By Nirbaan Gill
On average, a person’s interest in a hobby lasts about 16 months, reveals the British Heart Foundation. But for me, even after a decade of nurturing affection for the spectacular golden mahseer, I still gravitate toward any opportunity to catch even a glimpse of this majestic fish. In recent years, however, I have had the painful experience of witnessing the near decimation of this beloved species in a landscape I cherish.
I was introduced to the sport of angling (catch and release) as a five-year-old boy on the western Ramganga, a meandering, shimmering rain-fed river that forms the heart of the beautiful wildlife sanctuary, the Corbett Tiger Reserve. I can recount the many dawns spent standing on the round-boulder banks of this river, listening to the unique calls of the Crested Serpent-eagle echoing over the tumbling whoosh of the crystal-clear water.
I have often reflected on how this privileged activity has helped expand my understanding of the deep connection I share with the jungle, which in turn has helped nurture in me qualities of empathy, patience and humility. But all is not well with the river anymore. Its apex predator, the golden mahseer, is witnessing a precipitous decline in population, attributed to alarming levels of siltation, illegal poaching and unsustainable development. The fallout has done immense damage to not only the populations of this ‘tiger of the river’, but also a multitude of other river-dependent species, including the smooth-coated otter, fish-eagles, gharial, crocodile, tiger, leopard, and many other species that rely on the cool waters of this river.
As the pink-tinted pools flash with the scattered golden fins of the mahseer, I am reminded that this battle is not just for the survival of one species, but for the rescue of a heritage that has outlived countless generations before us. The mahseer is not just a fish; it is a representation of resilience and fortitude. And for it to remain so, we must step up and fight for it.
A kingfisher. Photo: Neil Morais.
The golden mahseer is known for being the toughest freshwater sport fish and it hasn’t earned the title ‘The King of Indian Freshwaters’ only because of its appearance. It is one of the most enduring fighting fish known to sportsmen from around the world. When paired with an appropriately sized rod and reel, the mahseer fights like a fish three times its size. Even the great hunter-turned-conservationist Jim Corbett (after whom Asia’s first wildlife sanctuary is named) famously said, “Fishing for mahseer in a submontane river is the most fascinating of all field sports – a sport fit for kings.” Indeed, a local angling legend Misty Dhillon said of his experience with the mahseer, “The angler never forgets his first encounter with the mahseer: a great wrench on the rod heralds its take, then the ratchet screams on a fast-emptying reel. The sensation is electrifying. Few freshwater fish will set off with such speed, fight for long and strike both despondency and joy to the heart of the adversary.”
There’s been great debate about whether angling can be part of the conservation story. At a time when cities and townships are fast outstripping wilderness spaces, I believe any human connection to the forest is a step in the direction for a new conservationist to become alive to nature’s cause. For me, the thrill of such encounters has deepened my love for the river and persuaded me to engage with ideas and action on how to save this beautiful fish, which also means saving this beautiful river.
The Ramganga river. Photo: Jeewan Rautela.
The health of a forest is determined by the status of its apex predator. The same is true for a river ecosystem, and with the mahseer considered a keystone species, its survival becomes critical for the maintenance of ecological balance in a river.
Over the years, the Ramganga has experienced an alarming deterioration in its water quality and the rate at which it flows, consequently affecting the river’s biodiversity. I have seen how the river has begun to morph into a cloudy stream in large stretches before it journeys into the protected tiger reserve of Corbett. Pools, previously as large as 25 m. in diameter, have receded to a mere 15 m. While this may not seem like much, these comparisons were made around the same time, following the anticipated swell of the river post-monsoon, when it is supposed to be at its mightiest.
The mahseer, like other fish, depend on river pools as their sanctuaries, protecting the young ones from strong currents and stability in unpredictable weather (higher volume of still water). The pools function as crucial spawning grounds, guaranteeing successful reproduction and population sustainability. Moreover, river pools provide a variety of habitats and an abundance of food sources, which help juvenile mahseer grow and survive. In addition to supporting mahseer populations, varied aquatic vegetation and prey fish in pools encourage social interactions and breeding behaviours during the mating season – all factors that are essential for maintaining genetic diversity and the long-term survival of the species.
Although habitat destruction is one of the foremost problems for all wild inhabitants on Earth, in the case of the golden mahseer, the effects of destruction are magnified manifold. For the mahseer to survive, its water needs to have very little suspended particulate matter and be fast moving to provide strong stimulus it requires; stable temperatures; and a high amount of dissolved oxygen in the water to accelerate growth, increase immunity, and reduce stress.
The felling of trees and carving of mountainsides for ‘development’ are among the main reasons for the river’s increased sedimentation. This is affecting feeding and reproduction of the mahseer, as the rising silt level is making the water less clear, which makes it harder for fish to find and catch prey.
Sedimentation also buries vital spawning sites under silt, making them unusable for breeding. Fish populations, including the mahseer, suffer reductions in reproductive success in the absence of appropriate spawning habitats, which has led to a decline in population. Furthermore, because sedimentation clogs fish gills, it directly jeopardises their ability to breathe.
The fragile ecosystem found in river landscapes is severely impacted by mass tourism. Large-scale changes to the environment are brought about by the flood of visitors; these changes take the form of new hotels and infrastructure being built along the riverbanks. Roads must be built to facilitate access to these accommodations, and this is frequently accomplished by the destructive practice of bombing mountains. Such actions cause habitats to be disrupted and destroyed, causing irreversible harm to the landscape.
Other large-scale projects also need to be mindful of the impact they have on crucial species. The golden mahseer population is greatly impacted by the construction of dams on river ecosystems. Dams modify the way rivers naturally flow, which affects the temperature of the water, the amount of silt in the water, and the availability of habitats that are suitable for mahseer. Variations in water levels caused by controlled flows downstream of dams can interfere with mahseer spawning behaviours, and negatively impact the survival rate of their eggs and fry. Furthermore, river habitats are fragmented by dams, isolating mahseer populations and decreasing genetic diversity – both of which are essential to the species' long-term resilience and health.
Mahseer on the river bank. Photo: Nirbaan Gill.
The revolutionary Pablo Picasso once said, “Action is the foundational key to all success,” which is why awareness must be focused on the ongoing destruction of India’s rivers, which are habitats brimming with biodiversity.
In some small measure, I have taken time from school to host educational sessions and workshops with locals along the river, conveying the necessity of action to save their river and livelihoods. All efforts in conservation have shown that success in this field requires a buy-in from the local community. That success has most often come by linking their economic health with action toward conservation.
Maybe if we sanctioned, by licence, the selling of river fish as an income source, could it encourage more local participation in helping to save our rivers? Sustainable catch-and-release fishing camps can bring in excellent revenue streams, if managed well, helping generate income for the forest department, who can invest in new jobs for locals to help monitor river systems and prevent poaching and other degrading activities. I would love to receive feedback on what experts, wildlife lovers and conservationists think about such initiatives.
If you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together, said someone very wisely. The government, local administration, and the people who live along the rivers, all need to come together to save our rivers. We have seen how degradation has turned the majority of our river systems into glorified sewers. For the sake of the beautiful mahseer and future generations, we all need to do our part.
Photo: Jeewan Rautela.
