India’s Rivers Are So Revered, Why Are They the Filthiest?

A ritual of dumping thousands of litres of milk into the Narmada River a few weeks ago raises a troubling question: If India's rivers are truly sacred, why are they treated as receptacles for waste rather than as living systems deserving of genuine protection?

A video from Madhya Pradesh showing thousands of litres of milk being poured into the Narmada River has gone viral, sparking a sharp debate among devotees, environmentalists, and public welfare circles. Devotees claim the act was part of a grand abhishek ritual, but questions are now being raised about its impact.

The visuals are linked to a large-scale religious function held at the Shri Dadaji Darbar Pataleshwar Mahadev Temple in Satdev Village, Sehore District, during Chaitra Navratri. According to posters and local sources, the event spanned 21 days, from March 18 to April 7. It included a massive mahayagya using 41 tonnes of ghee, Shiv Mahapuran recitations, and continuous Durga Path recitation by 151 devotees. The viral video, however, focuses on one particular ritual in which nearly 11,000 litres of milk were poured into the Narmada as part of a ceremonial offering. Organisers and devotees defend the act as an expression of deep faith.

Experts have raised concerns about the incident, noting that it could lead to immediate changes in water quality in the river stretch due to a dip in dissolved oxygen levels, affecting not only biodiversity but also the people who depend on the river. They also point out that decomposing milk in river water promotes bacterial growth, making the ecosystem toxic to fish and other organisms. This, however, is not an isolated event. Blind faith and rituals in the name of religion are choking rivers across India. While such blatant activities should ideally be regulated by applying India’s primary laws to combat pollution, authorities baulk at addressing them for obvious political reasons.

The controversy over the wastage of huge quantities of milk – a high-quality, affordable source of protein – has intensified amid Madhya Pradesh's own nutrition challenges. A Public Interest Litigation (PIL) filed in the Madhya Pradesh high court, citing data from the Poshan Tracker and health surveys, claims that over 10 lakh children in the state are malnourished, with more than 1.36 lakh classified as severely malnourished. Additionally, 57% of women in the state suffer from anaemia.

A river is a unique feature in India where life and death merge. A glance at the daily activities along the ghats in Varanasi – on the banks of the Ganga – encapsulates this: humans use the same water to sustain life and to dispose of the dead, with a massive influx of ashes from roughly 300 to 400 bodies cremated daily. Such intimate man-river interactions are hard to find elsewhere in the world. As social scientist Sudhir Kakar once said, the Indian body is less segregated from the environment. It is in constant transaction with it, in contrast to the sharply bounded Western body.

This is one way to explain our psychological fixation on rivers. However, despite our culture-specific attachment and reverence, we have now soiled the waters, almost to the point of no return. India's rivers are dying due to increased pollution, groundwater depletion, and erratic monsoons.

Indic rivers have always played an important role in supporting the many civilisations the region has housed throughout the ages. From irrigating farmland and towns to providing drinking water for millions, major waterways like the Ganga and its tributaries have sustained life in these lands since time immemorial. However, to Hindus, these rivers are more than vital cogs in the nation's prosperity. They are essential lifelines of India's spiritual well-being.

One might think India, the land where the predominant faith purportedly teaches that all of creation is sacred, would be a shining example of how human beings should live sustainably. Instead, it might leave anyone who has ever been to the country wondering: if India’s rivers are so revered, why are they so polluted?

The Hindu religion, as practised in India, can be viewed as a transactional arrangement in which the deity – in this case, the river – is approached for worldly or heavenly gains in exchange for offerings. The Ganga and other major rivers are considered so sacred that most of them are worshipped as goddesses, capable of bestowing both spiritual and divine favours. As a result, millions of people travel to the riverbanks every year. For many, a dip in the river is primarily a way to cleanse themselves of their sins and attain liberation. Others take the plunge as a symbol of renewal, purifying the mind and intellect so that one's thoughts, words, and actions become more dharmic, or righteous.

What can be done? How can the waters be cleaned up? Many see it as a lost cause. Others say that because the rivers are divine – and therefore metaphysical – they are beyond material contamination anyway – a factually wrong argument. Against this backdrop of divinity, the white, toxic lather that frequently covers the Yamuna River near Delhi is a stark visual reminder that the river – widely believed to purify devotees – does not even have the power to cleanse itself and remains one of the most polluted.

Spiritual reverence for rivers has become inextricably linked to severe pollution

The concept of sacred rivers faces a profound crisis in which spiritual reverence for the water has become inextricably linked to severe pollution. While millions bathe in these rivers to cleanse their souls, the rivers themselves are drowning in the weight of human waste, industrial effluent, untreated sewage, and agricultural runoff.

As for the Narmada River, it already faces significant ecological strain along its entire stretch from untreated sewage, industrial waste, and religious activities – particularly in stretches near urban areas such as Jabalpur and Hoshangabad. Despite its sacred status, water quality studies reveal high turbidity, low dissolved oxygen levels and elevated contaminant concentrations, rendering the water unfit for direct consumption in several regions.

The water contamination deaths reported in Indore early this year were a woeful reminder of failures in water management in the state. Large dams such as the Sardar Sarovar have disrupted the river's natural flow, reducing its capacity to flush away pollutants. This has significantly affected the coastal areas of the Gulf of Khambhat in Gujarat. The reduction in freshwater discharge is causing severe ecological and economic damage, including increased coastal erosion, salinity ingress, and the collapse of local fisheries.

Several "River Rejuvenation Programmes" launched by the government are struggling to meet their intended targets, often falling short of pollution reduction goals despite significant financial expenditure. Inaugurated by prime minister Narendra Modi on May 15, 2017, following the 144-day "Namami Devi Narmade" Seva Yatra, the Narmada Save Mission was yet another attempt to mobilise the masses by leveraging religious sentiments to focus on the Narmada's ecological health through large-scale tree planting, pollution control, and sustainable agriculture.

Described by PM Modi as a "Yagya" (literally meaning a Vedic ritual of devotion involving offerings into a sacred fire and the chanting of hymns) for the river's preservation, the initiative involves a community-led movement centred on cleanliness and awareness. When devotees thronged the banks of the Narmada in Satdev Village, why could the authorities not discourage them from offering milk to the river goddess by explaining that this was not the "Yagya" (“devotion”), and that what they were engaged in was "Hatya" (destruction)?

As an article by Akanksha in Down to Earth points out : “True devotion cannot be measured by the number of idols immersed or litres of milk poured into the river. The rituals must be reimagined as acts of moral responsibility, care, and protection. What if the greatest act of devotion is a commitment not to dump waste, to demand accountability, and to treat the river not as a resource but as a “living entity”?”

The article argues, “The true paradox lies here: they are mobilising the masses through religious sentiments to save the river while ignoring the political, industrial, and developmental systems. And inviting the deeper crisis that has turned environmentalism into a ritual rather than a revolution. When a government uses the rhetoric of devotion, when NGOs reframe the idea of “spiritual purity,” and when civil society is asked to believe that offering milk is more sacred than treating sewage, we are protecting a myth, not the river.”

Addressing the core ecological issues by invoking "spiritual purity" – and thereby reinventing the idea of the "sacred" as it applies to India's rivers – is likely to be counterproductive. Perhaps the only solution is to rigorously enforce the Water Pollution Act through laws and fines, thereby fostering a science-based culture of responsibility and educating the public to counter superstition – or even enacting laws against irrational acts with significant implications. In such a framework, rivers are to be respected as providers of ecosystem services.

They must therefore be treated better than they currently are – for the sake of the economy as well as the health and well-being of the population. They require genuine protection, not lip service about how sacred they are, and certainly not ritualistic acts such as pouring milk or ghee into the river or immersing idols in it. To end with a quote famously attributed to Einstein: human stupidity is more certainly infinite than the universe itself.

C.P. Rajendran is a geoscientist and a communicator on science, politics, environment, and education.

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