THE devastating Kedarnath tragedy three years ago, in which thousands of people perished and hundreds of thousands lost their livelihoods, may have instantly grabbed national and international headlines into the bargain, but even now stories from the valley – “of pain and sorrow, the state government’s indifference and the corporate goof-ups, the courage and heroism shown by the locals in the face of an absolute catastrophe” — have remained largely unheard. There is no denying the fact that the ages-old temple has been restored and that the calamity did not deter the pilgrim spirit, but the ravaged Kedarnath valley still haunts us. Bringing one up to what is little or not known of the Kedarnath tragedy, is Hridayesh Joshi’s Rage Of The River. A television journalist with NDTV, Joshi covered the floods extensively in 2013, exposing the government’s apathy and inefficiency. Dubbed the first reporter to reach Kedarnath after the disaster by his channel, he had then brought to light stories from the most remote parts of the state, areas cut off from the rest of wherever. Joshi’s original reports in Hindi, an eyewitness account of an early arrival on the scene, caught the “horror of the moment” and inspired the urgency for better official response, which this English translation brilliantly captures. Unlike the mild style of official reports, Rage of the River is breathing, with a blow-by-blow documentation of the trauma of quite a few people who suffered the consequences of the mighty Himalayan slopes collapsing around them. In this haunting narrative, the author recalls his experience as a journalist covering the tragedy, mentions the furious sights of the otherwise calm Mandakini river that cascaded from the hills of Uttarakhand and destroyed everything in its path; shares touching tales of survivors and painful memories of those who didn’t make it. But this is not all — Rage of the River is a riveting commentary on the socio-environmental landscape of Uttarakhand, filled with vivid imagery of the calamity. Joshi questions the state government’s continued denial and negligence towards environmental issues in the region and weaves a remarkable history of ordinary people’s struggle to save the state’s ecology. Also, the sluggish reaction of official bodies and their ambiguous coverage is investigated, as is the media role in striving to find a balance between news and sensation. The book carries an insightful foreword by legendary travel writer Bill Aitken, who mentions, “The gravity of the Kedarnath disaster in June 2013, which killed thousands of people, shocked the public almost to the point of numbness. For Uttrakhand, the land of the gods, it seemed unbelievable that pilgrims as well as their village support teams, human and animal, should have been so unfairly singled out for nature’s unbridled wrath. What provoked this calamitous reprisal and why were the gods so uncaring of human life? What went wrong in Kedarnath and were the gods alone to blame for such a calamity? Or did human folly contribute to the devastation? These questions and, more importantly, how to prevent a reoccurrence of the tragedy, are the subjects of the aptly titled Rage of the River.” The book not only investigates the Kedarnath disaster but also traces the rapid changes the entire region has witnessed over the years. Before the coming of motorable roads in the 1960s, the pilgrim ethos was something else and involved sweat and the satisfaction of trekking. By the late 1980s, the bus rushed pilgrims from Rishikesh to the doors of Badrinath over one long, bilious day. The arrival of the Maruti car then swelled pilgrim traffic exponentially but “instead of an encounter with eternity, the god of time became the chief object of worship”. And in the entire process of bringing pilgrims to the doors, for many reasons, including generating revenue from tourism, the environment suffered miserably. “To hasten the stampede, roadblocks on deforested slopes were blasted with dynamite to further weaken the fragile hillsides and clog the river below. Tall, unsanctioned structures, literally built on the sand of riverbeds, were allowed to mushroom. After the flood, some of the riverbeds were raised by 15 metres of silt.” The serious objections from the locals and environmentalists alike were neglected, and letters of concern were thrown into bins without even being read. “Those who live in Uttrakhand and dedicate their time to sound environmental sense, like Sundarlal Bahuguna and Chandi Prasad Bhatt, were not listened to and contractor raj became the order of the day — digging, mining and sapping the unstable Himalayan slopes.” The author also takes note of the several “short-sighted and unsustainable methods” that had been resorted to instead of “judicious development of the world’s highest and steadily rising mountain range”. Joshi’s sympathetic reconstruction of the tragedy includes a survey of the politics involved in the villagers’ fight for environmental protection. Woven with the narrative of the tragedy is the way ahead — the immediate need to restore the Himalayas to prevent a reoccurrence of such a calamity. “Crucial is afforestation of soil-holding tress,” Aitken mentions in the foreword, “which are the long term guarantees of a productive return on the pahari’s narrow, hard-won terraces.” Joshi chronicles the apathy of the administration that “led up to and followed the deluge”, along with constructive suggestions to overcome the heartbreak of farming in the hills. The personal stories of the victims interviewed cover a whole gamut of raw emotions and make for a moving narrative — such as the heart-warming willingness of the villagers around the helicopter bases, who, in the absence of government supplies, cooked and packed puri-sabzi to be airdropped to stranded pilgrims. Not leaving matters just here, the book also reminds readers of a massive earthquake “now long overdue”, according to seismologists. “To save lives, the public needs to be educated on basic drills such as turning off gas cylinders at night, providing direct access to water and sleeping with clothes, shoes and a torch within easy reach. These mundane preparations can mean the difference between life and death,” the book mentions. Rage of the River makes for an urgent read among all pilgrims and travellers, in particular, for, apart from chronicling the disaster, what led to it and its aftermath, the author also focuses a great deal on the impact of pilgrimage to these regions. Responsible tourism and protecting the environment run through the very essence of this offering.
Recently, social media was flooded with messages - the avalanche in Uttarakhand and emerges dramatic scenes with speculations along with it. My inquisitiveness to know the topography of Uttarakhand increases manifold. Then I came across this author’s profile and found about this book in his bio.
Here I am, after reading this book, more enlightened about the 2013 Kedarnath tragedy, river system and the related environmental issues of Uttarakhand. As a reader, we rate a book based on what we intent to get from the book. This book has done complete justice to that intent. Hence, rating it five stars.
This book narrates the intertwined before and after events of the Kedernath tragedy - the callous response of the government, failed media – struggle within the media environment with the tag of ‘NGO Journalism’ for ‘hookless’ stories, century long fightback of hill people from the snatchers, role of women, reckless ‘development’ activity, displacement of the forest dwellers and its toll on sensitive mountain valley and the question of where we are heading?
It is also heartening to know the tireless efforts of common folks who fight against the system to protect the environment despite of countless repercussions. The hill people are gritty indeed, without doubt. There is a chapter which exclusively talks about the home grown movements to save environment.
It also shakes the foundation of YOU after realizing, how we failed to see Swami Nigamananda Paramahansa, who died fasting to save the river Ganga from illegal mining at the same time when the anti-corruption campaign was on peak.
This is a book about the Kedarnath floods. The first half of the book gives a close account of the disaster. The initial narrative has a flavour of TV reporting though. The second half of the book has information on various problems like deforestation, multiple hydroelectric power projects, road construction resulting in large amount of debris, etc. Also, the various local initiatives like Jhapti cheeno, Kedar ghati bachao, Chipko van andolan, etc. which highlight the environmental concerns have been discussed along with some alternative energy options like solar energy, bagasse cogeneration and biomass power. I also found recommendation for another good read: The unquiet woods by Ramchandra Guha.
An average attempt to document the tragedy the Kedar valley in the floods of 2013. However the book has some inaccuracies and flaws such as in the geographical location of some areas. It's lacking in research and adequate ground work.
A documentary of 2013 tragedy in Kedar Valley. Hridyesh Joshi was there as a television reporter to report the devastation. He met a lot of people who came out alive. Also he met some brave hearts who were always present there for days to help rescuing people. Although the temple and nearby areas have been restored now yet after seven years of this tragedy, the ravaged Kedar Valley still haunts people. May there be Peace everywhere. 🙏