Where the Yamuna still has signs of life

The scene at Wazirabad – though a far cry from the pristine strawberry fields in upstream Palla that we wrote about in the first part of this series – is the last vision of the revered Yamuna as a sacred lifeline. Dozens of fishermen row their rickety wooden boats into the water, skillfully throwing their nets in search of the day’s catch. On the riverbanks, families gather at ancient ghats, offering prayers, taking ritual dips, and even sipping the water as part of sacred Hindu rites. Across the river, young men and women practice rowing and kayaking, their synchronised strokes slicing through the water in perfect rhythm, in Delhi’s few remaining boating clubs.

But this fragile balance is fleeting.

Just a few hundred metres downstream, the river takes a catastrophic turn. The Najafgarh drain, which carries nearly 70% of Delhi’s pollution load, merges with the Yamuna, unleashing an avalanche of sewage, industrial chemicals, and solid waste. Within minutes, the river’s blue morphs into a murky black, its oxygen levels plummeting to zero, rendering it incapable of supporting any form of life.

That’s where the Yamuna becomes a “dead river”.

Final moments of life

The 1,491-foot-long Wazirabad barrage, built in 1959, plays a critical role in the city’s survival. It creates the final reservoir of relatively clean water – it’s from here that the Delhi Jal Board (DJB) draws millions of gallons of water to supply its Wazirabad, Chandrawal, and Okhla water treatment plants, providing drinking water to over two million residents.

In peak summer, however, the Yamuna’s flow weakens, and the water level at Wazirabad plummets. By June, large portions of the riverbed turn into islands of sand, exposing dry patches where the river once flowed freely. The filtration units of the 134 million-gallon-per-day (MGD) Wazirabad treatment plant often lie idle, unable to operate without sufficient water. Emergency measures are then put in place — recycling water, redirecting limited supplies — to keep Delhi’s taps from running dry.

In March, Wazirabad’s pond area is filled to the brim. One of the barrage gates has been opened, allowing water to flow downstream. But with rising temperatures and increasing demand, the situation will change rapidly.

“It’s the same story every year,” said a senior DJB official who asked not to be named. “By June, the water level falls to 670 or 671 feet — dangerously below the minimum required 674 feet. That’s when the political battles begin. Allegations fly between Delhi and Haryana about reduced water supply. The courts get involved. But nothing really changes.”

A sacred space

Stepping on the bridge above the barrage gives the first glimpse of a grim reality. Signs urging people not to dump waste into the river are everywhere: “Yamuna hamari shaan hai, isme kooda daalna apmaan hai (The Yamuna is our pride, dumping garbage into it is an insult).”

But the road and the river below are littered with plastic bags filled with flowers, coconuts, and remnants of religious offerings. The ritual of immersing puja materials into the Yamuna — meant to be an act of devotion — ironically contributes to the pollution that is choking the river.

Just across the barrage, a stretch of the riverbank known as Sur Ghat bears the scars of a recent demolition drive. Illegally built religious shrines that once stood here were razed in December as part of an effort by city authorities to reclaim encroached land along the river. The site, once bustling with devotees, now lies strewn with debris.

Still, the faithful gather.

Suresh Das, a 32-year-old sadhu clad in saffron robes, has spent his entire life on these ghats. He gestures toward the remains of the demolished shrines. “My gurus lived here before me. These temples have stood for decades, but they were bulldozed in a matter of days,” he said. “Still, people come to perform rituals here.”

To be sure, the action was taken by the DDA as part of its anti-encroachment removal drive on the Yamuna floodplains as directed by the National Green Tribunal and the Delhi high court.

Like many older residents, Das remembers a time when the Yamuna was cleaner.

“Twenty years ago, the water was clearer. We could perform achman (ritual sip) without hesitation. Now, we hesitate even to bathe in it,” he says, pointing toward a group of fishermen casting their nets just 200 metres away.

That is the cruel reality of Wazirabad — it remains a hub of spiritual and cultural significance, even as it teeters on the brink of environmental collapse.

The last refuge for fishing

For the Yamuna’s aquatic life, Wazirabad is the last gasp. Fish still live here — barely. Once the river passes the barrage and meets the Najafgarh drain, oxygen levels plummet, and life all but disappears.

Gone are the days when the river teemed with native species such as Rohu, Singhara, Catla, and Malli. Today, the few fish that survive are mostly invasive species such as Thai Mangur and Tilapia, which have adapted to the changing ecosystem.

Sixty-two-year-old Tirmal Singh, a fisherman from the Mallah community, has been fishing in the Yamuna his entire life. But the river he knew as a child is long gone.

“Till the early 2000s, we could still catch Rohu or Singhara here. Now, they’ve completely vanished,” he said, casting his net into the water. “All that’s left are these foreign species like Mangur. They survive because they can live in polluted water. But they don’t taste the same.”

Another fisherman, Bhaiyya Lal, pulls in his net. Inside, hundreds of tiny Chaal fish are wriggling, each barely an inch long.

“These are everywhere now, but they’re so small, no one wants them,” he said. “They sell for ₹50 per 250 grams, but you can’t even debone them. People just fry and eat them whole.”

For decades, fishing in the Yamuna was a livelihood passed down through generations. But as pollution worsened, the river could no longer sustain families.

Ratan Kumar, 55, was once a full-time fisherman. Now, he paints houses during the day and fishes only in the evenings. “In the early 2000s, we could catch 15-20kg of fish daily. Now, we’re lucky to get 5kg,” he said. “There’s no money left in this trade. Our fathers and grandfathers fished in this river, but today, it’s just a hobby for most of us.”

His observations are backed by research. A recent Central Inland Fisheries Research Institute (CIFRI) report submitted to the National Green Tribunal (NGT) highlights the drastic decline of native fish species in the Yamuna.

“In the 1960s and ’70s, Indian Major Carps (IMCs) like Rohu and Catla made up 50% of the total catch. But their numbers have plummeted, replaced by invasive species like the Nile Tilapia and Common Carp,” the report stated.

Singhara, Padhin, and Ritha — once staples of Delhi’s fishmarkets — are now rare because of habitat degradation and pollution.

Neeta Sehgal, senior professor (fish biology) at the department of zoology at Delhi University said study findings reiterate a known trend in recent decades. “In the 80s, African mangur were introduced by authorities, in hopes to hybridise them with the Indian carps. However, these catfish are fairly hardy and can survive even in dirty stagnant water and even with growing pollution in the river, have shown tremendous adaptability. They grow to a very large size and are ferocious eaters, which led to them consuming a number of our native fish and in large numbers,” said Sehgal. 

Wazirabad stands as a paradox — a place where the Yamuna breathes, but only just.

For the fishermen, the priests, and the worshippers, this is the last holdout of a Yamuna that once was. But as pollution tightens its grip, one question remains: How much longer will Wazirabad remain an exception before it, too, is swallowed by the poison flowing downstream?