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“Insaan ab na jhagde se marega na ragade se

marega tho bhook aur pyas se.” “Humankind will now die not of conflict or stress

But of hunger and thirst.”

So, it’s not just science ringing alarm bells about climate change then. India’s literary epics had it nailed down ages ago, asserts 75-year-old Delhi farmer Shiv Shankar. He believes he is paraphrasing lines from the 16th century classic Ramcharitamanas (see video). Shankar may be a bit rusty in his reading of the classics, and you might find it difficult to locate those lines in the original Tulsidas poem. But the words of this farmer in the floodplains of the Yamuna river seem well suited to our own era.

Shankar, his family and many other cultivators describe, in painstaking detail, the many changes in temperature, weather and climate affecting what is one of the largest floodplains in an urban area anywhere. Just 22 of the 1,376 kilometres of the Yamuna flow through the National Capital Territory, and its 97 square kilometre floodplains account for barely 6.5 per cent of Delhi’s area. But that seemingly small presence has a big impact in balancing the climate, also functioning like nature’s thermostat for the capital.

Farmers here note the changes now underway in their own idiom. Till 25 years ago, says Shiv Shankar’s son Vijender Singh, people here started using light blankets by September. “Now,” says the 35-year-old, “winter doesn’t start till December. Earlier Holi in March was marked by a very hot day. Now it’s like celebrating the festival in winter.”

The lived experiences of Shankar’s family reflect those of other farmers here. Varying estimates say between 5,000 and 7,000 farmers reside along the Delhi shores of the Yamuna – the longest tributary of the Ganga and second greatest (after the Ghaghara) in terms of volume. The agriculturists here cultivate some 24,000 acres, much reduced from a few decades ago, they say. These are farmers in a big city, not of some remote rural region. They live precariously, with ‘development’ all the time undermining their existence. The National Green Tribunal (NGT) has been inundated with petitions protesting rampant illegal construction on the floodplains. And it isn’t just the cultivators who are worried.

“If the floodplains are concretised as has been happening,” says retired Indian Forest Service officer Manoj Misra, “Delhiwallas will be forced to leave the city because temperatures in both summer and winter will become extreme and unbearable.” Misra heads the Yamuna Jiye Abhiyan (Long Live Yamuna) movement founded in 2007. The YJA brought together seven of Delhi’s leading environmental organisations and concerned citizens, and works on saving the river and its ecosystem. “The city is becoming unliveable and will witness drastic migration. If it doesn’t fix its air quality, (even) the embassies will move out.”

Back in the floodplains, the erratic rains in the past few decades torment farmers and fishermen alike.

The communities dependent on the Yamuna river do still welcome the rains each year. Fishermen, because the excess water cleans out the river and allows fish to multiply, and farmers for whom it brings a layer of fresh fertile soil. “Zameen nayi bann jati hai, zameen palat jati hai [the land is rejuvenated and transformed by the monsoon rains],” Shankar explains. “This happened almost every year till 2000. It rains less now. Earlier monsoon would start in June. This time June and July were dry. Rains were late, affecting our crops.”

“The namak [alkaline content, not salt] rises in the soil when rain is less,” Shankar had told us when showing us around his fields. Delhi’s alluvial soil is a result of the deposits left by the river over its floodplains. That soil had long supported growing sugarcane, rice, wheat, several other crops and vegetables. Three varieties of sugarcane – lalri, mirati, soratha – were a pride of the city till the late 19th century, says the Delhi Gazetteer.

The cane was used for making gur (jaggery) in kolhus (crushers). Till a decade ago, tiny makeshift shops and carts selling fresh sugarcane juice dotted Delhi’s street corners. “Then governments stopped allowing us to sell sugarcane juice, so cultivation stopped,” says Shankar. There have been official bans on the cane juice sellers – and court cases challenging them – since the 1990s. “Everyone knows sugarcane juice fights illness, beats the heat by cooling our system,” he asserts. “The soft drink companies got us banned. Their people lobbied with ministers and we were thrown out of business.”