THERE are many things that the Narmada is not. She is not an arterial waterway supporting commerce and industry. She is not even a major river of agriculture, since the plains of her basins are relatively few and narrow. But she is one of the most variable, capricious and seductive rivers in India. The Narmada does not follow the clearly defined stages of a rivers passage to the sea. For most of her course she is like a mountain stream, roaring over falls, leaping over rapids, rushing through canyons, occasionally pausing languorously in deep pools.

For the several turbulent stretches in her course the Narmada is called Rewa, from the Sanskrit rev, to leap. But she is also Mananada, who brings bliss, Rajini, the spirited, Kamanda who fulfils desire, Vibhatsa the terrifying and Manasvardini, who craves the lifeblood of those she has nurtured. Ferocious, insouciant and benevolent, more recently the Narmada has been the focus of a nationwide controversy that highlights issues which confront many developing countries, its eventual outcome a serious blot on planning processes. Too many have understood too little about crucial issues, blinkered by a lack of knowledge, blinded by individual agendas.

The Narmada is, of course, much older than the Ganga, formed when the latter was barely a twinkle in Lord Shiva’s eye, from the meeting of Gondwana land with the Central Asian landmass. The convergence thrust up a rift valley in which the Narmada flows over some of the oldest rocks on earth. She is flanked on the north bank by the sandstone Vindhya and on the southern by the basalt Satpuras, making the river the geological barrier between the northern plains and the peninsular. As legend elaborates, the Narmada was proud and haughty, rushing through the three worlds, wreaking havoc. Shiva appeared as a linga in the torrent and admonished the river to learn humility and allow herself to be confined by the Vindhya mountain and his seven stalwart sons, the Satpura.

The belief that the Narmada is the holiest of all rivers is endorsed by an old saying, Ganga snane, Yamuna pane, Narmada dhane. While it is necessary to bathe in the Ganga, drink from the Yamuna, mere contemplation of the Narmada ensures salvation. Hundreds of myths transform the river into the apotheosis of sanctity to convert each bend and curve, every confluence into magical places where wishes come true, where advantageous rebirth is assured, where prayer and penance are more effective than anywhere else and rewards, material or spiritual, multiply many times over.

Parikramavasis regularly perform the ritual circumambulation of the entire course. The pilgrimage, said to have been initiated by the sage Markandaya, takes three years, three months and thirteen days to complete. In today’s more harried times, many pilgrims now take a bus or a jeep for a quicker version. But for traditionalists, the parikrama often begins at the Reva Kund in Mandu, sixty kilometres from the Narmada, where the sacred river is believed to bubble up in a tank. In fact, all serious parikrama-vasis carry the fruit of the baobab tree introduced to Mandu in the 15th century to prove they have visited Rewa Kund.

 

The main west flowing river of the subcontinent, the Narmada rises at Amarkantak just over 3,000 feet above sea level in the rain-fed wilderness and tangled hills of the central Indian highlands. A legend explains her unusual direction. The Narmada and the Son (which also rises at Amarkantak) were to marry. But the groom succumbed briefly to the flirtations of a rivulet. Furious, the Narmada flounced off to the west. She forswore men thereafter and vowed to remain virgin, and in her virginity, of course, rests her supreme sanctity.

The road veers eastwards from Jabalpur towards Amarkantak. A detour to the shaded sal forests of the Kanha National Park, rumbling with the call of the tiger, but also one of the last retreats of the barasingha, is inevitable. The Amarkantak plateau is visible for miles, fringed with a red tinge from the laterite dumped by bauxite mining companies. It is the eastern end of a long mountain range which runs right across the middle of India from west to east. Sir Richard Temple, Chief Commissioner of the Central Provinces, wrote in 1866: ‘If the peninsula may be imagined as a shield, and if any spot be the boss of such a shield, then Amarkantak is that spot.’ Part of a remarkable watershed, the plateau is the origin, not just of the Narmada, but also the Son, tributary to the Yamuna as well as the Johilla, the rivulet which offended the Narmada and later joins the Son.

 

Wide golden meadows parted by the narrow blue stream of the holy river, are framed by deep shadowed sal forests at Amarkantak. Red laterite soil contrasts with the many shades of green. But construction is booming and the heat increases each year. The marsh that once spread on both sides of the stream has long disappeared and so have the life forms it supported. The Narmada here is barely six feet wide, and it is difficult to believe that she will eventually discharge into the sea a volume of water equivalent to the combined flow of the Ravi, Beas and Sutlej.

There is some debate as to the actual source of the Narmada. Some claim it to be a spring in a pasture, but the more accepted explanation is that it is a tank fed by a gaumukh through which the Narmada spills into the Udgam Kund. White temples around the tank are mirrored in the still water. Floral offerings float with scum at the edges of the tank and coins gleam in the mud at the bottom, a huge sum in small change. The story of the Narmada’s birth describes a terrible drought on earth and famine. The devas appealed to Shiva to relieve the dreadful thirst of the land. He meditated for many days. So powerful was his tapasya that a drop of sweat fell to the ground. From it rose a maiden so lovely that the devas were smitten. They pursued her, but she always eluded them. Shiva laughed and called her Narmada, she who gladdens the hearts of men, and commanded her to flow thenceforth for the joy and salvation of mankind. The many other versions of the Narmada’s nativity are easily explained: the holiest of rivers was recreated seven times after the seven dissolutions of the universe.

At the Narmada temple, among the many others around the source tank, the river goddess is mounted on a makara. In her four arms she holds a chaplet signifying prayer, a water jar, a lotus which represents purity and a ling which establishes her devotion to Shiva. A short distance away a dam arrests the Narmada, creating a small lake. Devotees who have worshipped at the tank and temple, sit in pedal boats dropping empty packets of pan masala and chips into the sacred water.

 

The stream meanders across the plateau and the Narmada, now reinforced by several springs, plunges off an eighty foot basalt cliff at Kapildhara, named for the rishi whose meditations brought special sanctity. Devotees once hurled themselves over the falls on to the jagged rocks below, offering their lives to placate the Narmada’s craving for blood as Manasvardhani.

A short distance from Amarkantak, the view is spectacular at Kabir Chabutara where the mystic poet is said to have rested from his travels. The mixed forest spreads out for miles, undulating over consecutive ranges to the horizon. It is a crucial but fragile watershed. Ongoing deforestation has affected climate and there are fewer rainy days but with heavier precipitation, as a result of which less water is absorbed.

On its way to Mandla the Narmada leaps splashes over a series of shallow rapids created by eruptions of the basalt river bed, which makes it difficult to boat down the river. Even during the monsoons when the water rises twenty feet and more, the rapids create a broken and eddying flow as well as dangerous whirlpools. The river loops around Mandla’s crumbling fort, once the centre of the Graha Mandla Empire. Under Sangram Shah it resounded to oaths of fealty pledged by rulers from fiefdoms that extended to Hoshangabad, over 500 kilometres away. His widowed daughter in law, Rani Durgavati, regent for her son, defended her kingdom against Baz Bahadur from Mandu whom she soundly defeated twice, causing him to vow never to pick up a sword again! Eventually defeated by Akbar’s general Asaf Khan, Durgavati took her own life.

 

Although the Mandla museum needs some help in terms of structure and display, it has an interesting if eclectic collection: dinosaur fossils, sixty million year old molluscs, lots of petrified wood, some superb sculpture ranging from the Gupta to the Kalachuri periods. There are Jain images, 17th and 18th century manuscripts, tribal artifacts and much else.

At Sahastradhara just beyond Mandla, massed rock intersects the Narmada and diverts her into the legendary hundred cascades. The huge flat rocks are believed to be remnants of an ancient dam swept away by the virgin river whom, legend insists, no man may impede. Below the falls the spirited swift flowing Narmada begins to succumb to man’s will and becomes a sheet of sluggish water backed up from the Bargi dam downstream. Thousands of people, largely Gonds, have been dispossessed of their lands and displaced. Promises of compensation were tardy in implementation and many now live in Jabalpur slums, reduced to pauperization in the name of the greater good.

Jabalpur, almost exactly in the centre of India, is a convenient kickoff point for journeys up or downstream, with both air and rail links. The Raj lingers in colonial bungalows with large compounds, a cathedral with a plaque commemorating Sleeman, well-known for his suppression of thugee, and a club which thrives on the belief that snooker was first conceived in Jabalpur by a subaltern of the Devonshire Regiment.

 

Spumes of foam rise in a fine mist from the Dhuandhar falls as the Narmada spills over a thirty foot ledge about twenty five kilometres downstream. The river then slides into a deep pool and the famous two mile marble gorge, where even the towering white marble cliffs fifty to eighty feet high, were on occasion unable to contain the river in flood. Many of the local people in the township above are sculptors working on marble or soap stone. Although they are in great demand for the images they carve for temples all over the country, tourists still provide the best market.

The Chausat Yogini temple on a hill overlooking the Narmada, further away, was built in the mid-10th century by the Kalachuri kings, a powerful regional dynasty. Propitiation of the yoginis is closely associated with tantra and is said to facilitate the acquisition of supernatural abilities, especially the ashta mahasiddi. The images of the yoginis are placed along a circular cloister, the variety of moods, and the intricacy of carving is superb. A shrine honouring Shiva and Parvati in the middle of the cloister, built a hundred years after the yogini statues were installed is still in worship.

 

The hills recede soon after marble rocks and the Narmada glides through the first of her three plains, which stretches over 160 kilometres to Hoshangabad and Nimawar. Burman Ghat at Narsinghpur is specially holy as Brahma did penance here to expiate his lust for his daughter Sandhya. His austerities endowed this part of the river with special power to fulfil wishes. So pilgrims converge and everyone prospers. A free standing varaha in a group of temples across the river, attracts crowds for the belief is that anyone who can slide under its belly is free from sin! A little further, an inscription at Rani Durgavati’s temple high above the river proclaims that there is enough food there to feed the entire world for three days!

Beyond Saptadhara where the river divides into seven streams of ferocious white water, five deep pools are named for each of the Pandavas. They had tried to dam the Narmada which washed away their every attempt. So they stripped and worked naked and the virgin river shrank in embarrassment. Then Draupadi arrived unexpectedly, and all five plunged into the river to hide their nakedness, creating the five pools.

At Hoshangabad, named for Sultan Hoshang Shah Ghori of Mandu, who built its 15th century fort, the Narmada is around 450 metres across, sparkling blue, feisty and strong. The Stegdon, a prehistoric ancestor of the elephant once roamed this area, as a pair of fossilized tusks at the local museum testify. The region was also home to Narmada Man who preceded homo erectus by about 170,000 years and whose brain was about half the size of ours. Unfortunately the skull found in the vicinity is now at the Nagpur museum. Over 7000 years ago, his descendants made their home in rock shelters at the Adamgarh caves just outside the city, where traces of paintings are becoming fainter with each passing year.

Hoshangabad celebrates Narmada Jayanti with spectacular extravagance. Boats lashed together in midstream form the base for the mandap. A huge crowd gathers on the river banks. Panchamrit, milk, ghee, dahi, honey and fruit are offered to the sacred river to roars of Narmadey Har. A faint streak of light appears on the river in the distance. It grows brighter and bigger and becomes a huge band of light that slides down the river. As it comes closer the band disintegrates into hundreds of thousands of tiny lamps floated downstream. The mandap is surrounded by a flickering sheet of fire. And the river flows blazing into the night.

 

A bridge across the Narmada links Handia and Nimawar, once important ford towns where medieval armies crossed the river. Today they cater to pilgrims and a handful of residents. A little red flag flutters in midstream, above a small temple which marks the nabhi sthan of the Narmada surrounded by flowers scattered by pilgrims. The spire of the Siddeshwar temple dominates Nimawar across the river. A soaring mass of honey coloured stone with tier upon tier of sculpture, it is said to have been built in the 10th century by Raja Bhoj who ruled from Dhar, near Mandu.

Further westwards, down a jungle road to the river bank, the medie-val Joga fortress sits on an island in the river. It is at the tail end of the Indira Sagar reservoir, the largest in Asia and even more questionable than the high profile Sardar Sarovar further away in Gujarat which it is basically structured to supply. A few miles downstream of the dam site at Punasa, the Narmada explodes over the 30 foot Dhardi falls. Sculpted towers of rock stratified in paper thin layers enclose the river. The Indira Sagar dam together with the tail waters of the Omkareshwar dam will calm this beautiful rush of water. The spectacular gorge through which the Narmada is propelled will also be levelled and the life it supports extinguished.

 

The Omkareshwar island barricaded by cliffs ninety to a hundred feet high, was a popular site of religious suicide till 1824. Today a jyotirlinga, the main attraction on the aum shaped island, is housed in a temple built in the 12th century, when a Rajput adventurer married the local Bhil princess, and assumed control. Omkareshwar used to be one of the places along the river where Narmada Dussehra was celebrated to mark the annual visit of the Ganga. The great northern river came as a black cow and bathed in the Narmada to cleanse the accumulated sins of mankind, emerging white and purified. At the auspicious hour the river level did indeed rise by a few feet, the miracle explained by cumulative effect of water gradually released from the roots of trees in the vast forests in the area. Their submergence will certainly cause such releases to be terminated.

Maheshwar in the wide plain of Nimar, some 240 kilometres long and about ninety across, appears to have been inhabited from the early stone age. Frequently mentioned in the epics and purans as Mahisamati, it was an important ford of the Narmada and a thriving centre of trade. The city was revived in the early 18th century by the Maratha general Malhar Rao Holkar, who founded the Holkar dynasty that governed large parts of central India for almost 250 years. Maheshwar became particularly well known under his daughter-in-law, Ahilya Bai who became sovereign after the death of her husband as well as her son, bringing peace and prosperity to her people with astute statecraft, diplomacy and military strategy.

In the family temple in the fort above, now partially converted into a hotel, the morning puja is still conducted according to Ahilaya Bai’s wishes. Fresh mud pandas representing each of her subjects are made every day and prayers recited over them for the well-being of her people. Her memory endures in a cenotaph below the fort, set in an intricately carved courtyard that overlooks the Narmada.

 

The clatter of handlooms introduces the Rewa Society weaving centre set up by the Holkars to perpetuate the 250 year tradition of weaving the celebrated Maheshwari sari. In these days of mass-produced mill made products, it is a most successful endeavour to upgrade the viability of the craft with design and marketing inputs. Yards of gossamer fabric fringed with intricate borders grow from the deft movement of hand shuttles, bobbins and wooden beams in an atmosphere of happy camaraderie. Like many other aspects of Maheshwar, the weaving industry, though rooted in the past, lives comfortably and profitably in the present.

At Sahastradhara a couple of kilometres downstream, rock again meets river causing a quickening and then a melee of foaming rushing splashing water as millions of gallons funnel through a series of chutes. The story here is that the legendary king, Kartivir Arjun, dallied in the water with his hundred wives, each of whom he embraced with one of his hundred arms. The arms and the wives obstructed the Narmada and in anger she converted them all to the jagged dykes that now divert the water. Sahastradhara is over 200 kilometres from the Sardar Sarovar dam but its backwaters will probably inundate the tumultuous water, and could well endanger the beautiful ghats at Maheshwar.

This segment of the river is well-known for the naturally formed Shiva lingas found in the water. The story goes that Shiva, pleased by Narmada’s devotion, granted her a boon. She asked that he and Parvati live forever in every rock and stone in her waters.

Bhil tribes gather at Piplud, near the banks of the Narmada, to celebrate the harvest festival of Ind. The drums beat under the full moon, home-made mahua is quaffed and the dancing begins. Later a banker talks to tribals about loans for irrigation systems that would enable them to grow three instead of their current single crop. But no one is interested, for where would then be the leisure, the time to enjoy, to live. Piplud and many other such villages will be submerged.

 

Downstream of Kevadia, the site of Sardar Sarovar dam, the Narmada glides rushes past Garudeshwar, a temple town dedicated to Dattatre, in the last stage of her journey to the sea. She is now wide and matronly unlike the lissom young river upstream. The adventures of youth behind her, the vivacity of her flow has been replaced by a grave, steady progress. Chandod, a little further and across the river, where the Naramda merges with two tributaries is named for Chandrama, the moon, who fearing his waxing and waning might result from some illness, prayed to Shiva. But instead of healing Chandrama, Shiva promised that anyone who worshipped here would be cured of disease. Kuber is also associated with Chandod, where he invoked Shiva and received a boon that the wishes of those who worshipped him there would be granted. Agni also did penance here in reparation for having coveted the wives of the seven rishis, till he was rescued from his passion by Swaha. And the temples throng with eager devotees commemorating all these events.

 

Boats ferry pilgrims across the Narmada to Kabir Vad in the middle of the river, where an enormous banyan tree, said to be the second largest in the country, is believed to have been planted by Kabir. Although it extends over a mile, part of the tree has been hacked away to create a lavish marble lotus temple, with a meditation platform overlooking the river as it flows relentlessly into the sea. The magic and the mystery, the eternity of the Narmada are overwhelming.

Founded over 4000 years ago by the sage Bhrigu, Bharuch the town closest to the estuary of the Narmada, is a well-known inland port that traded with ancient Greece and Rome. The volume of exports was such that Pliny protested about the drain on the exchequer. But he too ordered three hundred tables of carved black-wood from Bharuch. The Mughals as well as the British, fostered the ports maritime trade and ships continued to steam up river till the 1940s when growing deposits of silt precluded the entry of all but the smallest vessels. The water is dense, dark with silt and teeming with life.

Further out towards a light-house on the Gulf of Khambhat, the Narmada is now almost twenty kilometres across. It is impossible to tell where the river ceases and the sea begins. The waters merge silently, without spectacle. But far out in the centre there is swirl of water, ribbed with flurries of foam, a pool of fresh water, where the Narmada emerges as Samudra’s daughter, the virgin river whom no man may impede.