By Da o Emi Lamar
“To write history without putting any water in it is to leave out a large part of the story. Human experience has not been so dry to leave that”- Donald Worster
A recent judgment by the High Court of Meghalaya has mandated state authorities to address the sand debris clogging the Myntdu River and ensure its unobstructed flow. This directive stems from a Public Interest Litigation (PIL) filed by Khooid Ya Ka Wah Myntdu (KYM), an organization founded with the primary objective to safeguard the river. KYM has conducted numerous public meetings and is currently spreading awareness across different localities of Jowai, highlighting the need to protect Myntdu.
Myntdu river encircles Jowai town before it eventually culminates into the plains of Bangladesh. Much revered for its divine presence, it is a lifeline to fertile valleys of the Pynthor ñein (upper stream) and Pynthor wah (lower stream). It is also regarded as the ‘Tawiar Takan’ (divine guardian) which is integral to the local indigenous faith and culture.
Along with the natural streams that flourish the paddy fields, the pipeline systems placed through the assistance of PHE department schemes establish an instrumental relationship between the residents of Jowai and Myntdu river. Thus, Myntdu river becomes a threshold to trace the history, culture and the process of (re)making Jowai and its surrounding settlements.
In one of the meetings conducted by the KYM, a speech made by one of its prominent members highlighted the profound “symbiotic” relationship between Jowai and the Myntdu River—an immemorial bond that defies any timeline. Jowai, in many ways, owes its very existence to Myntdu. This is best exemplified through the Jaintia Festival Behdieñkhlam, celebrated annually during after sowing period. An essential aspect of this festival reflects the community’s advanced agricultural practices and deep reverence for the river. Steeped in folklore, this cultural tradition underscores the Myntdu’s dual role as both a spiritual deity and a lifeline, nurturing the people of Jowai and neighbouring villages materially and spiritually. It is also worth noting that along its banks at Syntu Ksiar, a pivotal moment in Jaintia history unfolded—the declaration of U Kiang Nangbah as the leader of the uprising against British rule. There the speaker poignantly remarked, “Just as Egypt is a gift of the Nile, so too is Jowai a gift of the Myntdu.” These words resonate deeply, encapsulating the river’s enduring role as the heart and soul of the region.
While the sentiment of the saying holds truth, I am of the opinion that we have moved beyond the binary notion of this symbiotic relationship. We have reached a point where the Myntdu River is no longer recognized as an entity of its own. Instead, it is viewed merely as a resource or a symbol of divinity, disregarding the fact that Myntdu is a living system, deserving of respect and protection. The ongoing construction of the new Jowai-Dawki bypass, which encroaches within 20 to 50 meters of the river, has brought to light the river’s deteriorating state. This should serve as a wake-up call, urging the community to acknowledge the Myntdu’s plight. In sustaining Jowai’s urbanity, its management and access over the river has over time produced a ‘new nature’, one that is of concrete infrastructure. Poised under the guise of development, this ‘new nature’ counterintuitively disrupts urban sustainability. Arguably, the most visible threat is the ongoing construction of the highway which has contributed gravely to the depletion of the river.
The completion of the highway is expected to provide improved access to land alongside Myntdu river, which will exponentially drive-up land prices. Initiation for the same is evident where land markings suggest plans for future sales or residential construction. While this is largely speculative, the potential consequences of such developments are already clear.
A grim yet stark parallel can be drawn to Wah Umkhrah, a once-pristine river now stuck in a monotonous loop of pollution and ineffective clean-up efforts. Despite valiant attempts to restore it, Wah Umkhrah serves as a constant reminder of the environmental toll of unchecked urbanization. H. Elias, one of Meghalaya’s literary luminaries, once described Wah Umkhrah as “Ko wah rupa baied ki Blei”—a silvery river beloved of the Gods. Today, however, it bears no resemblance to this poetic image, its past diminished by the rapid expansion of Shillong. The fear is palpable: if residential areas emerge along the new bypass, Myntdu’s fate will probably mirror that of Wah Umkhrah, rendering it beyond saving. This is not merely a concern for the environment but a cautionary tale of history repeating itself.
Less visible but equally harmful is the accumulation of waste and untreated sewage from Jowai that flows directly into the Myntdu. This persistent pollution has led to repeated warnings about the river’s deteriorating health and has clearly established the fact that the water drawn from Myntdu is unfit for consumption. The current alternatives in place include the excessive use of chemicals by the Public Health Engineering (PHE) Department at water treatment centres and the reliance on groundwater for commercial water supply. However, both approaches are unsustainable in the long term. The concern for the river’s health has been predominantly human-centric, a reflection of the Anthropocene era. This anthropocentric perspective is not unique to the Myntdu but has shaped the discourse surrounding Indian rivers in general. The pressing need of the hour is to move beyond this approach and recognize legal rights for rivers.
Legal Rights for the Myntdu River: A Path Forward?
The plight of the Myntdu echoes that of rivers across India, many of which face similar threats. While India lacks specific laws recognizing the rights of nature, the Constitution provides a foundation for environmental protection. Articles 48A and 51A(g) impose a duty on the state and citizens to safeguard the environment, but these provisions are often insufficient in practice.
Globally, countries like Ecuador and New Zealand have pioneered the recognition of legal rights for nature. In New Zealand, the Whanganui River was granted personhood, a victory for the Maori people after decades of advocacy. In India, similar efforts have been made, such as the Uttarakhand High Court’s declaration of the Ganga and Yamuna rivers as legal entities. Although this decision was later overturned by the Supreme Court, it provides a framework for recognizing rivers’ rights.
Granting legal personhood to the Myntdu River could offer a transformative solution. This status would ensure that the river’s health is legally protected, with representatives acting on its behalf. However, such an approach is fraught with challenges. Who will speak for the river? How will these rights be enforced without succumbing to human-centric or economic biases? A robust framework is essential, supported by independent advocates and sufficient resources to uphold the river’s rights in court.
Collective Responsibility and the Way Ahead
While the High Court’s directive to clear sand debris is a step forward, long-term solutions require collective responsibility. Jowai’s residents, elected leaders, state authorities and the autonomous district council should recognize their role in the river’s degradation and work towards sustainable practices. Community-driven initiatives, combined with legal safeguards, can help restore the Myntdu to its former vitality. The Myntdu River is more than a resource; it is a living testament to Jowai’s identity, history, and culture. Whether it continues to thrive or fades into memory depends on the actions taken today. The question remains: Will we rise to the challenge and save the river, or will we leave future generations with nothing but stories of what once was?