies and critical priorities in the struggle to establish a clean and healthy living environment.
Operation X discussed journalist Sandeep Unnithan’s forthcoming book. Operation X is the untold story behind one of the world’s largest covert naval wars, and is written by one of its principal architects. Naval Commando Operations (X) was the code name given by the Directorate of the Naval Intelligence for a series of complicated guerrilla operations directed against the maritime jugular of the Pakistan Army in erstwhile East Pakistan. These innovative sabotage missions, executed with specially-trained East Bengali college students, were part of India’s assistance to the Mukti Bahini guerillas in the months preceding the 1971 Indo-Pakistan war. NCO(X) used the largest number of maritime saboteurs in the history of modern naval warfare to achieve its objectives. The authors, Captain Mohan Narayan Rao Samant, Maha Vir Chakra awardee and former staff officer of this covert naval unit, Sandeep Unnithan, Executive Editor of India Today, and former diplomat G. Parthasarathy, were in a discussion anchored by NDTV Defence Editor Vishnu Som who has vast experience in conflict coverage.
Shades of Life had Kapil Sibal in conversation with Pragya Tiwari on his book of the same name. Sibal spoke to Pragya Tiwari about his personal life, his long career in politics, his poetry and convictions, his views on popular issues and the big challenges to India’s future. “Everybody says that in India we need a strong leader, a macho guy. The problem with such a strong leader is that he imposes his own ideas on the people of India. You can’t even do that in a family. In a country of several billion people, you can’t impose ideas,” said Sibal when talking about strong individuals in politics.
Alexandria: City of Memory was a fascinating session. Alexandria during the first half of the 20th century was one of the liveliest and most prosperous ports on the Mediterranean: cosmopolitan and brilliant. Particularly vibrant were the Greek, Italian and Jewish communities that gave Alexandria its particular flavour. It was above all a literary city, one that gave birth to the poetry and novels of Constantine Cavafy, E.M. Forster and Lawrence Durrell. In this session, writers Claudia Roden and André Aciman discussed memories of a lost world with another Alexandrian exile, Karima Khalil.
The closing debate of 2019 was Do Liberals Stifle Debate with the panel featuring Kapil Sibal, Makarand R. Paranjape, Mihir Swarup Sharma, Sagarika Ghose, Salman Khurshid, Sonal Mansingh, Hardeep Singh Puri and Vikram Sampath moderated by Sreenivasan Jain.
Are liberals as intolerant as illiberals? Or is liberal thought the primary source of progressive change the world over? Can liberals and illiberals, with their competing moral universes, ever learn to coexist? An illustrious panel engaged in a fiery debate over a timeless question at the NEXA Front Lawn during the closing debate at this year’s edition.
Renowned singer, Isheeta Ganguly, and writer and director of THREE WOMEN performed “Auld Lang Zyne – Bite Bitayein” to close the 12th edition of the ZEE Jaipur Literature Festival at Diggi Palace.
Over 4000 people contributed to bringing the Festival together including a dedicated group of nearly 300 volunteers.
The Festival Bazaar with a vast array of artisanal products did brisk business and was a favourite haunt of attendees as was the JCB Prize for Literature Festival Bookstore, which stocked books by all participating authors and literary prize-winners, was managed by Full Circle, and had a steady stream of bibliophiles going in to browse, buy and savour the feel and scent of new books.
As the curtains came down on yet another milestone Festival chapter with a truly mind-boggling range of dialogue in both variety and depth, Festival Producer Sanjoy K. Roy, Managing Director of Teamwork Arts announced the dates of the next edition as 23-27 January 2020 and mentioned some of the big-ticket authors who will be addressing the next edition of this truly incomparable grand literary carnival, which includes Adam Tooze, Anand Neelkantan, Anish Kapoor, Aruna Chakravarti, Bettany Hughes, Christina Lamb, Ganesh Devy, Devapriya Roy, George Saunders, Grayson Parry, Gulabi Sapera, Irshad Kamil, Kiran Desai, Lawrence wright, Michael Sandel, Neelam Sarangpur, Neil Gaiman, Olivia Judson, Paul Muldoon, Peter Carey, Peter Frankopan, Ravi Subramanian, Ruchir Sharma, Rupert Everett, Simon Winchester, Stacey Schiff, Stephen Greenblatt, Tahmima Anam, Tilda Swinton, Tina Brown, Vineet Bajpai and Xiaolu Gup
It is 2098. In China, Tao is handpainting pollen on to some fruit trees. If she doesn’t do it, her family, like everyone else’s in the world, will have no food to eat. That is because insects that pollinated trees have disappeared from the face of the earth. The scary scenario of a world without food is the story of The History of Bees by Norwegian author Maja Lunde. At the rate insects—a critical component of the food chain—are fading into oblivion, the fictional scenario could well become reality.
Lunde, who wrote the book on bees three years ago, followed it up with another a year ago, on the disappearance of water. Titled The End of the Ocean, it tells the story of a father and daughter fleeing a war-torn Europe plagued by drought and finding a sailboat in a parched garden in the middle of nowhere. She is now writing a book on the extinction of animals. Once it is over, a book on plants would be next. “It is a climate quartet about human beings and nature,” says Lunde, one of the major speakers at the 12th edition of the Jaipur Literature Festival (JLF) that began on January 24.
With climate change driving the world into catastrophe, writers around the world are busy penning possible crisis scripts to spur people into action. “I am terrified by the future,” says Lunde, who lives in the Norwegian capital of Oslo. “Climate change is the biggest issue we have to deal with right now,” adds the author, who sat with Australian academic Darryl Jones, Indian environmental entrepreneur Mridula Ramesh and American scientist-activist Marcus Moench at JLF for the session, ‘Climate Change: A Call to Action’, on the first day of the ongoing festival.
Climate-themed fiction isn’t the only genre of literature painting a dystopian future. “What the future holds for our planet is an important theme of the festival this year,” says JLF co-founder and author Namita Gokhale. The literary festival has combined human narratives around such varying subjects as artificial intelligence (AI), genetics and cosmology to discuss the future. Lunde’s disappearing bees are joined by killer robots in the new book of Australian AI scientist Toby Walsh. The list of authors linking literature and science to talk about the future of our planet include Indian astrophysicist Priyamvada Natarajan, who uses telescopes, computer simulation and calculation to help us gain a cosmic perspective.
“Science as the pursuit of knowledge is also a thing of beauty, right down to the atomic to the sub-atomic particle,” says Nobel Prize-winning scientist Venki Ramakrishnan, who delivered the keynote address at JLF this year. It is the first time that a scientist has delivered the keynote address at JLF, a job traditionally done by literary stars like UR Ananthamurthy (2009) and Pico Iyer (2018). Ramakrishnan’s new book, Gene Machine: The Race to Decipher the Secret of the Ribosome, talks about the complex nature of the human cell.
Tamil Nadu-born Ramakrishnan, who won the Nobel Prize for chemistry in 2009, was preceded at the opening session of the festival, interestingly, by a poet who recited verses on science. First Cell, British poet Ruth Padel’s poem, went like this: “Cell in the air, on the rocks/We are all from somewhere else.” While Padel put her poem in the context of migration and life, Ramakrishnan talked about the role of science in today’s world, setting the stage for writers from around the world participating in the five-day festival—often called the ‘Kumbh Mela of literature’—to make sense of contemporary society and its future.
Technological progress and its consequences, predicted by popular science fiction writers decades ago, are once again the hot topics in literature. Autonomous weapon systems or killer robots, believed to be in the laboratories of many countries, are the new villains. “The scary scenario for the next couple of decades is not what Hollywood would have you believe,” says AI scientist Walsh, a loud voice against using robotic science for weaponisation. “It’s not Terminator or Ex Machina. It’s a mixture of Orwell and Huxley,” he adds, taking the talk on dystopia further. “The scary scenario is that we’ll hand over decisions to machines that will seduce our senses, that will destroy our privacy, and that will erode political debate,” says Walsh, whose new book, also set in the future, is called 2062: The World that AI Made.
While AI could tackle many problems, from climate change to increasing inequality, countries like China have made it very clear that they seek economic, military and diplomatic dominance in the next two decades by investing in technologies like AI, warns Walsh. At an international AI conference two years ago, Chinese scientists submitted more papers than American and European scientists combined, he adds. Another Australian scientist, Darryl Jones, deftly pricks the human conscience in his new book, The Birds at My Table: Why We Feed Wild Birds and Why It Matters. “We somehow believe our own triumphalism, ignoring the fact that the food we eat, the clothes we wear, the energy we employ, the very air we breathe is all natural,” says Jones, a Griffith University teacher whose work focuses on the ways human beings interact with nature.
“The glaring example is, of course, climate change, a ‘natural’ phenomenon brought about by one single species (us) wastefully exploiting utterly finite resources with no regard for the impact this is creating on the closed system (the planet) we all share,” says Jones about the imminent danger from destruction of nature. “This manifestation of our hubris is changing the very conditions we evolved in and may actually threaten the food we need. Life won’t stop, it will adapt. But we may not be so lucky.”
The festival has also assembled a filmmaker-writer who has chronicled her conservationist husband’s love for nature in a new book, and another who, along with her nature-loving husband, created a rewilding project in Sussex, England. Janaki Lenin’s My Husband and Other Animals is about her husband Rom Whitaker, herpetologist and founder of two parks in Chennai for snakes and crocodiles. Isabella Tree, author of the 1991 biography of Victorian ornithologist John Gould, titled The Bird Man, is at JLF with Wilding: The Return of Nature to a British Farm, based on her creation of new habitats for wild animals with conservationist husband Charlie Burrel.
#1: The world has warmed by about 1°C in the past century, with the warming accelerating in the past few decades.
#2: 97 percent of climate scientists agree that humans are responsible for the recent warming of the Earth.
#3: India is the most vulnerable country to climate change. India is vulnerable because it is relatively “poor”, quite hot, quite dry, and has a large group of people working in agriculture. Why is agriculture important, you may ask. Agriculture is fully exposed to the elements, and thus unprotected from the talons of the elements. Moreover, over half of India’s farms are rainfed, meaning they do not have the insurance of irrigation against delayed or absent rains. Add to this, the large numbers of small and marginal farmers who have neither the financial wherewithal nor market access to cope with the increased volatility that comes with a warmer climate, and you begin to understand the extent of this vulnerability. In 2018, a leading multinational bank ranked countries on their relative vulnerability, as a product of their exposure to climate risks, their sensitivity to those climate risks, and their ability to respond. India ranked the most vulnerable country to climate change.
#4: In 2018, global CO2 emissions were estimated to have risen by about 2.7 percent. Thanks to climate inertia, even if we were to considerably slow down emissions, or even stop them, the warming and all the associated effects would continue for some time. This is because it takes hundreds to thousands of years for all the CO2 we put up in the air to be removed. Until then, some part of the warming effect will continue.
Some might say, well, then, India, as a large carbon emitter should do more. There are multiple perspectives on this. If we consider historical emissions, which, given several greenhouse gases have atmospheric lifetimes of centuries seems an appropriate approach, India’s emission share appears tiny. Then, of course, is the “equal right to pollute” — wherein we look at carbon emissions on a per capita basis. Here again, India’s responsibility to emission cuts is diluted given her per capita CO2 emissions are just under a 10th of America’s and about 1/4th of China’s per capita CO2 emissions.
A different aspect to consider is that Indian electricity’s (coal plants and all) sectoral share was about 2 percent of global greenhouse gas emissions in 2013. In other words, too small to be interesting from the point of stopping global emissions. Fascinatingly and more relevantly, capacity additions in India from renewable energy handily overtook capacity additions from conventional sources (thermal/gas/nuclear) in FY18. Hmmm.
#5: Given India’s peculiar vulnerability to climate change, less-interesting role in emissions and climate inertia, adapting to a warmer climate assumes paramount importance (incidentally, many of those adaptive actions result in lower emissions). Climate change changes the hydrological or water cycle, making it rain on fewer days, more intensely, and makes wet regions wetter and dry regions drier. Now consider that India is already water scarce — asking about 1/5th of the world’s population to survive on 1/33rd of the world’s water. Moreover, India’s water supply is highly seasonal, which makes storage important. But we have neglected our water storage for decades — both above the ground and below.
Given this data, what decisions follow?
One clear decision is to manage our relatively scarce, spatially variable,seasonal water a heck of a lot better.
Nice to say in theory. In practice, who should take these decisions?
Most people I speak to say, “the government”. But this decision-maker comes with its own issues. The reality is that India is a democracy — and a raucous one at that. Which means policy makers typically do what will make them get re-elected. Which, hard as it is to believe, is the decisions they believe people want so much that they, the people, will reward them, the politicians, with a vote.
As I have written before, voters tend to have a short-term outlook, which bodes ill for longer- term, management-type policy decisions. Moreover, decisions like pricing water require the outlay of large amounts of political capital, which means political incentives need to be compelling. Are they?
Not quite. Take the case of Telangana. In early 2018, the TRS government started favouring populist measures – free electricity for farmers, free apartments etc. over resilience-building measures like tank (water storage) rejuvenation. They won emphatically.
Contrast this with the case of Madhya Pradesh: the winning party promised farm loan waivers, while the losing party systematically developed farmer and water resilience. Madhya Pradesh is one of the few states in India where farmers are charged for electricity, and the erstwhile government held out against farm loan waivers.
Now, put yourself in the shoes of our political masters writing their manifesto for 2019 elections — what would you do if your job was to win? Give free electricity to farmers, or ask for a water price? Waive loans, or revive tanks? Pretty easy answer, isn’t it?
2019 promises to be an interesting year. There are three events, in particular, I would like to focus on:
Event#1: A potential El Nino. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration of the US released a report on 31 December 2018 stating that sea surface temperatures are above average across most of the Pacific Ocean and that “El Niño is expected to form and continue through the Northern Hemisphere winter 2018-19 (~90 percent chance) and through spring (~60 percent chance).” The report also states that most models expect El Nino to persist through summer of 2019. This is bad news for India.
The last full fledged El Nino was in 2015 – with the murderous heatwaves, failed monsoons and droughts in a large number of districts in India. Still, early days yet, and we will need to watch this space closely on how this unfolds.
Event#2: The general elections. The 2019 election is shaping up to be a cracker. If, as I think is likely, farm loan waivers feature prominently in political manifestos, you will know that perceptual populism has won over any form of resilience-building. Why do I use the word “perceptual”? For one, farm loan waivers do precious little for the greater number of small and marginal farmers whose loans originate in the informal sector. Moreover, if the El Nino begins to manifest in earnest around March, any unhappiness from the effects of the El Nino – heat waves/water shortages etc. are likely to translate into votes against the incumbent.
Event #3: Non-performing assets and financial tightening: More than 10 years have passed since the global economic slowdown. Avalanches of liquidity have slammed into financial markets across the world. These flows are now being pulled back. Going forward, money is likely to be tight. Loans and projects that could have otherwise muddled along, will now become hard to classify as “business-as-usual”. Coal assets – so unsavoury from a climate perspective – become important to salvage from a financial-health perspective. Caught between a slowly warming climate and a fast disintegrating financial system, it’s not rocket science to guess how policy makers will act. Farm loan waivers, which don’t help the climate cause, will further weaken the financial health of India.
From the past data, it is clear “what” decisions need to be taken — it’s a no-brainer, really. Manage your water and build farmer resilience. But the democratic context determines “who” will need to take these decisions. The political realities of India, and the looming general elections, make it highly unlikely that our central or state political leaders will take that class of decisions in the coming year.
It must be said that really bad El Nino will muddy the waters. If an El Nino occurs and we have a fractured government with little political manoeuvring space at the centre, we could see short-term, populist measures that appear to help (like farm loan waivers) but denude resilience. After all, a weak coalition government cannot afford to squander expensive political capital on unpopular resilience-building measures. However, if an El Nino materialises when we have a strong central government, we could see necessary resilience-building policies. In either case, the first few months of a new government are the time to build in longer term measures such as water pricing, universal water metering and agricultural market restructuring.
Personally, I find that climate change adaptation works best at hyperlocal levels with decisions being taken by we, the people, by the government and the private sector working in conjunction. Why? At the local level, voter incentives tend more aligned, making it is easier for the government to act, because citizens are potentially more willing to stomach short-term unpleasantness such as metering and paying for water. The private sector (with hopefully longer timelines) can augment government capacity more effectively at smaller locations such as districts and cities — both through NGOs with deep community ties, and corporates with employee bases and CSR budgets.
For instance, a bad drought may bring together a gifted civil servant, funds from a local corporate and an NGO working with farmers to craft policies on farmer support. Or, the residents of an apartment complex, like what is happening in Bengaluru, could plonk down the investment for a sewage treatment plant, and start metering their usage, not because of regulation, but because tanker water is too dear.
We saw the political decision making on climate change is a PhD thesis on the art of compromise. How do we ask developed world politicians to get their electorate to cut emissions? How do we ask Indian politicians to implement longer term measures to build water resilience?
The answer is, I believe, to go local.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution - India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
RIGHT PATH:K. Venugopal, Director, Kasturi & Sons Limited, publishers of The Hindu, presenting certificates to the winners of the Startup contest on ‘Climate change and entrepreneurship,’ at Thiagarajar School of Management in the city on Friday. Also seen (from left): Mridula Ramesh, founder, Sundaram Climate Institute, Venkatesh Natarajan, Managing Partner, Lok Capital, and Manikam Ramaswami, Chairman, TSM.— Photo: R. Ashok
“Management students should set goals and move towards them”.
Commending the winners of the Startup contest on ‘Climate change and entrepreneurship,’ K. Venugopal, Director, Kasturi & Sons Limited, the publishers of The Hindu, said passion was an important ingredient for successful entrepreneurship.
Speaking at Thiagarajar School of Management here on Friday, he said there was a need to create entrepreneurs as B-schools turned out MBAs, who could only manage businesses. What was required today was entrepreneurs.
To achieve this, the management students should set goals and move towards them with wholehearted passion.
While some of the presentations made by student teams were good, they required a little more thinking, Mr. Venugopal said.
Spelling out the objectives of the Startup contest and the theme, Sundaram Climate Institute founder Mridula Ramesh said the climate had changed.
The rainfall pattern had changed. Many cities around the globe, which were dry, were getting drier. In such a scenario, there was an urgent need for correction in the environment.
“Each one of us had to contribute, which alone would save Mother Earth,” she stressed.
The Lok Capital Managing Partner Venkatesh Natarajan, who was one of the judges, highlighted the importance of cash flow and capital availability as the key issues required for good entrepreneurship.
“When you think of building a business, the cash flow was as essential as men and material,” he told the students.
The winners, Raja Vignesh, Bharath Kannan, Gautam T.A and Vignesh S., were presented with cash award and certificates. The winning team’s ‘business plan’ was to produce eco-friendly cement.
Wishing them good luck, TSM Chairman Manikam Ramaswami assured assistance to the students in obtaining patent for the venture.
The runner-up’s business plan was to replace plastic water bottles with clay containers. The team comprised Ramya Jenefer Grace, Jaya Vignesh, Sri Hariprasath, Nivethitha P and Santhanam.
Ravi Srinivasan, the Chief Executive Officer of Craftsman Automation, has won the Established Entrepreneur of the Year award for the year 2015, instituted by the Entrepreneur's Organization Coimbatore.
Entrepreneur's Organization Coimbatore conducted its fourth edition of the Entrepreneur of the Year Awards' ceremony on Friday. The organization, which had instituted two awards for the established and emerging 'Tamil' Tarun Vijay meets Jaya's doctors at Apollo entrepreneurs, further included a category to honor woman entrepreneurs under the Woman Entrepreneur of the Year. As many as 100 entrepreneurs were nominated for the awards of which 15 women entrepreneurs also featured in the nominations.
Anand Purushothaman, the Chief Executive Officer of the Payoda Technologies, won the Emerging Entrepreneur of the Year award for reaching more number of customers in the last one year. The outcome of CCMC officials evict the company, whose average age is 24 according to Anand, has doubled in one year.
The Woman Entrepreneur of the Year award was given to Hemalatha Annamalai for her innovative introduction of electronic based two wheelers, which are both feasible and eco-friendly.
The winners were selected by a panel of judges including top industrialists and members of Entrepreneur's Organization Coimbatore. The awards were distributed by Gopal Srinivasan, the Chairman and Managing Director of TCS Capital Funds Limited, Mridula Ramesh of Sundaram Textiles, Deepti Reddy of WOW Hyderabad, Shamid Khemka of Synapselndia and Vivek Bhargava of iProspect.
The winners were selected by a panel of judges including top industrialists and members of Entrepreneur's Organization Coimbatore. The awards were distributed by Gopal Srinivasan, the Chairman and Managing Director of TCS Capital Funds Limited, Mridula Ramesh of Sundaram Textiles, Deepti Reddy of WOW Hyderabad, Shamid Khemka of Synapselndia and Vivek Bhargava of iProspect.
Giving away the awards, Gopal Srinivasan from TVS Capital Funds said that Coimbatore had good potential for entrepreneurial endeavours and many people could invent new things if they had the heart. "Young minds should be innovative and creative and the above 40's should be like Tennyson's Ulysses. We should look to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield," he added.
Depiction of power of women on sand.
When badminton champ Saina Nehwal admitted in an interview that her grandmother refused to see her till a month after her birth because she was a girl child, or when actress-turned-author Suchitra Krishnamoorthi revealed how her father-in-law used to tell her daily that he was eagerly awaiting his grandson, it yet again demonstrated how the gender debate is far from being extinguished.
Only times have changed, not the mindset. Equality in its true sense is yet to become a reality. Whether it is possible or not is a different debate altogether but international women's day does tend to remind us that unless women start valuing and thinking about themselves, they will only be relegated.
As a prelude to celebrations of the day, here is a cross section of views of empowered women in our Temple Town.
The Chief Operating Officer, Apollo Speciality Hospitals, Madurai, Dr.Rohini Sridhar, cites a quote from a poem by Sonny Caroll: “We should celebrate blossoming of the empowered women who understands what it means to live and let live; how much to ask for herself and how much to give. Striking this balance is an expression of her confidence and self-assurance.”
Points out Ms. Lakshmi Murugesan, CMD, Paramount Textiles: “Women have forged ahead multi-tasking and juggling all responsibilities. They have progressed in all fields and done well too. You find more entrepreneurs and professionals today than housewives perhaps. But women should be able to use their feminity with dignity in a more appreciative manner.”
“On the road to empowerment, women are definitely playing multiple roles”, feels Ms.Valli Annamalai, Hony Joint Secretary, Indian Council for Child Welfare. “But in the changing society scenario, they are forgetting their fundamental role as wife and mother”. “Though coming out of gender discrimination, a woman needs to prioritise her duties. She may no longer be subservient due to economic independence but at the same time she can not set aside her sensitivity and feminity,” she echoes.
Says Ms.Premalatha Panneerselvam, Founder, Mahatma Schools: “Today's women are ready to face challenges. In villages, uneducated women are transforming themselves even without the support of men. They are also much more aware about the importance of education for a girl child.” But, she rues, despite the progress, women are still not respected, they face harassment at workplace. We need to create a safe world for us first. Women should not feel insecure inside or outside their homes.
Endorses Dr. A. Mercy Pushpalatha, Principal and Secretary, Lady Doak College: “Why only women, men too should be made equal partners and participants in celebrating womanhood. Men's perception about women has to change first. Women should be perceived as collaborators and not competitors. Instead of special programmes, let us reach out to each other every day.”
Dr.Uma Kannan, Secretary, Thiagarajar College, opines: “There is an imperative need to integrate education with real life. Just earning multiple degrees is not enough. We need to turn women job seekers into job creators. Wealth creation is a challenge our youngsters must be prepared for. Undoubtedly, women are now more visible in various fields. But real empowerment can not always come with the help of external forces. Women must be empowered from within first.”
Ms.Mridula Ramesh, Executive Director, Sundaram Textiles, feels, the best thing to have happened is the change in role models for women. “Few decades ago, housewives, mothers, grandmothers were role models. Today, women are so diverse having stepped into all kinds of careers. From all walks of life and every stage, women are getting opportunities and striving to become financially independent. But unfortunately, society hasn't moved fast. Portrayal in cinema is negative, only a woman has to sacrifice or compromise on her career while raising a child or family, there is no justification for dowry either when women too are earning today.”
Principal and Correspondent, Akshara School, Ms.Kausalya Srinivasan, says: “Women, individually and as a workforce, are set for much greater achievements now. They are better empowered today. And those empowered are providing a helping hand to the weaker and deprived. Even though women are not shown equal respect everywhere yet, in some places, their position does make men jittery. For sure, they can't ask us for bribes and in a way we can help and contribute to curbing corruption”.
Feels Ms.Aruna Visweswar, Principal, Adhyapana School: “Women still need to empower themselves more. Problems of inequality, dowry, female infanticide exist though may be in lesser degree. While women are taking a progressive step forward, there are more and new problems to confront. Marital discords are on the rise and it is a disturbing feature affecting children of the new generation. Education is crucial for every woman for self-dignity and infusing feminity with intuition.”
The Vice-chairman (Emeritus), Aravind Eye Care Systems, Dr.G.Natchiar, asserts: “Women are the best representatives of the value system of every family, society and the country irrespective of whether they are rich or poor, educated or uneducated. Health care and education are the two most important sectors that need continued focus because only these will enlighten women.”
Industrialist and educationist, Ms.Shobhana Ramachandhran, appreciates the great capabilities and inner energy of every woman. Increasing number of women have turned professionals and skillfully managed their homes and personal lives too, she feels, adding that it reflects a woman's power, ability and understanding. If anything, women need to be more self-confident to make a deeper impact and for that a women's day celebration makes no difference
No doubt, empowering women whether directly or indirectly is an ongoing process. As this year's theme declared by the United Nations emphasizes on equal access to education among other things, it is this equality in participation and opportunities that may help to ease the “uneasy relationship” between power and leadership. For a woman, deep within perhaps feel being strident strikes at her feminity. Whereas, the two ought to be mutually compatible to reignite and channelise women's equality for the future.
Keywords: International Women's Day
Ebola is a lethal virus with a long incubation period. More than half the people who are infected with Ebola die from it, but it takes between 8-21 days for the symptoms to show up once a person is infected.
This now provides the making of a global epidemic — an Indian nurse working in Monrovia, Liberia, could come home infected with Ebola. She could pass through the airport thermal scanners and go home — completely asymptomatic.
When she comes down with the disease, she will be initially treated with love and care by her family members; none of whom will wear gloves or masks. They will be infected. She may finally have to go in, very sick and contagious, to a local hospital. Fearful of quarantine and death, she may not reveal (or more likely not be asked) that she came from Liberia.
The symptoms of an acute Ebola infection — high fever, headaches, nausea, diarrhoea — are the same as many of our home-grown but less fatal viruses. The hospital will not isolate her; nor will the nurses and doctors caring for her take any precautions. The epidemic will spread. Professor Peter Piot, the discoverer of Ebola, has said, “An outbreak in Europe or North America would quickly be brought under control. I am more worried about the many people from India who work in trade or industry in West Africa.”
Ebola would become a pandemic when it hits India. We are a poor country with health systems that are already stretched in the “season” of disease. We have one nurse per 1,000 people (according to 2010 World Bank data) compared to 1.6 nurses that Nigeria has or the 10 nurses that the U.S. has for 1,000 people. The U.S. has systems and adequate resources to effectively track and isolate victims of Ebola, and the people these victims could have infected, to stem the tide of the epidemic. Most importantly, they have a far lower population density. Imagine a tracking-and-quarantine operation in Dharavi in Mumbai or Egmore in Chennai.
We have two questions and one suggestion.
Prevention
Our best course of action is prevention. Prevent all persons originating from the three hardest-hit nations — Guinea, Sierra Leone and Liberia — from coming into India, no matter what their status (health or otherwise). Pre-boarding scrutiny of passports will accomplish this. If and when the epidemic intensifies, extend that ban to persons from Nigeria too.
Has due care (quarantine for instance) been exercised when they have returned to India?
How many passengers travel from the countries mentioned earlier to India every day? What are the main ports of embarkation? What are the preventive procedures in place today?
(Dr. Soumini Ramesh is chief medical director, Sri Krishna hospital, Madurai, and Mridula Ramesh is executive director, Sundaram Textiles Ltd.)
Keywords: Ebola, epidemic, Ebola virus
For most students, college is about friends, fun, and, of course, a little study. However, these girls have other ideas. Forty of them from the commerce and business departments of Lady Doak College have turned entrepreneurs though they are only in the second year of their degree course.
Under the auspices of Doakian Energetic Entrepreneurs (DEER), an initiative floated by the department of commerce and women entrepreneurs, the girls have started manufacture and sale of homemade fruit pulp, juices, detergents, sungudi saris, fashion apparels, fancy items and designer cushions.
The seed capital of Rs 3,000-Rs 4,000 was provided by the department. But most of the students have started making profits and many have reimbursed the seed money.
Take the case of S Sugasini, R Dharshini and K Sathyakala, all three B Com second year students. They chose to trade in saris just two months ago with an investment of Rs 3,500. They have already netted a profit of Rs 6,500. “Our intention is not just to sell saris and make a profit but also promote traditional weaves. We are working with several weavers in Madurai and they have started weaving saris based on designs sketched by us,” said Sugasini.
Thara O D and G Dhatshanu are into promotion of jute products. They design and sell cushions that suit light motor vehicles, under the brand name ‘Anokhi Handicrafts’. “We prepare files and mobile covers with jute and supply to several institutions. We are promoting the use of jute instead of plastic. We also design cushions suitable for bamboo chairs and cars, which have been well received,” said Thara. P J Suhaagshree, S S Hema and R Hemasoundari, all B Com students, make and sell soft drinks.
“We prepare and market rosemilk, sherbats, American green milk and tonovin essence under the brand name of ‘Just Fresh’. We bottle them and sell them inside and outside the campus. The response has been good and we plan to augment the business after completing college,” said Suhaagshree. A few others have started doing things on their own. P Sangeetha, B Com-Computer Science student, markets detergents prepared at home. Prinyanka Golchha and Z Qudusiya, who belong to northern Indian families, source apparels from north Indian manufacturers and sell them in the city.
The girls received a word of advice from established businesswomen in the region on Wednesday. A few successful entrepreneurs including Shobana Ramachandran, managing director of TVS Chakra limited, Mridula Ramesh, executive director of Sundaram Textiles Ltd and Vichitra Rajasingh, chief executive officer of Bell Hotels Private Ltd were in the college to speak to the students at a motivational programme, ‘VRYiKSHA’, jointly organised by Young Indians and Indian Women Network, wings of Confederation of Indian Industry (CII).
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The 3rd Great Lakes International Entrepreneurship conference with the theme ‘Entrepreneurship in education’ was conducted at the Great Lakes campus under the aegis of the ‘Orchid pharma centre for excellence in technology, innovation and entrepreneurship (OPCET)’ yesterday. The conference saw an array of excellent speakers talking on the theme and driving the importance and relevance of the same in today’s context, especially in India.
Right after the inception of the conference, nearly 50 students – drawn from government schools in the villages surrounding the campus – proudly displayed lamps provided to them, thanks to Dr. AK Rao – Founder, One Child-One Lamp.
One Child-One Lamp is an initiative of Thrive Energy which aims at reaching out to the children of bottom of pyramid with their innovative and cost effective lighting solution. In India, 130 million school children depend on kerosene lamps for their lighting needs. A villager spends close to 900 Rs annually on kerosene, which also pollutes the environment by emitting carbon monoxide. One Child One Lamp addresses these problems by their cost effective and environment friendly LED Solar lights.
Starting the proceedings of the conference, Dr. Bala V Balachandran, dean, Great Lakes, said that the Indian business education scene is at a crossroads. “There is a need for academic elegance to meet business relevance”, he said. On entrepreneurship, he expressed his wish to see more and more Indians becoming job creators rather than just job consumers. He also hoped that, in the subsequent batches, at least 10% of the students who pass out go on to create value (by becoming entrepreneurs).
Professor RS Veeravalli, Director, Corporate initiatives and Executive MBA Programme, Great Lakes, elaborated on the context of the conference. He grabbed the attention of everyone in the audience by running through some statistics. When he said that the size of the pie in the education sector will be 50 billion USD by 2015, all of us could not help but assimilate the enormity of the potential of “Edupreneurship”
A special address by BS Raghavan, retired civil servant and former chief secretary, West Bengal, followed. He said that for education to succeed, it has to be approached in a holistic and integrated fashion and conceived in the broadest state possible. He lamented that teachers, whose job it is, to make education come alive, have themselves, become slaves to salaries. He hoped that they view their profession as sacred. In a sweeping and hard hitting fashion, he called upon everyone in the audience to become educators because “The school begins where the family ends”.
Despite the national knowledge commission headed by Mr. Sam Pitroda making a series of recommendations to the Government, he said that there is a gap in the area of “human development”. Commenting on the prevailing lack of innovation in the education sector, he gave a contrasting example of his own experiment with the model of ‘single teacher schools’. “Innovations can help bypass and circumvent systemic deficiencies”, he said. Concluding his speech with the famous quote “I think, therefore I am”, he expressed his wish to see Great Lakes collaborating with the national innovation council in the near future.
Dr. Dan Papp, President, Kennesaw state university, delivered the chief address for the conference. By combining three different definitions, (from an entrepreneur, a business man and an academic), he said, an entrepreneur is “someone who takes an idea, combines it with money, marketing and management skills to create a successful and profitable business organization that meets the needs of the society.” He called uncle Bala, an academic entrepreneur. He asked potential entrepreneurs to take advantages of the advancements in information technology, shed the ivory tower mindset and leverage policy changes, if they wanted to make a mark in the education sector. Before concluding his address, he said that “an education entrepreneur thinks things that are not and asks, why not and how can I do it?”
Mrs Lakshmi Srinivasan, principal, PS Senior secondary school thanked the management of Great Lakes for pioneering the concept of imparting management education to students at the higher secondary school level. Students from the school were awarded certificates as a mark of successfully completing the course. Mrs. Akhila Srinivasan, Managing director, Shriram life insurance and trustee gave the commemoration speech. She reiterated that, primary schools should inculcate in children, a spirit of righteousness. Dr. Dan Pepp and Mrs Lakshmi Srinivasan unveiled the Shriram capital alumni alcove, a forum for the alumni of Great Lakes to come together.
This was followed by Colloquium on “Innovation and Ecosystem in Edupreneurship” where the august group consisting of Dr K.C.John(Managing Director, Agnity India) ,Mr Sameer Mehta (Founder, Atlas Advisory),Dr A.K.Rao( Founder One Child One Lamp), Prof N.T.Arunkumar and Ms. Mridula Ramesh( Executive Director, Sundaram Textiles Ltd) discussed on Innovation and Ecosystem in Edupreneurship.
Dr K C John talked about how education entrepreneurship can be used for encashing India’s demographic dividend. He said that the next technology disruption will be in India in Education sector. Prof Arun Kumar shared his experience of starting iDo ,it is a volunteered corporate social responsibility initiative, employees have the option to contribute more (than the standard desired contribution amount) or an option of no deduction. Ms Mridula Ramesh presented a case study how TVS group came up with a sustainable model of CSR , where they addressed the unaddressed section (school drop outs)by equipping them with vocational training followed by the placements.
Mr. P Kishore, Managing director, Everonn Education Limited gave the valedictory address. He narrated the inspiring story of his humble beginnings in the small town of Ooty in Tamil nadu. Tracing the growth of Everonn, he credited the seeds of the company to his thought of taking computers and education to government schools. He promised Great Lakes that Everonn would gladly provide digital content, if the Karma Yoga program run by the institute requires. Embarking to raise 50 crores and ending up raising nearly 7200 crores, with an IPO oversubscribed 145 times, Everonn’s story is truly extraordinary and one that would inspire many an entrepreneur to seriously consider ventures in the sector of education.
The conference ended with Professor RS Veeravalli duly acknowledging the efforts put in by members of CIECOM, the entrepreneurship committee at Great Lakes. The conference enriched the knowledge of Gladiators about the immense opportunities in Edupreneurship . It motivated us to consider Entrepreneurship as a career and thus contribute back to the society through our future innovative and sustainable business models.
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If Prime Minister Narendra Modi tried to wean international manufacturers from China with his 'Make in India' campaign, in Madurai an entrepreneur has made the first inroads, albeit with a humble battery-operated cart.
Tejus Motors, a firm based in Thirumangalam here, will supply indigenous battery carts to FreshWorld, a start-up venture in Bangalore that supplies vegetables to households directly from farms. FreshWorld has been importing battery-run cars from China but has now ordered 20 such vehicles from the Madurai firm. Tejus will supply the first lot of carts in a month, its managing partner P Girithar Raja said. "Our vehicles are fully indigenous. We make our own batteries and mould the chassis of the vehicles too," he said.
Raja, at a session organized by Confederation of Indian Industry (CII), said time had come to prop up green technology and provide impetus to the industry such that it could manufacture vehicles that could readily ply on roads. The symposium - entitled 'Clean Tech - Problems and Opportunities' -- pitched for use of green technology in new-age entrepreneurship.
In her keynote address, Mridula Ramesh, executive director of Sundaram textiles, said 'clean tech' provided several opportunities. And Tejus, which was put in touch with FreshWorld by Nativelead Foundation (a non-profit organization), wants to explore those as it has plans to manufacture battery-operated tractors which Raja says would help farmers in cutting costs incurred in transporting their produce
Saying that entrepreneurship was the way forward, P Vasu, chairman, CII Madurai zone, noted: "It is predicted that India will have the largest employable population in the world by 2020. Entrepreneurship is the best way to utilize this resource."
Shyam Menon, investment director, Infuse ventures (IIM-A), echoed similar sentiments and said start-ups were no longer limited to urban centres and could be initiated in villages too. "It is no longer related to IT and providing solutions to somebody sitting elsewhere. Now, you can become a start-up by finding solutions in water, energy and waste management in your own backyard and also help others in the process," he said.
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Chennai, February 10: Madras Management Association will host its Annual Convention 2016 on February 13 in the city on the theme “India 2016 – Leading Change.” The convention will address the implications of emerging challenges through focussed sessions on three broad sub-themes - A New Generation of Change Leaders; Leading with Ownership and Accountability and Leading Change in Our Ecosystems. The topics will be covered through a mix of speeches, panel discussions and interactive Q&A sessions. The convention will be attended by over than 600 delegates, including company officials, academicians and management professionals.
Key speakers
S Nagarajan, Managing Director, Mother Dairy, will deliver the inaugural address.
Gautam Kumra, Director (Senior Partner), McKinsey & Company & Head, Organization Practice Asia and Founder, McKinsey Leadership Institute, will deliver the Keynote address and R Seetharaman, Chief Executive Officer, Doha Bank, will deliver a special address during the inaugural session. Jairam Ramesh, Member of Parliament, Rajya Sabha, will present the valedictory address and hand over the awards to winners of 19th MMA Competition for Young Managers and Best Young Manager of the Year 2016.
R Dinesh, Managing Director, TVS Logistics Services Ltd, will deliver the keynote address during the valedictory session. Other speakers at the event include Bala V Balachandran, Founder, Great Lakes Institute of Management, India, Keshav Kantamneni , Managing Director, Uniply Industries Ltd, Mridula Ramesh, Executive Director, Sundaram Textiles Ltd and Swami Sukhabodhananda, Founder Chairman, Prasanna Trust. McKinsey & Company is the Knowledge Partner for the Convention and The Hindu BusinessLine is the media partner for the convention.
Climate change, which has become the topic of discussion at most forums, took an interesting turn when the students of the Thiagarajar School of Management (TSM) presented their ideas towards tackling the issue in their own way.
Madurai, October 16: Climate change, which has become the topic of discussion at most forums, took an interesting turn when the students of the Thiagarajar School of Management (TSM) presented their ideas towards tackling the issue in their own way. From going organic to waste management, tapping renewable energy to green buildings, ideas poured in. Incidentally, the course on Climate Change and Entrepreneurship seemed to have inspired them into thinking something different, go beyond mobile app.
Mridula Ramesh, Course Instructor and founder of Sundaram Climate Institute, said ideas were aplenty, but for want of time, they had shortlisted five for presentation before a jury at the Climate Change and Entrepreneurship Start Up Contest - Grand Finale.
After the presentation by the five teams, the jury comprising Venky Natarajan, Managing Partner, Lok Advisory Services Pvt Ltd, K Venugopal, Director, Kasturi & Sons (publishers of The Hindu), Manikam Ramaswami, Chairman, TSM and Mridula Ramesh acknowledged the Green Bindings team as winners and the Drink Rite team for runner-up prize. The winners presented a business plan on making eco-friendly cement using fly-ash and slag waste, while the runner-up team focussed on clay-water dispenser as replacement for pet bottles.
The runner-up team comprising Ramya Jenefer Grace, Jaya Vignesh, Sri Hariprasath, Nivethitha P and Santhanam said they intended to patent their product. The Institute chairman assured all possible assistance in obtaining the patent. Lauding the efforts taken by each of the teams, Venugopal urged the students to set goals and work with passion to realise it.
Lok Capital, which has been investing in early and growth stage enterprises, has made 30 investments till date across various sectors, said Venky Natarajan, emphasising the importance of incorporating cash flows in the presentation.
Voicing concern about environmental degradation and its impact on climate, the founder of Sundaram Climate Institute called upon the students to come up with solutions in the interest of a larger society. “Like all problems, these trends present opportunity,” she said, underscoring the collective need to save Mother Earth.
Rectangular plots of dark soil at the school’s entrance hold the promise of spinach, chillies, brinjal and radish. Then there are little patches of herb gardens growing lemongrass, mint, brahmi, rosemary, etc.
The campus already has abundant trees planted over the years that yield lemon, chickoo, moringa, and curry leaves.
The school decided to set up a community garden, Greendom, as part of The School Enterprise Challenge — an international awards programme for schools, that encourages them to set up businesses.
A sale of these helped raise seed money for the project; a part was donated to charity. They have had two sales so far, which have helped raise Rs. 32,000. A part of it is ploughed back into the garden.
Principal Manjula Raman hopes to convert the school into a green zone and create awareness among children on the effort that goes into growing food.The school gardener and teachers are the go-to people to learn about plant
care.Dry leaves and food waste are made into compost on campus. Many children take the plants home to care for them. And at school, the students weed, water and tend to them.
BHUMIKA K
Mridula Ramesh
Madurai
Reduces waste generation at home
In July 2015, Mridula Ramesh’s family of four and the staff in her sprawling bungalow in Chokkikulam, Madurai, decided to record for a week how much waste they threw into the municipal bin. It averaged 17.6 kg a day. Mridula, the JMD of Southern Roadways, set herself a target of going zero-waste ensuring her family became Madurai’s first to not send its trash out.
“I do not cook, and yet I turned out to be the biggest culprit,” she says, speaking of an unmindful and irregular grocery purchase pattern. “In the last 15 months, I have stuck to a shopping list, fully aware of the stock at home and exactly what is required for the kitchen.”
“When we clutter, we tend to forget, and that soon becomes waste,” says Mridula.
“Now, our grocery bills have plummeted by 40 per cent and there is drastic reduction in outgoing waste.”
The next step was to give the girls in the kitchen open bins to separate biodegradable and non-biodegradable trash. She has now created a major composting system in her backyard and the garden is flourishing.
Her only worry is the less than half-a-kilo plastic, cardboard cartons, medicine covers and other FMCG packaging.
The conservation plan has been duplicated at her company too, where 500-plus employees generated 200 kg of waste.
Within five months, the canteen waste reduced to less than 10 kilos from 40, and the garden waste of 110 kg goes for bulk composting.
Mridula has combined her eco-friendly action with teaching, and she is a clean tech investor.
“It is not just enough to raise awareness,” she says, “a start-up is fantastic to create impact”.
As founder of Sundaram Climate Institute in Madurai, Mridula offers waste reduction tips to students, residents and writes about it too. Videos of her approach to zero-waste at home demonstrate easy steps to turning garbage
into black gold.
-SOMA BASU
Thanal
Thiruvananthapuram
Revive indigenous paddy varieties
Intense effort has gone into the ‘Save Our Rice’ (SOR) campaign pioneered by voluntary research group, Thanal. It has resulted in the collection of more than 1,000 indigenous paddy varieties, some brought back from the verge of extinction for the seed bank. The NGO has cultivated 219 of them, of which 164 are variants indigenous to Kerala. “Records say Kerala had almost 3,000 varieties of paddy. We are fortunate to have been able to collect 164 and consumers can buy 25 of them. We sell some of them in our store in the city,” says Sridhar Radhakrishnan, director.
Thanal’s campaign has been successful in seven states (Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, West Bengal, Jharkhand, Chhattisgarh and Madhya Pradesh). The SOR campaign was founded in 2004 along with two other promoters of organic food, CREATE in Tamil Nadu and Sahaj Samrudha in Karnataka, to revive the cultivation of indigenous varieties of paddy across the country. It was a time when indigenous seeds had gone to seed and traditional paddy cultivators were reeling under the pressure created by industrial cultivation of the so-called ‘high-yielding variety’(HYV) of rice. The soil quality deteriorated due to excess use of fertilizers. “It was clear that the farmers were losing their sovereignty over paddy cultivation. We had to do something,” says Sridhar.
Today Thanal and all those who are associated with the SOR movement are reaping rewards. Paddy festivals are conducted every year and the participation has contributed greatly in building an understanding among farmers
and consumers about the value of traditional varieties. Hundreds of farmers, especially from North Kerala, have become part of the movement. The Rice Diversity Block run by Thanal at Panavelly, Wayanad cultivates all
the 219 varieties.
-ASWIN V.N
Mridula, the JMD of Southern Roadways, set herself a target of going zero-waste ensuring her family became Madurai’s first to not send its trash out.
Thanal and all those who are associated with the Save Our Rice movement are reaping rewards. Paddy festivals are conducted every year...
When we require something, it is natural to turn to others for help. And guess what Mridula Ramesh, the Joint Managing Director of Southern Roadways, is asking for. She wants “waste”! “It is one of the most wonderful resources we have,” she says.
In the last 18 months, Mridula has moved towards an almost ideal situation. She has drastically reduced the generation of waste where she lives and works. As a result, she is practically running short of waste to put into her compost bins. This has prompted her to request for food waste from restaurants, departmental stores and vegetable markets in her vicinity.
Hers is perhaps the first and only family in Madurai that does not send its trash out any more. “Waste affects our health and the more waste we generate and strain our landfills, it contaminates the soil and water and impacts the environment too,” she reminds.
“We cannot reverse the devastating impacts of climate change but at least adapt ourselves to somewhat halt it. And this can be achieved by understanding the critical link between climate change and waste,” she adds.
If waste is the secret weapon to fight climate change, the know-how to reduce its generation or reuse it, is crucial. And this is the message Mridula Ramesh is bent upon spreading now. She got working on it when the bore well inside her sprawling bungalow in Chokkikulam in Madurai went dry four years ago and she had to purchase water from private tankers.
The connection between waste and floods, waste and mosquitoes, waste and stray animals only underlined how waste is important in fighting climate change and she immediately decided to look at two things – her personal consumption and waste production pattern.
“It had to begin at home and we decided to be honest enough to look at our ugly selves in the mirror and address the issue. It meant measuring our mistakes,” she asserts.
For a week in July 2015, her small family of four and the staff observed the amount of waste they were collectively throwing into the municipal bin. Inclusive of 11 kilos of garden waste, it averaged 17.6 kilos a day! And Mridula was shocked to find herself as the biggest culprit of unmindful and irregular grocery purchase. “I don’t cook and yet I was cluttering my shelves with stuff that caught my attention in the market and forgot to use them. And all that was becoming waste.”
She instantly set herself a target – “to go zero-waste at home.”
Displaying the data of what we bought, the quantity of food cooked, eaten and thrown, hit everybody hard, says Mridula. A “name and shame” board was put up on the wall for everybody to see. “Now I strictly stick to a shopping list fully aware of the kitchen requirement and the stocks and our grocery bills have dropped by 15 percent,” she points out. Each item purchased is now kept at eye level and in transparent jars on the kitchen shelves and inside the fridge for easy access and timely consumption.
The next step was segregating kitchen waste. Much of the kitchen and garden waste that is sent to landfills can be turned into an energy source or fertiliser, says Mridula, who rues the unwillingness of the people to segregate waste. To make it simple and uncomplicated, she placed separate, big and open bins for biodegradable and non-biodegradable waste in a way so that the girls in her kitchen did not have to move even a step to throw the waste in the right bin. “If things are easy and hassle-free, everybody will be inclined to join in a good cause,” she notes.
Mridula’s graduation major in microbiology from Cornell University came in handy as she took to composting through trials and errors using aerobic and anaerobic processes. From the suitable size of composters to which bacteria can give the most viable compost under what temperature conditions and period of time, Mridula gradually worked on a complete package. Though her experiments are still on, Mridula says she wants to give people an easy solution for the best results.
The various types of manure she created in her backyard yielded her a flourishing vegetable, fruits and flowering garden in no time. So much so that she is now inspired to market and sell the compost.
The best part about Mridula’s approach is she is a voracious reader of articles related to climate change, experiments in her house before demonstrating the success, tracks daily progress with good quality and measurable data, uses small teams to involve everybody and makes them accountable and answerable.
“In order to sustain what you have started, the system has to run on its own steam, be easy enough with no friction on the path and there has to be a pay-back,” she believes. The outgoing waste from her bungalow today is roughly about 400g. Mostly FMCG packaging material, it is sold to the junk dealer. So there is an economic gain out of waste as well but how the non-biodegradable waste can be further managed continues to worry her.
What satisfies her though is the transfer of the same waste reduction model to her company with an employee strength of 500-plus that generated 200 kg of waste till last year. Within five months, the canteen waste has reduced to less than 10 kilos from 40, the grocery bills are less and the entire garden waste of 110 kg is going for bulk composting and anaerobic management for production of gas.
“We just need to pretend that we do not have a garbage service,” says Mridula, “and then see how our choices and lifestyle will change!”
Time for energy revolution
A small solar energy playroom has been set up for the children.
Water and power consumption pattern is monitored to minimise usage.
A biogas plant has been installed to use the gas, produced out of waste, in the kitchen for cooking.
Mridula Ramesh’s zero-waste lifestyle is distinguished by the fact that she combines her eco-friendly actions with teaching in business schools on climate change and entrepreneurship and also writing on environment. She is in the process of wrapping up a book on climate change. The businesswoman that she is, Mridula also doubles up as a clean tech investor having invested in five clean technology start-ups. “NGOs raising awareness about damage to the environment is not enough. It is the start-ups that create a wonderful impact,” she believes.
The Sundaram Climate Institute that she has set up in Madurai offers waste reduction programmes to students and residents through age-appropriate teaching modules, talks and video screening and encourages innovative ideas and entrepreneurship in clean technology.
To know more about her work, log on to www.climaction.net
QUOTE
The world is warmer than ever before. We are witnessing more cyclones, earthquakes and drought. People and wildlife are already suffering the consequences and the threat of farm yields collapsing looms large. What are we leaving our future generations with?
Here’s an opportunity for the city’s women to take a day out for themselves and indulge in some uninterrupted fun. World of Women (WoW), organised by The Hindu is all set to rock your Sunday. Promising to be a varied entertainment show, the event features a car and bike rallies, inspiring speeches by the city’s bigwigs, and attractive gifts and vouchers to be won, food, fun, games and a lot more.
Attempting to bring together women from various walks of life on to a single platform, WoW is a wholesome celebration of womanhood.
The day-long event will start off with a car rally from Race Course to the Velammal Speciality Hospital, the venue for the programme, highlighting the cause of eradicating Seemai Karuvelam trees. A two-wheeler rally will also be conducted simultaneously. The rally participants will be provided five litres and two litres of fuel for car and bike respectively. Gift vouchers worth Rs.5000 will be given for winners and assured gifts await all participants.
“We cannot reverse the devastating impacts of climate change but at least adapt ourselves to somewhat halt it. And this can be achieved by understanding the critical link between climate change and waste,” she adds.
The event will be inaugurated by Shailesh Kumar Yadav, City Police Commissioner who will also deliver a speech on ‘women’s safety’. While Bharatnatyam performances, Taekwondo demo session and fun shows by dubbing artist Pramila will keep you entertained, you may also gain some gyan from the eye-opening speeches of Mridula Ramesh, Executive Director of Sundaram Textiles on ‘Women and Climate’ and Sujatha Guptan, Principal, Queen Mira International on ‘Education and empowerment of women’.
The day-long event had thought-provoking talks by Shailesh Kumar Yadav, Commissioner of Police; Mridula Ramesh, Executive Director, Sundaram Textiles; Sujatha Guptan, Principal, Queen Mira International School, and others. The day started with a motorcycle rally by women to create awareness of cancer and the importance of removing Prosopsis juliflora (seemai karuvelam) trees. Nagalakshmi Palanisamy, president, Rotary Club of Madurai Malligai, flagged off the rally from Race Course Road.
Simultaneously, a car rally-cum-treasure hunt was flagged off from the same venue by A.R. Siva Kumar, Senior Divisional Retail Sales Manager, Indian Oil Corporation. Both the rallies concluded at Velammal Medical College Hospital and Research Institute where Mr. Yadav inaugurated the proceedings in the presence of Dean M. Raja Muthiah.
Pointing to the evidence in the Rig Veda about active participation of women and equality they enjoyed, Mr. Yadav said the situation unfortunately changed with certain religious texts advocating early marriage of girl children, thereby denying them education.
Revenue administration introduced around 6th century also played a major role in subjugation of women since the system denied property rights to them, he said. Arguing that the present laws in the country had ensured equality to women in all aspects, Mr. Yadav, however, pointed out the need to change certain feudalistic attitudes that were hampering growth of women.
He highlighted measures taken by the police to ensure safety of women, including the introduction of a mobile application with SOS service to report issues with ease and confidentiality.
Ms. Mridula Ramesh spoke on the role women could play in addressing climate change by regulating disposal of garbage from households. She cited her experience of ‘zero-garbage’ at her home through reduction and recycling and how she replicated the practice in her factory.
Talking on ‘Role of education in empowerment,’ Ms. Sujatha Guptan said high literacy rate notwithstanding, many women’s issues remained unanswered. A large number of girls still lacked freedom in making career choices.
The participants were also treated with a taekwondo demonstration by girls, bharatanatyam and many fun-filled activities.
A quiz competition was also conducted for participants of bike and car rallies. K. Kalyanakumar, Madurai North RTO, judged the competition and distributed prizes to winners. Sapphire Furnishings, Pathanjali Silks and Queen Mira International School were the gift sponsors.
(From left) Mridula Ramesh of Sundaram Textiles; Anita Sumanth, Madras High Court judge; and Aarthi Subramanian of TCS at the MMA Women Managers Convention 2017 in Chennai. - Bijoy Ghosh
Chennai, March 12:Women in urban centres should help ensure government policies meant for women empowerment reach rural areas, felt Madras High Court judge Anitha Sumanth.
“Actually, there are well-intentioned government schemes and policies. But we lack the mechanisms or the will to put them into practice at the grassroots level,” she said at the Women Managers Convention 2017 of Madras Management Association
“Women in urban centres have the infrastructure, resources and, most importantly, the confidence to claim that they are empowered. But, this facility doesn’t extend pan-India,” said, adding: “Only 30 per cent of the women in India are in the urban centres. We must bear it in mind that for every self-assured woman, there are 10 who languish simply for lack of infrastructure, resources and confidence.” “Millennial women are well-connected as collaboration and networking comes naturally to them or those qualities are part of them. They have that organically inbuilt into them,” said Aarthi Subramanian, Executive Director, Global Head – Delivery Excellence, Governance, Compliance, Tata Consultancy Services. She urged young women to lay a strong foundation in the beginning of their career.
She also urged the women managers to aspire not just for themselves, but also for their team members.
“Create confidence in your team members and enable them in ways that one can really create a very committed and passionate team which can actually make big things happen,” she added.
Commerce Minister Suresh Prabhu releasing a book written by Mridula Ramesh ( left) in Chennai on Thursday - Bijoy Ghosh
A file photo of the 2015 Chennai floods. Local examples and contexts in the book help a lay reader appreciate the global problem better (Photo: Express archives)
Local examples and contexts help a lay reader appreciate a global problem better. Why shouldn’t this be true for global warming too? If you showed a Chennai resident how the 2015 floods that brought the metro to its knees are linked to climate change, she would probably be able to imagine the horrors of a full-blown ‘climate-changed’ future more starkly than if you told her about Hurricane Sandy or the Arctic blast that froze large swathes of Europe and North America earlier this year. The Climate Solution localises climate change effects with many examples—a farmer in Madurai who sees no future for his children in agriculture as returns fall each year in tandem with precipitation levels in one sowing season—and thus should help bridge the gap.
That brings us to the second reason. The gap is not just of available works, but also one of within what is available. Though The Climate Solution harvests richly from published research on greenhouse gas emissions and global warming, it isn’t, thankfully, a dry academic text. Published scientific works on climate change form the backbone of humanity’s attempt to mitigate it. But they hardly take the message to the masses. To be sure, a reader who has followed climate change science and nations’ attempts to define domestic and collective mitigation action and the underlying policy over the years is likely to be familiar with most of what the author has to say.
In the first few pages, Ramesh talks about how the measured language of science inspires little urgency in people on climate action even as naysayers aggressively underplay the threat. News reports or TV features on the issue—appearing, typically, when an extreme weather event hits or global talks on climate change take centrestage—inform, but often don’t lead to a full appreciation of the problem at hand. The Climate Solution’s largely conversational style and the author deftly connecting climate challenges to her own lived experiences and those of others makes it a ready reckoner on climate change and India.
The third reason is the titular ‘solution’, or ‘solutions’, rather. In her introduction to the book, Ramesh makes it clear that the most the planet can hope for now is widespread climate resilience. Of course, that doesn’t mean mitigation efforts are to be thought of as secondary. But they will not be enough to take the planet off the temperature-rise trajectory it currently is in. With that realisation in mind, what must India do? Ramesh’s prescription is largely technocratic. It is focused on the adoption of the right technology, some of which is already being implemented over small geographical spreads, fixing policy to aid tech-adoption, encouraging research and clean-tech entrepreneurship.
The third reason is the titular ‘solution’, or ‘solutions’, rather. In her introduction to the book, Ramesh makes it clear that the most the planet can hope for now is widespread climate resilience. Of course, that doesn’t mean mitigation efforts are to be thought of as secondary. But they will not be enough to take the planet off the temperature-rise trajectory it currently is in. With that realisation in mind, what must India do? Ramesh’s prescription is largely technocratic. It is focused on the adoption of the right technology, some of which is already being implemented over small geographical spreads, fixing policy to aid tech-adoption, encouraging research and clean-tech entrepreneurship.
Ramesh does mention farm loan waivers and what they mean in the long term for climate change. But, absent a meaningful discussion on how politics in India shapes policies on public procurement, agri-subsidies, MSP-based pricing, waste disposal, etc, and creates categories of vulnerables, and what is to be done about this, the gains from clean-tech will mostly be offset.
The book does come close to taking this up, though the lens is not focused on politics. In the chapter Women in Peril, the author empathetically looks at perhaps the most vulnerable group—rural women whose fate is almost inextricably linked to agriculture. But she stops just short of looking at how this group has become the most vulnerable. Similarly, she discusses the vulnerability of farmers without turning a critical eye on the historical reasons of their vulnerability.
The Climate Solution may not be masterful in an academic sense, and perhaps was also not intended to be, or may lack new insights, but it touches upon nearly all climate-change related topics, from the Paris Agreement to GM crops. To that end, it is informative. Beyond that, it keeps the discussion on climate change going, and that is very important in an era where the president of the largest historical emitter of greenhouse gases, the US, obstinately remains a climate-sceptic.
Commerce Minister Suresh Prabhu releasing a book written by Mridula Ramesh ( left) in Chennai on Thursday - Bijoy Ghosh
Chennai, June 21:Dangers of climate change very real: Suresh Prabhu.
Reviving water bodies and rivers should be India’s biggest priority, as the threat of water crisis looms large due to climate change, said Suresh Prabhu, Union Minister of Commerce & Industry and Civil Aviation.
“Climate change is real and it has been caused by human actions only. While climate change will lead to rise in sea levels and impact agriculture, it also poses a bigger threat to water security,” he said, after releasing a book titled The Climate Solution - India’s Climate Change Crisis and What we can do about itby Mridula Ramesh, founder, Sundaram Climate Institute, here on Thursday.
As it is, many parts of the country face water crisis, he said, and stressed the need to create better and bigger storage capacity for water in the context of changing rain patterns as a result of global warming.
“India has only 4 per cent fresh water of the world and it is not equally distributed across the country. It may rain just for four days and not rain for the rest of the year. The four days’ rains will be in huge quantum and require huge storage capacities, he added.
India’s water storage capacity is just 1/20th of what the US has. While the US gets water through rains and melting of snows, monsoon rain is responsible for 85 per cent of India’s annual precipitation and is also vital for the country’s agriculture sector.
He asserted that there was a need for global and local-level multi-dimensional approaches with participation from all stakeholders to address the issues.
Book: The Climate Solution; Author: Mridula Ramesh; Publisher: Hachette India; Pages: 295; Price: Rs 550.
Mridula Ramesh's new book "The Climate Solution" presents a plethora of information, facts, figures and data on climate change in the context of India and provides a roadmap for the way forward.
However, for anybody who has keenly observed the increasing environmental perils and national politics and international diplomacy around it, is bound to be left disheartened as the offering is some sort of a compilation of widely reported material on the environment.
This is not to suggest that the title is not worth the reader's time. The book does justice, or at least tries to, and highlight the topic of environment and climate change by subtly connecting them with some region-specific and some widespread social practices.
The chapter "Women in Peril", for instance, picks a social evil from a small South Indian village and connects it to the larger narrative around women empowerment. Now Ramesh relates this example to convey that with the increase in climate change, the opportunities for women workforce in the agricultural sector will stand challenged.
Over the past few years, environment issues have gained voice and terms like climate change, global warming and even Paris Agreement are now a part of common knowledge, at least in the urban landscape. This change is particularly because of the efforts of hundreds of environmentalists, conservationists and activists.
And, anyway, at a time when 40 degrees celsius has become a norm in the Indo-Gangetic plains during the summer, any endeavour that tackles this piercing issue is a welcome move.
Simple narrative, easy-to-read language and parallels drawn from Indian scriptures make "The Climate Solution" a captivating read.
The book offers some great stories and peeps into the past for lessons we need today. Lessons are drawn from success stories like how cotton cultivation revived itself in Punjab. It also touches on an ongoing conflict between two lobbies and asks whether or not we need genetically modified (GM) crops. It manages to be fair, not giving the issue of GM an activist-like treatment but rather giving facts of its need and side-effects.
It quotes a lot of "experts", some figures such as "six Indian cities produce 30,000 tonnes of garbage every day" and how the waste management industry can create over half a million jobs. However, these figures are like "known population of tigers" -- always a rough estimation with huge error scope, often inaccurate, and need more clarity and research. This book, however, lacks it.
This perhaps is the reason that even though this book could be about perils of climate change and stuff around it for dummies, it cannot be a text book for the same.
Coming to the most important factor -- "Solutions" -- the book touches on many topics and talks about and and comments on solutions like electric vehicles, harvesting, power and others. The solutions are not new, they are already being worked upon. In fact, some solutions -- like the one on water policy under a strong enforcing authority and common ownership -- does make sense, but hardly in the Indian context.
India is unique, needs indigenous solutions and examples from across the world may inspire but cannot be replicated here, a senior UN official once said in an interview.
However, what is impressive is that Mridula Ramesh has made and honest effort to keep the ball rolling.
Mridula Ramesh founded the Sundaram Climate Institute (Image: P Ravikumar for Forbes India)
Mridula Ramesh, daughter of K Ramesh, chairman and MD, Southern Roadways, found her personal calling after a drought in her hometown Madurai in 2013. “I had to take my corporate blinkers off and figure out why this was happening,” says Mridula, who had started working in the TVS Group at Southern Roadways company as an assistant manager (trainee).
She researched to understand that the region was getting hotter and India had been experiencing heat waves, which impacted a change in rainfall and caused “weird” weather conditions, including droughts.
Since then, the family and her factory staff have become more sensitised to water, waste and energy management. At her home, waste is now segregated, weighed and a compost pit created to lower garden-related waste. In the past three years, the Ramesh family has reduced waste from 17.6 kilograms a day to 400 grams now. “This means annually we have prevented six tonnes of waste from entering the landfill from one house alone,” Mridula writes in her recently released book, The Climate Solution.
In 2017, she founded the Sundaram Climate Institute (SCI), which teaches waste and water management solutions to individuals and corporates. She has been teaching a postgraduate class on climate change at the Great Lakes Institute of Management in Chennai. Mridula has expansion plans for SCI, to take its education programmes national and even international. SCI would also, in the coming years, plan surveys and environmental data on the state of water and waste in Madurai.
Mridula is now an angel investor, funding at least 15 clean technology startups, through her personal wealth.
CHENNAI: About five years back we ran out of water at home and the borewell went dry. We had to buy water like anybody else. When I explored the issue, the underlying problem was bigger,” says Mridula Ramesh, who authored The Climate Solution: India’s Climate Change Crisis and What We Can Do About It. Mridula is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, which focuses on waste and water solutions and education. She is also the executive director of Sundaram Textiles, an investor in cleantech start-ups and lives and experiments in Madurai in a net zero-waste house with her husband and two children.
The theme of the book revolves around climatic conditions affecting India. It is backed up by research, data and case studies. Some of the interesting topics covered include heat waves, health crises, mental health epidemics, heat stress and vector cycles. What makes the book relevant to present-day audience is a whole chapter focused on psychology. “I’ve narrated instances through protagonists who are commoners. I believe that the battle in climate change is a battle in mind. Everything starts with an individual or a group of people. This is crucial for people to evaluate the daily choices they make. You impact climate and the climate impacts you,” she says.
In order to cater to different sections of audience, the book sheds light on how women in certain areas are affected by warming climate, individual heroes who’ve improved the conditions and food that affects climate change and climate. “The book might discuss niche topics. Depending on personal interest there is something for everyone. But we must realise that the millennials are going to suffer the most due to the damage we’ve caused. Once you start opening up about natural concerns, the youngsters seem to be aware of the problems. Having said that, about 41 per cent of the population is still unaware about global warming,” she says.
Gathering data was a herculean task for Mridula during the writing process. There are 500 references used in the body of the book so that it is readable. The concept behind the book is to make sense for an average person and help process the data given. “Citing relevant figures is an important job. With previous experience in McKinsey and Cornwell my data analysis is strong. I believe that China has better data than India. In fact research on Europe or American would’ve been a cake walk. The more you delve into a topic, more questions arise. You will not have good data base in the country to counteract and most of the study becomes unusable. Science backed up by data and research would be an ideal combination to success,” says Mridula hinting on her next aim which is to do stories on similar topics for kids involving cartoons.
The book is available on Amazon and leading book shops for `550`
Chennai: Chennai International Centre recently saw the wisdom of Waterman of India, Dr Rajendra Singh, and author Mridula Ramesh flood the minds of listeners at the seminar ‘Coping with Heatwaves, Water Shortage and Floods’.
Rajendra Singh, the ‘Waterman of India’, is the man credited with making four important riverbeds in the district of Alwar of Rajasthan State, that had remained dry for decades, begin to flow again miraculously with copious life-giving, fresh water. He explained that traditional or historical methods employed for centuries by the farmers of Rajasthan were employed to attain this state. "They treated water, air, soil and rivers as Bhagawan," he explained.
Rajendra Singh took years to start experimenting with the traditional methods of water conservation and management in his native village and district. He encouraged to set up ‘dasturs’ and ‘johad’. ‘Dastur’ was what he calls ‘parliaments of village communities’ that decide on a village Magna Carta: a self-imposed set of rules on how the communities will go about maintaining the balance between ‘Bhagawan’ and farming.
This system of self-regulated water management spawned a whole new philosophy of looking at creating ‘johads’, a large matrix of natural ponds and lakes; never allowing deep borewells to go beyond a certain depth; syncing crop selection with soil conditions; matching crop pattern or rotation with rainfall pattern.
Rajendra Singh, who has won the Stockholm Award and Magsaysay Award, showed photographs of what his village looked like in 1984 and contrasted it with what it looked like in 2000.
Where there once was a dry riverbed, there was now a gurgling stream. Where the land had been bone dry and barren, there were now sprawling fields of mustard crop; where the groundwater levels had once been 100 metres, now were between 7 and 15 metres!
Mridula Ramesh of the TVS Group is the author of a book on climate change, The Climate Solution: India’s Climate Change Crisis and What We Can Do About It.
Elaborating her views on the subject, she painted a rather grim picture of the enormity of the problems and challenges climate change poses to urban and rural India in the decades ahead.
Without mincing words, she said, "Not enough is being done in the country to deal with this problem and it’s unfortunate that it’s the future generations who will be most screwed by the consequences of our inaction."
Cover of 'Climate Solution'
Climate change is as real as it could get. But, can we all dream of a day when technology will step in and arrest it, the way it has solved many modern day issues? That is one of the main points that Mridula Ramesh raises in her book, The Climate Solution: India's Climate-Change Crisis And What We Can Do About It.
There is a story about Karan, a marginal farmer on the verge of giving up, when a small company opens a micro-warehouse near his farm. He stores his crop in it, and despite paying to do so, makes some money. He gets a receipt, and that helps him get a loan from a bank. That is technology to his rescue. Yet another company sells him power from a small solar panel mounted on his roof. Another one sets up a drip irrigation system. The place has become prosperous thanks to technology.
Innovations, as she rightly says, address market needs, which are created by some form of disruption. And a rapidly warming climate is probably the biggest disrption of our times. Yet the innovaiton and investment in technologies that could make India more climate resilient is small.
Will technology actually rescue people from the impact of climate change? Mridula describes her meeting with IIT-IIM graduates who she calls “techno optimists”. They believe technology will save the day!
Mridula takes the reader through the entire gamut of how it is already affecting us, and how it can get worse. But, very practically, and sensibly, the author wraps up the book with a checklist of actions that individuals, institutions and government need to take in order to build our resilience to climate change.
The book could possibly be just some of her thoughts on the subject. She is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute that focuses on waste and water solutions, is an angel investor in cleantech start-ups, teaches at the Great Lakes Institute of Management on climate change, and writes about it wherever she can. Above all, she lives that life, living in a net zero-waste home in Madurai.
Title:The Climate Solution: India's Climate-Change Crisis and What We Can Do About It
Author: Mridula Ramesh
Publisher: Hachette
Pages: 295
Price: Rs 550
Mridula Ramesh is a name familiar across South India, not just as an investor associated with the Indian Angel Network (IAN) and the Chennai Angels (TCA) but also as an expert in urban waste management and climate change. Mridula has led investments in ventures working at offering solutions in these areas; and more. She is also the founder of Sundaram Climate Institute which is focussed on bringing a positive change across water and waste management through technology-driven models.
“Today, climate is changing drastically cross Indian cities. These effects can be felt more so in a geography like Bangalore which was not too long ago known as an air-conditioned city, and now ACs have virtually become the norm across a majority of homes and offices in the city,” states Mridula to Entrepreneur India.
She emphasizes the fact that people now have started sensing climate change and are beginning to show interest in taking steps to combat the phenomenon. This has led to Mridula evaluating new business deals frequently (from an investment perspective).
“I teach a course on “Introduction to Climate Change” and highlight entrepreneurial opportunities to students,” adds Ramesh.
As far as the actual evaluation of working models (of new ventures) are concerned, Ramesh states that the technology should be part of the solution, not the main focus. The entrepreneur is key – he or she needs to combine perseverance with passion. She considers two key aspects here with one being the actual problem solving and sector focus; and the other is scalability of the business which is a long-term focus. Her key investment in the sector includes Carbon Masters.
With waste management in urban Indian undoubtedly having turned into a great challenge, Ramesh says if only people are willing to pay for waste management, then the problem can be solved. She believes if people are unwilling to pay, no entrepreneur would find it viable to enter the waste management, which in turn poses challenges to attracting investments in the sector.
“If properly evaluated, around 600,000 new jobs can be created in waste management alone,” believes Ramesh.
For businesses in waste management, Ramesh advises entrepreneurs to be aware of even the minutest of nuances when it comes to problem solving in waste management, from changing their approach while targeting different types of customers, being mindful of regulations and using the right technology for managing each type of waste.
When Entrepreneur India brought up the issue of the crisis in Bangalore, with respect to garbage disposal and management, that caught the global eye, Ramesh says that while there are very few entrepreneurs in the domain; but she exudes confidence in her two investments in the erstwhile garden city through the Indian Angels Network. “Entrepreneurial interest is blossoming. I have spoken to six ventures in waste management in Bengaluru alone for funding,” she says. For starters, Ramesh has invested in Saahas Zero Waste which is a Bangalore-based firm working towards holistic waste management by leveraging people, and technology.
As far as Clean Energy and CleanTech is concerned, Ramesh offers illustrations such as a Solar-Powered DC Micro Grid which can power small homes in villages with its biggest advantage being cost-effectiveness based on its technology combinations. “A Solar-Powered DC Micro Grid could potentially address the electricity access in india. There is an opportunity here; but our payment culture is a bottleneck,” informs Ramesh.
Strangely, Ramesh does not prefer being called an entrepreneur. Her approach has always been to “fail quickly” by executing small pilots.“The key for entrepreneurs and startups is to try to things in a small scale initially, learn and then scale quickly,” she advises.
we take a look at pressing issues pertaining to climate change — in an accessible way.we saw how our societal choices — building over water bodies, dumping rubbish in rivers and allowing slums to come up on river banks — join hands with climate change and makes the sting so much sharper. Indeed, some experts believe these societal choices have a greater role to play in our suffering than does global climate change. Dr J Srinivasan, distinguished scientist at Divecha Centre for Climate Change, IISC, says “Land use patterns and air pollution have greater impact on local climate in India than the increase in greenhouse gases.”
We are barking up the wrong tree if we think that advice like “Protect water bodies” or “Ensure tighter monitoring” will solve the issue. Important, loud voices have said it for years and nothing has happened. To understand why we need to look deeper. And that brings us to our social contract.
True Contracts tend to be implicit and unspoken, so (and as such) are tricky to pin down. But as in any relationship, a contract is the state of affairs that balances what we are willing to give and what we get. Philosophers explain it this way: individual citizens surrender certain rights (law enforcement, judgement, certain freedoms) to get something — protection and cheaper provision of services. Put another way, you give up your right to beat your erring neighbour to a pulp, and, in return, you get clean streets and a peaceful city to live in.
In theory.
A man carries a child as he wades through a waterlogged subway after heavy rains in Chennai, in August 2017. REUTERS
Our first protagonist is an average middle class urban city dweller — let's call him Akash. Akash has recently finished college and has received an offer with an IT firm, working in analytics. He drives to work and lives in a flat with three of his friends. He enjoys going to the movies. He is an asthmatic.
Akash pays his taxes (it’s deducted from his pay cheque every month, so he does not have much of a choice). He’s also among the 1.5 percent of Indian who do pay direct income tax. He also pays indirect tax — GST etc. — but that’s more bundled into whatever good or service he consumes, and arguably less visible. He pays registration fees for his car.
Akash never went to a public school. He has never and does not plan to go to a government hospital. He does not take public transport.
He does not receive any food from the public distribution system. He somewhat trusts that the FSSAI stamp on the food he buys makes it safe to eat, but he nurses his doubts.
He likes the peace the nation enjoys and is proud of the army. Last year, when floods devastated the city, he was rescued by the army. So, he is grateful to them.
He likes the fact that he has not been robbed/assaulted etc., so he is thankful to the police for that.
Akash has never voted. None of the candidates appeal to him. And, to be frank, he feels society does not do much for him. The politicians appear to be aware of this: He is not courted before elections. He is aware of his impotence while complaining about power cuts, water supply or waste on the roads. He’s quietly resentful of the waste, the smells, and the congestion, especially after a trip abroad made these even more glaring.
Enter Muniammal, our second protagonist. She is a 55-year-old woman who lives in a 10x10 illegal shanty on the banks of the Cooum in Chennai. She does not pay for her electricity. Her children went to the corporation school, for which she did not pay any tuition. When she is sick, she visits the government hospital which is free, in theory. She depends heavily on the 1-rupee ration rice for her sustenance.
But Muniammal has little control over the quality of the services (or products) she receives. Indeed, she often needs to grease many palms to get what she is entitled to or what she needs to get away with: to the policeman to look the other way, to the ward boy at the hospital so the doctor will see her, to the ration shop for preferential access. In fact, when there was an assault on her daughter-in-law this past month, she could not get an FIR filed without her local councillor’s help.
The system, which is supposed to work for all citizens, is often broken for her. Raghuram Rajan, our former RBI governor, has been widely quoted in saying: “The tolerance for the venal politician is because he is the crutch that helps the poor and underprivileged navigate a system that gives them so little access”. But this “crutch” comes with a big caveat: Muniammal, the 55-year-old woman, cannot hope to command the attention, let alone the assistance, of the local councillor. Only Muniammal, who belongs to Caste A or Religion B, can. Especially if Caste A is a large voting bloc. This means caste definitions and ethnic divisions need to be highlighted to command attention and delineated to create a unique power base. An interesting thought. And Muniammal gives her vote as her caste leader directs.
Now take Rajiv, our third actor. He’s a hot-shot heir of a large business family with interests in construction, steel and retail. Rajiv would not dream of taking public transportation in India, and would not venture near a government hospital or school. He does not even know where a ration shop is, or what he can get there. He has never seen his ration card. He wants the government to keep multi-brand retailers out of the country and he wants high import duties on steel. Thus far, he has got what he wants.
If we were to look at sheer numbers, the Muniammals of India overwhelm other two in numbers — this is important, we will come back to it in a bit.
People queue to collect drinking water from a municipal tanker at a flooded residential colony in Ahmedabad, in July 2017. REUTERS
What are the characteristics of such an equilibrium? What kind of social contract would manifest here?
The provision of services of society needs to be broken, or at least flawed. Both Akash and Muniammal, for different reasons, cannot really influence the service quality they receive from the government.
Why? The incentives of the constituents, the vacancies within several essential departments, such as health and education, and the complete lack of competition. Consider this: I write as a chairperson of a government-aided school in rural India. For many transgressions — poor teaching, lack of knowledge, questionable conduct — corrective action is very very hard to take. More than 1,880 primary health centres in the country lack a doctor. Moreover, the quality of the staff is not uniform. Government jobs pay a lot at lower levels — far more than a private sector equivalent. But as you go higher up, the pay differential shrinks and finally inverts. The chairperson of a public-sector bank makes less than a junior banker in a private sector and laughably less than a chairperson of a private sector bank. Moreover, in many areas, there is little competition that such bodies face, so Akash cannot shift his custom to another and Muniammal cannot afford to do so. Little competition means the “badness” of the service can persist. Muniammal cannot command better service. She can influence the process only through her politician.
This is important because otherwise the politician loses his meaning to the Muniammals of the world. Would Muniammal go to him and become beholden if there was a qualified doctor who could be expected to help her out as a matter of course? Unlikely.
Add to this, a tremendously delayed judiciary process — we have more than 25 million pending cases as on date — which imbues the politician with the power of ad hoc decision making. Think of it this way: if someone beat up your son, and the case dragged on and on — wouldn’t it be simpler (and more gratifying) to approach the local politician for speedy street justice?
And lastly: data. Knowledge is power as the saying goes, which maybe explains why departments are shrouded in relative opacity. Data needs to be unavailable, hard to access, or outdated. I have been trying to get station-wise data for a particular city in India — it turns out to be very expensive, patchy and what I have finally settled for — 0.25 x 0.25 gridded data is so inaccessible that it needs a lot of effort to make it usable. Contrast this with China (China!!) which has online air pollution data available for all their cities — even for an average citizen seated in India. This lack of data aids and abets the broken system. After all, you cannot check performance or fix a system without good data.
With this as background, let us revisit the questions from the last article:
Why do we allow slums to creep up in flood plains?
Garbage is seen near a hospital in Mumbai. REUTERS
Muniammal needs inexpensive housing close to where job opportunities are. It’s illegal, so the politician leans on the policeman and the judges to look the other way. Muniammal is grateful, and rewards him with her vote. And because she overwhelms the Akashes in numbers, her writ prevails. The slums encroach on the river and reduce its carrying capacity. Of course, cheap housing cannot come with underground sewage, so the waste — both solid and human, find their way into the inviting river, further reducing the river’s carrying capacity.
Naturally, when it rains heavily, the river is more likely to flood.
In another city, with a different kind of contract, low-skilled workers like Muniammal would rely overwhelmingly on a cheap and efficient public transport to get them from their affordable housing to their place of work. The Rajivs of the world would like to believe this is a metro, which turns out to be an inadequate and expensive proposition for Muniammal. But the powers that be decided to go with Rajiv, hence the need for slums.
Moving onto question#2: Why do we dump construction debris into our rains and canals with impunity?
To answer this, let us come to Rajiv. He wants to rebuild the city — his way.
Naturally, that involves acquiring buildings on the cheap. He leans on his brother-in-law, the MP, to ensure other builders cannot buy buildings that easily in “his” part of town. He then breaks down the buildings. Carting the waste would add to costs, and why should he when the river lies so invitingly close. Who will stop him? Anyone who dares to will get transferred or worse. Milan Vaishnav writes a fascinating book on the link between builders and political houses, and the increasing criminality in politics. The data is chilling enough to reveal that cement prices go down just before elections, because builders divert funds to the campaign.
Rajiv’s first venture did so well that he wanted to build the second one. The only problem is there is an old lake there. Earlier, the lake had farmers around it with water rights. But farmers have sold their land and moved as the city has developed. The corporation took some of it over, and the rest was too inviting for Rajiv to pass on. Not to worry, dump some earth and debris there, and there is a new site in place.
The unholy alliance between the Rajivs, who promote rule breaking in making a quick buck, and the Muniammals, who require rule breaking as a fiendish substitution for provision of good services, overwhelm the wishes of the Akashes of India. Moreover, the Muniammals vote, and very often, the Akashes don’t. This results in the trampling of our common goods — air, water — our environment, in short.
And because the politician — who gains his power from the broken system — is the one to fix it, we need to look at addressing the underlying equilibrium, and not merely spout platitudes.
But as they say, every cloud has a silver lining. Even the floods, the drought and the worsening climate.
As the frequency of floods increases, Muniammal ’s satisfaction with her housing is falling. It made sense when it was close to her place of work, and she was willing to put up with the sewage, and the lack of water. But when it floods every year, she loses what few possessions she has, and the relief doesn’t cover it all. Moreover, Muniammal’s son has done well, relatively speaking, and he does not want to live in a slum anymore. The vote bloc is beginning to crumble, and a new vote bloc, the “development” vote bloc is becoming viable.
Also, once in a way, the system throws up a hero — whether a bureaucrat or a vibrant politician — who wants to make a difference. There are recent examples in India: a bureaucrat who heads the irrigation department of a state, or one who ensured a public transportation project was completed in time, and under budget. The politician who revamped the department he was charged with, and delivered results. Typically, this happens when outsiders — either politicians or lateral entrants into the bureaucracy come about. They don’t benefit from the equilibrium, so they are happy to make the change. There are usually tell-tale signs of these heroes — the data will be flashed in front of you.
The good news, if you want to call it that, is that climate change throws in strong relief the fissures in our system. There are fewer and fewer places to hide. Our press has always been relatively free, and for all our faults, we are a ragingly opinionated and functioning democracy. Which means, the power is still in our hands.
This is good news. In the next column, let us understand how we can better wield it.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor, teacher and author of a forthcoming book on Climate Change and India. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net
A former Mumbaikar and author on how to weave sustainability into your daily life, one eco-friendly step at a time
Imoved to Mumbai from the US in the winter of 2002. Crossing the crowded streets at Crawford Market was an experience for someone more used to zebra crossings, at which cars slowed down for pedestrians. But within a year, like many do, I began to feel at home in the city. Work hard, play hard was our DINK-mantra and sustainability was not at the top of our minds. But that has changed. And that needs to change. Sustainability or climate resilience is going to have to take centre-stage for all of us, and not least because one influential study in the prestigious journal, Nature, suggests that future storm and flood damage in Mumbai alone can exceed $100 billion a year, if we do nothing.
We all live in some sort of bubble, and sometimes need a shove to gain perspective.
My shove came in 2013 when we ran out of water at our home in Madurai. The year had been particularly hot and the rains had failed for two years in a row. When we deepened our borewell, our sole supply of water, to 500 feet, a friend quipped that we were now, for all practical purposes, mining for water. That year, our ‘mine’ turned dry. In the next street, a bore had been sunk for 850 feet. Also, dry.
All over India, these mines that drill for groundwater are turning dry. A World Bank report predicts India will be unable to meet half its water demand by 2030.
So, what can we do? And what did we do? We did many things, so much so that when a vicious drought — the worst in a century — hit Madurai last year, we were the only ones in the neighbourhood who did not buy water. Here’s how you could make a start.
#1 Manage your water — know how much and where you spend it. We used meters on all our big taps, but you don’t have to go that far. Many of Mumbai’s older apartment complexes will have leaky pipes and joints — fixing them is a good place to start building water-resilience. Another is to ask your residential society to see if it can install a sewage treatment plant and use this water for landscaping and flushing. Reusing our RO-reject water in the garden and our flushes was our biggest watersaver, as was fixing the leaks. The third is to fix rainwater harvesting systems in the flats. Within your home, if you want to conserve water, two easy ways are to use a bucket to bathe and install a dual flush water closet.
#2 Many of you may drive a car. Some of you might think that an electric car is the only route to ‘green’ transport. Not true in India, with a coal-heavy electricity grid. An easy way to improve your greenness is to check your tyre pressure. I began my professional working life training as a truck mechanic, and our fleet of trucks had (and have) an enviable fuel average. Maintaining appropriate tyre pressure is one of the easiest things to do to ensure you consume less fuel for the distance you cover.
#3 Your food choice has the biggest impact on water resilience. If your family is like ours — we are four people — your biggest water use will come in the form of embedded water in your food. Animal products tend to be heavy users of water, and some animals tend to emit methane, a powerful greenhouse gas. Today, there are some fantastic choices of meat-mimics. One particularly witty start-up, Perfect Day, 3D-printed the required DNA fragments and put them into a yeast strain nicknamed ‘Buttercup’. The yeast then dutifully makes the milk proteins. These are added to plant-based fats and nutrients to make lactose-free milk. It’s like brewing beer, but instead you’re brewing milk. If you could make milk without the climate footprint of methane and water and added antibiotics, would it not be interesting? And you don’t need to go cold-turkey in phasing out animal products — that is unlikely to be sustainable. Move along the spectrum to lowering animal products in your diet, gradually and sustainably.
#4 Let’s start small. In the past two months, anyone who can afford it has had the AC running full tilt. But, according to experts from the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory, India will need additional power generated by 300 new 500 MW coal plants by 2030 just to cater to the peak electricity demand for air conditioners? That’s a lot of coal plants. But it need not be that way, even if you run your AC. How can that be? When was the last time you cleaned your AC — the filter, the blower, the fins? Cleaning your AC regularly — we clean the heavy use ones twice a month — is a great way to get more cooling for your coal.
#5 When you are wading in brown flood waters in the monsoons, your problem is too much water. What do you do then? That brings us to waste. I know what you are thinking: how on Earth does waste fit into climate resilience? A warmer climate means more fitful, intense rainfall with more temperamental monsoons. Scientists from both the Central Research Institute for Dryland Agriculture and India Meteorological Department say that while there may be more rainfall overall in the Indian Monsoon, this rain is likely to fall on fewer ‘rain’ days. Put these two together, you are likely to get more frequent flooding — especially if we don’t manage our waste. If climate change is the villain, the waste clogging our drains is his trusted sidekick. When we dump waste into our drains and our canals and build over our water bodies, we are acting like a powerful henchman to the climate villain causing flooding. I live in a net-zero (sometimes negative) waste house. This essentially means the waste we take in (yes, we take in waste from the corporation garbage bin) is equal to or more than the waste we send out. And my experience has taught me that the heart of waste management lies in segregation. When we separate wet waste from dry, we allow waste to be managed. Together, they are trash, but the second you segregate, you’re sitting on a pile of money in your trash cans. What can you do in Mumbai, though? For waste, try to get your residential society to approach the numerous NGOs or private waste managers to start a waste management programme in your complex. If that’s too hard to do, try segregating your waste and making compost at home. We actually use open buckets for wet and dry waste at home, because it’s easier to toss the waste in as you generate it (leftover food or vegetable peel). We don’t have a problem with smells or flies even after years of following this because we move the wet waste to the compost bin (and now biogas plant) daily. Even in a small kitchen (8x8), composting is possible with a small bokashi kit. This kit is about the size of a bucket, and can cater to the needs of a four-person family. The compost it produces can be used in a vertical balcony garden to give you fresh tomatoes throughout the year.
—Mridula Ramesh is the author of the recently released The Climate Solution – India’s Climate Change Crisis and What We Can Do About It
With every year, India receives more proof that the effects of climate change are already here, and they’re deadly.
This year, over 200 Indians died in a single month because of storms, thunderstorms, and lightning which have all been intensifying over the years. Many states have also been swept by unrelenting heatwaves over the past few weeks, with temperatures soaring up to 47 degrees Celsius.
Meanwhile, the Indian government has set ambitious goals to reduce emissions by switching to renewable energy and electric vehicles. But often missing from the conversation is what Indians themselves need to do. This is even more important, argues Mridula Ramesh, founder of the Madurai-based Sundaram Climate Institute.
In her new book, The Climate Solution, Ramesh addresses the urban, middle-class reader, explaining how climate change is wreaking havoc in both rural and urban India, and how local choices, from the food we eat to the transport we use, are compounding the problem.
“Our current narrative of piling blame on bureaucrats and politicians is unhelpful…we need to examine our role in propagating the prevailing social contract,” Ramesh writes.
In a conversation with Quartz, she explained why reducing emissions isn’t enough, and how Indian women are particularly vulnerable to the effects of climate change.
The city did make a small attempt though. Cleantech investor and founder of Sundaram Climate Institute, Mridula Ramesh, had introduced her friends and acquaintances to eco-friendly seed Ganeshas last year. When she discussed the idea, she received 200 requests and a local potter was assigned the job of making 12 inch idols with clay packed with plant seeds and fertilisers.
The important role of regulation in the case of the region’s most precious resource, water, is well illuminated in various chapters. The regulation and management of water in Israel has lessons for India and many countries. Information and management of water are housed in a single central authority instead of being splintered across departments. Water sources are regarded as public property. Thus, unlike most other countries, the Israeli government regulates water from springs, lakes, wells, tanks and groundwater. Even if one owns a piece of land, the water in and on it, still belongs to the state. This also includes water that is part of sewage and drainage. Water use is tightly regulated, as is its price.
The later chapters are peppered with good examples for illustration. In India, the earthen dams — johads — of Tarun Bharat Singh, a group established by Rajendra Singh, have increased ground water levels and brought numerous rivers to life. She uses the example of her own large family and how they changed the way they managed household waste to reduce the amount sent to landfills.
One shortcoming in the book is that it does not discuss consumption, the main driver of climate change. One needs to address consumptive lifestyles of the middle and above classes around the world and in India. It does not matter that per capita emissions in India are low, the aspirations set up by lifestyles of the middle and above classes, are what the poor aspire towards. Could stylish cycles replace cars in a flashy advertisement? While the author urges us to walk and cycle in cities, what is needed is better planning of urban space.
There are many clean technology innovations possible to improve efficiencies and better ways to create markets. But, how will negative emissions be achieved? The atmospheric concentration of carbon dioxide is already around 410 ppm. The average increase in global temperature is headed to around 3.5 degrees Celsius compared with pre-industrial times. Politics, power and justice issues are implicit in many chapters but more explicit attention to them would have been helpful, especially when one is covering climate change, which hinges on these.
The Climate Solution; Mridula Ramesh, Hachette India, ₹550.
Review: Coping with an India battered by climate change
Mridula Ramesh’s book is a well-articulated plea for India to respond urgently to the impacts of climate change, with clear examples of what individuals, institutions and the governments can do
Mridula Ramesh’s book, “The Climate Solution: India’s climate-change crisis and what we can do about it”, comes with strong praise from high quarters – from Suresh Prabhu, the Indian minister of Commerce & Industry and Civil Aviation, MS Swaminathan – the man credited with the Green Revolution in India, and Rajendra Singh, known as the “water man of India” among others. It is not difficult to see why. The book is eminently readable, even fast-paced, and does a great job of both presenting data as well as humanising the data with precise and clear anecdotes that give a flavour of both the challenge of the present, and some hope of the future.
“The Climate Solution” is divided into two parts, the first lays out the problems that we face, and what has created them, and explains precisely how they will affect India and Indians. She begins with a personal account of a harrowing takeoff from Chennai airport in 2015 during a torrential downpour – a vision of an altered climate at work. (It has been shown by scientists that the December 2015 deluge in Chennai was not connected to climate change – eds. See Last year’s Chennai deluge not due to climate change)
This is followed by chapters that demonstrate and explain why scientists say the climate is changing, and what that means for our world, presented with clear graphs and data points that show what an accomplished educator Ramesh is. Having been a McKinsey consultant in Silicon Valley before returning to India, Ramesh teaches a postgraduate course on climate change at the Great Lakes Institute of Management. She has written on climate change for a number of Indian publications, and is founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, which focuses on waste and water solutions and education.
Her experiences are an important part of the book, as she gets down to the details about how climate change will affect India – with chapters on storms, urban impact, droughts and floods, as well as an important chapter on how climate change puts Indian women more at risk. She makes it clear that these problems are exacerbated by development patterns. On floods, she quotes J Srinivasan, Distinguished Scientist at the Divecha Centre for Climate Change, at the Indian Institute of Science, “Land use patterns and air pollution have a greater impact on local climate in India than the increase in greenhouse gases.” She returns to this point when highlighting the impact of climate change on urban areas.
“The number of water bodies in Chennai has fallen from 650 to less than 30 in 2012,” Ramesh writes, “Marshland area has also fallen by 90 per cent. This has effectively destroyed any remaining ‘excess storage’ capacity of the city [to deal with floods].”
The chapter on the impact of climate change on women is particularly important, and scary, reading. Given that rising temperatures and a changing climate is likely to reduce agricultural yields, the impact on women who make up a very large part of the informal sector in agriculture is likely to be severe. Furthermore, with reduced access to water, and greater health problems with “mosquito-borne diseases… set to rise as the climate warms”, the burden on women managing the household will rise. Added to this, other cultural factors may become worse. Ramesh cites a study by Sekhri and Storeygard of more than 500 districts over the last decade which shows “that whenever rains fall by a standard deviation, dowry deaths in the particular district rises by 8 per cent.”
The chapter on the impact of climate change on women is particularly important, and scary, reading. Given that rising temperatures and a changing climate is likely to reduce agricultural yields, the impact on women who make up a very large part of the informal sector in agriculture is likely to be severe. Furthermore, with reduced access to water, and greater health problems with “mosquito-borne diseases… set to rise as the climate warms”, the burden on women managing the household will rise. Added to this, other cultural factors may become worse. Ramesh cites a study by Sekhri and Storeygard of more than 500 districts over the last decade which shows “that whenever rains fall by a standard deviation, dowry deaths in the particular district rises by 8 per cent.”
The recent IPCC report made it explicit that if we are to keep the global temperature from rising just below 1.5 degrees Celsius urgent action needs to be taken, or a very high price will be paid. Reading Ramesh’s book clearly shows that a large part of that price will be paid by India’s poor, especially its women. But can anything be done?
This is where the second part of Ramesh’s book comes in, offering a set of solutions from both international experience as well as Indian experience. She begins with the story of Israel’s water management – which given the differences in size, wealth per capita, and differences in economy seems an odd choice – that allows her to focus on both technology and management as key answers. She is a fan of technology, suggesting India embrace GMO produce and precision-farming where possible, but her real focus is really on better management. She lays out the problem of farm loans, and the dependence of small farmers on informal loan sharks who lend at rates up to 80%. This lack of financial flexibility severely undercuts the freedom for small farmers to take adaptive measures, and Ramesh focusses on the Jan Dhan (zero balance bank accounts), Aadhaar (India’s biometric based social security scheme), and Mobile (phone) initiative, called the JAM Yojana being championed by the current government as an answer. This, she believes, will help farmers access credit with greater ease, as well as help develop a Universal Basic Income scheme.
The chapter on transport is insightful. She carefully shows how better managed public transport could help ease the time taken to commute as well as radically reduce carbon emissions. She also explains that the challenge has far more to do with public perception of bus transport – which is seen as the choice of the less privileged unlike metro train systems – rather than actual outcomes, giving the example of Zurich’s excellently run public transport system of buses, trams and metro trains. Unfortunately she does not offer a way that this can be transformed, even if her data is very convincing. She makes a strong case for electric vehicles in the public transport system, something that India recently highlighted at the Global Climate Action Summit in San Francisco, so this perception may, hopefully, be changing already.
Her chapter on waste management is possibly her best. She gives a wealth of examples of how good waste management is not only possible, but is creating jobs. The quote that all policy planners will likely read with the most interest is her assessment that, “By managing urban India’s 150,000 tonnes of municipal waste urban India could generate 600,000 to 750,000 jobs while creating a cleaner environment and ensuring dignity and safety for millions.” Given that waste management is currently dominated by the employment on poor pay by ‘ragpickers’ in unsafe and unhealthy environments, and the crying need for jobs, this would be one of the greatest win-wins India could ensure.
Her chapter on waste management is possibly her best. She gives a wealth of examples of how good waste management is not only possible, but is creating jobs. The quote that all policy planners will likely read with the most interest is her assessment that, “By managing urban India’s 150,000 tonnes of municipal waste urban India could generate 600,000 to 750,000 jobs while creating a cleaner environment and ensuring dignity and safety for millions.” Given that waste management is currently dominated by the employment on poor pay by ‘ragpickers’ in unsafe and unhealthy environments, and the crying need for jobs, this would be one of the greatest win-wins India could ensure.
Despite the excellent research, important examples and accessibility of the text, there are some important lacunae. In her chapter emphasising the strife that climate change will bring, Ramesh places a great amount of emphasis on China’s control of the Tibetan plateau with its vast water resources – including the headwaters of the Indus and Brahmaputra – and dam building. While Chinese dam-building has been a concern, it has in fact gone down over recent years within its territory. Additionally the far larger amount of the Brahmaputra’s water drainage basin lies in Indian territory, thus concerns over Chinese ability to manipulate it are often overstated. Secondly, while Ramesh does a very good job of showing what individuals and institutions can do, the biggest actor in the room – the government – is not as thoroughly represented. Big dams and coal find no mention in her checklist of actions at the end of the book. The IPCC pathway to keeping temperature rise below 1.5 degrees C goal requires a goal of cutting coal plants down to near zero by 2050, and the Indian government is still planning on generating about 45% of its electricity by coal in 2048. Thirdly, many of the government solutions, including the focus on the JAM Yojana would lead to an oversized intervention of the State in private lives – something Ramesh clearly appreciates in smaller countries like Israel and Singapore. This may be a difficult reach for India, not least due to the latest Supreme Court judgement limiting data use by Aadhar, as well as numerous reports on the limited functioning of the Jan Dhan bank accounts.
Lastly, though, there is a curious miss. While Ramesh’s opening chapters showcase how much this is a global problem, her solutions are limited to the boundaries of the country. This may be understandable, but given how clearly Ramesh demonstrates how little India as a country, and Indians per capita, have contributed to the problem, even if the government and the people behave in perfect concert to implement adaptation measures, the problems of climate change will not be offset. As the US tries to block initiatives, and the developed countries continue to waive away their responsibility to address loss and damage, India looks to a harsher future no matter what it does, or its people do. Without concerted and urgent global action all solutions, especially within developing countries, are merely bandages on a deep wound.
The Climate Solution: India’s climate-change crisis and what we can do about it, Mridula Ramesh, Hachette India, INR 550
By Omair Ahmad | Nov 2, 2018
Mridula Ramesh’s book, The Climate Solution: India’s climate-change crisis and what we can do about it, comes with strong praise from high quarters – from Suresh Prabhu, the Indian minister of Commerce & Industry and Civil Aviation, MS Swaminathan, the man credited with the Green Revolution in India, and Rajendra Singh, known as the water man of India, among others.
It is not difficult to see why. The book is eminently readable, even fast-paced, and does a great job of both presenting data as well as humanising the data with precise and clear anecdotes that give a flavour of both the challenge of the present, and some hope of the future.
The Climate Solution is divided into two parts, the first lays out the problems that we face, and what has created them, and explains precisely how they will affect India and Indians. She begins with a personal account of a harrowing takeoff from Chennai airport in 2015 during a torrential downpour – a vision of an altered climate at work. (It has been shown by scientists that the December 2015 deluge in Chennai was not connected to climate change – eds. See: Last year’s Chennai deluge not due to climate change)
This is followed by chapters that demonstrate and explain why scientists say the climate is changing, and what that means for our world, presented with clear graphs and data points that show what an accomplished educator Ramesh is. Having been a McKinsey consultant in Silicon Valley before returning to India, Ramesh teaches a postgraduate course on climate change at the Great Lakes Institute of Management. She has written on climate change for a number of Indian publications, and is founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, which focuses on waste and water solutions and education.
Her experiences are an important part of the book, as she gets down to the details about how climate change will affect India – with chapters on storms, urban impact, droughts and floods, as well as an important chapter on how climate change puts Indian women more at risk.
She makes it clear that these problems are exacerbated by development patterns. On floods, she quotes J Srinivasan, Distinguished Scientist at the Divecha Centre for Climate Change, at the Indian Institute of Science, “Land use patterns and air pollution have a greater impact on local climate in India than the increase in greenhouse gases.” She returns to this point when highlighting the impact of climate change on urban areas.
“The number of water bodies in Chennai has fallen from 650 to less than 30 in 2012,” Ramesh writes, “Marshland area has also fallen by 90 per cent. This has effectively destroyed any remaining ‘excess storage’ capacity of the city (to deal with floods).” See: Wetlands retreat before the onslaught of urbanisation
The chapter on the impact of climate change on women is particularly important, and scary, reading. Given that rising temperatures and a changing climate is likely to reduce agricultural yields, the impact on women who make up a very large part of the informal sector in agriculture is likely to be severe. Furthermore, with reduced access to water, and greater health problems with “mosquito-borne diseases… set to rise as the climate warms”, the burden on women managing the household will rise. Added to this, other cultural factors may become worse. Ramesh cites a study by Sekhri and Storeygard of more than 500 districts over the last decade which shows “that whenever rains fall by a standard deviation, dowry deaths in the particular district rises by 8 per cent.”
The recent IPCC report made it explicit that if we are to keep the global temperature from rising just below 1.5 degrees Celsius urgent action needs to be taken, or a very high price will be paid. Reading Ramesh’s book clearly shows that a large part of that price will be paid by India’s poor, especially its women. But can anything be done?
This is where the second part of Ramesh’s book comes in, offering a set of solutions from both international experience as well as Indian experience. She begins with the story of Israel’s water management – which given the differences in size, wealth per capita, and differences in economy seems an odd choice – that allows her to focus on both technology and management as key answers. She is a fan of technology, suggesting India embrace GMO produce and precision-farming where possible, but her real focus is really on better management.
She lays out the problem of farm loans, and the dependence of small farmers on informal loan sharks who lend at rates up to 80%. This lack of financial flexibility severely undercuts the freedom for small farmers to take adaptive measures, and Ramesh focusses on the Jan Dhan (zero balance bank accounts), Aadhaar (India’s biometric based social security scheme), and Mobile (phone) initiative, called the JAM Yojana being championed by the current government as an answer. This, she believes, will help farmers access credit with greater ease, as well as help develop a Universal Basic Income scheme.
The chapter on transport is insightful. She carefully shows how better managed public transport could help ease the time taken to commute as well as radically reduce carbon emissions. She also explains that the challenge has far more to do with public perception of bus transport – which is seen as the choice of the less privileged unlike metro train systems – rather than actual outcomes, giving the example of Zurich’s excellently run public transport system of buses, trams and metro trains.
Unfortunately, she does not offer a way that this can be transformed, even if her data is very convincing. She makes a strong case for electric vehicles in the public transport system, something that India recently highlighted at the Global Climate Action Summit in San Francisco, so this perception may, hopefully, be changing already.
Her chapter on waste management is possibly her best. She gives a wealth of examples of how good waste management is not only possible, but is creating jobs. The quote that all policy planners will likely read with the most interest is her assessment that, “By managing urban India’s 150,000 tonnes of municipal waste urban India could generate 600,000 to 750,000 jobs while creating a cleaner environment and ensuring dignity and safety for millions.” Given that waste management is currently dominated by the employment on poor pay by ‘ragpickers’ in unsafe and unhealthy environments, and the crying need for jobs, this would be one of the greatest win-wins India could ensure.
Her last chapter, on climate heroes, will also be read with a great deal of interest. Maybe the most interesting story is that of Alwar, a water stressed district in the state of Rajasthan which has recorded some of the highest temperatures in the country. It was here that Rajendra Singh helped re-popularise the traditional johad – crescent shaped earthen dams – and helped revive the Arvari river. The story is detailed, and Singh and the Rajasthani farmers faced a number of challenges, especially in negotiating with local and state authorities, but it is an excellent and heartwarming example of what can be done.
Despite the excellent research, important examples and accessibility of the text, there are some important lacunae. In her chapter emphasising the strife that climate change will bring, Ramesh places a great amount of emphasis on China’s control of the Tibetan plateau with its vast water resources – including the headwaters of the Indus and Brahmaputra – and dam building. While Chinese dam-building has been a concern, it has in fact gone down over recent years within its territory.
Additionally the far larger amount of the Brahmaputra’s water drainage basin lies in Indian territory, thus concerns over Chinese ability to manipulate it are often overstated. Secondly, while Ramesh does a very good job of showing what individuals and institutions can do, the biggest actor in the room – the government – is not as thoroughly represented.
Big dams and coal find no mention in her checklist of actions at the end of the book. The IPCC pathway to keeping temperature rise below 1.5 degrees C goal requires a goal of cutting coal plants down to near zero by 2050, and the Indian government is still planning on generating about 45% of its electricity by coal in 2048. Thirdly, many of the government solutions, including the focus on the JAM Yojana would lead to an oversized intervention of the State in private lives – something Ramesh clearly appreciates in smaller countries like Israel and Singapore. This may be a difficult reach for India, not least due to the latest Supreme Court judgement limiting data use by Aadhar, as well as numerous reports on the limited functioning of the Jan Dhan bank accounts.
Lastly, though, there is a curious miss. While Ramesh’s opening chapters showcase how much this is a global problem, her solutions are limited to the boundaries of the country. This may be understandable, but given how clearly Ramesh demonstrates how little India as a country, and Indians per capita, have contributed to the problem, even if the government and the people behave in perfect concert to implement adaptation measures, the problems of climate change will not be offset.
As the US tries to block initiatives, and the developed countries continue to waive away their responsibility to address loss and damage, India looks to a harsher future no matter what it does, or its people do. Without concerted and urgent global action all solutions, especially within developing countries, are merely bandages on a deep wound.
CII-Sohrabji Godrej Green Business Centre, an environment- friendly building of the CII, in Hyderabad. File
Three-day conference, expo opens on Nov. 1; annual event returns to Hyderabad after four years
Green Building Congress 2018, the next edition of a premier, annual event series devoted to green building movement, is all set to open in the city on November 1.
Comprising a conference, to which over 2,000 national and international delegates are expected, as well as an exhibition, showcasing over 150 innovative green products and technologies, the three-day event of industry body CII’s Indian Green Building Council will be held at HICC here.
Union Minister of State for Housing and Urban Affairs Hardeep Singh Puri will inaugurate the Congress which, CII-IGBC leaders said, comes at a time when the movement has gathered momentum and India eyes over 50% growth in green building space by 2022.
IGBC, its Hyderabad Chapter chairman C. Shekar Reddy said on Wednesday, has facilitated India to reach the second spot globally — with over 6.33 billion sq. ft. made up of 4,794 projects — in terms of largest registered green building footprint. In 2001, when IGBC was formed, there was just one building and involved 20,000 sq. ft.
Over the years, the Council has developed 22 rating system for different categories of buildings, facilities and built environment such as commercial, residential industrial as well as educational and healthcare institution structures, railway stations, villages, townships and cities.
Principal Counsellor to CII Godrej GBC M. Anand said the Council would release Net Zero Energy Rating programme, the first such, on the opening day of the Congress. The new rating, like others have four levels of certification — Basic, Silver, Gold and Platinum — and assess buildings in terms of their effort to bring down energy demand.
Green Building Congress 2018, Principal Adviser S. Srinivas said, would serve as a forum to propel India achieve 10 billion sq. ft target by 2022 and showcase innovative building products, materials and technologies. The event, returning to Hyderabad after four years, would focus on green and smart cities, affordable housing and healthcare segment.
The fourth annual Bangalore Business Literature Festival (BBLF) will be held at WeWork Galaxy on September 8, and will feature a range of insights on the future of work, AI, climate change, learning tools, and entrepreneurship.
Business literature can be engaging and fun. “This year we examine themes like AI and go beyond the current scare that automation is spreading. New opportunities can be imagined and built,” said Benedict Paramanand, CEO, Bangalore Business Literature Festival (BBLF), and publisher of Management Next magazine, in a chat with YourStory
Over the previous three editions, BBLF has hosted more than 50 authors from across the country. See my write-ups on the earlier editions of the festival in 2017 (entrepreneurship, failure insights, founder stories), 2016 (grassroots entrepreneurship, startup ecosystems) and 2015 (business models, startup boom, and storytelling).
The fourth annual Bangalore Business Literature Festival (BBLF) will be held at WeWork Galaxy on September 8, and will feature a range of insights on the future of work, AI, climate change, learning tools, and entrepreneurship.Bangalore Business Literature Festival 2018 Business literature can be engaging and fun. “This year we examine themes like AI and go beyond the current scare that automation is spreading. New opportunities can be imagined and built,” said Benedict Paramanand, CEO, Bangalore Business Literature Festival (BBLF), and publisher of Management Next magazine, in a chat with YourStory (see Part II of our article here).Over the previous three editions, BBLF has hosted more than 50 authors from across the country. See my write-ups on the earlier editions of the festival in 2017 (entrepreneurship, failure insights, founder stories), 2016 (grassroots entrepreneurship, startup ecosystems) and 2015 (business models, startup boom, and storytelling). BBLF 2018 features 18 entrepreneurs and corporate heads in the speaker lineup, as well as authors such as V Raghunathan (Games Indians Play), Rishikesha Krishnan (8 Steps to Innovation), Sangeeth Varghese (Open Source Leader), Mridula Ramesh (The Climate Action), Sandeep Das (Yours Sarcastically), and Ganesh Vancheeswaran (The Underage CEO). In a series of articles, we will share insights from the speakers and discussions at the festival.
One of the major stories of the decade has been the rise of the entrepreneurship movement in India. “The first big shift in the startup wave is the bold ambition,” said Dr. Ashwin Naik, Founder, Vaatsalya Healthcare, and an Ashoka Fellow.“What we have seen in the last few years is the sheer opening of minds and spirits because of leaders like Flipkart, Paytm, and the like. It’s no longer about building the largest business in India, but really playing on global scale. I think we will see much bigger companies built in the next decade,” Ashwin predicted.
However, the startup journey is full of ups and downs, and failures need to be acknowledged along with the successes. “One big challenge that I see is that history is defined by the winners. And while there is growing literature about success, failure is less documented, and less sexy,” he cautioned. “We need to not only celebrate but also document failures and their learnings. Industry and academia could play a great role in this by working together. Failure should be analysed as a normal process of startups, and not of a person,” Ashwin added.
“Human beings are social, and stories create social bonding across different contexts. A message well told is always a story,” explained Professor Vasanthi Srinivasan, IIM Bangalore. “Stories create discontinuity, they engage the listener; they help the listener make sense of the phenomena not just for themselves but through the eyes of the narrator. This natural empathy that arises between the storyteller and the audience is the essence of leadership as followership,” she added. She urged leaders to be storytellers within organisations to build vision, to create purpose, and to shape hearts, heads, and minds of employees. “Storytelling is not needed to budget, forecast, and plan,” she said.
Business impact for several years has been conceived to be a linear, logical phenomenon with causes, results, consequences, and impacts, dominated by short-term success. “Yet, the largest corporations that have lived through recession and wars have great stories to narrate about changed products, nature of business, and business models,” Vasanthi said.
Productivity and innovation hold the key to a better future for India. “One of the key challenges from a societal perspective is to build a culture of innovation to solve real ‘India’ problems at scale,” Aswhin explained. Entrepreneurs should also think long term, with plans for the next 10 to 20 years.
In this regard, he cites some of his favourite books: Making Breakthrough Innovation Happen: How 11 Indians Pulled off the Impossible (Porus Munshi), I too had a dream (Varghese Kurian), and World Class in India: A Casebook of Companies in Transformation (Gita Piramal and Sumantra Ghoshal).
Innovation at scale requires bold thinking, unparalleled ambition, and long-time horizons. “Most of these are non-VC fundable tracks,” Ashwin said. Innovators should also learn how to work with governments. “I would like to see more startups work with governments to solve problems that are deep rooted in India, and do it at scale,” he added.
This year, BBLF presents the CK Prahalad Best Business Book Award to Subroto Bagchi, Co-founder of MindTree, for his book Sell: The Art, the Science, the Witchcraft (see our book review here). “CK Prahalad has been one of the most important influencers in my life. It feels he is there in person for me today,” Subroto Bagchi said. (See our review of the book C.K. Prahalad: The Mind of the Futurist here, and a compilation of 35 inspiring quotes by this late great business guru.)
Close contenders for the book award this year were Rashmi Bansal’s God's Own Kitchen: The Inspiring Story of Akshaya Patra, and Rinku Paul and Puja Singhal’s Millionaire Housewives: From Homemakers to Wealth Creators. The award jury members are brand specialist Harish Bijoor, R Sriram (Crossword Founder), and Priya Chetty-Rajagopal (CXO search consultant).
Tech trends such as the rise of automation and AI are some of the topics that will be discussed at BBLF 2018. “Technology is providing opportunities for people to connect and I would never have thought how incredible this is for people with talent but no opportunities,” Vasanthi said.
One of her relatives who excelled at handmade dolls now earns money making dolls at home and selling them online. “She can invest for her children's future just because of technology. She has people asking for these hand-made products from all over the world through WhatsApp,” Vasanthi said.
Secondly, technology is helping people seek information that they earlier they sought from older people. Thirdly, it makes it possible for people to hold flexi careers and choose more meaningful ways to live their lives, Vasanthi added.
“Finally, technology is asking humans to rethink their roles in organisations. In particular, what should they not be doing so they can do something else that technology cannot? It is this power of technology that is hitherto unexplored,” Vasanthi said.
India is a developing nation with a hot and water-stressed climate — supporting 17 percent of the world’s population on merely four percent of the world's freshwater resources, with a largely agrarian economy heavily reliant on the monsoon. The high fatalities during heat waves around the country, from the floods in Chennai in 2015 to the Marathwada drought 2013-2016, to cite only a few examples, underlines the intense vulnerability in the country to vagaries of climate. In fact, studies suggest that India is singularly vulnerable to climate change.
Clearly, creating resilience to climate change in India is of pressing importance. It is this that Mridula Ramesh addresses in her eminently well-written book, The Climate Solution: India's Climate Change Crisis and What We Can Do About It.
Focussing on adaptation, the author diagnoses the important areas of action and outlines several pragmatic strategies for individual and collective action in India, having successfully implemented some of these personally.
The book is organised into two sections. The first is a discussion on the impacts of climate change in India. The second – the main contribution of the book – focuses on avenues for action.
This section opens with historical data on climate change in India, clearly reflecting the increasing unpredictability of rainfall, the rising incidences of floods and storms on the one hand, and heat waves and droughts on the other. The rapid warming we are witnessing will only exacerbate these problems with severe consequences for both rural and urban India.
Ramesh points out that agricultural yields may decline substantially in the next few decades while cities face the threat of even more flooding as rainfall occurs in shorter, more intense bursts. Coastal cities face increasing contamination of groundwater due to rising sea level and land sink.
The impact of climate change on health is discussed at length. Higher temperatures favour an increase in the spread of vector-borne diseases like malaria and dengue fever. Nutritional deficiency and mortality rates among vulnerable segments are bound to worsen as lowered crop yields push prices beyond their means.
Ramesh also draws the important link between climate change, security, and geopolitics. She discusses the role of the severe drought in Syria from 2007 to 2010 in instigating the ongoing war. Closer home, water conflicts such as between China and India over the Brahmaputra, and the Cavery conflict between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu can only sharpen as climate change threatens freshwater availability.
Within the frameworks of “management” and “innovation”, Ramesh states her case for how to achieve all-round climate resilience in India. Management involves the efficient use of all our resources – food, water, energy and, waste. Technological innovation is what she considers the means to that end. Ramesh discusses how the use of technologies like drip irrigation, regulations on water pricing and genetically modified crops could dramatically increase Indian agricultural productivity.
Water is a major area the author focusses on while pointing out the massive mismanagement of its sources (eg, groundwater) and its wastage (eg, pipe leakage). The author recommends Israel’s technological and regulatory regimen as a blueprint for water conservation. These include rainwater harvesting, communal ownership of water, plugging leaks and theft, water pricing, and meticulous data collection.
Regarding energy use, Ramesh points out that dated technology and lack of maintenance lead to massive losses during electricity transmission. Theft and wasteful personal use – eg continued use of filament bulbs – add substantially to these loses. She discusses several solutions such as switching to LEDs and modern energy efficient air conditioning, as well as tightening regulation to save energy.
Ramesh also extensively addresses the issue of the huge quantities of solid and sewage waste we generate. Most solid waste ends up in open landfills breeding disease, polluting and aggravating climate change through methane emissions. Segregation of waste at source is the silver bullet, writes Ramesh. Drawing on personal experience, she discusses the steps her family took to eliminate solid waste from their household by concatenating a string of simple ideas. These included avoiding food wastage and using a biogas machine to convert organic waste into energy.
The author also urges new regulatory mechanisms to spur green innovation within the country.
A critical look
The author begins every section with either a personal experience, a fictionalised story or an anecdote. This enhances readability and is a testament to the author’s ability to effectively convey complex ideas.
But as with any work, the book has its weaknesses —
Scalability: Several of the strategies discussed in the book have only been implemented on small scales. Assertions that they can be as effectively deployed at “Indian scales” are not adequately substantiated.
Arguments: Some arguments are logically untenable. For instance, chapter 15 contains the line, “In 2014, an average Indian consumed one-sixteenth of the electricity an average American used. This means that India’s electricity consumption will need to and must grow.” This raises several questions. Why should it grow and by how much? Is American consumption the right benchmark?
Assumption: A central thesis of the book is that improving efficiency in various ways by optimising the use of water, food and energy resources can create resilience. Inspiring work by start-ups and corporate social responsibility (CSR) projects in clean technologies are cited as examples. Yet, historical data suggests that caution is warranted. One would expect that buying a new energy efficient refrigerator should reduce electricity use. However, at least some of the gains are offset because the lowered cost of electric bills encourages people to buy bigger, ever more capacious refrigerators, a rebound effect called the Jevon’s paradox.
Making efficiency central to the book raises concerns about whether the Jevon’s paradox could swamp some of the presumed gains when deployed on large scales.
Philosophy: There are legitimate fears that trusting technological innovation alone to deliver sustainability and climate resilience may be misplaced. It buys into the entrenched economic paradigm of achieving infinite and exponentially rising economic growth on a planet with finite resources – an impossibility.
Despite these caveats, the book is an important contribution to climate action, tailored to India, and written with lucidity. It should be a required read for all concerned citizens, entrepreneurs and decision makers around the country.
Madurai has to catch up with the trend of eco-friendly clay Ganesha idols if it wants to save its water bodies
With Ganesh Chaturthi festivities over, the ritual of immersing the idol started yesterday and will continue for three days. While clay idols made with seeds in them gained in popularity this year, Madurai is yet to catch up with the trend.
The city did make a small attempt though. Cleantech investor and founder of Sundaram Climate Institute, Mridula Ramesh, had introduced her friends and acquaintances to eco-friendly seed Ganeshas last year. When she discussed the idea, she received 200 requests and a local potter was assigned the job of making 12 inch idols with clay packed with plant seeds and fertilisers.
The city did make a small attempt though. Cleantech investor and founder of Sundaram Climate Institute, Mridula Ramesh, had introduced her friends and acquaintances to eco-friendly seed Ganeshas last year. When she discussed the idea, she received 200 requests and a local potter was assigned the job of making 12 inch idols with clay packed with plant seeds and fertilisers.
The immersion of the idols is done in a mud pot at home. Once the clay idol dissolves, the seeds sprout. This year, she promoted smaller idols — of six and nine inches — and they were filled with compost generated at her home and embedded with tomato seeds. “It is an easy plant to grow and the first leaves sprout within a week,” she says. The joy of seeing the idol grow into a plant is immense. “It is a divine rebirth,” she says and hopesthe idols gain in popularity in the city next year.
Several people in the city lament the disappearance of water bodies and what an eyesore it is to see the idols dunked in the dry Vaigai. In Teppakulam at Melur or the kammais near Usilampatti or even the sea at Rameswaram, water is polluted by immersing plaster of Paris (PoP) idols coated with non-biodegradable colours even though a Government ban on using toxic materials and lurid colours exists.
“It is disheartening to see idols thrown from over bridges into cesspools of stagnant water below,” rues Swetha R, who now lives in Bengaluru but visits her parents every year during the season.
To facilitate immersion, the Corporation has made arrangements near Sellur this year. The DIG Police (Madurai range), Pradip Kumar, says that people who put up the pandals are required to submit a document stating the material used for making the idols. Yet, the battle with PoP is far from over. These take months to dissolve and affect aquatic life.
A dramatic leap towards green idols may be missing in the city, but some made their own idols this year. A lot of people went in for clay idols too. There’s still hope.
‘The Climate Solution’ is your guide to being a responsible citizen of the earth. Photo Courtesy: Pixabay
Yesterday was World Environment Day, and we picked up The Climate Solution: India’s Climate Change Crisis and What We Can Do About It, by Mridula Ramesh, who is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, which focuses on waste and water solutions, and education. What better day to try and understand what we can do towards helping solve the environmental crisis in the country? True to the title, here are five truths the book forced us to confront.
It’s all too easy to blame our netas and corrupt leaders for not taking climate change seriously, but are we taking it any more seriously than they are? Ramesh’s insights into combatting climate change tell us, in no uncertain terms, that we are equally responsible, and capable even, of doing our bit. No messiah or Al Gore is coming to save us now, folks. Ramesh even has a checklist at the ready for people who are new to the concept of sustainable living and a minimalist lifestyle, so we have no real excuse at this point. Some of these are things we should already have been doing, like using the good ol’ bucket bath and segregating our waste but other more thought-provoking ones include regulating your air conditioner temperatures and eating fewer animal products.
Ramesh voices an uncomfortable truth – that climate change is an elite topic, but the lower classes are the ones that suffer the most. ‘Impact’ here is an intersection of risk, vulnerability and adaptation, which is why it’s so easy for us to ignore. We’re fretting about the rising temperatures in our air-conditioned offices (not us, we like to live au natural) but the real losers are labourers, people in the agricultural sector and anyone with increased exposure to the elements. And if you’re one of those ‘I’m going to hell anyway types’, on a global scale, India is just a speck, a small player in the world’s ecological suicide. We will be the first victims claimed by Doomsday™, while the big players like US and China sit in their air-conditioned offices, pitying us. Sucks, huh?
75 percent of working Indian women work in the agriculture sector! And needless to say, they are the most vulnerable when it comes to climate change. The odds are already stacked against them, and I for one don’t need being a silent witness to their suffering on my conscience. Rural women walk many miles for water, and spend an increased amount of time exposed to the elements. With climate change looming ominously over the horizon, their jobs get 1000x tougher. Heat waves and heat-related diseases claim women as their main victims due to increased exposure. It’s not just women, either. Children are equally, if not more, vulnerable to tropical diseases and infection. Their sources of nutrition are also affected with increased incidence of drought.
Ramesh takes our attention away from the oft talked about but ineffective approach to refashioning ourselves into being more environment friendly- whether it’s monitoring emissions and carbon footprints or reducing plastic use. These are integral to climate control, sure, but we need a combination of approaches to make this work. What really matters is not your jholas and jute kurtas, but efficient water and waste disposal. Increased generation of waste and not enough space to dispose of it is a leading cause for health concerns. A lot of this is 10th grade science that we’ve probably already forgotten. Toxic liquids from landfills pollute ground water, and create an excellent environment for pesky macchars. Ramesh also suggests a more plant-based diet, and less carnivorous indulgences. We probably lost half of you at that, but livestock are responsible for over 10 percent of India’s greenhouse gas emissions! Admittedly, soy milk doesn’t taste great but at least it doesn’t fart us away into oblivion.
Ramesh’s solutions involve creating markets and improving our local innovation systems as well as leveraging our startup ecosystem to better manage our resources. She cites the example of Ergos, a company that provides microwarehousing to farmers. They have been supremely successful in reducing wastage and helping farmers get the best prices for their crops. She urges entrepreneurs to invest in innovative and sustainable solutions to combat climate change, because they have the resources to do so, and can profit from ventures like these.
India's Farm Acts are a much needed step to get us to Green Revolution 2.0, which in turn will ensure food security at an environmentally appropriate cost. But the laws need transparency, appropriate incentives, and good communication to happen right.
A farmer sits amid wheat fields. Image for representation only, courtesy Aamir Mohd Khan via Pixabay
‘Perspective’. The origin of the word deals with the science of optics, slowly coming to signify one’s ‘mental outlook over time’. It’s doubtful if one can gain much perspective from a tweet, or a WhatsApp forward — the preferred purveyors of news today.
Which bring me to the farm laws, where the lines are drawn, with one side saying, “the farm laws enslave farmers to corporate interests’, while the other side declares, “farmers have been liberated”. As always, there is some truth in both, which requires us to dig deeper. For background on the laws themselves, check out the excellent overview by IDR here. For the legal angle, please read here and here. This article will examine why these laws are so desperately needed.
Over the past couple of years, writing a book on India’s water has helped me develop perspective. Above all, if we want to maintain our independence, it is imperative to maintain domestic food security, especially now, as the climate warms. There can be no argument around that. Our famines should be proof enough, of what can happen if we don’t. For those who cannot wrap their minds around the possibility of famine, consider the geopolitical angle. Consider how India’s policy has been held to ransom when the rains failed. A bad drought, coupled with a balance-of-payments crisis, weakened India’s position on the Indus Water Treaty in 1957-58; while the back-to-back droughts of 1965-66 saw the US, whose PL-480 wheat was both alluring and addictive, holding India to a humiliating ship-to-mouth existence, and dictating terms that were not always in India’s long term interests.
As the climate warms, without effective adaptation, crop yields will fall. With food, atmanirbhar is unequivocally, a good aim. I am not against trade; I’m merely saying, especially in food, let us trade from a position of strength. Our current atmanirbharta in food owes much to Punjabi farmers. To understand why, let us rewind to the 1960s, where India needed to import rice and wheat, which the populace’s palates had become accustomed to. The Green Revolution, where Punjabi farmers led the charge, saw India slowly and surely become food independent.
Figure 1: India Net Imports of Paddy & Wheat, 2010s refers to period from 2011-2018. Source: FAO.
The Green Revolution was incentivised by the procurement policies of Centre and state, including the MSP regime, and the efforts of our farmers and agricultural universities, especially the Punjabi and Haryanvi farmer. We owe them. However, it would be a mistake now to substitute forbearance for gratitude.
Huh? Come again?
The need for Green Revolution 2.0
The Green Revolution 1.0, relying on underground water, got us here. In a warming climate, Green Revolution 1.0 will only worsen our vulnerabilities and stress our water faultlines, failing to carry us into the future securely. Why?
First, water. Mined from deep underground, this water is embedded in the rice and wheat grown in relatively dry Punjab and Haryana, which then flows as a virtual river to the rest of India. How big is this river? Just consider the wheat and rice bought by the Food Corporation of India from Punjab and Haryana. The water embedded in that procurement alone was about 59 billion cubic metres in 2017-18. That’s about a tenth of India’s overall annual agricultural water demand. Importantly, this river uses up substantial amounts of Punjab and Haryana’s groundwater. There is a limit we are approaching here.
A financial analogy may make this clearer: if you were to spend Rs 2 for every rupee you earned, how long will your bank account last, especially if you are not wealthy to begin with? The latest report by the Central Ground Water Board estimates that groundwater up to the levels of 100 metres below ground level will be exhausted in the next 10 years, while groundwater up to 20-25 metres will run out in 20-25 years. India must look to other states to secure her future food security.
Within Punjab and Haryana, improved yields would help, or a price on the electricity used to power the borewells that suck out the water. While Punjab has the highest rice yield in the country, it has stagnated for a while now. With Punjab farmers profiting at the current price, incentives to improve are muted. Any attempt to price electricity has been stillborn. There is currently an initiative, Pani Bachao Paise Kamao, underfoot in Punjab with the support of the World Bank and J-PAL giving farmers cash incentives for conserving electricity units, and by extension, water. While the results from the pilot were encouraging, results from Phase II have been less promising with far fewer farmers signing up for the scheme. The cash, it appears, was perhaps not seen as worth the effort of conserving this free water. In the midst of protests, groundwater water levels in dry Punjab and Haryana fall as the virtual river snakes its way across India.
The second milestone signalling the end of the road, is air. Recently, the Punjab Remote Sensing Centre reported more than 76,000 incidents of stubble burning between 21 September and 24 November, 2020, the highest in years. Both, the incidence of stubble burning and the share of stubble burning in Delhi-NCR’s pollution, peaked in the first week of November. The Hindu quoted an official from the Indian Agricultural Research Institute (IARI), as saying, “It was a bumper harvest this year, so the amount of crop residue was also large. Also, it was a cloud-free season as compared to last year. The biomass was drier and prone to burning… It also appears that the farmers are not willing to cooperate. There could be anger over farm Bills.”
Even those of us far removed from the National Capital Region knew of friends with COVID, and saw frantic messages on WhatsApp groups with pleas for help for a hospital bed for a loved one. Air Pollution plays a role in COVID-19 morbidity, though the mechanics are less well understood. How long can the burning fields persist?
There is a desperate need to change. What’s stopping this? Why are yields stagnating; why is the twin crop culture so enmeshed? Why are the fields still burning? Why isn’t the FCI procuring from other states as aggressively?
Farmers protest in Hisar, Haryana. PTI/File Photo
Punjab and Haryana are addicted to the Rice-Wheat culture. The state’s finances depend on the Mandi tax, and the Arthiyas (commission agents), depend on the 2.5 percent they get. Farmers are unwilling to risk trying to sell outside APMC yards — after all, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? The Food Corporation of India favours Punjab and Haryana because of their excellent procurement machinery, as buying in bulk from other states is nowhere as easy.
Enter the Farm Acts. The catalyst for these was, interestingly, the COVID lockdown. During the lockdown, to prevent congregation at the market yards, or mandis, the APMC act was suspended. But procurement went on unabated. As Professor Ashok Gulati said in a recent interview, “Farmers did not lose at that time in terms of selling their wheat and rice, tell me if anyone in Punjab sold their produce below MSP …39 million tonnes of wheat were procured, which was never done earlier in the country”. Encouraged, the government passed an ordinance and subsequently an Act.
Now, farmers, if they wished, could choose to sell outside the APMC yards to whomsoever they desired. The law does not suspend APMC yards in any way. Essentially, this Act was aimed at increasing competition amongst buyers, thereby hoping to improve price discovery and widen crop choice, thus hopefully providing higher incomes to farmers. However, by doing so, it may weaken APMC yards that are doing a bad job. Is that a bad thing?
Then came the Contract Farming Act and changes to the Essential Commodities Act, to encourage private investment in agriculture. Why? In states where infrastructure was less developed, private investment in storage and market infrastructure could potentially level the playing field. This second part is key: Punjab, has excellent agricultural marketing infrastructure, with a regulated market every 100 square kilometres or so; the situation is far worse in many other parts of the country: with one regulated market serving over 11,000 square kilometres in Meghalaya, or one serving over 2,300 square kilometres in Orissa. Private investment could make a difference, especially now when a clutch of Agritech start-ups are straining at their leashes to enter this sector. The sector is red-hot, and these laws, if done right, can accomplish what Ola or Uber did for urban transport, or what Swiggy and Zomato did for restaurants.
Every change has losers. The clear losers here are the state governments who stand to lose the Mandi tax, and the Arthiyas, who could lose their 2.5 percent commission. They stand to lose what has been, in essence, a guaranteed annuity of thousands of crores. That explains the protests, and why it is centred in Punjab and Haryana. Yes, Punjab and Haryana have developed great agricultural markets, but at what cost (water/air), and for how long can it last?
Other losers include the powerful traders, who have thus far enjoyed a large spread over the farm gate price. Why are farmers seen to be protesting? Well, the answer is that there is a tremendous diversity in India’s farmers — the less-efficient amongst the larger farmers, who would be doing very well in the current regime, are naturally wrathful at this potential influx of competition. In some parts, there may be warranted fear based on past experiences with private parties or local government. Lastly, smaller farmers, who historically have been exploited, are — justifiably — traditionally suspicious. In the absence of effective communication, their presence in protests could come about by effective fear mongering. Which makes communication of the “why”, the “what”, and the “what not”, and the “how” of these acts so critical. When one does a quick scan of Twitter and WhatsApp, one discovers there is quite a bit of fluff out there, on every side. It’s surprising then, that a government which went overboard on communication during the lockdown, missed a trick on communicating a law that affects more Indians than did the lockdown. This is definitely one area of improvement. Communicate to the farmer at his/her doorstep, in his/her language, through one of his/her own.
Farmers at work in Sangrur. File photo, for representation only. Image courtesy Sukhcharan Preet
Which brings me to the second contentious point — the entry of the private sector into farming. News flash: it’s always been there. An overwhelming majority of farmers in India sell today, not at the MSP to the government, but to the private, petty trader in their immediate vicinity.
In December 2014, the government of India released ‘Key Indicators of Situation of Agricultural Households in India’, which confirmed what many knew: only about 10 percent of agricultural households sell their paddy or wheat at the mandi or to a government agency, most report selling to a local private trader or input dealer. The situation is more pathetic as we move away from Punjab and Haryana to other states, and move to smaller farmers. In West Bengal, over 85 percent of farmers owning less than half a hectare sold their paddy to a private trader.
Moreover, government procurement alone cannot guarantee better prices for the farmer or fairer lower prices for the consumer. Take a recent episode in cotton, where an MP, Su Venkatesan, wrote to the Prime Minister about the spread earned by the middlemen, even when a government agency was involved. Private presence can bring benefits — witness the situation in the dairy or poultry industry. There are the many case studies I have covered in my first book, where private presence in agriculture has been of help — in the textile industry, a Public-Private partnership involving over 76,000 farmers in Rajasthan, helped cotton yields improve by 50 percent, and increase farmer incomes.
The real question is the lowering of the spread, or the gap between what the farmer gets for his produce, and what you and I pay for the same produce. The lower that spread or gap, the more efficient the market. Today, in many states, and in many crops, that spread is high. (Note: the green rectangle signifies the range of farmer profitability; the area above the green price line denotes farmers who make a profit at this price.)
Spurring local tourism around our tanks may be just what the doctor ordered.
Kodaikanal Lake. Image via Wikimedia Commons
My sister fell off the boat in Kodaikanal, or Kodi as I know it, and they took off my clothes to change her. I had no say in the matter because I was less than a year old at that time. As you can see, the Kodaikanal Lake has been a part of my life for a very, very long time. The corn seller, many of the older boatmen and the horse keepers next to the boat club were friends. Over the years, I have spent countless hours and days around and in the lake, blithely ignorant, until we began to investigate it — the size of the economy supported by the lake.
The Kodaikanal Lake is a manmade lake, created by Vere Henry Levinge, by damming three streams. All images courtesy the author, unless indicated otherwise.
The Kodaikanal Lake is a manmade lake, created by Vere Henry Levinge, by damming three streams. This star-shaped 20+ hectare lake, from the very beginning, had a community at its heart. It kept groundwater levels up, to be sure. But the walking path (and later cycling and motorable road) was a place for one’s morning and evening walk, to meet and chat with friends. Trees around the lake provided beauty, improved infiltration, while the smaller, fallen branches created little nooks for water bird to build their nests.
Trees around the lake provided beauty, improved infiltration, while the smaller, fallen branches created little nooks for water bird to build their nests.
The Kodaikanal Boat and Rowing Club was set up in 1891, with a very popular Regatta in May, drawing thousands to witness the races. Yes, I have competed once, and placed second. The more interesting story involves a duck, a friend, and poorly drawn-in oar. Today, the lake is surrounded by three hotels, multiple bungalows, two spiritual retreats, and hundreds of commercial establishments.
Throughout the year, crowds flock to Kodi during the weekends, drawn by the weather, the beauty and, of course, the lake. Business is seasonal, with four phases: peak season (Apr/May), second season (Aug-Dec), off season (Jan-Mar) and monsoon (Jun/Jul). In February 2020, an off season month, we counted 885 commercial establishments around the lake, 70 percent of which were closed at the time of our visit. Many of these stalls would come alive during ‘Season’ time (a colonial moniker), when the roads around the lake would become practically impassable. Of the open establishments, we observed that almost half sold stuff of some sort — sweaters, toys, shells — this translates to additional indirect employment, of course.
More than a third sold food — delicious roasted corn generously slathered with lime, chilli powder and salt being a local speciality. Entertainment — boat riding, horse riding, balloon shooting and cycling — were all on offer. And finally there was hospitality — we counted three large hotels around the lake, including The Carlton, one of the oldest hotels in the town; Sterling Resorts, which courted controversy when it was built on the marshlands that nourished and cleaned the lake waters; and the Green Lake View Resort that was built by demolishing the once delightfully-overgrown house called Sleepy Hollow.
Together, these establishments provided, in a quiet February, 600 lake-side jobs. This is a fairly robust number, with a high degree of confidence, because these were either actually counted or based on interviews with the general managers running the same or similar establishments. The number of lakeside jobs swells to 1,285 in full season (April/May), as rooms are filled and all stalls are running, and then varies between 640-900 jobs for the rest of the year. Only during the monsoon, June/July, are the number of jobs estimated to fall to about 350, as most places shut shop. Taking a weighted average, the lake provides more than 700 direct jobs throughout the year. There are more jobs created in making the stuff sold by the lake, in the factories and in the farms that grow the vegetables and milk made into cheese.
What about additions to the economy?
Because many stalls were informal in nature, their owners were more circumspect in sharing revenue details. Based on data collected from 80 establishments, our model suggested the non-hotel economy of the lake was worth about Rs 46 crore per year. This transforms the lake from being the tableau of memories to a robust economic engine, an SME providing over 700 direct jobs, while replenishing groundwater levels, improving real estate values, improving fitness levels (the walker, rowers and cyclists!) and providing mental bliss (after all, there were two spiritual retreats at the lake side). It makes for one heck of a sustainable business.
Can we make it even more sustainable? Most of the stalls around the Kodi lake had a municipal power connection. And in shady paths, solar may not work well, and would, moreover require storage as part of the offering, which would make the economics unappealing. Plastic packaging is already banned in Kodaikanal. But ensuring clean power, sustainable packaging choices, and permeable surfaces are things to keep in mind while replicating the Kodi lake’s success in other places. After all, the Kodaikanal lake is 26.5 hectares and there are many lakes this size scattered around our cities. My own Madurai has at least 16 lakes bigger than this in and around the city. Chennai has several. As does Bengaluru, including its infamous flaming and foaming Bellandur lake. Almost every Indian city has at least one or two large lakes that could do with a bit of TLC, an image makeover. However, in their current state, even thinking of these lakes as tourist destinations seems far-fetched. They are like the before-makeover heroine of a coming-of-age movie, waiting for a fairy godmother to wave her wand.
Which brings us to some of the basics for developing ‘Tank Tourism’ in India: First, a water body must, in fact, have water. This is a non-trivial ask as many water bodies tend to be seasonal. However, we do have a great perennial and local water resource — sewage and grey water — which can be treated to feed the lakes. Singapore does, as does Israel. Closer to home, so does Jakkur lake in Bengaluru. In fact, the treated sewage that feeds Jakkur lake is being fought over by the lake and a power plant! Another lake in Bengaluru that has leveraged its sewages is the 26-acre Mahadevapura lake. Here, a consortium of corporates pooled together their CSR funds to invest in a sewage treatment plant that treats a million litres a day of sewage to replenish the lake. The Consortium of DEWATS Dissemination designed the project, and members of civil society came together with this group to bring it to fruition in 2019.
Second, the water cannot smell, and the surroundings must be clean. Offering boating on a flaming lake is unlikely to have a large addressable market. Delhi has a wonderful clutch of baolis, or stepwells, and in a better world, they would be centres of community. Today, many of them are non-trivial to access. When my friends and I went on a detective mission to locate the oldest baoli in Delhi, the Anangtal Baoli dating back to the 10th century A.D., we had to pick our way through a landfill to get there.
The historical Baoli ceases to be a tourist attraction. These are the basics — water and cleanliness. Next, tourists need infrastructure — lighting, dustbins, a walking or cycling track, signage. Ideally, these should recharge the mind, and not be monstrosities of concrete. Thus can we unlock the tank tourism economy, where catering to their needs creates local jobs. In this age of COVID, we all need a little bit of socially distanced outdoor recreation. In this age of climate change, our cities need all the water storage we can muster. In this age of water crisis, we need to treat and reuse every drop of sewage. In the midst of this economic carnage, we need more local jobs. Spurring local tourism around our tanks may be just what the doctor ordered.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
A warming climate, bringing fewer rain days and more intense rainfall events in its wake, makes the role played by tanks even more critical.
A tank in Tamil Nadu. Image via Wikimedia Commons
Editor's note: This is the first in a two-part series on the critical role of tanks in India's water management system. It draws from Mridula Ramesh's upcoming book on water, to be published in 2021.
Imagine if you received all your annual income in a few days, but still had to make monthly payments — rent, EMIs, school fees, medical bills etc. You would need a place to store your money, wouldn’t you?
For much of India, a large chunk of its rain falls in just 15 days, often in about only 100 hours. This makes water storage and management critical, especially for the somewhat drier regions like Rajasthan, Tamil Nadu or Telangana. The erstwhile rulers of those regions built tanks — essentially lakes — thousands of them. For example, the Kakatiya dynasty, who ruled Telangana 12th to 14tn centuries focussed on tanks, realising the special key water storage held for prosperity. Somehow, in our rapid urbanisation in the past few decades, as house overtook field, we appear to have forgotten this defining facet of India’s rainfall management.
As I have said before, tanks are brilliant. They work in two ways: one, they store rainwater from whichever area they directly drain, and allow the rainwater a chance to percolate into the ground, rather than ‘runoff’. Second, a subset of tanks, called system, or cascading tanks, are connected to a network of other tanks and to the river through canals. These system tanks are the beneficiaries of surplus non-local rainfall. During the southwest monsoon, many peninsular rivers swell with the rain from the Western Ghats, the mountains girding the western coast of India. This surplus water flows from the river through a set of channels to tanks, and as each tank overflows, downstream tanks and smaller satellite ponds, sometimes connected by channels, get filled.
To use a financial analogy, system tanks are like (sticky) Foreign Direct Investment that transfer non-local savings into the local economy. Tanks capturing local rainwater are like local savings being channelled into the local economy. A warming climate, bringing fewer rain days (or days where it rains), and more intense rainfall events in its wake, makes the role played by tanks even more critical.
Take, for instance, what is tragically unfolding in Telangana over the past week. We have two patterns — one of extreme rainfall, and the second of unwise land-use changes. In the first two weeks of October, several districts in Telangana received well above their ‘normal’ rainfall. In the same period, the Hyderabad district received nearly 30 centimetres of rain, almost three times the ‘normal’ amount. Several parts of the city received between 10-20 centimetres of rain in a day. With a warmer climate, such incidences will likely recur.
To blame the hair-raising images of a man being swept away on a road-turned-roaring-river on the climate alone would be unfair, and, perhaps more importantly, unhelpful. Did the intense rainfall translate into the fury we witnessed, because the water was squeezed into a space too small to hold it? Because we had converted lake bed to plot and thence to building, thrown rubble into river and tank, and asked flood waters to share space with torrents of sewage in already encroached and silted stream or river?
To wit, compare the picture of Hyderabad from 1991 to 2016 on these Google Earth images: shrinking the space for water to occupy merely makes it spill, or flood over, during intense rainfall spells.
To answer this, let me come back to Madurai, where I live, and where tanks — until a hundred years ago — held pride of place. If you take a flight over Madurai any time after August, you would not be wrong in thinking that someone had shattered a giant mirror and strewn the shards across the land, because that’s how the thousands of tanks or lakes appear from the sky.
Water management has such a pride of place, that we found over 40 words in Tamil just to speak of water, with several words for a tank or lake — Eri, Kanmai, Kulam, Kuttai, Oorani, to name just a few. Each referred to a particular type of tank, designed largely for a particular purpose. Eri or Kanmai both referred to irrigation tanks, while Oorani referred to a drinking water pond, typically located like planets around a larger Eri or Kanmai. There were names for tanks within temples, tanks meant for livestock — clearly this was an important subject in the days of yore. There were also several roles assigned for water management — Neeraanikar, Neerkatti, Karaiyar, Kuzhathu Kaapalar — for water rotation, operating sluices, for cleaning the tanks, for ensuring there were no encroachments. At Sundaram Climate Institute, we differentiate tanks in terms of functionality. As in relationships, tank functionality spans a spectrum. Highly functional tanks tend to provide tremendous benefits — both in variety and amount — to their immediate community. In our study of 42 rural tanks, we found functional tanks provided more than irrigation access; they provided cash flow — so vital to the rural economy — by enabling fishing, furnishing water for livestock, and, in many tanks, lotuses, which retail between Rs 5-10 for a single bloom. While farmers with better situated land appeared to value water rights highly, landless workers and smaller farmers reported valuing fishing, access to water for cattle, temple and burial rights more. Perceived as equally important were the non-financial benefits: Indeed, some of the smallest tanks were highly functional because the surrounding community thought of them as sacred, and researchers from our team were asked to remove footwear before venturing near the tank. Almost every tank we studied had a temple associated with it, with temple rights seen as an important aspect of the tank benefit ecosystem.
When our team spoke to an old woman grazing goats next to a small pond, she spoke of the pond as a living thing. No form of refuse can be dumped into pond tank, she said, as it is considered as God’s living place and respected. The tank’s god was called “Pattakati Oodaiyan”, and one family, with hereditary rights, lived in a small hut by that pond and was responsible for the maintenance of the pond. The pond, small as it was, provided enough water for the livestock, and for the community. This story too turned melancholic, as stories do. “Earlier we had country fish like iyerameen, koravai meen, keluthi meen,” the woman said, although she could not quite remember when they caught fish last, “Perhaps a few years back.” This year too, they tried placing some fish in the tank, but they died.
Sometimes, the word ‘community’ conjures up a warm and fuzzy image. This, in our experience, is not often the case. There were strong caste dynamics at play in the tank maintenance and access. However, without glossing over the caste and gender equations, we observed that all castes were worse off when a tank became dysfunctional, and the economically vulnerable sections even more so. With that caveat, when a tank provided regular benefits, a community is vested in keeping a tank healthy, and free of encroachments. So what happened to upend this not-quite-idyllic equilibrium?
We found there were three key reasons why tanks tended to die: (a) Centralisation of maintenance, (b) Urbanisation/ Encroachment, and (c) the emergence of new sources of water.
Let us begin with centralisation. The centralisation of tank maintenance has not always been good for tanks, specifically for the fishing ecosystem. One exception appeared to be the MNREGA scheme, which we found played a significant role in desilting local tanks, and strengthening bunds. One farmer spoke of 11 varieties of fish in earlier times, with lifecycles in sync with the rising and falling water levels. This diversity suffered when quantity was prioritised over quality, with the Katla coming to dominate the catch. The problem with larger catches is that it better suits larger bidders, often not associated with the village community. Then, of course, someone may complain of irregularities in process, and a court case is opened. For the bureaucrat responsible for the auction, being asked to appear in court is an unwanted pain in the neck, in the midst of a crowded day, and overflowing inbox. Slowly, fishing auctions fail to take place, or take place surreptitiously, meaning one key benefit to the community falls.
In urban tanks, apart from this hassle, the responsibility for evicting encroachers also moves to a government department. Given that evicting encroachers is anything but an easy affair, one needs time, means, power and single-minded zealousness to ensure success. This is easier to command if one’s livelihood depends largely on the wellbeing of the tank. Less so, if it only one of your many duties, and one you will receive a lot of pain in doing, but little credit. Besides, the motivation to maintain tank ecosystems reduces when new sources of water and employment come up.
New sources
In the end of the 19th century, the Mullaiperiyar dam was built to divert the waters from the river Periyar to the river Vaigai. The Vaigai had always been a non-perennial stream, and the thinking behind the dam was: ‘Why not move some water from the water-rich Periyar to the water-poor Vaigai’ — a sort of redistributive socialism with river water. Even back then, the idea was not new — it had been around for nearly a hundred years, but the tragic famine of 1876 gave it the final push.
By most accounts, this diversion seemed like a good idea — farmers were able to grow more, at least those connected to the system tanks that now received the additional water largesse from the Periyar-fed-Vaigai. Indeed, some parts of Tamil Nadu dedicate their harvest festival to the officer who built the dam, John Pennycuick. But there was a side effect: tanks in the Vaigai basin became less dependable as sources of water, first when the Periyar dam was built, then later when the Vaigai dam was built. This appears to be a non-sequitur, until one realises that when farmers received more water from the Vaigai, they became less interested in maintaining the tanks to eke out water, which makes downstream tanks less dependable.
But what gave the body blow to tanks was the advent of the tube well and the free electricity to power pumps for agricultural use. Slowly and steadily, the importance of tanks in irrigation came down — see the thinning yellow sliver in the graph below:
Net Irrigated Area by source (Directorate of Economics & Statistics, Department of Agriculture and Cooperation, Ministry of Agriculture, Government of India), Statistics Handbook of India
The deadliest blow comes when house or factory overtakes field. When fields with an established right to the tank water transform into housing plots, the new owners of the land lose water rights, and the tank becomes an orphan, ripe for conquest. Typically, the channel is first to fall: we saw this several time in our studied tanks: “The Odai [channel] to the tank from the Periyar river is blocked, earlier it was broad now it has narrowed done because of *** factory,” said many we spoke to.
In cities, this problem was widespread. In the second half of the 20th century, the population of India’s cities exploded. This just meant more and more people were being squeezed into a smaller place.
Population Growth of Major Indian cities, 1901-2011
With the masses pouring into the cities, municipal governments must provide infrastructure — bus depots, schools and such — to cater to their needs. But where would the land come from? Governments like announcements: “XYZ bus terminal will be built this year”. But the legendary, exquisite tortuousness of land acquisition in India makes quick infrastructure building impossible. And that’s where the tanks — once filled with water, the centre of community life, now neglected, choked with waste, and dry — become interesting. This is compounded by the water diversion policy of the irrigation department, which tends to preferentially supply water to those tanks which still have an ayacut (irrigation area) attached to them, above urban tanks. As the urban tanks go dry, they offer inviting, quickly-acquirable, new land in the heart of the city. Tanks are classified as ‘poramboke’ land, which allows the government to divert them for other purposes. Typically, when the tank bed wants to be diverted for other purposes, the concerned officer or Tahsildar makes an announcement that the tank has fallen into disrepair; it is an eyesore choked with waste and a breeding ground for mosquitoes etc.
Why don’t communities in urban environments care about what happens to tanks?
Again, there are several possible explanations. While the groundwater flowed freely, why care? Second is that we are conditioned to think of groundwater and surface water as separate. After all, they are governed separately, so why not think of them the same way. This ‘hydro-schizophrenia’, as Dr Mihir Shah terms it, is one reason we discount the value of tanks — because we don’t realise how tanks, or urban lakes as they have become, recharge the groundwater on which so many of us depend.
The hidden power of tanks
To test if indeed tanks influenced local groundwater levels we studied 36 urban and periurban tanks in Madurai, wherein we estimated groundwater levels at set distances using crowdsourced data from over 3000 persons. Our data gave us this graph that showed tanks did indeed appear to recharge groundwater in their vicinity:
On the left hand side, was a stunning, large rural tank about a 10-minute drive from Madurai — you can see that the groundwater was available at quite shallow depths around the tank. On the right hand side, we see a tank in bad shape, a critical care patient if you will, with both inlet channels and the tank itself encroached upon. Unsurprisingly, it has a marginal impact on local groundwater levels. Clearly all tanks are not the same. But, what, we asked, makes a tank functional? Again, we checked the effect of several factors including size, land use patterns around a tank, urbanisation etc., on groundwater levels to see which were most impactful.
What mattered a great deal for system tanks was the condition of the inlet canal — if it was clogged or upset in any way, that was the end of the tank. For instance, there was a giant tank in our study that was almost always dry despite not being encroached in any way. Desilting that tank, which MNREGA focusses on, would not have helped rejuvenate the tank. The problem lay in the inlet, which, because of a road construction, now lay below the tank bed, with a road traversing between. For standalone tanks, we found an important predictor of functionality was the number of months a tank held water — any water. We also found land use patterns to have a strong impact, with more open and green spaces better helping recharge groundwater more. Importantly, the community was important: when the community spoke of a tank with pride, and protected, the tank tended to be highly functional. Our study helped us come up with a functionality index for a tank, and tank report card, serving the same purpose as a student report card.
This functionality is important, because we found functional tanks kept groundwater levels about 200 feet shallower.
Tanks are silver bullet for Indias water woes why theyre disappearing leaving us more vulnerable to a warming climate
This effect has economic consequences: we found that the average monthly spend on buying water of studied households who lived around a functional Oorani was Rs 100 lower than the average monthly spend on buying water of studied households living around a dysfunctional Oorani. That’s comparable to a free kilogram of rice per month per household.
Sadly, but unsurprisingly, the communities were not making the connection between having a functional tank in their backyard and paying less for water each month. Communities, also, until recently, were not making the connection between a functional tank, and some form of insurance against a changing climate. One way to do this would be to include the many functions of tank ecosystems in our curriculum. What else can we do to strengthen the bond between tank and community in an urban environment? We will see what that is in the next column.
Part 2 — Tank tourism can help build water resilience in Indian cities; being local, outdoors and socially-distanced make it timely
Over the past few weeks, the coronavirus pandemic has taught us four things about ourselves.
This is the concluding segment of a four-part explainer on the coronavirus outbreak. Read parts 1, 2 and 3.
Over the past few weeks, the coronavirus pandemic has taught us four things about ourselves.
1. Governments are capable of strong, quick action.
2. The world remains unequal, with widening inequality.
3. The world has changed; China has changed.
4. Size does not matter. Time and communication does.
Strong, quick action
In January, China put 10+million people under lockdown. At that time, the world said, China is the only one who can do it.
The New York Times, on 22 January 2020, wrote:
“Scale of China’s Wuhan Shutdown Is Believed to Be Without Precedent.”
“In sealing off a city of 11 million people, China is trying to halt a coronavirus outbreak using a tactic with a complicated history of ethical concerns.”
The same NYT, reported a day later that China was ‘essentially penning in more than 35 million residents’, bringing to mind lambs held for slaughter. It was thought that draconian lockdowns were the province of undemocratic countries.
Less than 50 days later, decidedly democratic Italy followed suit, trying to lock down its 60 million citizens in a bid to control the virus. And when that failed, calling the army in to enforce movement restrictions. Liberty, it seems, is not a given.
The Times headline on 15 March, showed how much mental space we had covered in 60 days.
“Spain, on Lockdown, Weighs Liberties Against Containing coronavirus .”
“Empty streets. Shuttered stores. Spain has joined the number of countries struggling to balance public health with freedoms especially prized in a relatively young democracy.”
California – the heart of liberalism in America – went into lockdown mode in the middle of March. There were reports that the police department was using drones to enforce the ban, and convey information to the homeless. If you don’t have a home, where do you stay locked down? New York and Illinois soon followed, asking over 70 million Americans to stay put in their homes. Within days, Britain, which had initially trumped down for herd immunity, changed tack, and locked down. By midnight on 24 March, India’s 1.3 billion were under lockdown for 21 days. There were exceptions, but this scale of lockdown is unprecedented anywhere, ever.
We need no further proof that governments can take quick, strong action, when they perceive the need to be important. We are less than a month into lockdowns in some countries, and a day into lockdown mode in India. How long can we sustain it? These are uncharted waters, and, honestly, I have no clue. Look to the slums – that may be the place unable to bear the strain, and may break first.
The lockdown is predicated on the existence of a vaccine. There is a global race to create a vaccine, with an American vaccine and a Chinese vaccine in Phase I clinical trials. Best estimates say a good candidate is about a year away. In the meantime, as the Northern Hemisphere heads into summer, the Southern Hemisphere is heading into winter, helping the virus spread.
Widening Inequality
This lockdown impacts different groups differently
Gainers – Some 24-7 news channels, WhatsApp, Netflix, medical equipment/mask and other protective equipment/test-kit manufacturers (some of these are providing material/services at subsidised rates, and those cannot be considered gainers), short sellers.
Less impacted – Many information-age companies can work from home. There is a disruption, sure, but work does get done, there is saving of office power bills and transportation expenses, and revenue can be billed (sometimes). The well-to-do are losing money on the stock markets, and in profit, yes. But, this group can afford to take up ‘pursuits’, and enjoy the fresh air.
Impacted – Most of India. Retail. Manufacturing. Cinema. Schools. Religious services. The operators of these outfits are almost certainly looking at a loss this month, or maybe even this quarter. Highly leveraged players within each segment will face survival risk. Workers in this group have some job and wage security, for some time.
Wiped Out – The informal sector, including daily wage earners, beggars. Many of them operate on days. The money lender is not renowned for his forbearance. One other group, that may not elicit much sympathy, is the imprisoned community. Do we set them free or let them be?
One additional point: Most people in India do not get piped water at home. If last year’s data holds good, people, women, wait in lines to collect water. How will lockdown work here? As with climate change, this lockdown too, seems to be increasing inequality.
China
Wuhan is a prosperous Chinese city of 11 million. One reason for how the virus spread across national borders is when tourists from Wuhan visited other countries. China is now buying, not just selling – it’s harder to keep people buying one’s wares and services out. Some of you might remember the Will Smith movie, Independence Day, when America gloriously takes the lead against the aliens invading Earth. America has been too busy to playing catch-up to the virus at home to have much time to help others. They did, however, extend aid to Pakistan.
China did extend aid — officially and unofficially. There were planes of medical supplies and expertise to Italy. Then there was Jack Ma, who has been acting as China’s Unofficial-Ambassador-at-Large, donating and shipping out millions of masks to Africa, Latin America, Europe and South Asia. Interestingly, when pretty much every other country in South Asia was covered, India, reportedly, was not. He tweeted, ‘Go Asia! We will donate emergency supplies (1.8M masks, 210K test kits, 36K protective suits, plus ventilators & thermometers) to Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Cambodia, Laos, Maldives, Mongolia, Myanmar, Nepal, Pakistan & Sri Lanka. Delivering fast is not easy, but we'll get it done!’. Ironically, the Ali Baba foundation tweeted, ‘Through a donation of 500,000 testing kits and 1 million masks, we join hands with Americans in these difficult times.’
Jet Li was saving Will Smith from the aliens! This is an interesting dynamic to watch in the coming days.
There is one more. Two coronavirus epidemics, the SARS epidemic in 2002/2003 and this one, began in earnest in China – both probably from a wet market. Both of these epidemics are caused by RNA viruses. There are about 180 known types of RNA viruses which infect humans, with about two new species added every year. Most RNA viruses are zoonotic – i.e., they came from an animal host. This just means one thing; epidemics like these will recur. The Chinese preference for fresh exotic meat may carry too high a price for the world, in many ways.
Size does not matter, time and clear communication does.
The economic damage from this virus, and from the lockdowns to prevent the virus spread, will be vast. The UN estimated a $1 trillion blow. Stock markets reportedly lost $26 trillion from their February peak. These are big numbers, and every government stands ready to throw fiscal rectitude to the winds when stimulating their economies.
However.
Climate change is a far bigger threat economically, over time. It is expected to shave off trillions from the world’s GDP by 2050, while extreme events cost just the US $312.7 billion in 2017 and $91 billion in 2018. In 2019, weather-related disasters, a fingerprint of a warming climate, cost the world $229 billion in damages alone. In half a decade, using the UN estimate, a warming climate will easily cost the world more in dollars and lives than COVID-19 . Yet, governments have not taken action. Worse, many act in the opposite direction, with the IMF estimating that the subsidies for fossil fuels extends to $5.2 trillion in 2017.
Let’s leave morals and compassion aside – hard to do, since hundreds of millions are affected today. But leave them aside. On economics alone, discounting costs, depending, of course, on the discount rate, acting on climate change makes sense. Yet we haven’t. While we have taken expensive, draconian action to limit the spread of a virus with an average fatality rate of < 1.5 percent for people aged less than 60. Given low testing levels, and the fact that the disease is asymptomatic in so many people, the fatality rate could be even lower.
Why is that?
One possibility is that the slow burn of climate change is psychologically different from the quick blow of the virus. Think of the proverbial frogs in the pot of water set to boil. Time matters.
Another possibility is that there is a clear villain, who everyone hates – the SARS-CoV-2 – in this pandemic. There is overwhelming evidence than burning fossil fuels are the villain in climate change. But not everyone hates them.
Yet another possibility is that the people leading the cry for action are doctors, who are comfortable making clear and compelling disease trajectory predictions, with fatality rates, based on limited data. Compare that with the hedged, unclear calls-for-action in climate change. Enough said.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
India’s handling of the crisis until now, barring testing, has been hard to fault. By aggressively acting, the hope is for the spread of coronavirus to be curtailed.
This is part 3 of an explainer on the coronavirus pandemic. In part 2, how effectively will policies of travel restrictions and social distancing control the spread?
Fear is the emotion that makes us blind.Usually I go to Shakespeare for inspiration, but this time, it was Stephen King, who perfectly captures what we are feeling.
We are fearful. In the past few months, globally, over 15,000 people have died while trying to combat COVID-19 .
Meanwhile, “CDC estimates that so far this season there have been at least 38 million flu illnesses, 3,90,000 hospitalisations and 23,000 deaths from flu.”
23,000 deaths in one country, in one season, despite the isolation and the flu vaccine.
This may be an unpopular question to ask now, but are we responding appropriately to the SARS-CoV-2, aka the coronavirus ?
As of 18:04 pm on 23/03/20, as per the website of the Ministry of Health, eight people have died in India from COVID-19 out of almost 400 confirmed cases. With our low testing levels, there very well could be more. Projecting what percentage of the population will be infected, and then extrapolating that to the number of deaths is always a tricky exercise. There have been statements that COVID-19 can infect up to 60 percent of the Indian population, in a worst-case scenario. This is somewhat like projecting revenue growth numbers in start-ups. And about just as useful.And then there is Italy.
Yes, the situation in Italy is tragic and horrifying.
But India is not Italy.
What are the differences?
The age profile is probably the critical difference between India and Italy. One in every five Italians is over 65. Only about one in twenty Indians is over 65. This is meaningful, while America’s experience shows that people in their 30s and 40s are in the ICU because of COVID-19 , the population group most at risk for hospitalisations, ICU admissions and death, remains above 65 years of age.
The average temperature in Italy is in the early teens now. Last I checked, Lombardy was at 11°C. The temperature in Indian metros is double that, and in Tamil Nadu, three times that. Ambient temperature always plays a role in infections. It appears to do so in Dengue transmission, and may play a role here. That is why the seasonal flu gives way to the poxes and diarrhoea as summer rolls along. It is part of the seasonal cadence of infection. This could be one explanation of why colder countries are affected more, and warmer countries less. But we cannot be complacent – cases are rising, and other RNA virus pandemics have raged through summer months.
India does not have Italy’s (especially Northern Italy’s) medical infrastructure. Ours would fall to a lighter blow.
There are similarities too. We also love our Nani’s and our Paati’s, and we tend to be packed quite closely together.
To repeat, we cannot be complacent.
India’s handling of the crisis until now, barring testing, has been hard to fault. The hammer has been falling quite hard (recommended reading: The Hammer and the Dance). The travel restrictions, bringing back stranded overseas Indians back, even the Janata Curfew. Shutting down schools, cinema theatres, postponing exams. The article refers to the hammer as aggressive complete lockdown measures for weeks followed by a dance, with testing and tracking, until a vaccine is developed. By aggressively acting, the hope is for the spread to be curtailed (see figure)
Coronavirus Outbreak Aggressive testing containment in small pockets what India really needs to combat COVID19" width="825" height="292" />
The hammer fell harder as the number of cases ramped up. 75 districts, where a case of COVID-19 has been reported, have been shut down – meaning only essential services are allowed to function. Passenger trains, including metros and suburban trains, have been suspended. Moreover, interstate travel has been suspended, with the goal that travellers from metros don’t take the virus to rural India where the medical infrastructure cannot take the shock. As I write, Tamil Nadu, with nine confirmed cases in a 1,30,000+ square area, has announced Section 144.
The goal is the same: reduce contagion by lowering social contact, allowing hospital capacity to cope. Take Chennai, for example. As of 23/03, there were four confirmed cases in the city. Assume, worst-case, the ‘true’ number is ten times that, or 40 confirmed cases in the city. Now, let us use the reproduction number of 2.79 (this is the number the CDC came up with). This means each infected Chennaite would, in turn, infect 2.79 others. Extending this chain up to 31 March gives us,
Coronavirus Outbreak Aggressive testing containment in small pockets what India really needs to combat COVID19" width="825" height="294" />
The blue line means introducing social isolation measures, bringing the reproduction number to 1.5. Without it, Chennai may have had 14,000+ cases, with it, only 103 cases by 31 March. Chennai has 20,000 Hospital Beds, 1,200 ICU Beds, 250 of those with Ventilators (Source: Sam Mehta, Vice Chairman, Dr Mehta’s Hospitals).
Now, consider the situation, where the true number of cases is far higher, 10x, as one expert claimed. That means the true number of COVID-19 cases in Chennai on the 23 is 40. The disease spread would look like this —
Coronavirus Outbreak Aggressive testing containment in small pockets what India really needs to combat COVID19" width="825" height="291" />
Now, thanks to the CDC again, we have hospitalisation, ICU-admission and fatality rates by age group. We also have the age breakup of Chennai’s population. Putting these two together, with the data above, we get
Coronavirus Outbreak Aggressive testing containment in small pockets what India really needs to combat COVID19" width="825" height="301" />
Without lockdown, if the true number of cases was 10x what was reported, then, without lockdown, the ICU capacity would be overwhelmed, and we would have had above 1,300+ deaths more than with a lockdown in place.
Take, Mumbai, one of the epicentres of the COVID-19 epidemic in India. Mumbai had a cumulative total of 53 confirmed COVID-19 cases as of 23/03 (Source: Gayatri Nair Lobo, ATE Chandra Foundation). Projecting this forward to 31 March, we get this —
Coronavirus Outbreak Aggressive testing containment in small pockets what India really needs to combat COVID19" width="825" height="293" />
If we assume the true number of cases is 10x of 53 confirmed cases, that takes us to 530 cases as of 23/03/2020. Now, if we assume each infected person was to in turn infect 2.79 other persons, then we land up nearly two million infected persons in Mumbai by 31/03. A mind-boggling number. Most of those would still not require hospitalisation, and many will not even show symptoms. If we again assume that hospitalisation, ICU-admission and fatality rates by age group were similar to the US, then we get this —
Coronavirus Outbreak Aggressive testing containment in small pockets what India really needs to combat COVID19" width="825" height="302" />
It’s a no-brainer to take Mumbai into a lockdown.
Keep in mind for every Mumbai and Chennai, there is a Madurai with no reported cases (as of now). The logic of shutting down balancing saved lives vs shattered lives starts coming apart.
Because every action carries price tags – yes, that is plural. Each tag is paid by a different section of the population. Some people are relatively unaffected – they are well off, and can enjoy the lack of pollution and sound and traffic. Others are affected but manageably so – these are the information warriors who can work from home, using laptops.
Others have their income protected. Many corporates have come forward saying wages and jobs will be protected.
These jobs form but a few strands of India’s employment tapestry. Informal employment in India is vast – most of the workers managing your waste for you in Dharavi are informal. Many of them are migrants. Payments from the state are unlikely to reach them. Another vulnerable set is the millions of sex workers in India. “HIV can be stopped with condom use. But this [the coronavirus ] means no physical proximity – that message has gone out far and wide. Likely, very few clients will be going to them [the sex workers] now,” says Ashok Alexander, who earlier headed the Indian operations of Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, where he helped set up the world’s largest-ever privately sponsored HIV prevention program. “Sex work in India is largely invisible. It is a consumer product that has not been recognised as a profession. Which means there is little prospect of any support reaching these women. Many of these women have children dependent on them. Life, is often is about day-to-day survival.”
That survival is in question now.
Work-from-home is a cruel joke for those who work with their hands and bodies and for daily wages. The silence so many of us applaud as the streets turn empty is the sound of hunger in other people’s homes. And for many of those, neither the forbearance of their corporates nor dole-outs from governments, will reach and help. By shutting down indiscriminately, for the thousands we are hoping to save, are we choosing death-by-a-hundred cuts for thousands of others? State after state has begun implementing Section 144, whether it makes sense in the price-tag logic. Politically, it’s a no-brainer – your next-door neighbour has declared it. You don’t lose anything if you do – not now, when the whole population is held in fear-thrall. But, if you keep society and economy open, and people die, you become rich fodder for news channels and your political opponents. Competitive federal populism.
The more important consideration is if the lockdown is effective. A Janata curfew is rendered meaningless if people come together at five to celebrate together. No, the virus does not die in 12 hours. Italy declared a lockdown on 8/9 March. But, as per accounts, the lockdown came late, and was not strict enough: one account has over 50,000 people in Italy charged for breaking quarantine rules. With this kind of flouting, lockdowns are futile, worse, counter-productive – you pay the economic price, without reaping the safety gain. The hammer was more like a Shiatsu massage, and it did not work as planned. Sure enough, Italy called in the military to enforce the lockdown less than two weeks later. What matters is effective containment – size, as in many things, was not important.
This was the belief behind Singapore and South Korea approach.
They got an early start. Tested aggressively, and adopted different types of ‘hammers’ for different levels of exposure: positive cases, even cases without a single symptom, were held in hospitals, while those with exposure were asked to maintain strict home quarantine. The home quarantine included SMSs several times a day, which would verify location, and by spot checks. Singapore also ensured that business could stay open while following certain precautions: Each person entering a shop would have their temperature tested, and would note down their ID number, which helped in contact tracing. Any ‘cheating’ would be punished. For this approach to work, we need to start early (so all cases are caught), be disciplined (if only half the shops complied with the order, this wouldn’t work) and test aggressively.
In other words, Singapore and South Korea are following the needle approach — pin-pointed, intense action — rather than a broader hammer. And it appears to be working. Japan, where the outbreak appears to have been controlled, seems even more sanguine. A Japanese Health Ministry official was quoted as saying, “We don’t see a need to use all of our testing capacity, just because we have it. Neither do we think it’s necessary to test people just because they’re worried.”
What does this mean for India?
India (except perhaps Kerala) may have missed the early boat. On discipline, we have people actively flouting controls, with not enough punishment. And we have been held to not fare so well on testing. Most importantly, we do not have the capacity to ensure the curbs are held long enough.
Coronavirus Outbreak Aggressive testing containment in small pockets what India really needs to combat COVID19" width="825" height="428" />
Testing can be expensive. Two-part testing – with a cheaper screening test and a more expensive confirmatory test. The ICMR has recommended that the two tests should not cost more than Rs 4,500, with an appeal that they be free. Apart from availability, where the private labs will add capacity, there is accuracy. PCR’s need specialised technicians to run (yours truly has run PCR tests two decades ago, and know, from painful personal experience that they can be prone to error), there can be< contamination in sample collection leading to further error.
Then there are bottlenecks.
Dr Prabu Thiruppathy, Kois, a global healthcare investment firm (that has invested in molecular diagnostics across the world), says “The testing kits (PCR) need to be certified to be of acceptable accuracy by National institute of virology. Then these can be shipped and deployed at labs. However, protocol changes over the weekend mean that tests now need to be US FDA or European CE approved. A big problem is that the reagents seem to be still imported, although Indian companies make the final product in the country. Moreover, Gloves and masks are already in massive shortage across Indian hospitals.” Meaning there is a risk of contamination to the technicians collecting and testing the sample, is elevated.
One additional option is the just-approved testing in Cepheid machines, which require minimal human intervention and boast of a quick turnaround in a hospital setting.
What appears to balance out the need to overwhelm our health services, while not strangling the informal sector, is aggressive testing and containment in small pockets, with the help of private testing and, this is key, the army. We may not be able to do this effectively across 80 districts, but we can try to do this effectively in smaller pockets, where the number of cases is very high, relatively speaking. Maximise the safety bang for the economic buck. What India really needs, to use a term from another context, is a surgical strike – pointed, intense, effective. The hammer may cause more harm than the virus itself.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
In the second of a four-part explainer on the coronavirus pandemic, Mridula Ramesh writes: if we spread to Stage 4, where we have epidemic local transmission of COVID-19, hospital capacities would soon be overwhelmed, which may leave millions dead. Which is why policy action has been aimed at ‘flattening the curve’ or spreading out the infection trajectory to allow hospitals to cope.
This is part 2 of an explainer on the coronavirus pandemic. In part 1, where did it come from? How does it spread? Who and how does it kill? What might stop it?,
***What are the implications of this on policy?
Pray for summer, obviously. But, what else?
Any policy has to be mindful of the virus, and of the capacity of the country.
Let us compare the treatment capability of different countries affected with India’s. This is data from the WHO, accessed through the World Bank.
Clearly, if we spread to Stage 4, where we have epidemic local transmission of COVID-19 , hospital capacities would soon be overwhelmed, which may leave millions dead. Which is why policy action has been aimed at ‘flattening the curve’ or spreading out the infection trajectory to allow hospitals to cope.
What has/can be done to prevent this?
The virus originated outside India. India reported its first confirmed COVID-19 case on 30 January 2020. Predictably, Kerala was the state who confirmed the case, given their excellent medical tracking abilities. The patient was a student who had been studying in Wuhan and returned to her home in Thrissur. In an interview, she is reported to have said,
“We left Wuhan by train to Kunming, took the flight to Kolkata and then to Kochi on 24 January. I had a phone message from the Indian embassy to report to the nearest medical hospital on arrival at Kochi airport, which I did. They took our temperatures and again there was no sign of any infection… I arrived in my village in Thrissur, I was careful to impose self-quarantine at home…On 27 January, I had a sore throat and cough for the first time and I immediately alerted the authorities and was asked to go the General Hospital in Thrissur. When I went there, I still did not have temperature and they started me on antibiotics… The result came in positive on 30 January, nearly a week after I left Wuhan.”
There were hundreds of Indian students studying in Wuhan. While others were later evacuated by the Indian government and quarantined, the first wave that came on their own presented a wider infection risk. While states like Kerala, with an excellent medical system, tracked and monitored the cases, what about those who returned to states with creakier infrastructure?
Within days of the first positive case being announced, the Indian government had announced a travel advisory, asking citizens to refrain from travelling to China, and saying anyone with a travel history to China from 15 January could be quarantined. They also stopped/cancelled visa facilities for Chinese nationals.
Italy also received its first COVID-19 courtesy Wuhan — in this case a Chinese couple who arrived from Wuhan on 23 January, and travelling through Italy. The Italian government sealed off the hotel, and suspended flights. Interestingly, on 31 January, the BBC reported the chief of the WHO, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, as saying, ‘there was no reason to limit trade or travel to China’.
Travel within India had not slowed. I was at a set of meetings in Delhi in early February. In the airport, only a handful of us were wearing masks. The pharmacy in the Delhi airport was still selling hand sanitisers at the regular price, though they did try to push the more expensive one first. The virus also spreads through the oral-faecal route. Given that so much of India’s drinking water is contaminated, this is of particular concern. If you want to look at it another way, this might help facilitate herd immunity.
For a while it seemed the virus might be contained. China had battened down the hatches, and was weathering the COVID-storm. The number of new cases globally was slowing down. The world heaved a sigh of relief. US President Donald Trump tweeted ‘The coronavirus is very much under control in the USA. … Stock market starting to look very good to me’
Meanwhile, in Italy, Iran and South Korea, the next phase of the epidemic was beginning.
In early March, the Indian government issued another travel advisory asking Indian citizens to refrain from travelling to Italy, Iran, South Korea and Japan, and suspending visas for citizens of those countries. In addition, all returning travellers would have to get a certificate of being COVID-free and self-declare that they were well. All travellers would be screened at the airport. Travel within India was still going on, but with some fear.
All around the world, travel restrictions were going up, and countries were sealing their borders. Even the Islamic State (ISIS) warned its terrorists not to enter Europe!
By 10 March, internal travel started to slow down, as the number of positive cases many of those either immediately returning from abroad or their family members/persons in close contact, began to ratchet upward.
There is a nifty little dashboard on COVID-19 timelines, which I would encourage you to check out. By taking the data from this dashboard week wise in March, I came up with this:
Clearly, the virus was being transmitted locally, through contacts with those that returned from foreign countries – Italy, the UK and the Middle East (Saudi Arabia, Iran and the UAE). The latest case, reported in Tamil Nadu, was different. This was 20-year old man who travelled by train from Delhi to Tamil Nadu, and as far as is known now, had not travelled abroad or come into contact with any foreign-returned person. Was this community transmission? It is far too early to say, especially given the low level of testing in India.
On 18 March, India banned passengers from Europe, the UK, Turkey, Afghanistan, Malaysia and the Philippines from entering the country. Furthermore, passengers who had travelled from COVID-19 hotspots, including Italy, from 15 February, would be quarantined for 14 days.
Passengers from UAE, Qatar, Oman and Kuwait would be placed under compulsory quarantine.
From the night of 22 March, India will shut off from the world. No commercial aircraft from a foreign country will be allowed to land in any Indian airport.
If implemented well, this could have a good effect. However, there are, how shall I put this politely, morons in our midst.
The Bengaluru newlywed techie’s wife’s story appears to have shades of grey, so let us leave that be. There is also the case of the Bengali bureaucrat’s son. Or the case of B-town singer, with some reporting that she hid in the bathroom to escape airport screening. It is confirmed that she was at parties with Members of Parliaments and senior politicians, putting the leadership of the country at risk. All three claim they were asymptomatic when they passed through airport screening.
The problem with self-declarations, even if people are truthful, and airport screenings is this: a significant number (between 17-30 percent) of people infected with the SARS-CoV-2 are asymptomatic. They have no fever, no cough, no sore throat. But they are infectious. They pass through every screen, and go on to infect those who may be less fortunate.
Imperfect as travel restrictions are, they are effective, and may have very well prevented from a full blown epidemic in India until now, when the temperatures are rising.
However, at the other end of the spectrum we have outright mal-intent. One example of this, are the kids partying in the beaches of Florida, who, on TV, say they don’t care about the coronavirus . Then there are those in India, who with full comprehension, of risks, take them anyway. Which is why we come to social distancing. Since anyone can have it, better to play it safe. The Prime Minister’s address to the nation on the 19 March said as much.
Most countries are focussing on prevention, which in turn focusses on minimising the virus load transmitted from one person to another. At the centre of this effort is social distancing. In social distancing, we keep away from others, preferably at greater than one-metre distances, for as long as we can. The hope here is that by doing so we break the chain of spread of the virus.
Is it safe though? Is it realistic?
The virus is a tableau of unfairness. Those who brought it to India have enough money to travel by plane outside the country. This is a tiny fraction of India’s full population, many of whom have not travelled far away from their place of birth. Much of India is employed outside the formal sector, with their hands, where work-from-home is a cruel joke. Shutdowns affect those who, for no fault of their own, are impacted. I’m not saying shutdowns are a bad idea, but they come with a cost on those who cannot bear it.
Importantly, is social distancing realistic?
I recently walked through a part of Dharavi, one of the largest slums in Asia, which is a popular destination in the ‘poverty-tourism’ circuit. Houses, 8 feet by 5 feet, hold entire families while being stacked next and atop of other such houses. I was told that 70 percent, more than two-thirds, of Dharavi’s one million population relieves themselves in community toilets. During our walk, we did walk past two of these community toilets. They looked reasonably well maintained and had lines of men waiting, face down, lota in hand, for their turn.
Can we really believe that social-distancing is anything but a forlorn hope?
Where other options do we have? Shut down, test everyone, or weather the storm and hope for herd immunity. Let us consider each of them in turn next time.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
In the first of this four-part explainer, Mridula Ramesh answers essential questions about the coronavirus pandemic: Where did it come from? How does it spread? Who and how does it kill? What might stop it?
The BeginningIn November 2002, when the first atypical pneumonia case was reported in Guangdong, China, WeChat, China’s enormously popular social messaging app, was a dream. Those three months before the WHO office in Beijing received information about a ‘strange contagious disease’ that had left 100 people dead. The three months gave the deadly SARS-Co-V virus enough time to get a foothold and set off an epidemic that, within months, infected at least 8,000 people, killing 774 before dying out in the summer of 2003.
Seventeen years later, on 30 December 2019, Li Wenliang, a young ophthalmologist, shared that "seven cases of SARS confirmed" to his WeChat group, called ‘Wuhan University Clinical 04’. Within days, the Public Security Bureau in Wuhan called him in and got him to sign a statement saying he was lying and disturbing public order. What made Li a hero was he published the statement on Weibo. In January, Li took to Weibo again, saying,
‘I started having cough symptoms on 10 January, fever on 11 January and hospitalisation on 12 January’.
On 23 January, Wuhan, the epicentre of the epidemic shut down. There were far less than 700 publicly reported, confirmed cases of COVID-19 in China at that point of time. The truth is, China or the world did not know truly how many cases there really were. The world had never seen a quarantine of that scale — Wuhan alone had a population of 11 million. There were sporadic images coming through on the internet: people dying in the corridors of hospital, hospitals being overwhelmed. Doctors dying.
In February, Li gave his final social media update,
‘Today the nucleic acid test result is positive, the dust has settled and the diagnosis has finally been confirmed.’
Within a week, he was dead, falling prey to the COVID-19 disease, that he had tried to warn the world about. It was clear that Chinese leadership, including Xi Jinping, knew about the outbreak well before the lockdown. In the transcript of a 3 February speech, Xi clearly states he had asked for the control of the pneumonia outbreak as early as 7 January. China swung into action as only China can – shutting down cities, factories, clearing land and building a 1,000-bed hospital from scratch in less than two weeks. These are measures that democracies could not, at that point, contemplate.
On 19 March, Wuhan, the initial epicentre of the COVID-19 Pandemic, declared no new case, about 3.5 months after they reported the first case. Clearly, the virus could be beat — at a price. Ironically, China has now instituted quarantines against visitors from overseas. The pandemic had almost come full circle.
Coronaviruses get their name from their spiked profile, which looks like a crown when viewed under a microscope. The SARS-CoV-2 virus, popularly called ‘The Corona Virus’, causes the COVID-19 , a respiratory infection that can be lethal for older people with pre-existing health conditions like hypertension. Humanity has periodically dealt with coronavirus infections, that tend to be, for the most part, upper respiratory tract infections. Bats are considered the natural reservoir of coronavirus es, such as this one, and the one that caused the SARS outbreak about 17 years ago. The SARS-CoV-2 virus is 96 percent identical at a whole genome level to a bat coronavirus . It is also 79.6 percent similar to the coronavirus that caused SARS, which gives us a place to start for mechanism and cure. More on that later.
While virulent WhatsApp images of bats in a soup have fed the imagination, scientists believe there was an intermediate host, most likely the pangolin. That’s because the coronavirus es isolated from smuggled pangolins were between 85-92 percent genetically identical to the coronavirus currently causing havoc in humans. Pangolins are internationally banned, but are still smuggled into China, where they are prized for their scales in traditional Chinese Medicine and for their meat. Which is why they feature in the live animal markets like the one in Huanan Seafood Wholesale Market in Wuhan. These markets are called ‘wet’ because of the spillage from aquatic tanks and the blood from the slaughtered animals. In the spattering from the slaughter, viruses can jump from animal to man.
The SARS epidemic is suspected to have started in a wet market, with civets as the assumed intermediate host. Camels were considered to be the intermediate host in the MERS epidemic. The Huanan Seafood Wholesale Market in Wuhan, which had a section with wildlife, has been the prime suspect for this pandemic. At least, that’s the theory. A Lancet paper considering the history of 41 early patients showed a significant number did not visit the wet market, and importantly, the earliest case did not. Given this Bin Cao, one of the co-authors wrote, “Now it seems clear that [the] seafood market is not the only origin of the virus,” he wrote. “But to be honest, we still do not know where the virus came from.” To be safe, China shut down the market on 1 January 2020.
Why do origins matter?
The Centre for Disease Control (CDC) in America says that three of four new infectious diseases come from animals. Knowing how and controlling for this is important to prevent future pandemics – this is something our bodies have not faced and have no immunity for. At the very least, given the global economic and human carnage, there need to be very strict slaughtering rules. China shut down wildlife trade, which many conservationists hailed as a positive step. However, there are loopholes. The ban does not cover animal use for medicinal uses or fur, leaving open the door for future animal-human jumps.
How does the virus work?
The virus particle consists of a fatty sheath in which spike proteins are embedded, and which surrounds a strand of RNA. There are other proteins provided structural integrity, but let us focus on the sheath, the spike and the RNA, because these hold the key, quite literally.
Let us start with the sheath: Washing one’s hands with soap breaks open the sheath. Washing thoroughly and long ensures every virus particle (hidden in crevices or under nails) is attacked.
The spike is what enables the virus to enter our cells. The virus needs to enter our cells to reproduce — it cannot do so on its own. If the spike protein is the key, what is the lock? The lock, researchers have found, is the ACE2, a protein found on the surface of many cells in the human body, especially and significantly for this pandemic, the lungs. ACE2 functions in a complex of proteins that modulate vascular functioning. Importantly, ACE2 appears to have a significant role to play in organ protection and blood pressure control, which is why persons with blood pressure, or hypertension, seem to have a rougher time during COVID-19 infections.
A key ingredient of the SARS-CoV-2 virus is the the replication-transcription complex, which is what makes more RNA copies of the virus. This is important. Human cells make RNA from DNA — they have no machinery to make RNA from RNA. This act is foreign, and as such makes a great target for anti-viral drugs.
Remdesivir is an antiviral drug developed by Gilead Biosciences, to work against Ebola, another RNA virus. In trials, this was shown to mess up viral RNA replication. The hope is this should work here too, which very limited trials show promise. However, the question also is will Remdesivir be available quickly and cheaply enough? And in the quantities required?
Other early (very small) trials showing promise include treating COVID-19 patients with a combination of anti-HIV drugs. However, there have been other trials that show that this combination of lopinavir and ritonavir, don’t really do the trick, lessening death rate by only 5.8 percent over the control group. Others say that this trial is not reflective of the efficacy, because patients had already been symptomatic for two weeks before starting treatment, and that 13 patients on the combo were stopped given the combo in the middle of the trial because of adverse events.
In this kind of a battle, every arrow in the arsenal is important, and doctors in Kasturba Hospital have been treating COVID-19 patients with the lopinavir-ritonavir combo.
Another approach is to trick the virus. This is the thinking behind APN01, a floating ACE2 if you will, made by Apieron Biologics. The hope is that APN01 will act as a honey trap for the virus, preventing from latching onto human cells. Data from a trial in China to check the effectiveness of APN01, the synthetic ACE2, is awaited.
In addition, the virus, like RNA viruses are wont to do, is mutating. One paper, summarized that there are two known strains of SARS-CoV-2, the deadlier, “L” strain, and the older, “S” Stain. China’s initial cases were primarily from the L strain, which gave way to the more docile S strain. Others point out that one mutation does not a strain make. The important point is that these mutations pose challenges to vaccine development and building immunity, depending on where they occur within the virus.
Comparisons with other large scale infections show that SARS-CoV-2 is more infectious than the seasonal flu and the 1918 Spanish Flu and about as infectious as tuberculosis.
On average, COVID-19 is far less deadly than tuberculosis. But not if one is above 65, and especially not if one suffers from diabetes, hypertension, asthma, smoking-history or heart-disease. Then, the virus can be deadly. Children and young people, the least likely to be hospitalised, can be silent carriers of the disease, or face a mild version of COVID-19 .
ACE2 expression drops of with age, and women have higher ACE2 levels. ACE2 presence is thought to prevent lung damage, especially in people with high blood pressure. Which is why the virus appears to be particularly deadly for men, in general, and older men, in particular. This group, old men, comprising much of the world’s political and business leadership, is the most susceptible to SARS-CoV-2.
How does the disease progress?
According to the WHO, there are three stages of the disease: viral replication, immune response and pulmonary damage.
Soon after exposure, the SARS-CoV-2 starts to invade our cells and reproducing in the upper respiratory tract. This is called the prodrome period, and lasts for about five days. The exposed person, during this period, does not have any symptoms such as fever or a cough. Now comes the kicker – what makes COVID-19 a pandemic. The WHO says:
‘Infected individuals produce a large quantity of virus in the upper respiratory tract during a prodrome period, are mobile, and carry on usual activities, contributing to the spread of infection.’
Then comes infection. Almost everyone (97.5 percent) infected with the SARS-CoV-2, develop symptoms with 11.5 days, which is why quarantine periods have been set for 14 days. Fever, Fatigue and a dry cough, are the most common symptoms, but the disease has a wide range of manifestation, and not every person has every symptom. A significant proportion of people remain asymptomatic.
The immune response for most infected people likely involves a host of the body’s immune responses including antibodies and Helper T-cells, at a local level, which fights the infection and then recedes. The WHO estimates that 80 percent of people recover from COVID-19 without any specialist treatment.
What happens in severe cases? One hypothesis is that it takes a while for the immune to kick in, which could allow the infection to move deeper, from the airways to the air sacs. In other cases, the viral load is so high (medical care givers), that the disease moves quicker to the air sacs than the immune system can adapt. Air sacs look like bunches of grapes with very thin walls with tubes which allow oxygen from the air to enter our red blood cells. For them to do their job, the thin walls are a must. But in a serious infection, the coronavirus attacks and damages the wall of these air sacs and the tubes. The damaged material lines the walls, making them thicker, and block the easy transmission of oxygen to the blood cells. Which leaves you breathless and with very low oxygen levels in your blood, and needing hospitalization.
Runaway cases, where the immune responses is un-tempered, lead to lung damage and death. ACE2 levels appear to be lower in cases of acute lung injury, which may be why older men are at risk.
Treatment options
Studies show (it’s early days yet) that Chloroquine, and its less-toxic version, Hydroxychloroquine, show antiviral effect in vitro, and have been known to temper immune response. If this pans out, this is great news for India, because both these molecules are widely available and cheap. One team (with a small sample) showed that Hydroxychloroquine was tremendously effective against COVID-19 when used in conjunction with another cheap, widely available drug, Azithromycin.
Another way to boost immune response and prevent acute respiratory tract infections is to take Vitamin D. In a review paper published by the BMJ, of randomised control trials involving over 10,000 participants, showed that Vitamin D supplementation did protect against acute respiratory tract infections. Again, this is cheap to do at a mass scale.
A key need is for Indian teams to start trying and sharing results to what works in an Indian context. Thus far, we have looked at what happens should one get infected. How does one prevent infection?
How does the virus spread?
The SARS-CoV-2 virus is highly contagious. Studies indicate each infected person in turn infects about 2+ people.
As the WHO puts it:
‘The disease can spread from person to person through small droplets from the nose or mouth which are spread when a person with COVID-19 coughs or exhales. These droplets land on objects and surfaces around the person. Other people then catch COVID-19 by touching these objects or surfaces, then touching their eyes, nose or mouth. People can also catch COVID-19 if they breathe in droplets from a person with COVID-19 who coughs out or exhales droplets. This is why it is important to stay more than 1 meter (3 feet) away from a person who is sick.’
The chance of any person getting infected is a function of
1. Their own susceptibility, a. Old > Young b. Men > Women c. Unhealthy (Diabetes/Hypertension/Lung impairment/Smokers) > Healthy
2. Viral loadAt every step, the virus is fighting with the body’s immune system and the native flora (the normal viruses and bacteria) of our respiratory tract for getting a foothold. Usually, the more virus (called the virus load) gets into your body, the greater likelihood of getting the virus.
The viral load, in turn, depends on a number of factors.
Assume average guy, Joe, has COVID-19 . How many people Joe infects depends on,
Closeness of contact: If Joe shakes hands with Jill, while Joe says namaste to Jack, then Jill is more likely to catch COVID-19 from Joe. Which is why kindergarten and primary classes, where children lick their fingers, dig their nose, hug other children, lick other children’s fingers etc., are great sources of spreading infection. These virus-bearing-children then come home and kiss and snuggle with their parents and vulnerable grandparents. That’s why many countries, even though children were not directly showing symptoms, shut down schools, especially primary schools.
Length of time of exposure: If people pass by Joe, without staying too long next to him, then there is less chance of them getting infected. If Susan travels on a flight with Joe for 4 hours, while Sara passes him by in the airport, Susan has a higher chance of getting infected from Joe than Sara does.
Length of virus survival outside the host: How long the virus survives on various surfaces, which itself is a function of — 1. Ambient temperature 2. Surface
Consider temperature (and humidity).
Joe coughs in a room and leaves. How long is the room ‘contagious’? At least three hours, it turns out. Of course, if there are more Joes and they cough more often, the infectiousness of the room would go up. These trials to show how long viruses were active were conducted at an ambient temperature of 21-23°C.
A new study by Jingyuan Wang and team shows the contagiousness of the SARS-CoV-2 virus is highly influenced by temperature. This relationship, where R indicates how contagious a virus is, is shown in the graph below, reproduced from their paper.
This helps explain why warmer countries such as India have been less impacted. They are not exempt, as the rising case incidence in India and other warm countries shows. Rising Indian infections could have something to do with more widespread testing, but rising cases in Singapore does speak to warm, humid weather not being an effective deterrent.
Now, let us consider surface.
Again, trials showed that the virus stays infectious on stainless steel and plastic for days, although progressively in smaller quantities. The virus does not like copper, but stays active on cardboard for up to 24 hours.
Putting all this together, how should Joe behave, if he does not want to infect others?
Joe minimises the spread of virus by covering his nose/mouth while coughing or sneezing.
When Joe goes out, Joe does not into crowded places.
Joe does not travel, especially on flights.
People around Joe wash their hands. This is not infallible. Joe touches his body, gets virus on hands. Joe then touches door knob. Virus moves to door knob. The door knob is not copper, which means anyone else touching the door knob within 24 hours can potentially get exposed.
Consider one scenario: You and Joe work in an office. Joe coughs, and a droplet containing the virus lands on your phone. You have your mask on, but you grab your phone and put it into your pocket. You then leave the room (Joe coughed!), and wash your hands meticulously for 20 seconds, and destroy the fatty sheath of every last virus on your hand. Feeling jittery, you grab your phone out of your pocket and type a WhatsApp message: ‘this jerk Joe coughed, but thank god, I had my mask on, and I washed my hands.’ You then rub your nose. Bingo, chances are you are exposed. Since you are younger than 65, chances are no serious harm done.
Italy, where the average high temperatures in February/March range between 10-15°C, with a large older population (a fifth are 65+) and a culture that cherishes intergenerational mixing (everyone loves Nonna/grandma), seems tailor-made for COVID-19 .
India, where temperatures are warmer and the people are younger, is still at risk for two reasons:
Our healthcare sector, including testing capabilities, treatment infrastructure and monitoring facilities are dwarfed by our large population. Large sections of our people live in close proximity, where spacing of 1 metre between families, is a pipe dream.
Given this, what can India do?
Part 2: How effectively will policies of travel restrictions and social distancing control the spread?
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
India needs a coronavirus crisis response playbook that does not duplicate the lockdown choices of older, developed, more formal economies.
I have spent the last few weeks rereading material on the multiple famines that have hit India. We lost millions to the 1876 famine, millions more in the famines that followed, upwards of 12 million to the 1918 pandemic.
As of 25 April, we have lost 800+ lives to COVID-19 .
While in no way diminishing this tragedy, life will go on after the coronavirus outbreak.
Also, looking at the way other coronavirus and other flus have behaved, we should expect COVID-19 to return in the winter.
Above figure: Seasonality of Flu
Given that a vaccine is unlikely to be available by that time, we need an India playbook. A playbook that does not duplicate the lockdown choices of older, developed, more formal economies. What do I mean by this?
All of us heard the phone message on coronavirus . We have a dashboard highlighting every case and every death for COVID-19 .
We do not have a dashboard for hunger.
We do not have online dashboards for daily city wise cases and deaths for TB or dengue.
A textile industry survey covering over 300 companies providing hundreds of thousands of jobs showed that nearly half of the companies did not have cash in April to pay wages.
Above figure: Industry survey covering 319 companies.
Companies are uncertain about demand in the face of silence and cancelled export orders. Every passing day sees enterprise death or enterprise comas. We do not have an online dashboard for those. The rising NPAs do not have a nifty, colour-coded crowd-sourced online dashboard.
Which means, we are acting on selective facts. We are succumbing to an acute case of selective dashboardism. At some level, we are comparing a rapid, horrific death by virus to a prolonged death-by-a thousand cuts life from a lockdown. To our all-too-human minds, the former is unacceptable, while the latter is. This lockdown is saving lives — no doubt about it. But it is hurting lives too.
Of particular concern is the lapse of measles and other childhood vaccinations in some parts of the country. Measles is a deadly disease, that used to fill wards and wards in the hospital before widespread vaccinations took root. The current lockdown to combat this coronavirus is placing 117 million children at risk because of a break in the vaccination. In developed economies, a lockdown is a choice between economy vs life. In India, a lockdown translates into a choice of life vs life. Only our selective dashboardism hides this from us.
So how does life go on?
Now
On an immediate basis, there are a couple of advantages we have that we may not be exploiting. One is our younger population. For this we need reliable antibody tests — something which is within our capability to develop. Second is our climate, or specifically our micro-climate.
The seasonality of this virus may have something to do with effect of heat and humidity. Studies on the SARS virus (SARS-Co-V), show that the virus was vulnerable to both heat and humidity, and especially so to a combination thereof.
Above figure: Infectivity of SARS coronavirus (105/10 μL) to different temperatures at (a) >95% relative humidity, (b) >80–89%. Chan et al 2011
This could imply that the infectivity is significantly lower outdoors than in air conditioned environments. If India can get meaningful studies going on this, they could drive micro-climate based distancing and operational norms, not just a blanket lockdown.
Long term
With so much clamouring for government money, sooner or later, government will begin to spend. There are other moving pieces, and we need to recognise that we have a once in a lifetime chance to reset to a more resilient India.
Supply Chain realignment, Investor preferences and Losses —
A lot of people have been hurt by COVID-19 . Human psychology demands a villain. China’s handling of the wet markets before and since and its opacity of data have been held against it. Japan has already announced billions in incentives to reshore manufacturing or move it away from China. This may be repeated by other countries.
Supply chain changes are expensive. Plants have to be built. Machineries shifted. Links broken and reconnected. This is such a pain, that companies will do it very rarely, perhaps once-in-a-lifetime. “Not China” is only one of the parameters. An increasingly important factor companies are considering is climate risk. When considering an Indian site, companies will ask: Is a unit vulnerable to floods or drought?
The 2011 Thai floods cost the global auto industry more than $46 billion. The Chennai floods costs thousands of crores to supply chains and exposed the vulnerability of the factories. The Chennai water crisis saw water enter the income statement of a company for the first time. Water scarcity can lead to loss of revenue as well. A WRI study showed that many of India’s thermal power plants lost a combined revenue exceeding $1 billion because of water shortage.
Also, consider that investors, such as Blackrock who manage trillions of dollars, are requiring water and climate disclosures. Poor scores don’t make for attractive investments.
COVID-19 has and will cost the world economy in trillions. So do climate and water risks, over a decade. And climate and water damages will recur and increase as the years go by.
When spending, we might as well spend it on assets that will see us stronger over the short and medium term future. To move up supply chain attractiveness, to become more attractive to investors, to prevent future losses, we must build climate and water resilience. Something to keep in mind, while thinking of what to stimulate and what to subsidise.
Changing customer preferences —
All of us have been enchanted by the birdsong and the bird visitors over the past weeks. Dolphins have been seen near Kolkata. Multiple CEOs and thought leaders have opined that this virus will usher in a change to sustainable living, because people, having experienced clear air and water, will want it to stay that way.
Perhaps. Perhaps not.
Above figure: Visiting Kingfisher, watercolours by A&P.
Humans have a remarkable capacity to psychologically adapt to circumstances. Just as we admire the bird song and starry skies, we may as soon get re-accustomed to honks and cloudy skies. The virus has certainly revealed the awesome power of Nature. But memories tend to be short, and human response unpredictable. I’m not sure if the virus can make us respect planetary boundaries. Witness China’s reopening of its wet markets.
On a more encouraging note, companies, schools and universities have realised that working or learning from-home can work just as well for several functions, cost less and have lower climate footprint. If this sustains, we have a potentially greener and lower cost way to reimagine businesses. With luck, we might even improve female workforce participation.
Marketing guru Philip Kotler believes this pandemic may make people consume less. This, he says, builds on other growing trends, such as minimalism, cutting-clutter, climate action and the circular economy. That will have a meaningful impact on companies. While planning to survive over the next few months, keep some mindspace for the next few years. Parts of India’s start up economy are on a ventilator, with clamour for fiscal support. Is this an opportunity for the government and investors to double down on start-ups that can help build resilience over the medium term? Towards better health? Towards greener jobs and localised services? Towards building climate and water resilience?
Why not give the milk to the worthy child, one who will keep the family in good stead in times to come, rather than one crying the loudest?
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
The Hazrat Nizamuddin Baoli, where so many have visited for comfort, is in need of some help itself. The waters appear a murky, unappetising, algae-bloom green, and there is trash floating on it. Would the Sufi have tolerated his blessed waters, which have survived invaders and dynasties, to be laid low by the apathy of those who seek its blessings?
When my friend and I entered the tiny bylane off Lodi Road, there was no sign that something quite special lay within. This seemed a crowded lane like so many others in Indian cities. Hole-in-the-wall shops serving gigantic parathas, myriad smells, chickens in tiny cages, a grimy butcher’s stall, a mechanic store. The first signs of a sacred site emerged with cubbyholes selling flowers. Fifty feet in, we ran into a raucous, aggressive auction for storing our footwear, with bids from Rs 100 to Rs 500. We succumbed to the dignity of a man who quietly beckoned to us to leave our shoes under his bench. After buying two plates of flowers, we entered the dargah (tomb of a saint). We came upon a baoli (stepwell) – a baoli, I might add, that has held water continuously for 700 years. Through Mohammed bin Tughlaq’s move from and back to Delhi, through Feroze Shah Tughlaq’s building, through Taimur’s looting and butchery, through the Mughals, through the British, through the creation of independent India, through Delhi’s groundwater crisis, this baoli has held water and offered succour to many a visitor. This is special enough to warrant an understanding of the man behind the baoli.
Rendition of the Baoli, from ‘Reminiscences of Imperial Delhi’, Thomas Metcalfe, 1843, British Library, Wikimedia Commons
More than 800 years ago, Nizamuddin’s mother, Zulaika, and her family, direct descendants of Prophet Muhammad, fled from Bukhara in Turkey to flee the Mongols. The family ended up in Badaun, a centre of learning in those times, in modern day Uttar Pradesh. There, in time, Zulaika married her uncle and had two children. But, she lost her husband soon after Nizamuddin was born – legend has it that when her husband was very ill, she dreamt of an angel who asked her to choose between her husband or her son. Zulaika chose her son. With no husband and two children, life was hard and the family had little to eat. Sermon and spirituality substituted for food, a lesson that left a mark on the little boy, who made sure that every visitor to his khanqua (hermitage) would always leave with a full stomach. He believed that one coin spent on a gift of food was worth 20 spent on alms. Indeed, when we were leaving the dargah, we saw plates of the aromatic biryani being passed around.
Imagine life in 13th-century Delhi. Islam was the newcomer on the block. To Hindus, seeing their temples destroyed, being taxed differentially, having no access to the language of power (Persian or Turki) or the religion of their rulers, life must have looked bleak. Local or Afghani Muslims faced a certain amount of racism from their Turkish overlords. The khanqua provided an avenue for universal networking. The word ‘miracle’ comes from the Latin root, ‘mirus’, meaning ‘wonder’. And getting a man like Nizamuddin in a time like that: born into poverty, yet choosing to give; seeing violence all around him, yet choosing to embrace; living next to power, yet choosing to remain aloof; is indeed miraculous. Nizamuddin lived through three dynasties – Mamluk, Khilji and Tughlaq – remaining a constant counterpoint to the melody of power.
A symbol of that counterpoint is his baoli.
After donning his spiritual mantle, Nizamuddin settled in Ghiyaspur, a sleepy hamlet to the North East of then-Delhi. Soon, a large group – seekers, students and people looking for succour for both stomach and soul – gathered around him. There was already a small matter of money between the new Sultan, Ghiyasuddin Tughlaq and Nizamuddin. The earlier Sultan, Khusrau, had given the saint money, perhaps as a reputation-cleansing move, and the new Sultan wanted it back. But the saint had already donated the money to the poor. This strained relations between the saint and the Sultan. Then came the building. Ghiyasuddin came into power by violence, so, naturally, protection was foremost in his mind. He had already spied a defensible site and pressed all available labour into building a giant fort at Tughlaqabad.
The only problem was that the Sufi wanted to build a baoli to water the growing crowds at his khanqah. The workers had to obey the Sultan. Today’s workers can protest or quit. In the 14th century, such insolence meant death. The workers compromised by working on the fort in the day, and building the baoli at night by lamplight. Furious, the Sultan denied oil for the lamps. Unflustered, the Sufi blessed the water of the baoli. His disciple filled the lamps with this water, and flames burned bright. The Sultan swore revenge. The Sufi merely said, ‘Ya base Gujjar ya rahe ujaad’, meaning the beloved fort of the Sultan would either be abandoned or be inhabited by Gujjars, the nomadic tribe of that region. Interestingly, the fort was abandoned within a few years of its construction – some blame water issues, while others point to the curse of the Sufi. The baoli, as we see, has endured.
Babur mentions this place by name, having visited the tomb (and presumably the blessed baoli) just three days after the Battle of Panipat, on 24 April, 1526. He mentions specifically,
‘On Tuesday (Rajab 12th), after we had halted on two nights and had made the circuit of Shaikh Nizamuddin Auliya's tomb.’
Taimur spared the tomb, his descendant, Babur, the founder of the Mughal dynasty, visited the tomb, and the last Mughal, Bahadur Shah Zafar entrusted his family relics, including the hairs of Prophet, to the shrine keepers' tomb. The baoli lasted through British years as well, where, as per Thomas Metcalfe, "A celebrated Boulee or deep Reservoir adjoining to the Shrine of the Saint Nizamoodeen. It is much resorted to by Travellers, to witness the feats of Divers who are located at the place, and Jump from a considerable height into the Reservoir."
Water in a city can take many forms – centralised, top-down affairs that lend themselves to a narrative of command-and-control, or charming, distributed sites, like this baoli, that lend themselves to kinship and community. Indian cities have always had both: Indeed, in many parts of India, Madurai and Alwar to name two, the distributed model of water infrastructure has, until recently, been the dominant form, providing a foundation for communities to thrive.
Today, the baoli, where so many have visited for comfort, is in need of some help itself. The Aga Khan Foundation has recently renovated the baoli, removing a few encroachments and desilting the baoli itself. This is nowhere close to enough. When we visited, the waters were a murky, unappetising, algae-bloom green. There were piles of clothing on the steps – the guard said these were discarded by those who took a purifying dip in the waters. There was trash floating on it. What would have Hazrat Shaikh Nizamuddin Auliya thought? He was a tolerant man, to be sure. But would he have tolerated his blessed waters, which have survived invaders and dynasties, to be laid low by the apathy of those who seek its blessings?
Consider an alternative: a well-marked entrance with a meaningful ticket price, signages, guide and history books, gift shops, trained guides – in short, a tourist economy around the baoli. To those who object that thinking of economics is too crass in so holy a site, I can only point to the loud hawkers selling Rs 50-rupee polystyrene plates of roses and religious knick-knacks around the site. There is an economy, but it can be supercharged with a little planning, better maintenance and some history. If that keeps the baoli clean while providing a few more jobs, there’s the bonus. For a country in need of jobs and growth, this is a fruit fallen on the ground. The Auliya, I think, would approve.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
At the heart of India's onion problem is the misalignment of risk and reward. In well-functioning financial markets, he/she who takes the greater risk, gets the greater reward. In onions, that is broken. The farmer takes the risk — of climate, of water, of market — yet shares very little of the reward.
By the time you read this, a kg of onions may be selling at just Rs 80 to 100, as farmers take their not-fully-ripe crop into markets to take advantage of high prices. On 10 December this year, that same kg sold for Rs 250 in Chittoor in Andhra Pradesh and Madurai in Tamil Nadu. An article from The Hindu says,
‘The price of the third grade variety, which is on the verge of rotting, touched the Rs 200-mark.’
Rs 200 for a kg of almost-rotten onions — wow! Last year, around this time, the same kg sold for just a rupee at one of the main wholesale markets of India.
Volatility, thy name is onion.
The problem begins with seasonality. Indians consume onions every day — in curries, in salads, as accompaniments. Meaning, there is year-round demand.
Supply, however, is seasonal. Onions come from primarily from three states — Maharashtra, Madhya Pradesh and Karnataka — who, between them, provide two-thirds of India’s onion crop. Most of Maharashtra, the largest supplier of onions, follows the rabi, or winter, cycle for onions, where the harvests begin to hit the markets in April. Madhya Pradesh’s crop follows the same pattern. But wily Madhya Pradesh farmers are beginning to shift their crop to the kharif season where rainfall permits, to take advantage of higher prices in October and November.
Volatility thy name is onion A deepdive into water markets and the great Indian onion story
Predictably, prices in India begin to crash in mid-March ahead of arrivals, and begin to rise again as storage is exhausted — stock either sold or rotten. Prices peak post-monsoon and fall when and if Karnataka’s kharif (summer) onions come to the rescue in December/January (see Figure 1).
So, why the crisis this year?
Poor prices. 2018.
In 2018, in the key onion growing markets of Lasalgaon, Pimpalgaon, and Solarpur, onion prices in September to November in 2018 were the lowest in five years. In December 2018, wholesale market prices at Lasalgaon, hit just Rs 1 per kg. This is when farmers decide which crop to sow. When growing onions costs about Rs 9-10 per kg, not growing onions was a no-brainer. Onion acreage in the winter season thus probably came down substantially as farmers planted a smaller rabi crop. Now, this rabi crop is stored from April to November, when the first onions from the summer crop begin to arrive in the markets. If all goes well, that is.
Weather anomalies. 2019.
But things didn't go well.
Consider the price of onions over the past two decades:
Volatility thy name is onion A deepdive into water markets and the great Indian onion story
The increased volatility of this decade owes much to water — too much or too little. Onion farmers tend to be small, often managing less than two hectares. This is an important fact to keep in mind while solutioning. Small farmers tend to have low clout in local markets, get their credit from informal sources and do not have access to the best seeds, irrigation or growing practices. Which means, if rains come late, as they did this summer monsoon, these farmers do not have access to drip irrigation which would have protected them from such vagaries of the weather. Instead, these farmers delayed their sowing. This happened in some of the key summer growing districts of Karnataka this year (see Figure 2), which meant the needed price relief in November did not come.
Volatility thy name is onion A deepdive into water markets and the great Indian onion story
But the biggest blow came from flooding. The onion has a shallow root system and the crop is highly sensitive to flooding. The heavy rains and consequent flooding this year in key districts of Maharashtra and Karnataka, just as the onion crop was near to harvest sent prices upwards. By some accounts, a third of Maharashtra’s cultivated land fell prey to unseasonal flooding. A part of the stored winter onions fell prey to the rising waters or the damp as well, further lowering sellable stock.
Volatility thy name is onion A deepdive into water markets and the great Indian onion story
Consider the rainfall graph of Dharwad, an important district for summer onions in Karnataka. The abnormal rain in September and October probably lowered yields substantially. Constant rain and flooding makes harvest and transport of a perishable crop harder, putting an upward pressure on prices. As the climate warms, one of the more robust predictions is the rise of extreme events — high intensity rainfall — which often leads to flooding. Meaning this pattern is one we should prepare for.
However, as prices rise, it’s a good time to trade. India exports about 7 percent of its crop, mainly in the months of November/December as the gap between rabi-storage and kharif-arrival wedges up prices (see Figure 4).
Volatility thy name is onion A deepdive into water markets and the great Indian onion story
India is the second largest producer of onions in the world, producing nearly a quarter of the world’s crop. It’s also amongst the least productive, with a yield just 1/4th of America’s yield, and a fifth less than China. If India’s yields rose, and water-issues managed, farmers would be burning their crops because prices would be too low. So, our enemy, if you will, is volatility. That is what needs to be addressed.
How?
Intervene early
As a spinning mill, we buy cotton, which accounts for half our selling price. As such, understanding cotton crop development across the world from sowing intentions to harvest conditions is critical. There are several services available today for this. For a crop as important as onions are purported to be, it’s shameful that we do not have a transparent equivalent. Today, technologies such as drones, and the ubiquitous presence of mobile phones make it child’s play to understand farmer’s sowing intentions for the rabi and kharif crops, as well as early crop development. This will make it easy to book necessary imports or exports ahead of time and lessen volatility.
Volatile water is a defining feature of climate change. It’s going to get worse, so we need figure out how to manage it better.
Too little: Adoption of drip irrigation can make short work of delayed rainfall. But drips require both a standing source of water, which is the stuff of dreams for the small onion-growing farmers. Besides, drips are expensive (thought subsidised), require labour and expertise to maintain, all of which are hard for small farmers. However, perhaps growing summer onions in places where a standing source of water (even groundwater) is a possibility that has been talked about — Punjab is one potential candidate. Onions take up far less water than paddy.
Too much: Flooding may well become a fact of onion-life. Planting on broad bed furrow (BBF) instead of traditional flat beds may reduce losses from flooding in kharif season. Greenhouses may help shield the crop from intense rainfall. “Today, greenhouses are too expensive for an inexpensive crop like onions”, says Karthik Jayaraman, co-founder of Waycool, an Agri supply chain company that sells about 800-900 tonnes of onions every month. But that may well change as the climate warms.
A large part of India’s winter crop rots away. A warmer climate will only make the rotting worse. As Ashok Gulati and Harsh Wardhan write, ‘Storages at farm level suffer losses of about 20-25 percent, which can be brought down to 5-10 percent with modern cold storages. But cold stores will cost about Rs 1.5/kg/month. These stored onions can then be released during August through first half of October, before the kharif harvest starts arriving.’
Between April to August, cold storage would add Rs 7.5 to 10.5 per kg of onions. Urban housewives would gladly pay this premium rather than the far higher price they pay today. However, this suggestion assumes modern cold storages are accessible by farmers in adequate quantities. This is not true. Maharashtra’s winter crop alone was 4.5 times the total available cold storage (working or not) in 2017. India desperately needs accessible cold storage. Karthik says onions may work well in aerated cold storage — where onions would be stored at colder temperature, but would not retain moisture. But that requires modifying our available storage. In terms of investment, there can be few better places for money to go.
If we do all this well, we will curtail spikes. But what about too low prices?
Influencing crop choice
At the heart of this problem is the misalignment of risk and reward. In well-functioning financial markets, he who takes the greater risk, gets the greater reward. In onions, that is broken. The farmer takes the risk — of climate, of water, of market — yet shares very little of the reward. I wish that an MSP (Minimum support price) coupled with government procurement would work for onions. It might if we were talking Punjab, but we are not. Traders dominate the profit pool in onions — they extend credit to farmers, cornering the produce when arrivals come and prices fall, and benefit from price spikes. As such, an MSP would benefit them, not the farmer.
How else to align risk and reward? One way is via the Farmer Producer Organisations or Agritech startups that reduce layers in the supply chain and link small farmers with storage and credit and help India manage her surplus by engaging meaningfully and continually with global markets. There is emerging start-up interest here. Waycool or Ergos are two examples. Waycool helps farmers improve yield by following best practises and improves farmer cash flow by paying farmers cash when they invoice Waycool. Given that marginal cost of capital of the small farmer hovers upwards of 50 percent, that is a big deal. They also improve farmer income by trimming layers in the supply chain. Ergos works with cereals, where by adopting better storage practices, it brings down storage losses from 25 percent to less than 5 percent. They also help farmers access far cheaper formal credit by collateralising their stored crop for formal credit, bringing transparency that lenders sorely need. They also linking farmers to buyers.
Another is the Amul Model. The Farmer Producer Organisation of today may play many of the roles Amul played in helping out small dairy farmers with market access and steady demand. When yields rose, Amul helped absorb the excess through value added products like butter and dried milk powder, which has an added advantage of being easier to store.
Market access is necessary to align risk and reward. An MSP/government procurement scheme will not achieve that. FPOs and start-ups might, and thus hold one key to stabilising the volatility in onion prices.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
India does not have hourly, source-apportioned data across cities and neighbourhoods in an accessible format, which obfuscates public understanding and dilutes political will The kind of staccato concern we show on air pollution cannot compete with the sustained focus of lobbying efforts
Policy is a manifestation of astute follower-ship, a balancing act — an act of judgement of which action from a plethora of possibilities will work to address the problem (and in some cases seen to address the problem), and gain (or at the very least not lose too much) democratic gratitude of a section of society that votes. Three resources used in solutions are money, cross-functional, local expertise in generating effective solutions, and political capital required to choose and implement a solution. I would argue that any solution needs to score high on the third resource to be adopted.
The winter North Indian pollution crisis, aka the Delhi Pollution crisis, provides a timely example to test this theory. Despite the millions of lives being affected, this problem is not getting any better. However, behind the scenes, something is moving. Tourism suffers – who wants to wheeze on a vacation? Those who can move, move; Urban Clap, an online marketplace of on-demand home services, is said to be building up a second headquarter in Bengaluru. Start-ups are building technologies that address this (including my investee companies — Nanoclean and Chakr Innovation). Lobbying efforts intensify. Longer-term, politically-feasible solutions are implemented.
But, the problem does not appear to be getting much better. There are two factors behind this that have little to do with politics or policy.
Identifying Herbie – the data
To solve manufacturing issues, one often conducts a de-bottlenecking exercise. The Goal by E Goldratt speaks of a protagonist guiding a group of schoolboys on a hike. The boys are too slow. By observing the gap between the boys, the protagonist realises that the group can only move as fast as the slowest walker, Herbie. But, if he can make Herbie walk just a little faster (by distributing the weight of Herbie’s backpack with the other boys), the whole group speeds up. Essentially ‘Herbie’ represents the one process (or thing or person), whose performance improvement can have dramatic impact on the overall process.
What is the Herbie in solving the winter air pollution crisis?
To identify our Herbie, we need data. China had excellent, hourly, source-apportioned data for its cities and neighbourhoods. This, along with a different political reality, helped the country to significantly address its air pollution issue. India has overall PM 2.5 levels available by location, which gives us no idea of which source is driving the pollution. CEEW’s brief on emission inventories lays out the uncertainties in current efforts to understand the sources of the pollution. Such uncertainty can be hijacked by vested interests to ensure effective policy is delayed or diluted.
I cannot overstate the importance of accessible, clear robust data in enlisting public support, and thereby political support. China’s battle against air pollution received a great shot in the arm by the documentary Under the Dome, which made the pollution data accessible, and was viewed, by some accounts, a 100 million times within two days of its release. India does not have hourly, source-apportioned data across cities and neighbourhoods in an accessible format. Which means we all don’t publicly agree on who our Herbie is. This obfuscates public understanding and dilutes political will.
Dispersed pain, short attention spans
Einstein put it well when he defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. We have a wonderfully choreographed cotillion in place:
October, silence in the media, paddy harvests begin. Fields begin to burn. October end: Diwali. October/November: Meteorological changes; winds die down, temperature falls, vertical mixing decreases. November/December: wheat planting continues; media attention peaks and shrills, ‘noted public figures’ begin to tweet, political bickering notches up, gas masks are donned, air purifier sales increase, knee-jerk policy (primarily of the seen-to-address variety) ensues, health deteriorates, flights delayed/cancelled, prayers for rain and wind increase. January: tapering begins.
Put another way, the charade looks like this:
Delhi air pollution crisis Money political will clear data or steadfast public attention what really matters
This is the Google trends report on air pollution in India with ramifications for political decision making. Tough decisions are hard because they have to overcome vested interests by continually exercising political will. The kind of staccato concern we show on air pollution cannot compete with the sustained focus of lobbying efforts.
There is enough funding available in the private sector, whose lives are affected by the pollution, to fund the infrastructure necessary to get the needed data. Sequencing is important here. Unless and until we fix data/public interest, it is highly unlikely that meaningful solutions will be found. What we will get is half-baked do-nothing policy. Or, in the words of my erstwhile colleague, ‘rearranging the deckchairs on the Titanic’. Policy action (the realm of government) follows, not leads.
Even with the data we have, what is the Herbie?
It’s the money
Two causes stand out in the emission inventories: vehicular emissions, and the one responsible for the winter pollution spike — biomass burning. Let us deal with the latter today, and leave vehicular emissions for another time.
The financial embrace between the government and the farmer is complex. The farmer’s income is determined by procurement, the Minimum Support Price (MSP) scheme, fertiliser, electricity and interest subsidy, and, of course, skill. Access to these schemes is typically lop-sided with well-connected farmers walking away with a lion share of benefits. While that becomes important later, for now, let us understand that the farmer, much like the baker and the butcher of Adam Smith, is acting in his self-interest when he chooses to grow paddy and wheat.
Why?
In 2018-19, the food procurement subsidy allocated to the Food Corporation of India (FCI) was Rs 140098 crores. Wheat and Rice account for 99 percent of the grain procured by FCI. Punjab and Haryana rank among the biggest beneficiaries of this subsidy – given that they supply 58 percent of the rice and 68 percent of the wheat procured by FCI. As a rough ballpark figure, 60 percent of the subsidy works out to Rs 84000 crores.
Ironically, paddy burning in Punjab and Haryana results from the local government in those states doing their job – extension, procurement and payment – very very well. Farmers are both aware of Minimum Support Price (MSP) and are able to sell their crop at that price – a rare thing in India (See Figure 1 and Figure 2).
Delhi air pollution crisis Money political will clear data or steadfast public attention what really matters
Percentage of agricultural households aware of MSP for paddy, Kharif 2012; Source: Some aspects of farming in India, Ministry of Statistics and Programme Implementation Delhi air pollution crisis Money political will clear data or steadfast public attention what really matters
Premium/Discount to MSP for Paddy, 2012; Source: Some aspects of farming in India, Ministry of Statistics and Programme Implementation; Note: The premium for the smallest farmers, ie those with < 0.5 Ha land seems abnormally high in Haryana, which distorts the overall premium for Haryana
Haryana’s procurement is so damn good, that farmers from other states sneak in to sell their paddy at the Haryana mandis. For farmers in this state, there is little market risk or marketing effort required to offload their paddy and wheat – an important point to keep in mind as we lament about crop diversification.
Punjab and Haryana’s share of the Rs 70,000+ fertiliser subsidy works out to over Rs 8000 crores. Moreover, the incentive to convert stubble to compost is dampened when free fertiliser is available.
Power subsidy and UDAY – all carrot, no stick
The 2018-19 power subsidy for farmers in Punjab is budgeted to cross Rs 6000 crores. Haryana’s equivalent was Rs 5933 crores in 2016-17. Not all of the subsidy flows to farmers growing wheat and paddy of course, but most does. There is an added nuance here: the Punjab government signed up for the UDAY scheme in 2016, whereby the Punjab state government would take over part of the debt of the state electricity board (resulting in cheaper financing), in return for operational efficiency. However, what happened is different. Punjab’s UDAY dashboard tells a disturbing story –cheaper bonds have been issued and both the Punjab state government and the Punjab state electricity board have financial breathing space. But, the other side of the MOU has not seen movement. The MOU states:
“Punjab DISCOM will endeavour to reduce AT&C losses from 16.66% in FY14-15 to 14% by FY18-19”.
In reality, AT&C losses have ballooned to over 30 percent! UDAY has lessened the pain of free electricity to the State, without the necessary operational tightening. All carrot, no stick.
Expertise and extension
Lastly, Punjab farmers in particular, are experts at growing paddy and wheat, thanks in part to great extension support from Punjab University, which results in substantially higher yields.
A one lakh crore subsidy
Putting all this together, in 2019, farmers from Punjab made a premium of Rs 10 per kilogram of paddy, substantially more than the premium of the average Indian farmer — Rs 5.8 per kilogram. The cost base here is A2+FL cost, which is fertiliser, pesticides, hired labour, seeds etc plus an imputed cost for family labour engaged.
A one lakh crore subsidy coupled with efficient procurement and skill ensures that the farmers of Punjab and Haryana will grow paddy and wheat while their water lasts.
Money talks. The eloquence of this financial calculation manifests in the falling water table of the Punjab, and the smoky skies over North India. The Supreme Court has recently weighed in, saying the state and the local bodies should be held accountable for stubble fires, on the Polluter Pays principle.
Subsidy/fine/subsidy/pollution. What a mess.
What problem are we trying to solve?
There is a larger point to made here, we will optimise what we focus on. If we want to optimise water use and soil health and lower pollution, we must change crop patterns. This is a map produced using WRI’s India water tool. The angry red of Punjab and Haryana, with little local rainfall, is almost entirely due their crop choice and irrigation practices incentivised by the MSP, procurement efficiency and practically free electricity.
Delhi air pollution crisis Money political will clear data or steadfast public attention what really matters
If our problem statement was ‘How to reduce the impact of pollution from stubble burning’, the obvious starting point, or the Herbie, appears to be changing crop choice.
Delhi air pollution crisis Money political will clear data or steadfast public attention what really matters
We could do that by removing subsidies, right?
While there have been rumours that the Rs 70,000 crore fertiliser subsidy might be tapered down, a recent government press release opened unequivocally:
“There is no proposal to cut Fertilizers Subsidies.”
Influencing crop choice by pricing electricity is also a non-starter. Punjab’s Chief Minister has been recently quoted as saying:
“his government was committed to the supply of quality power, in addition to 100% cost subsidy for agriculture and free power to various categories of consumers.”
On the contribution of his state to the North Indian pollution crisis, he tweeted:
“Compensation by Central Govt to the farmers for stubble management is the only solution in the circumstances. I had written to PM @NarendraModi ji on 25th Sep & had written to him yesterday as well. The central govt has to step in and find a consensus to resolve the crisis.”
The central government could step in and say no more MSP. Or, for less of a shock, say MSP applies to only those farms that don’t burn (tackles pollution but not water). This expends political capital in a limited fashion, and may be far more effective than the solutions peddled today.
All these options are cheap in terms of ‘money’, but profligate in terms of political capital required. They don’t happen because the bottleneck resource is not money, it is political capital.
When we optimise political capital, the problem we are trying to solve is: ‘What is the politically cheapest solution seen to address air pollution caused by stubble burning.’
Very different problem statement. Accordingly, today’s solutions play about in the margins.
One of these is the Happy Seeder. The problem in paddy fields begins when the combine harvester harvests the rice but leaves a few inches of stalk standing. Farmers would burn the remaining stalks (stubble) to clear the fields for their wheat crop. The Happy Seeder cuts and lifts the standing stalks, spreads them over the entire field and plants the wheat seeds. It addresses the labour and the urgency issues in gathering the stubble. But it is an added cost in the eye of the farmer. The government gave a subsidy – an allocation of Rs 1151.8 crores (fully funded by the Centre) – towards machinery capital subsidy, awareness and setting up Farm Machinery Banks. Expensive, credible, and seen to address stubble burning. But, the subsidy given was a capital subsidy – which predictably increased the price of the machine (by some accounts almost doubled it). Smaller farmers did not find it accessible – Rs 70,000 (even with the subsidy) is a lot of money for a smaller farmer. Farmers also complain that using the machine is too expensive (the combine harvester needs an additional straw management system for the Happy Seeder to work well, which sucks up more diesel) and that they should be paid another subsidy to not burn.
Other solutions include alternate uses for straw including biogas, pellets for thermal plants or even cutlery. But the prerequisite for all of these is an efficient and cheap logistics network that can collect straw from thousands of farms in the span of two weeks. Not impossible, but not easy. At least, not until fertiliser subsidies lower the attractiveness of substitutes. Sameer Nagpal, who runs Sampurn Agriventure, the only biogas plant in India that works off paddy straw, cites several issues in scaling up. One is that the economics of his biogas plant work only if he sells the compost it generates as a by-product. Organic compost is among the most expensive (and effective) fertilisers available. But farmers, traditionally fearing a new face, are wary of buying expensive black ‘stuff’ from a new entrant, and can, moreover, make the compost themselves.
The other is that the current power purchase rates offered by state electricity boards do not cover the costs. In late-2018, the Indian government introduced the SATAT, or the Sustainable Alternative Towards Affordable Transportation, initiative that looks at a decentralised model for biogas with committed offtake by a large petroleum company like IOC. The has made the economics of biogas more compelling, which is a positive sign. The bottleneck remains logistics, or the financial incentive for creating the logistics infrastructure. Something that today’s subsidy regime is clouding.
The impact of the peripheral measures in the time series of images from NASA FIRMS from 2017 to 2019 from 15 October to 4 November in each year*:
Let’s be clear: Only granular, frequent, source-apportioned, publicly-accessible data will reveal the true ‘Herbie’ to all constituents. This will (hopefully) engender the unwavering public attention, which will strengthen political will to take action on the true ‘Herbie’.
Everything else is waffling.
*We acknowledge the use of data and imagery from LANCE FIRMS operated by NASA's Earth Science Data and Information System (ESDIS) with funding provided by NASA Headquarters
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
Today, as the peripheries of our cities experience a seasonal ‘Day Zero’ and our water future looks to become decidedly more temperamental, the Keeladi site almost serves as a ‘Back to the Future’ moment for our cities
About 13 kilometres east of Madurai, on the spanking new Rameswaram highway, one turns right and heads through a sleepy village to a set of coconut farms. In between the coconut trees are patches of cleared ground with neat squares of earth dug out. Findings from Keeladi excavation site have a clear message for modern cities Cherish your water or perish
Google Earth Image of Keeladi Site
In those trenches and from that earth are emerging discoveries that suggest something quite special was going on here thousands of years ago. The latest radiocarbon dating of one of the samples takes us as far back as 580 BCE, or 2600 years ago.
Let us begin with the pottery – because that’s where it starts. As we walked in the coconut groves from trench to trench, we saw hundreds of small potsherds on our path.
Findings from Keeladi excavation site have a clear message for modern cities Cherish your water or perish
(L) The excavation at Keeladi; (R) Potsherds — the first signs of an ancient settlement
Some were all red, but many were black on one side (the inside, as one student informed me), and red on the other – indicating Black and Red ware – a type of pottery in vogue more than 2,500 years ago, during the Sangam age. These small potsherds were the first outwards signs that gave a clue that something serious existed beneath the surface. The dig began in earnest in 2014 by the Archaeological Society of India. When I visited Keeladi for the third time in October 2019, the fifth season, now led by the Tamil Nadu Archaeological Department, was wrapping up.
A different kind of find
The more than 5,000 antiquities suggest that this was on a different scale from the small tools, or burial mounds discovered until then. Keeladi was distinctive because it had far more ‘structures’ than other similar sites, says V Vedachalam, historian and epigraphist. Judging by the impressive water management infrastructure, their skilled craftsmanship, as evidenced by the tiny intricate boar seal (just about a centimetre in width), the thousands of black-and-red potsherds — many with graffiti on them, this appears to have been a sophisticated society.
Keeladi has yielded gold jewellery, hundreds of finely crafted beads — of terracotta, glass and carnelian, and game pieces. The ancient Keeladians were obviously generating enough ‘surplus’, to afford to the ‘extras’: precious adornment, industry and leisure/fun. One piece of sculpture — an old woman’s head — shows loving attention to a somewhat incongruous detail. What makes the sculpture so special are the sagging cheeks of the woman, beautifully and realistically rendered.
Findings from Keeladi excavation site have a clear message for modern cities Cherish your water or perish(Top left) Boar seal; (above left) Terracotta figurine of an old woman's head; (above right) Pottery with graffiti, Keeladi
Keeladi also appears to have been an egalitarian society. One indication of this is the widespread presence of graffiti. Graffiti such as this is likely by commoners marking their property (‘This is my pot — please don’t take it’), suggesting a highly literate population as opposed to rock cut edicts ordered by rulers (of the ‘I’m so great’ variety).
Before I go further down this road, let me point out that in five years, only about 5-10 percent of the 110-acre mount has been excavated. It is dangerous to draw too many conclusions, other than to say, “Dig more”. However, one thing appears clear: Whoever they were, the Keeladians were masters at managing water.
Why do I say this?
Water-management infrastructure predominated in the finds.
Until now, at least three kinds of channels have been discovered: one was a shallow, broad channel — about half a metre across, a few inches in height and about 6 metres thus far excavated in length — lined with shards of broken terracotta roof tiles. Findings from Keeladi excavation site have a clear message for modern cities Cherish your water or perish
(L) Shallow channel; (R) Terracotta pipe at Keeladi Site
Nearby there was a beautifully crafted terracotta pipe which appeared to feed into a strategically placed pot, which in turn was placed on top of another pot.
The last type of channel was a closed channel, gently curved, with the curved portion buttressed with additional support — was this because the liquid was pressurised?
This channel ran close to a small, square, brick-lined tank at the site.
Findings from Keeladi excavation site have a clear message for modern cities Cherish your water or perish(L) Closed channel, Keeladi; (R) Brick-lined tank, Keeladi
The different types of channels allude to different qualities of water being transported — the flat, broad, open channel could have been used to carry fresh water perhaps, where smell was not a concern. One possibility is that the closed channels were used to carry away smellier liquids — sewage or effluent, maybe. During an earlier dig in Keeladi, archaeologists unearthed four parallel water channels — which implied the movement of a lot of water — far more than a single household could use. And the sheer numbers of channels discovered now — there were several crisscrossing a 300 sq mtr stretch — suggest that this was an intense water-using site. The Keeladians were moving water strategically from place to place for some function.
One hypothesis is that the brick-lined tanks, the plentiful, diverse channels and the lack of domestic ephemera (at that particular locality) together imply that this particular site was some form of an ancient factory. But what kind? A find of ancient cotton from one of the tanks suggests this factory had something to do with clothing — a textile manufacturing unit perhaps? Supporting evidence comes from the report, ‘Keeladi-An Urban Settlement of Sangam Age on the Banks of River Vaigai’, which says that the…
“Excavation of 10 spindle whorls, 20 sharply pin-pointed bone tip tools used for design creations, hanging stones of the yarn, terracotta spheres, copper needle and earthen vessels to hold liquid clearly attest the various stages of weaving industry from spinning, yarning, looming and weaving, later for dyeing.”
No dye trace has yet been detected in the tanks. Does that indicate that this site was an ancient laundromat? Whatever this site was, what shines through is that the Keeladians were capable of organisation, of industry.
Findings from Keeladi excavation site have a clear message for modern cities Cherish your water or perish
Keeladi site. Image via Facebook/@keeladitamilcivilization
With industry often comes trade. More than 100 kilometres downstream lay the ancient port city of Alagankulam. The excavations at Alagankulam have yielded many Roman artefacts, and as a site it is contemporaneous with Keeladi, says Vedachalam. Perhaps 2,500 years ago, Keeladians sent their textiles woven and dyed at this site to the port down the Vaigai, and from thence onto far off lands. The Keeladi report cites:
“Strabo (C. 25. B.C.) stated that a Pandya king sent an embassy to the Roman Emperor Augustus. Pliny (C. 75 A.D.) mentioned about the Pandya, King Pandya and his capital Madura. Ptolemy (C. 130 A.D.) also referred Madurai as the royal city of the Pandyas.”
If there was trade with Rome, it is likely that some Roman artifacts would be found in this site. Were they? Some pieces of roulette-ware, characteristic of Rome, have been indeed found at the site. They had been sent for chemical analysis to check whether they were indigenous in origin or came from faraway lands.
While we wait for that piece of evidence to emerge, we can agree that water was central to their lives — for their industry, for their trade — it was the foundation and the key to their prosperity.
Why did they die out or abandon this settlement?
Before answering that question, let me mention that one interesting find was the ring wells, several of which were found at the site. Essentially, these wells used terracotta rings inside a shaft to prevent the collapse of the sides. These ringwells, as per Dr Pande, could have been used as either draw wells or soak pits, and were widely found across in India in the 4th-5th centuries BCE. Ring wells as draw wells are a clever idea when water was available close below the surface — in this case, about 5-10 feet below the surface. One explanation for water at such shallow depths is that the river Vaigai ran far closer to Keeladi 2,500 years ago.
Are there any other signs that the river once ran closer?
Yes. One is that the soil at the site is river sand. Another sign is the discovery, in at least three trenches, a sediment layer of shells. Findings from Keeladi excavation site have a clear message for modern cities Cherish your water or perish
(L) Ring well, Keeladi; (R) Shell Sediment Layer, Keeladi
There were also collections of pebbles — smooth, polished stones that were likely created by constantly running water. There is also literary evidence to consider: The Paripadal, a Sangam-era text, is said to describe the Vaigai as being perennial. Indeed, many other Sangam-era texts describe the Vaigai as being filled with water, says Vedachalam.
Many ancient cities declined when their water source ran out. Perhaps this settlement — like others before and after it — existed on the river’s bank, and died as the river shifted course. Today, the Vaigai runs well over a kilometre away from the ancient Keeladi settlement.
Back to the future?
As I walked through this wonderful treasure of a find, where the pots, beads and playing dice bear mute witness to an ancient settlement, a question arose: Who were these masters of water management? One suggestion (refuted by others, of course!) has been that they share roots with the Indus Valley Civilisation (IVC). The IVC declined a good thousand years-plus before the thus-far dated Keeladi site — also laid low by the lack of water. Could the descendants of IVC inhabitants be involved in this site?
Comparing the figurine of the old woman’s head with a head shot of the bronze dancing girl figurine from the Indus Valley Civilisation, my completely untrained eye asks: do they appear related?
Findings from Keeladi excavation site have a clear message for modern cities Cherish your water or perish
A far stronger clue is that many of the graffiti symbols from Keeladi are reminiscent of the IVC signs.
Findings from Keeladi excavation site have a clear message for modern cities Cherish your water or perish
Page 58 from Keeladi — An Urban Settlement of Sangam Age on the banks of the River Vaigai
Far more evidence is required before drawing a conclusion, which bring us back to ‘dig more’.
But one thing is for sure: Both the Indus Valley residents and the Keeladians were masters at water management. Moving to the present, water is the foundation of our prosperity as it was for the Keeladians. We use it in our factories today, much like they did, even as we discover the power of recycling it. We use wells like their ringwells — deeper and more powerful, to be sure, but ours are reaching their limits and coming up dry, like theirs did before they perished. Today, as the peripheries of our cities experience a seasonal ‘Day Zero’ and our water future looks to become decidedly more temperamental, the Keeladi site almost serves as a ‘Back to the Future’ moment for our cities: Manage and cherish your water or perish.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
Climate change created breeding ground for ISIS in Syria. India is making similar mistakes
The ongoing tragic Syrian crisis provides a frightening case-in-point of what can happen as more countries face water shortages. This is particularly relevant for India, because India is committing many of the same mistakes that the Syrian government made.
Peter Gleick has written an excellent paper underscoring the connection between climate change and the Syrian crisis. Syria is a very dry country, receiving about 250 mm of rain per year. To provide some perspective, India receives more than four times that number. With so little rain, Syria relies heavily on water from other sources like the Euphrates river and groundwater.
The problem began as Syria’s population skyrocketed – from 4.5 million in 1960 to over 21 million in the next 50 years. This meant that even after extravagantly using their groundwater, there was less water to go around for each person.
The problem worsened when Turkey built the Ataturk dam across the Euphrates river in the early 1990s. Damming the Euphrates reduced the amount of water flowing into Syria by a third. Rising populations combined with falling water availability meant the amount of water available for each person shrank to less than 900 cubic metre of water per person per annum – well below what hydrologists define as scarcity.
This meant one thing: Syria had essentially no wiggle room when the climate began to change. And the climate did change. The frequency and severity of droughts in the Mediterranean region have increased in the past 30 years, in line with the effects of climate change. From 1900 to 2005, Syria experienced six major droughts. Five of these lasted just a season, while the sixth lasted for two seasons. The latest drought, however, changed all that. The severe five-year drought that began in 2006 has been called ‘the worst long- term drought and most severe set of crop failures since agricultural civilizations began in the Fertile Crescent many millennia ago’.
The drought by itself need not have translated into crop failures and food shortages. As we shall see later, Syria’s neighbour Israel also fell prey to the same drought. But while Israeli farmers thrived, Syrian farmers were decimated.
What happened? Government policy played a major role in architecting Syria’s problem, by encouraging poor crop choice – cotton and wheat, and propagating wasteful irrigation methods. Syrian farmers relied on extravagant flood irrigation and about half of their irrigation systems depended on groundwater. As the amount of rainfall decreased, farmers used their groundwater more and levels began to fall. As water levels fell, it became more expensive to draw out the water that remained until, finally, water wells began to run dry. In 2005, the Syrian government put a ban on drilling wells, but widespread corruption meant that the ban was not uniformly enforced.
There is a chilling quote in the Gleick paper that speaks of the authority’s relationship with the farmers who ‘are suffering and complain that they have had no help from the authorities who tell them what type of crops they have to plant, and have a monopoly on buying up what they produce.’ When poor water policy met with extreme climate change, the result was tragedy.
The UN sent staff to see how to help. The chosen representative, Abdullah bin Yehia’s note on what he found makes for disturbing reading: ‘The UN Interagency mission estimates that some 2,04,000 families (around one million people) in north-eastern Syria are food insecure…the needed assistance is far beyond the Government capacity and resources…many herders have incurred huge losses that they might not recover from for several seasons to come… Migration of rural population towards less water stressed urban areas was in 2007/2008 higher by 20–30 per cent than in the previous years due to impact of the drought, loss of livelihoods and water shortages.’
This cable by Yehia, calling the situation a ‘perfect storm’ was written in 2008. The report spoke of families who had lost everything, crop yields dropping to less than half of the long-term average, families selling livestock at a third of their fair price, diarrhoea, malnutrition, the works.
A report from WikiLeaks (Cable 08DAMASCUS847_a) says that the UN representative asked for about $20 million to assist roughly one million people for six months. That’s $3.4 per person, or about `200 per person per month. A bargain, one would think – but one met with relative indifference from the global community.
This indifference was the spark that ignited the tragedy into violence. Another release from WikiLeaks, of a despatch from the US Embassy in Damascus acknowledges the UN appeal and mentions that ‘this social destruction would lead to political instability, Yehia told us.’ The cable, however, then goes on to say that ‘given the generous funding the US currently provides to the Iraqi refugee community in Syria…we question whether limited USG resources should be directed toward this appeal.’
Millions fled to crowded urban centres such as Aleppo because there was no other place to go. ‘Farmers could survive one year, maybe two years, but after three years their resources were exhausted. They had no ability to do anything other than leave their lands,’ says Richard Seager, professor at Columbia University’s Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory. The people who lost their crops and farm animals left for the cities with next to nothing. All told, about 1.5 million people moved to cities and urban camps. Disillusionment because of lost livelihoods combined with large groups of unemployed young men congregated in crowded urban camps make for an incendiary mixture, that provided kindling for the Syrian uprising and later acted as ripe breeding grounds for ISIS.
Reading about this in 2018, it seems almost ludicrous for the seeker of relief to have been denied the $20 million request. The US government has spent more than a hundred times that amount fighting the ISIS in less than a year leading up to May 2015. By 2016, more than 4.8 million Syrians had fled their country, while the migration crisis was on everyone’s lips and votes. It became the bogeyman used by politicians to rile up their conservative support base. This is one ‘what might have been’ that policymakers around the world should be paying close attention to – the importance of one’s own actions while the climate warms.
In the next years, many parts of the world will become less liveable and, in extreme cases, inhospitable to human life. What does the world expect those living there to do? Keel over and die? That’s an unfair ask and is unlikely to get the desired response. Consider the following scenarios and questions.
First, large masses of people, travelling not in flimsy rubber dinghies in the dead of night but in armed ships in the light of day, would move to cooler countries. Some hot and dry countries possess nuclear arms. They cannot be stopped easily. Before you dismiss this as hogwash, consider for a moment that the north-west part of the Indian subcontinent could see water availability plummet and temperatures rise by 5°C in this century. Pakistan is India’s neighbour – sharing India’s fate geographically and climatologically. What do you think will happen here?
Bangladesh is slated to be one of the global hotspots affected by climate change. Rising seas, flooding, storms (coupled with unwise groundwater choices) will all contribute to yet another storm in India’s backyard.
South Asia is projected to see an internal migration of 35.7 million people on average by 2050, if we continue with business as usual. These migrants are projected to leave Bangladesh, the northern Indo- Gangetic plains, the corridor between Delhi and Lahore, and coastal regions such as Mumbai, Chennai and Dhaka. Where will they head to? In India, for instance, Bengaluru and interior Chennai are two ‘in-migration’ hotspots, but are these places capable of housing millions more?
If by some miracle, the population shrank, our water bodies were restored, our economic model changed, and citizens voted for water management — the Chennai water crisis would vanish.
This is the final column in a four-part series on the Chennai water crisis. Read more from the series here.
***
If we could wave a wand that caused the population to shrink, restore our water bodies, change our economic model, and get our voters to vote for water management — the water crisis would vanish.
To wit, Chennai was early in the game in notifying groundwater legislation in 1987, via the Chennai Metropolitan Area Groundwater (Regulation) Act. To judge the toothlessness of the act, consider an extract from the Act:
“No person shall sink a well in the scheduled area unless he has obtained a permit in this behalf from the competent authority.
(2) Any person desiring to sink a well in the scheduled area shall apply to the competent authority for the grant of a permit for this purpose and shall not proceed with any activity connected with such sinking unless a permit has been granted by the competent authority.”
In 2002, the Act went on to say that one needed to get a license for drawing groundwater for non-potable purposes.
If it were not so tragic, the level of transgression is almost funny. The government perhaps realising this, repealed the Act in 2013, with one official being quoted as saying, requiring persons having over one HP pump set to register with the proposed Groundwater Authority, would have led to “public outcry.”
So what can we really do?
Chennai water crisis Way ahead could encompass decentralised sewage treatment solutions matching pain with gain
A man uses a hand-pump to fill up a container with drinking water as others wait in a queue on a street in Chennai. REUTERS
Local effort in rejuvenating water bodies
In casting our eye over ever-faraway sources of supply, we lose sight of what is in our midst: our proximate water bodies — the ones that remain.
My husband grew up near the Chitrakulam tank in Mylapore — a neighbourhood in Chennai. He remembers that in the mid-80s, the groundwater had dried up, and the hand pump in the neighbourhood did not work, leaving the residents at the tender mercies of tanker water. The tanker would arrive at any time, and the residents would have to rush at any hour to collect water for their daily needs. Sometimes the tanker would come only every other day. At that time, the tank was dry and filled with rubbish — so overgrown with weeds that the children could not even play cricket on it. There had been no theppam (tank festival) for many years. Then one local “maama”, as my husband puts it, took the initiative to get the tank cleaned. Others pitched in and soon, the atmosphere improved. The tank filled when the rains came. The local community began to speak of the historic significance of the temple and the temple tank, to cement the respect for the tank. Once the virtuous cycle set in, groundwater levels improved.
(Update: The tank is dry again, underscoring the importance of continuous community engagement.)
At a larger scale, the Chennai Smart City Limited, a special purpose vehicle established to execute smart city projects, is taking up tank rejuvenation on a war footing. Partnering with the Greater Chennai Corporation, civil society, resident association and CSR arms of corporates, they have taken up over 200 water bodies for rejuvenation. Of these, 12 have been completely rejuvenated, helping replenish groundwater levels in the respective localities, while work is in progress in another 73.
Chennai water crisis Way ahead could encompass decentralised sewage treatment solutions matching pain with gain
Before and After shots of a rejuvenated Omakulam. Image courtesy Chennai Smart City Limited.
I have a little more insight into the restoration of the Sembakkam lake, which is being coordinated by the Nature Conservancy. The importance of getting residents to buy into the effort, and most importantly of clearing the inlet and outlet channels in system tanks cannot be overemphasised. The difficulty of handling encroachment becomes easier if a motivated group adds their might to the task.
Rejuvenating water bodies is great for translating seasonal rainfall into perennial water supply. But we are ignoring a hyperlocal perennial source.
The glory of sewage
Funnily enough, what really excites me, is sewage.
Let me explain.
On the supply side, it’s important to realise that not all water uses need the same quality of water. Flushing and landscaping — together accounting for a third to half our demand — can be served quite easily with recycled sewage water.
One caveat: Please do not spend time and money, fruitlessly pumping sewage to a centralised sewage treatment facility from where the treated water is not of any use to persons who generated it. Rather, the model that cities like Chennai should consider is decentralised sewage treatment. Why?
Think of the trouble of pumping sewage to a centralised location – pipes could be broken; there could be an encroachment en route which ensures your sewage never reaches the treatment station; the centralised pumping station could have a maintenance problem. Then think, what happens to the treated sewage — who does it benefit?
Instead, think of a more local solution. In your apartment, under the car park could run a sewage treatment plant. One start-up does just this — build an underground STP with no operating expenditure. I have seen (and smelled) the treated water. Its quality visually beats my muddy bathing water in Chennai, and has been tested by IIT Madras to ensure it is safe for toilet/landscape use. Think. Your bore has begun to run dry. Tanker water is expensive and uncertain. What if significantly cheaper, readily available, reclaimed water (or ‘new water’, as Singapore calls it) could serve some part of your needs?
Apartments and offices across the country are discovering for them how wonderful a resource their own sewage is. If every bulk user (schools/apartments/hotels/offices) reused their treated sewage, they could cut their water purchases by more than a third. Payback times vary based on current water price paid and recycling technology used — but falls between months to a couple of years.
Almost as important as the treatment technology is the financial envelope surrounding the sewage treatment infrastructure. Apartment complexes may balk at the capital investment, which is why some start-ups are beginning to contemplate a “water-as-a-service” model for these, underwriting the capex, and then charging apartments on a per-litre of treated water, which is far more attractive in cash-flow terms for an apartment committee. We sometimes get caught up in the glory of technology while underemphasising the context of its use. This is the importance of local innovation — understanding the context of the customer — the importance of cash flow and lack of space in framing a solution.
Secondly on the supply side, rainwater harvesting helps. One professor from Velachery says, thanks to a combination of sewage treatment and rainwater harvesting, he has no water problems. But even in a state like Tamil Nadu, a pioneer in rainwater harvesting, many structures exist on paper only. In Madurai, in data from a thousand households, less than half had active rainwater harvesting structures. This data is corroborated in Chennai by studies from the Rain Centre.
Chennai water crisis Way ahead could encompass decentralised sewage treatment solutions matching pain with gain
Percentage of respondents, for the question — Do you have a functioning rainwater harvesting system? | Sundaram Climate Institute, 2018
While greening our urban spaces allows rainwater to replenish groundwater, in our own dwellings, we can check if the rainwater harvesting structures are working to help replenish our own bores.
Demand management
Now, for demand. As mentioned, for most of us, our understanding of how much water we use is poor. The poor, who wait in line, giving up sleep and leisure to fill pots of water, have a fine understanding of how much water they use and for what. But those of us used to water flowing when we open our taps, are habituated to not care how we use our water. This is now changing. A granular understanding is key in managing demand; my house in Madurai, for instance, has 15 water meters — in a single house. That’s what helps us understand where we can optimise usage, and truly helps in locating and arresting leaks.
Here again, the Chennai Smart City is helping install meters at bulk heads. Raj Cherubal, CEO of this SPV, says, “What you can’t measure, you can’t manage. We need metering of bulk heads, commercial building and water lorries — which are some of the smart city related projects.”
On a smaller scale, another start-up helps bulk users measure and reduce their usage through sensors and analytics. By charging on a per litre basis, the company has aligned its interests with saving water and made the proposition financially palatable for apartments.
A changing scenario
At some level, the current almost-predictable crisis comes about because we think water is plentiful. It is not. Earlier in this series, we asked why Israel behaved differently from India — leaning on management and innovation, while India depended on provision.
For one, in Israel, all water is the property of the government. Israel is a dry land, much of it desert. A company or a person or a farmer does not have the right to the groundwater under his or her land. Which means that for every person, water is a limited resource with a price. This encourages management, which, in turn, begets innovation.
In India, while the government might have acted, each of us assumed the ground below us held enough water for always. We now know that is not true. Perhaps, we too now will begin to manage and innovate.
One way in which the government can help is to frame policy that encourages bulk users to manage their water. Zero discharge is not feasible — even if bulk users treated and reused some part of their sewage, they will need some ‘fresh’ water for drinking and cooking needs (not everyone can go the T-Zed way), and there will be excess treated sewage, over and above, what is reused by the bulk user. One great way to use this treated sewage is to emulate what Bengaluru has done with the Jakkur lake.
This ties in neatly with what is needed: rejuvenate a local tank, get bulk users to treat their sewage, and feed in the treated sewage after tertiary treatment into the local tank. The government will need to facilitate this by helping lay pipelines for the transport of treated sewage to a local tank and by ensuring tertiary treatment at the tank. By keeping it local, we tie in incentives — after all, neighbours will not tolerate insufficiently treated sewage flowing into their tank. And the waters in the tank will help replenish local groundwater levels that will benefit all. This moves responsibility and onus from the government to ourselves; it makes the government’s role facilitative — the key mental shift we may need to make to get ourselves out of the crisis.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
This is the third in a four-part series on the Chennai water crisis. Read more from the series here.
Why does anyone manage any resource poorly?
One answer is that they think it is not a scarce resource. The other is that one believes they can get away with it — i.e., there will be no consequence — either positive for good performance or negative for bad performance.
Take water for instance. There is a hue and cry today because the uncertainty of availability pinches the bottom line or takes away more sleep than you had bargained for. But thus far, as long as ground water aquifers kept feeding the borewells, most of us were okay with the bargain, Recall: Chennai is overdrawing its ground water 1.85 times! This false sense of plenty — because we cannot perceive just how much water there is underground — is one possible reason why we have managed our water so poorly. If that is indeed the case, going forward, as groundwater runs scarce, we might manage water better.
But the second possible explanation for poor management is the lack of a good incentive mechanism, either for our politicians or our bureaucracy. Let us see why by taking one very visible sign of mismanagement: encroachment.
Enabling Encroachment — Teamwork Helps
If we had wanted to engineer a crisis, we could not have done a better job. Deficiencies in public infrastructure make India’s cities smaller than they should be, meaning urban water bodies are very attractive as land parcels. As a city grows, new neighbourhoods on the peripheries often lean into water bodies and do not have municipal water connections. That takes time. What the residents in these new neighbourhoods usually do is to sink a borewell, and begin to draw water from below the ground. You turn on the motor, and your sump fills. You cannot see the water, and after years of reliable use, you think it permanent, and therefore do not need to pressure the corporation for a commission. Your builder might have leaned on a water body and built where he was strictly not supposed to. It might even be awkward to ask for a water connection. After all, there is so much water available underground. Until one day, it runs out, and your life turns upside down. Chennai water crisis How great teamwork muddy data enabled poor management and engineered a disaster
A woman uses a hand pump to fill up a container with drinking water in Chennai. REUTERS
A 2017 CAG report says that of some 1,554 water bodies in Chennai, less than a third were surveyed. In those, 36,814 encroachments were identified, of which 10,764 encroachments were evicted — resulting in a pitiful 170 water bodies being restored to their original capacity. Importantly, no encroachments were cleared in 2014-15, or 15-16, the last two years covered in the report. Some of the encroachment, states the CAG report, are by local bodies themselves, often for disposal of solid waste or for accommodating slum dwellers evicted from some other part of the city.
The report goes on to say:
“To an audit enquiry, the executive officer, Peerkankaranai Town Panchayat, replied that as occupants of all illegal colonies inside water bodies in the Town Panchayat were issued with Patta by Revenue Authorities, taxes were collected and basic amenities like roads, streetlights and water supply were provided.”
Encroachers, rather than being evicted, were being encouraged!
Clearing encroachments has no obvious upside for the person(s) doing the clearing. The evictees will protest, go to court, stall the proceedings, take away time you don’t have on court attendance, lobby powerful interests, make your life hell. It’s unlikely that you will get either more money, or more power by evicting them. Leave them be… After all, everyone is doing it.
And when everyone does it, it doesn’t seem quite so wrong.
Take the example of Pallikaranai. Wetlands are literally the kidneys of a landscape as they filter contaminants and soak up water and replenish groundwater aquifers. Pallikaranai is the main wetland of Chennai. Back in 2003, the chief economist of one of India’s largest real estate consultancy firms declared Pallikaranai to be a prime investment destination, where “prices could double in nearly five to five-and-a-half years’ time”.
Developers and investors were quick to jump on what seemed a ‘too-good-to-miss’ opportunity, and the wetland was slowly eaten away (See Figure 3 below). The icing on this unpalatable cake is that there is an enormous landfill cited on Pallikaranai. That’s really like a toxin-loaded syringe released into the filtered blood supply coming out of your kidneys. Chennai water crisis How great teamwork muddy data enabled poor management and engineered a disaster
This has been going on for decades. The advertisements for these developments have been proudly and flamboyantly carried in the same newspapers where opinion columns bemoan the water crisis today. Thousands bought flats and take jobs in the developments that have come up on the feed plains of these wetlands. It’s been one heck of a team effort — which means it requires a team effort to reverse.
A Problem of Data
Of course, the state of data doesn’t help.
For instance, in what is definitely a critical juncture in Chennai’s water story, it is unbelievable that we do not have a firm handle on just how much water we are using. Second, when looking at the level of metering, estimates range from 20 percent of water consumed being measured, primarily of bulk customers, to over 60 percent. Even the share of different supply sources is not too certain. When large scale protests have not broken out at a time that a city’s main reservoirs are empty, it shows quite clearly that there are other sources coming into play. Experts opine that the level of metering is far lower, and understanding where demand is coming from is a big problem.
To give you a contrast, in my factory, we have a hundred water meters to understand precisely where, when and how we use water. This allows us to reduce demand in a cost-effective fashion. Moreover, when the data is so uncertain, it reduces the motivation to act. To give a medical analogy: contrast your doctor saying, “You will die in six months if you don’t stop smoking” to one doctor saying, “I’m not sure,
maybe you will live for 20 years even if you smoke,” while another says, “You could live for five years or two months, I’m not sure”. Very different calls to action.The Hit to Supply
The problem is that encroachment reduces water supply.
For instance, Chennai gets only a miniscule fraction of the 15 TMC it is due from the Krishna waters, at least in part due to encroachment and illegal tapping.
Next, consider this set of images over two decades of the Porur Tank.
Chennai water crisis How great teamwork muddy data enabled poor management and engineered a disaster
Figure 2: Porur Lake; images from Google Earth
The image top left is from 2000, courtesy Google Earth. The one on the bottom left is taken in 2010 — you can see how the city has begun eating away at the greenery surrounding the lake. Many Indian cities have a system of cascading tanks, where the surplus from one, flows downstream. Encroachments cutting connecting channels reduces the effectiveness of the entire system. Moreover, by replacing green with concrete we hit percolation — i.e., the flow of rainwater into the ground, rather than into a stream and thence to the sea. Lastly, local land use change — especially cutting forests — has shown to impact local rainfall. Studies put the contribution of forests to terrestrial rainfall (rain over land) at 40 percent. That’s huge. Encroachments also hurt flood resilience — the rivers and the tanks help suck in some of the excess. Chennaiites are crying because there is no water now. Come November/December, they will be cringing because there is too much.
India, with a peculiarly seasonal water supply, cannot afford to continue to decimate her storage mechanisms.
Let’s Not Forget the Climate
Now, add climate change. It has become somewhat fashionable to load all woes on climate change. It’s useful too — it absolves us from even taking the mental responsibility for a problem. In this case, there are, in my mind, two ways by which climate change does exacerbate this crisis. First, when it gets hotter, and the incidence of heatwaves rises, one needs more water to cool down. Thus, demand rises. Also, the fraction of water that evaporates goes up, reducing supply. Second, the number of rain days comes down as the planet warms — this means the fraction of rainfall that “runs off” increases, especially when we reduce the amount of space that can soak up the run off. This cuts supply, and makes us flood-prone (something Mumbai residents can empathise with just now).
In financial terms, global warming upsets both our water balance sheet and income statement, increasing our vulnerability. Perhaps that’s a good thing — we may just need this kind of warning to clean up the system.
Next: What can be done.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
Quenching Chennai’s thirst by leaning solely on provision is like trying to fill the fabled yaksha’s seventh pot of gold. Mridula Ramesh
Chennai water crisis: Why provision, while alluring, couldn't slake a growing city's thirst
To blame the lack of rainfall alone for Chennai's water woes is wrong As the city's population exploded, newers ways of provisioning for its water demands were put into motion But there was little focus on management of existing water resources The story of trying to satiate Chennai's thirst for water has much in common with a folk take about a barber who was given seven pots of gold by a yaksha
This is the second in a four-part series on the Chennai water crisis. Read more from the series here.
***நீர்இன்று அமையாது உலகெனின் யார்யார்க்கும் வான்இன்று அமையாது ஒழுக்கு.
This couplet from the Thirukkural was written by a resident of Chennai 2,000 years ago. It means: Without water, no person — however important — can function. Thus, without the clouds and rain, order cannot be maintained.
The Northeast monsoon in important to Tamil Nadu.
“The northeast monsoon (NEM) season of October to December (OND) is the chief rainy season for this subdivision with 48 percent (438.2 mm) of its annual rainfall realised during this season,” says the Indian Meteorological Department.
But in 2018, the Northeast monsoon was a failure — bringing 24 percent less rain into Tamil Nadu than it was projected to. Chennai was amongst the worst hit, getting just 353 mm, or less than half of the 790 mm it was supposed to get.
As the months rolled by, life for Chennaiites did not get better. Between 1 March to 31 May 2019, called the pre-monsoon season, Chennai got no rain. In normal times, it should get about 58.5 mm on average. The heat did not help either — we are in the midst of a mild El Nino, bringing with it the possibility of higher temperatures and less rainfall during the Southwest monsoon.
But to blame the rainfall alone is wrong.
Providing for Chennai’s thirst vs adapting demand to existing water resources
For millennia, people of Chennai have relied on tanks, shallow wells and its three seasonal rivers — the Adyar, the Cooum and the Kosasthalaiyar — for their water. Much like other regions with scanty local rainfall fed by seasonal rivers, there was a system of cascading tanks that provided much-needed storage to stretch out the water through the year.
Let us focus on one of the rivers, the Cooum. Anyone who drives past the Cooum today knows the smell of sewage that penetrates even the most tightly closed windows.
Chennai water crisis Why provision while alluring couldnt slake a growing citys thirst
A man walks through the dried-up Puzhal reservoir, on the outskirts in Chennai. REUTERS
The Cooum river originates from Thiruvallur, and receiving surplus waters from the Kosasthalaiyar and Palar, meanders through Chennai before emptying in the Bay of Bengal, draining about 505 square km enroute. Its origins are enshrined in legend (read the fascinating stories here). The Skanda Purana speaks of how once Shiva, the God of Destruction, forgot to worship Ganesha, the God of new beginnings, before setting out to destroy three asuras (demons in Hindu lore). Ganesha was Shiva’s son, but rules are rules, and such a breach meant a break in the axle of Shiva’s chariot. To balance himself, Shiva planted his bow to the ground, and the ancient underground Palar (the surface waters of which rise in the Nandi Hills near Bengaluru) rushed up to wash his feet. These waters became the Cooum. Such was the power of the river, that even sins that could not be cleansed by the Ganga would be washed away by a dip in this river.
That was then. Today, one would be ill advised to take a dip in the Cooum, which serves as a glorified sewer for Chennai.
The slow death of the Cooum began in 1872 when a weir was constructed by William Fraser across the Kosasthalaiyar to divert its waters to Cholavaram and thence to the Red Hills lake — eventually to reach the Kilpauk water works. But the Cooum sustained itself by the waters of the Kosasthalaiyar, so this diversion stuck a body blow. The reason for the weir and the subsequent water works at Kilpauk was rooted in providing drinking water for the rapidly growing Chennai metropolis. It was the first rung on the ladder of the provision approach, rooted in a command-and-control philosophy, as opposed to the adaptation approach, such as a system of cascading tanks embodies.
The problem with the provision approach, as we shall see, is that while it did keep pace with the demand trajectory, in part because it placed no bounds on demand. Remember, in earlier times, one lived by a river, or took out water from a well. Any water used needed arduous work, which impressed its own stamp of value on water. Water laboriously begotten was thus judiciously used for bathing, washing and cleaning. There were likely not many profligate showers, no flushing toilets or wasteful washing. But as Chennaites grew wealthier and experienced water at their doorsteps, they became more relaxed about their water use. Demand really took off, however, when the population exploded.
In the 20th century, like many other cities in India, Chennai’s population skyrocketed.
Figure 1: Chennai Population, Census of India
A higher urban population means higher year-round demand. This is a problem considering India’s (and Chennai’s) highly seasonal rainfall. This kind of rain needs the percolation infrastructure and storage to allow it to be used through the year. Leonardo Di Caprio’s statement that only rain can save Chennai is not strictly true — rain, coupled with adequate storage mechanisms and demand management can. But what this high perennial demand does is that is increases the value of sources that supply water during the lean, cruel summer months; i.e., the desalination plants and groundwater. When the Southwest monsoons are good, sources like the Veeranam lake become somewhat reliable. (Aside: in such a situation, it is peculiar that we are underusing one local, perennial source. We will come back to this later.)
Not only did population grow, but importantly in water management terms, population density grew as well, from about 7,000 people per square km to over 26,000 people living in that square km. Each of these people needs water to drink, wash and use in their toilets, which meant the water management authority had to provide larger quantities of water at any given time.
Chennai water crisis Why provision while alluring couldnt slake a growing citys thirst
Figure 2: Chennai Population Density, Census of India
To keep pace, Chennai tried to augment supply, or increase provision. It did so by constructing the Poondi reservoir in 1944, by increasing the height of the lake bunds — Cholavaram, Red Hills and Poondi in 1972 — increasing the total storage to 6296 mcft.
The Metrowater website states,
“The system was then designed for a supply of 115 lpcd [litres per person per day] for an estimated population of 0.66 million expected in 1961.”
But water demand of the city outstripped the planner’s anticipation. In 1962, irrigation rights of the three tanks were purchased and their entire supply was earmarked for the city’s drinking water. But that was not enough.
Then, Chennai succumbed to the lure of the borewell. The Metrowater website says,
“Based on the UNDP studies carried out during 1966 to 1969, ground water aquifer was identified at Tamaraipakkam, Panjetty and Minjur in the Araniar-Kosathalaiyar Basin (AK Basin) located north of Chennai. These three Well fields were developed for abstracting water at an estimated yield of 125 MLD.”
When this too failed to quench Chennai’s thirst, the government continued to climb up the provision ladder, by signing an accord with the Andhra Pradesh Government on 18 April 1983 for drawing 15 TMC of Krishna water to Chennai City. Interestingly, even in the design, a fifth (3 TMC) of the water was expected to be lost to evaporation! Who cared — after all, provision was the focus, not management.
Meanwhile, at least on paper, with Chembarambakkam’s water, the on-paper storage capacity of Chennai’s lakes rose to 11,527 mcft in the 1990s.
But a future water plan showed a looming gap, and drinking water crises continued to erupt frequently. New sources needed to be identified. In 1996, Chennai Metrowater and the World Bank conducted an assessment of various alternatives for supplying additional bulk water to the city. The cheapest alternative appeared to be the groundwater from the AK aquifer. Farmers with rights to water in the aquifer were quite happy to sell their water share to Metrowater.
Yet still, Chennai’s thirst refused to be satiated. Chennai then turned its thirsty eyes to the Kaveri waters, through the Veeranam Lake. This was an old idea: the foundation stone for the Veeranam project was laid by erstwhile chief minister Annadurai in 1967. The Veeranam Lake lies about 236 km from Chennai at the tail end of the Kaveri system — the lake is fed by a canal off the Coleroon, which in turn gets its water from the Kaveri. To illustrate the pecking order of this water supply: Tamil Nadu has to get its water share of the Kaveri, then the Coleroon has to get its water share, then the farmers dependent on the Coleroon have to get their water share, then the farmers dependent on the Vadavar channel (which feeds the Veeranam Lake) have to get their water share, after which drinking water can be supplied to Chennai. But no one ever said that imagination and spin are constraints of provision! In times of plenty, this will work. But does one ever complain during times of plenty?
But even the waters of the Kaveri could not sate Chennai’s thirst. Chennai turned to the sea. The sea was an inexhaustible but expensive source that could be tapped through desalination. The first of Chennai’s desalination came online in 2010, with second coming online in 2013. It is reported to cost Rs 1.36 crores every day in just O&M costs to procure this desalinated water. Chennai has just laid the foundation stone for another desalination plant. Chennai water crisis Why provision while alluring couldnt slake a growing citys thirst
People sit around a tower for measuring water depth in the dried-up Puzhal reservoir, on the outskirts in Chennai. REUTERS
As 2019’s shortage intensifies, new sources of provision are explored or at least announced — including the possibility of transporting 10 million litres of water per day by rail from Jolarpet, eliciting an instant threat of reprisal from a rival political party.
Readers maybe noticing a complete absence of focus on management. Contrast Chennai’s history with Israel (with roughly comparable populations). Why did Israel focus on management and innovation when Chennai continued to rely on provision? This is an important question, and one we will return to later.
Until now, we have spoken only of official water supply. But as the city expanded outwards, its water supply steadily reached underground. There are few estimates of just how much water private borewells extract in Chennai, but it is vast, and it is unregulated. To wit, the Central Ground Water Board had declared in 2017 that Chennai had overdrawn its ground water 1.85 times! That means for every litre of ground water available, Chennai was withdrawing almost two litres. We have discovered for ourselves just how sustainable that is.
With all this provision, in the summer of 2019, Chennai is experiencing 50 shades of Day Zero.
There was once a cheerful barber, who, though poor, was content in his life. One day, when crossing a wood on his way home, he heard a yaksha’s (celestial being) voice say, ‘O barber, when you go home you will find seven pots of gold. If you don’t want them, return them to me as you found them’. The barber rushed home and found there were indeed seven pots. Six of them were filled to the brim with gold coins. But the seventh was half empty. Disappointed, he determined that he would fill the pot. He worked harder at first, putting his extra earning into the pot. But it remained half full. He scrimped on his expenses, he sold his wife’s jewellery, he even got into debt. But the seventh pot remained stubbornly half full. And the barber’s cheerful demeanour vanished.
The king, noticing this, asked him if the barber, by any chance, had a yaksha offer him seven pots of gold? The barber was amazed. He first stared at the king and then nodded sadly. The king, smiling, said, ‘I too was offered the seven pots of the gold, and it took me a war to realise the seventh pot would never be filled. Return the pots and be happy as you are.’
Quenching Chennai’s thirst by leaning solely on provision is like trying to fill the yaksha’s seventh pot of gold.
When provision is so inadequate, why do we lean on it so much? One possible explanation is that it works well in a democracy, especially one with diverse voter interests and short voter timeframes. For a politician, provision is tangible proof that he is doing something for voter interests. It also can serve as a rent-provision mechanism. Management is slower, less glamourous, more decentralised. Importantly,
impatient voters have often not rewarded sound water management. For more on this, read this, this, this and this.
But for any road out of this crisis is through the valley of management, which is where we go to next.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
In the Chennai water crisis, there are 50 shades of (Day) Zero: your personal crisis depends on where you live, how rich you are and how much you consume
Chennai water crisis: Citizens' Day Zero experiences impacted by locality, income and consumption
This is the first in a four-part series on the Chennai water crisis. Read more from the series here.
Apprehension was my primary emotion when I landed in Chennai on the night of 18 June 2019, for the BBC declared that, Chennai — India’s sixth largest city — had pretty much run out water.
“Veetila thanni irrukka (Is there water in the house)?” I asked my driver.
“Mmm. Irrukku (Yes, there is),” was his reply.
“Unga veetila thanni varuda (Is water coming at your house)?” I asked again.
“Ippothaikku varudu (For now, yes),” he replied.
Hmmm. Was it really a crisis?
But then he added, “My daughter has been asked to take four bottles of water to school. Her water bottles weigh more than her books. Her school has run out of water.”
Okay. Maybe it was a crisis.
The next morning, I stared at the ever-so-slightly brown bathing water in the bucket. Not the most cheering of sights. As the morning unfolded, Chennai appeared to be running as always, on the surface. The traffic was high near Madhya Kailash, and the trees in Mylapore, Alwarpet, RA Puram, Adyar looked as luscious as ever. But under the surface, was a hydrological crisis brewing?
What is puzzling is the sheer variety of crisis experiences — some are unaffected, while others have seen lives completely disrupted. This diversity acts as an impediment to meaningful action — for every person protesting with empty pots, there is someone completely untouched. To understand this diversity of experience, it’s useful to think of the crisis along three dimensions: geographic, economic, and quantity consumed.
Geography
A couple of women who stayed at Teynampet said they had no running water.
“The lorry comes at all hours — there is no fixed time. We come to work. If it comes at night, we can collect it and store it, but if it comes in the day, we can’t do it. In that case, we use the hand pump at night. It takes about 10 minutes to fill a thavalai (a small pot holding about 10 litres) using a hand pump. Sometimes this water is not so good for drinking, or not enough. If we need more water, we buy.”
How much did that cost?
“It varies. About one rupee per thavalai.”
Not bad. That’s about 10 paise per litre — a lot cheaper than the 30 paise to 1 rupee per litre paid by many residents in Madurai as per the survey we were doing at Sundaram Climate Institute. The water, however, had a steeper, intangible cost — the women lost more than an hour of sleep/leisure time per day to collect the water — either in jostling for space in front of the tanker, or in waiting for the hand pump to load up their water. Lost sleep/foregone leisure translates to lost productivity.
“There is so little water that I can wash only one piece of clothing at a time,” said one woman. The women saved the water from washing dishes and bathing to use for flushing. Chennai water crisis Citizens Day Zero experiences impacted by locality income and consumption
The diversity of experiences related to the Chennai water crisis acts as an impediment to meaningful action — for every person protesting with empty pots, there is someone completely untouched. REUTERS
Some central neighbourhoods of Chennai were bone dry, with water almost the only thing on people’s minds, tongues and pockets.
“Thanni irrukka (Do you have water)?” was a great conversation-starter, where shared misery made friends of strangers.
“Thanniye varalai (There is no water coming),” said a woman who works as a maid in an apartment complex. “We have to go at night to a nearby location to pay Rs. 100 for about 150 litres. At that price, water hurts.
Not everyone was hurting.
The housekeeping manager at the hotel had a different story to tell. She had water because the bore in her house was still working. She lived in Mangadu, which is close to Lake Chembarambakkam, a key source of water for Chennai. Chennai’s lakes might be running dry, but they continued to replenish groundwater levels in their surrounding area. This was a repetitive pattern from most people I spoke to — people living in a not-too-crowded neighbourhood near a water body still had access to some groundwater, for now.
For instance, one gentleman living near Lake Porur got only a small quantity of muddy water, even though he had deepened his bore twice. “I used to see the lake full years ago, now they play cricket on it”.
That helps explain why many around the lake buy water for some part of their needs. Dry lakes have their limits, it seems. Groundwater is almost like a memoir of a waterbody — its quantity below reflects the health above. As neighbourhoods swallow lakes, water resilience disappears.
Economics
Another important dimension is the economic strata of the residents.
At one end, the wealthy and the somewhat wealthy are weathering the drought slightly better. Neighbourhoods with low(er) population density, with plenty of green cover to allow water to percolate below — often signs of wealthy neighbourhoods — aren’t faring so badly in the crisis. In their lives, water is peripheral. Others deepened their bores or bought water, and while the cost had gone up, it did not pinch — yet.
In the middle are those whose homes or workplaces had run out of groundwater, perhaps the neighbourhood was overcrowded or had large bulk users. Or perhaps, they had no tank or water body nearby. This group was dependent on tanker water, which made their lives slightly more precarious and anxious — “When will the tanker come?” Water was important but not yet central.
But for the poor, dependent on capricious tankers and increasingly irregular municipal water, personal life revolved around collecting and eking out water. Some neighbourhoods had exhausted their ground water reserves and had no municipal supply — they were in a worse version of Day Zero than Cape Town, which only had rationed municipal supply. Water was the key (the only?) issue in their lives.
[Note: While there is a political element to the tanker economy, for the purposes of the series, it is not central to the narrative, and hence is not delved into for now.]
Quantity
The third dimension of use was quantity (and timing) of use. Many schools cannot provide water for their children — to drink, or for the toilets. Some are beginning to shut — either fully or partially — to cope. Corporates — especially those in Day Zero neighbourhoods — are cutting down on water use by shifting to disposable cutlery, or asking employees to work from home. Hotels and builders are being hard hit — because they need lots of water, in a predictable fashion. Bulk users — such as hotels, builders, IT companies — have developed their business model over decades of assuming low-cost, plentiful groundwater. This assumption is being challenged.
The challenges come in two hues — uncertainty (when and whether the tanker will come) and cost (at what price).
“We are completely at the mercy of the tanker guys. We have to make a call every evening on whether to release rooms for booking based on if the tanker has promised to come in later that night. Else, we have to take a hit on the occupancy. And prices for the tanker water have doubled, and the quality is not great, so we get a lot of rejects [sic]. Yes, we use banana leaves to save on washing water, but those leaves each cost a rupee. All of this hits the bottom line, leaving a longer term question on economic sustainability”, says Hari Govind, director of the iconic Maris Hotel in Chennai.
There is a silver lining. Many hotels — where guests are used to enjoying languid, lavish showers — are finding that the going is unprofitable in a “water-has-a-price” scenario. Some are coping — waterless urinals in staff bathrooms, sensor-filled taps in public washbasins, a fixture that increases air mixing with water in hand showers in the toilets, finger bowls in restaurants, fewer towels and sheets per guest, banana leaves to reduce plate washing — the list of innovations goes on. Once water has a price, innovations and processes come fast and thick to save it.
Meanwhile, builders are suffering too. The staff at site must be housed and watered. This is proving to be an expensive, and for some, an impossible proposition. But what really hurts, says Ananth Vummidi, managing director, BBCL, a real estate developer, is the lack of predictability.
“In a project, I have to decide whether or not to pour the concrete. Once I’m laying a roof, I need to water the concrete. If I don’t have water, the quality of the entire construction suffers. This kills the project.”
When and whether to run — that is the definition of an existential question. And one that bulk users of water in Chennai are asking themselves every day.
Why did we come to this sorry mess? That’s where we go to next.
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
Strikes, such as those organised by Greta Thunberg, are a start — an important start. But the choices you and I make — who to work for, who to vote for, and who to buy from — will be what moves the world.
Dear Greta,
You’re 16 — an age where one is often almost entirely self-absorbed with learning, romance, high school politics. You, however, are concerned about the fate of the world — because those of us who were 16, decades ago, were and are not. Greta Thunberg is right we arent responding to climate change like the crisis it is
Greta Thunberg. REUTERS
I heard your speech on how if climate change were indeed a crisis, the papers and the news channels would carry nothing but stories on the climate crisis. Instead, as I flip through the newspapers and my news sites one morning in India, possibly the most vulnerable country to climate change, this is what I see: Elections and cabinet postings. There is a small sliver on below-normal monsoon rainfall in the Northwest and Northeast of the country — there is no mention that climate change is projected to change rainfall patterns across the country — with the Northwest progressively becoming drier. There is another small sliver on temperatures edging close to 50C — where brief exposures outside will cause the body to start shutting down — but again, no mention of a climate crisis which will make such heat waves far more common and widespread in the future. What worries me even more than the heat is that many (most?) jobs available in India today require people to work outside (farming, construction); how will those jobs and those people be viable in the years to come?
As I turn to the business papers, again the new government looms large, with what Nirmala Sitharaman as finance minister will mean for the markets and the expansion of the farmer income-transfer scheme. As I scroll down, flip the pages, articles on GDP growth having slowed and high joblessness begin to crop up, along with one on the increased push on the Swachh Bharat programme, and an opinion piece on the water crisis. Again, no mention of climate that I could see, apart from noting that Prakash Javadekar would be helming the Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change. A couple of days ago, I came across a paper in Nature Geoscience on the change in El Nino frequency and intensity — the patterns seen in the last 30 years represent a clear break from what was seen earlier for four centuries. This is not good news for India, but there is hardly anyone talking about it.
Greta Thunberg is right we arent responding to climate change like the crisis it is
Demonstrators take part in a march as part of a world-wide protest called by "Fridays for Future" movement against climate change in Madrid, Spain, on 24 May 2019. REUTERS
The situation is different on Twitter, where one can, if one chooses, exist in a wonderful self-selected echo-chamber. In that self-selected world, climate change is indeed everywhere. But it would be the greatest blunder if I mistook it for the real world, and what the real world cared about. At my institute, we have just begun our annual survey this year on the state of waste and water — this time, we have included a section on climate change and election-issues. It’s early days yet — but initial data reveals that while almost everyone we have surveyed thus far is worried about climate change, they are unwilling to vote on performance on that issue.
I’m bracing myself for World Environment Day — the one day when environment takes up a large share of news space. This year’s theme is #BeatAirPollution. Air pollution is indeed a serious environmental issue — one that robs a million Indians of their lives prematurely. But how many of us understand that some part of this deadly pollution could be keeping temperatures down? As the climate warms, as it no doubt will, large numbers of people will tend to get more desperate. That’s never a good thing.
I try to think of solutions, and the one solution to get temperatures down quickly (and would work well within the Man-control-Nature philosophy) is to geo-engineer the climate. It is possible, but the last time that amount of cooling particles was shoved into the stratosphere, the world went without a summer. I somehow feel the PM Kisan Scheme, or the billions of dollars of agricultural subsidy the developed world provides would pale before the devastation farmers would undergo. Another solution is for large groups of people to migrate, as they likely will. Photographs of Aylan Kurdi’s small, still body shook Europe’s conscience and pried open closing doors. Hundreds of migrants have drowned in the Mediterranean since, but the photos have been submerged in the popular anti-immigrant wave. By the time you are my age, the world is likely to become profoundly unsettled because of water and because of climate.
I teach a class on climate change for postgraduate management students. I administered an anonymous survey for my students (a self-selected lot, no doubt) on their understanding and action preferences on climate and water. Not all answered, but in the 283 responses I got, almost every student answered that they were worried about climate change and were willing to act on it.
On buying: Most students answered that they were willing to pay more for a green product.
Greta Thunberg is right we arent responding to climate change like the crisis it is
When probed further, a significant majority answered that they were willing to pay 2-5 percent more for greener products.
Greta Thunberg is right we arent responding to climate change like the crisis it is
On who they would work for: Most students (and these are ones with options) said the ‘green-ness’ of their employer was a top priority.
Greta Thunberg is right we arent responding to climate change like the crisis it is
Probed further, many students were willing to take a financial hit to work in a green company.
Greta Thunberg is right we arent responding to climate change like the crisis it is
Taken together, this set of responses should give deep food for thought for companies — the very same who have, as you said Greta, profited by selling your future. Agreed, that this response should be taken with a large helping of salt, as it cost students nothing to make them and the students themselves were a self-selected lot (they elected to take a course on climate change). But these are anonymous (and thus hopefully reflective of the truth) responses management students from a leading management school in India, not activists protesting at a climate rally. Taken together, they suggest that going green — really green, not greenwashing — is a strategic no-brainer for companies. Are industry captains and industry associations listening?
Your latest battle cry — “We young people are waking up, and we promise we will not let you get away with it anymore” — reminded me of the words of a young student of mine from years ago. She, 16 then like yourself, said “I don’t want to be another person holding a placard” (she put it a tad more strongly, but leave that be). Strikes are a start — an important start. But the choices you and I make — who to work for, who to vote for, and who to buy from — will be what moves the world.
Thank you for what you do.
Best wishes,
Mridula
The writer is the founder of the Sundaram Climate Institute, cleantech angel investor and author of The Climate Solution — India's Climate Crisis and What We Can Do About It published by Hachette. Follow her work on her website; on Twitter; or write to her at cc@climaction.net.
It all began in 1911 when T.V. Sundram Iyengar started a rural transport service in Tamil Nadu. Three generations and 100 years later, the TVS Group today is $5-billion conglomerate, with over 25,000 employees across 43 companies, and operations in over 10 countries. The group's expertise includes manufacture of a wide spectrum of auto components (brakes, brake linings, wheels, fasteners, radiator caps, tyres, electronic ignition switches, and electrical parts, to name some), two-and three-wheelers, apart from financial services (NBFC, insurance and mutual fund) and logistics.
Over the years, the TVS family has grown in size, too. Its third generation, which is making its way out for the next generation, is almost 20-strong. The fourth generation is even bigger at over 25, and 11 of them have already been initiated into the business (see TVS' GenNext). Typically, in a family business, larger the family, the greater the complexities. But the TVS Group has not only survived the third generation syndrome, it continues to expand. A close look at how the family operates reveals a distinct set of rules that the family members strictly adhere to and this may well be the secret of the family's success.
SHAREHOLDING
The family members, as a norm, have no personal shareholding (apart from qualification shares) in the companies they manage. (There have been certain exceptions to this rule, but these have been made with the approval of the other family members). Each family holds proportionate shares in the holding company TVS and Sons, which, in turn, has the stake in various group companies. This structure has suppressed individuality and kept alive the group identity among the family members.
COMMUNICATION
The family has adopted formal and informal means of communication to share ideas and developments. The formal forum is the Board meeting of TVS and Sons, where each family is represented by three members. It is used to discuss group strategy, new opportunities and conflicts of interest (if any) with existing business. Informal meetings happen at family get togethers such as marriages, where the discussion invariably turns to business. Such a system is crucial to maintain a commonality in thinking among the family as its members grow in size, and unlike some family groups, which operate under the same roof, the TVS family is scattered around Chennai and Madurai.
OPERATIONAL FREEDOM
Each family member, who heads a particular business, has complete freedom to run it. Other family members cannot, directly or indirectly, interfere. If they do have any concerns or objections, they can raise it at the Board meeting of the holding company. Also, public criticism of family members or the business they head is strictly prohibited. These have ensured that there is no bad blood within the family.
VALUES
The TVS Group companies are well-known for certain attributes whatever be the industry they operate in. They are quality (five of the group companies have won the coveted Deming Award for quality given by the Union of Japanese Scientists and Engineers), strong legacy of accountability, integrity, strong people focus (TVS companies have many second and third generation employees working for them), customer service and social responsibility. These values are ingrained into the family members fairly early in their life. Thus, when the next generation comes into business, their value system is in sync.
SIMPLICITY
The TVS family members are taught to be simple and conservative. In fact, one unwritten rule among the members (and has been followed till now) is that they should not own a Mercedes Benz — a sign of opulence. This value has had a rub off effect on the business too. Most TVS Group companies are either debt-free or very low on debt. Their growth has been measured but consistent. This conservative thinking or rather lack of aggression, some argue, has slowed down the pace of growth of the group. That may not be entirely true considering that companies like TVS Motor, Sundram Fasteners and TVS Logistics have shown considerable aggression in terms of acquisition, large scale investments abroad and a rapid pace of growth.