And Quiet Flows The Indus

SEPTEMBER 2002 - From the wide window of Room 105 at Hotel Midway in D.I.Khan – the back of beyond for most of us, the river Indus presents a panorama that takes your breath away. From one end of the horizon to the other and as far as the eye can see, it stretches in one smooth and beautiful vista, sweeping in its majesty and awesome expanse. Launches chug along its currents, ferrying people across the great waters and in the evenings, couples and families stroll up and down the wide promenade, chatting and enjoying an evening out. But the sight of this magnificent river brought little happiness and far too much sorrow as we sat contemplating how we have again and again spurned nature’s great bounties and made nothing of what God has given us freely and in such large portions.

Like most of Pakistan as it limps along the path of the 21st century, woefully out of step with the rest of the planet dwellers, the Indus is a story of wasted opportunities. Small men with large and very fragile egos, devoid of vision and rooted in prejudice and petty-minded charades have collectively made nothing out of what have been our natural resources from the time we were born. Last month, Abdus Sattar Mahsud, leaned across the green baize table in his office in D.I.Khan and asked me, ‘What is there that this country does not have?’ I had no answer as the soft-spoken South Waziristan technocrat peered at me. He waited and then threw up his hands in resignation. His second line remained unsaid. There was, in a way, no need to articulate it. What have we done with what all we have was a question that was left in the air. Of course Mahsud Sahib has a valid point and while examples of how we have lost out abound, nothing represents that missed opportunity than the great river that flows right from one end of this country to the other.

Most countries have rivers but no one has the Indus. It rises in the mist-laden glacial world of the remote northern regions and then fights and claws its way through some of the world’s greatest gorges and rock faces till it breaks beyond Thakot and into the great lake of Tarbela. From there it continues south till it falls into the Arabian Sea at Karachi. The Indus literally cuts the country into two perfect halves, almost as if to assuage the suspicions of the east and the west that it backs no favourites. It is a magnificent river, placid and content in the south and wild and turbulent in the north. It can drown out the sound of a 100 choppers and it can be as quiet as a church mouse in an ancient abbey. Like all great rivers, it has given rise to civilization after civilization and even today, along its banks communities and commerce flourishes. Yet this great resource, greater than oil that we covet with greedy eyes – greater because unlike oil it is not depleting, not at least till the worlds exist, till rains fall and snows melt and rivers flow, is a resource we have wasted because those that were placed to guide this nation’s destiny failed to see the forests and lived out their lives counting trees.

Other than Tarbela Dam, we have failed miserably to harness this river. Any other country with half the resource would have minted billions out of this gift and brought prosperity and happiness to its people who would have thrived in multiple ways, but all we have achieved is a high record of petty arguments and charges and counter-charges at one another. Tarbela, that great wonder that we built, was a dam that happened by default. Ranking last on a list of four sites, it was chosen for strange reasons. Skardu was abandoned because it was inaccessible, Attock was abandoned because the lake would engulf productive areas of Swabi and Mardan, Kalabagh fell victim to inter-provincial distrust and jealousy, which left Tarbela. The foreign exchange component under the Indus Treaty was free and all that the government had to do was match the rupee component so planners designed the most expensive dam. Kalabagh identified in the 50s and whose tender documents remain ready to this day, was never able to get off the drawing board and most probably never will. If ever there was an example of collective folly at a national scale, this is it – and this is saying something for a country where monstrous folly is the country’s second name. Had there been vision coupled with determination, we could have built dams and lakes all the way up the Indus gorge, using and reusing the same great waters that thunder down from the Karakorum valleys. Instead, we fought, we squabbled, we cursed, we accused and we all lost. By some twisted logic, the cost of generating hydel power at about Rs 1 per unit was lumped with the far more expensive thermal power at Rs 5.50 per unit and the collective price of Rs.6.50 per unit breaks the backs of Pakistanis daily.

A former Chairman of Wapda on a tour of Sweden asked his counterpart – Sweden has a similar hydel power system as ours, how they were able to prevent electricity stealing. His Swedish host said he could answer it if he could be explained how electric power could be stolen in the first place ! Yet Wapda shamelessly admits to line losses of over 33% - where does it all go? Up in the air? Who is gaining and why it cannot be prevented? The losses and Wapda’s opulent style leaves us – you and me, to pay enormous power bills that break our backs. Those who don’t pay or steal power, get away with it. Wapda like with most things seems unable to do anything yet the current Chairman is not averse to having four pages of Wapda’s annual report devoted to picture after picture of his Excellency doing this and doing that. It would seem that there is no other person working in Wapda. The fact is that the Indus alone can produce all the power that Pakistan needs – and still have much left over. It can alone irrigate all of Pakistan and turn our deserts into pastures but who has the vision and where will that leader arise who will say I will do nothing else but plan my vision on this river – build dams on it, utilize its course for navigational and commercial purposes, found new societies along its banks and tributaries, develop tourism, water sports, plan hatcheries – in short make the Indus the country’s great lifeline. Instead, we have turned this great resource into the national sewer where every possible filth is poured in. No one has the vision or the patience to think long term. In a country where getting rich overnight preferably with foul means is regarded as the standard to be emulated, where can such men emerge? In 50 years we have built one dam and now start a series of smaller dams on its tributaries, but where is the Greater Pakistan plan? It’s buried somewhere and has no epitaph.

Countries are judged these days on per capita power consumption and per capita telecommunications consumption – the more these are, the more developed you will be. Yet all the power that we produce is pathetically short of what we need. As a consequence, entire industries are closed or suffocated to death. Our entire power generation is less than what a section of downtown Manhattan or Los Angeles will consume, so what are we talking about? The story of Indus is the story of our downfall but while the great river will flow till eternity, our chances of lasting that long are very questionable.