Why Jog Falls have been reduced to a trickle

"It should be called Joke Falls, not Jog Falls,” says a disgusted Yoav Masiach. The 31-year-old Israeli tourist had visited India’s largest waterfall in the Western Ghats around the same time in the mid 90s and was enthralled by the four waterfalls — Raja, Roarer, Rocket and Lady. This year, he brought his 22-year-old girlfriend Dianne Solares all the way from Goa on a motorcycle, but they were shocked to see what had become of one of the top ten falls in the world.

Locals like Siddhaiah Gowda, 42, who runs a stall nearby, also rue this drying up of the waterfall so early in the year. “We would get hundreds of tourists every day, throughout the year. But as word of the falls reducing to a trickle spreads, hardly anyone wants to come here.”

So why does the River Sharavati not plunge down 830 feet with as much force anymore, I asked Prabhakar Bhat from the Centre for Ecological Studies of the Indian Institute of Science (IISc). “It’s because climate change is wrecking havoc on the ecologically fragile Sharavati valley,” he says.

Bhat is part of a central government team studying the nature of the forests in the Malenaad (literally, ‘the rain region’). They found that that the tropical rainforest is rapidly changing character.

“Changing rain patterns and systematic degradation of what are the country’s richest forests are becoming evident, and the dwindling of tourists is just one small sign of this,” says Bhat. Add to that the development of six dams — Linganmakki, Supa, Bamanhalli, Kanthalla, Korsalli, and Kadra — which led to submergence of lush forests, and you begin to understand why the once famous Jog Falls has lost its splendour.

Wildlife, plants endangered
Plants like like kokum and amla are disappearing too.

“Communities in the region have traditionally depended on these and honey, bamboo shoots, wild fruits, berries, and mushrooms. But these are increasingly hard to come by,” he points out, as we settle down to a meal of tender bamboo-shoot curry and rice under the open sky in an adake tota (betel nut grove). “The next 15 years will be crucial. The way we manage our resources will decide whether or not the coming generations will get to see this.”

It is two in the afternoon, but the mist hangs low in the forest, giving it a surreal effect. As we drive through what is still a relatively verdant terrain, we hear the calls of a lion-tailed macaque. This region is one of the last known habitats of this endangered species. I keep my eyes open and the camera handy, but only a peacock dashes past. When we stop for tea at Kuntsi village in Shivamoga district, the sarpanch Sridhara Rao brings to our attention another effect of deforestation.

He takes us to the natural tank that was a perennial source of water for the village until about 15 years ago. “Like every village in Malenaad, we depended on this water to keep our wells recharged. But now, with the forests getting destroyed, the rains wash away the top soil, depositing it in these tanks and reducing their water-bearing capacity.”

Locals feel the effects
Our next stop is the tehsil-town of Sagar, where a local journalist takes us to meet the ailing veteran Kannada litterateur Na D’souza. His eyes fire up when we bring up a subject close to his heart: destruction of the forests. “I have brought it up in my writings since this has impacted lives in Malenaad region in more ways than can be documented,” he says.

D’Souza recounts the first wave of destruction and displacement that began with the Linganmakki dam in the 1960s. “One time, when cattle that had been untied for grazing did not come back in the evening, search parties went out with flaming torches, only to find all the cattle waiting at the old village from where the people had been forced to move out. It still brings a lump to my throat when I think about it. If animals feel so attached, imagine what human beings who’ve lived in a place for generations feel when uprooted.”

Bhat says the forests are dwindling in the absence of adequate regeneration. “Conservation policies will have to be planned with community participation. The community should be made a part of both conservation and sharing of benefits from tourism. Without this, we will perhaps be left without even the Joke Falls.”