Pictures of the Future      Spring 2005

River of Life

It’s 2020, and India has been spectacularly successful in improving the quality of its water treatment systems. The Ganges, India’s sacred river, has benefited from this progress—as two students from England discover...

The Ganges flows so sluggishly that it seems to be having difficulties pushing its way through the hot, humid atmosphere. A young English couple stands on its banks feeling the effects of the oppressive noonday sun. Nigel and Mia feel exhausted as they watch children splashing in the water. "Do you feel like going swimming?" Mia laughingly asks her companion. "No, thanks," answers Nigel. "I heard that the sewage from more than 20 million people and count­less factories is channeled directly into the Ganges, more or less without being cleaned. At least that’s what my father told me, and he worked in India for a long time. Let’s just move on."

A short while later, Nigel and Mia see an amazing sight. In front of a Hindu temple, dozens of people are frolicking in the waves, solemnly diving under the surface or standing in the water and meditating. "They’re taking ritual baths," says Mia, who is impressed. "Hindus believe that the Ganges purifies the mind and the soul. A single drop is supposed to be enough to wash away all one’s sins." "Well, it’s certainly a sin to pollute a holy river," comments Nigel dryly. "You’re absolutely right," says a man near them in nearly unaccented English. In the water in front of them they see an elderly Indian man who is smiling at them in a friendly way. "But fortunately," he adds, "we solved the water pollution problem a few years ago. This river now has top-quality water for swimming purposes."

Nigel and Mia gaze at the old man in puzzlement, trying to match up his educated accent with his look. "Even a retired university professor can honor religious traditions," explains the old man, reaching out to shake their hands. "Pleased to meet you. I’m Professor Mishra of the University of Mumbai, former full professor of hydraulic engineering."

"How did you get the pollution out of the river?" Mia asks. "Through political will and plenty of funding," says Mishra. "and, above all, with the help of this technology." The Professor points at two state-of-the-art sewage plants near the temple. "Every large village and factory along the Ganges now has its own small wastewater and water purification plant," he says.

"That building in the front contains a sewage treatment plant equipped with modern membrane bioreactors that separate the water from solid materials and reduce the resulting sewage sludge. Before the purified water is re­channeled into the river downstream from the village, it is irradiated with powerful beams of ultraviolet light. That eliminates any bacteria it may still contain."

Mishra readjusts his glasses and continues: "Only ten years ago, around 80 % of all cases of illness in India could be traced to polluted water. Today, the main cause of illness is unhealthy eating habits—just the same as in England. If you look at it that way, we’ve made tremendous progress, haven’t we?"

"And is the other building a water purification plant?" asks Nigel, who is some­what embarrassed about his previous remarks. "Yes, indeed," answers the Professor. "A large percentage of our drinking water comes from the holy river—from the goddess Ganga herself, so to speak. We purify it completely using nothing other than electricity—no chemical additives are involved. To put it more precisely, we purify it with pulsed high-voltage electricity. The high field strengths destroy all the pathogens, and at the same time create antiseptic substances that further disinfect the water. These substances, by the way, also neutralize solvents and herbicides used in agriculture."

Mishra scoops some water out of the river and holds it up for the two students to see. "For millions of my countrymen, this water is not only crucial to their survival, it’s also an essential part of our culture," he explains. "If people had continued to pollute the Ganges, at some point not a single believer would have wanted to return to the river. That would have meant the end of the tradition, the culture, and ultimately the religion."

Mia is visibly impressed by this combination of tradition and modernity, and she looks around over her shoulder with interest.

As she does so, she notices a small blue box on a platform situated directly on the riverbank. She looks questioningly at the professor. "You have a great thirst for knowledge," says Mishra approvingly. "That’s our analysis box. Inside is a mini-laboratory that autonomously and continuously monitors the river’s water quality. It transmits its results in minutes by radio to the PDAs used by officials responsible for water quality. The Indian government has installed many such boxes all along the Ganges. They tell us immediately if anyone has dumped unpurified wastewater into the river, for example. It’s fascinating, isn’t it?"

"Speaking of a thirst for knowledge," says Nigel, "my throat is getting very dry from this heat. Can we get something to drink around here?" "Of course, help yourself!" answers the Indian, pointing to his bag, which is lying a few meters away on the riverbank. Nigel takes a bottle of water out of the bag and looks at it askance. "Where does this water come from?" he asks. "From the Ganges?" "No, not at all," protests Mishra. "It’s pure water from the Thames..." He laughs as he sees Nigel’s look of disgust. "Just a little joke," he adds. "Go ahead and drink it. It’s fine table water from southern France."
                                                                                                                    Florian Martini