01 February 2026 • Environment • My Story

Have you ever experienced a desperate need for a holiday, a strong desire to escape from the everyday routine? After a stressful work week in December 2023 I did exactly that. I packed a bag and set off on my first solo trip to Haridwar. Like many of us, my earliest idea of India was shaped by the beautiful photographs in my Geography textbooks and the ‘Incredible India’ advertisement that we have always seen.

I grew up reading about eternal Ganga, a river that was not just a water body, but a pristine divine goddess. I imagined our heritage sites to be as grand and untouched as they appeared in those chapters on “Ancient Civilisations”. I arrived Haridwar by train and the moment I stepped off, a wave of divine calm washed over me.

The first thing I noticed that people on platform were not just wearing heavy winter clothes but many were wrapped in blankets, comforting themselves from cold that had settled over the city. That cold felt different from the one back home. It was sharper, quieter, almost cleansing.

I stood there for a moment, watching locals, pilgrims and travellers like me, each absorbed in their own journey. Despite being alone, I did not feel lonely. Travelling alone teaches you to observe, listen and notice things that often remain invisible when you are with a group.

I walked through the streets without an itinerary, allowing the city to reveal itself at its own pace. At Har Ki Pauri, I looked at the vast stretch of the Ganga flowing steadily. It felt as though the river was trying to tell me something, not in words, but in the way it kept going, unbothered and constant.

The air carried a delicate mix of incense, river breeze and the mesmerising sound of temple bells. I decided to take a holy bath, the water was far colder than I had anticipated, For a few seconds, I stood at the edge but after mustering the courage I stepped in. My body adjusted with cold and I felt completely held by the river.

Around me, people were deeply immersed in devotion—singing bhajans, mantras and offering milk to the holy river. This was the “Sacred India” that had been instilled in me to venerate. And yet, it was in that same moment of devotion that I began to notice things that often go unheard.

The Spots on Our Culture

It is always wise to follow our customs, traditions, and rituals but never at the cost of what we revere and worship. At the ghat, I witnessed the same. We believe that the goddess Ganga washes away our sins, yet in the same act of worship, we continue to pollute her waters. Devotees offered milk, flowers, diyas, and sweets, which are deeply rooted in our faith but these were wrapped and discarded in plastic and polythene, sold freely by vendors along the riverbank.

While flowers and diyas are biodegradable and return harmlessly to nature, plastic and polythene do not. Scientific evidence shows that conventional plastics do not biodegrade like natural materials and can remain in the environment for centuries.

Plastics are made of synthetic polymers that resist breakdown by natural biological processes, so they fragment into ever-smaller pieces called microplastics that remain in ecosystems for hundreds of years rather than disappearing. According to environmental science research, a typical plastic bottle made of polyethylene terephthalate (PET) may take up to about 450 years to break down in the environment, and these microplastics that poison water bodies and eventually our own bodies.

I also saw people washing clothes in the river, an act which has been normalised despite its obvious harm. I felt that there was a deep lack of awareness among people, they were not taking the health of the holy river seriously. After my holy dip, I gathered all plastic and polythene wrappers that I could, but I could not find any dustbins nearby, and even when I did, they were placed far apart because of this, many discarded waste wherever they wished, finding it easier to do so than to carry it with them.

After this, I hiked to the Mansa Devi and Chandi Devi temples, and along the way I noticed the same pattern repeated. Vendors sold bottled water and Prasad wrapped in plastic, while devotees discarded bottles and wrappers nearby due to the absence of dustbins and a lack of awareness. It is an issue that requires urgent attention.

What Are The Solutions Then?

It is high time, we move beyond observation and begin to act. Our cultural heritage has long placed nature at the centre of spiritual life, reminding us that reverence and responsibility must go hand in hand. Reconnecting with these roots makes sustainable change not only possible, but natural.

The first step is awareness. People must be educated about their surroundings and the long-term harm caused by plastic and other non-biodegradable materials. Equally basic civic sense needs to be reinforced, waste must be disposed of properly, not discarded for convenience. Change must begin at an individual level. As Mahatma Gandhi rightly said, “Be the change that you wish to see in the world.” We must change ourselves to bring change in society. When personal responsibility becomes habitual, collective behaviour follows.

Alongside personal accountability, institutional responsibility is essential. Government authorities should ensure regular cleaning of the river through appropriate machinery, provide sufficient and well-placed waste-disposal facilities, and maintain a visible presence at religious sites. Officials must guide and educate devotees with restraint and sensitivity, while also enforcing penalties where repeated violations occur.

A strict restriction on non-biodegradable materials, paired with accessible and affordable alternatives, is essential. Enforcement, however, must be balanced with empathy. Sustainable change is achieved not through force, but through understanding and consistency. Expanding staff for the protection of riverbanks would not only preserve a sacred space but also create employment, reinforcing the idea that environmental care and economic growth can coexist.

Conclusion

Change does not occur on its own. It requires resolve, strong determination, and shared responsibility. The health of our rivers must be prioritised above any convenience. Only when citizens, authorities, and the government work in unison can preservation become enduring rather than symbolic.

If we call the Ganga as Maa, as our mother, then we must honour that relationship in truth. A mother is not revered through rituals alone but protected through care, sacrifice, and action. We cannot allow her to deteriorate in silence. The true measure of our devotion will not be found in what we offer to the river, but in what ways we choose to protect her as any child would do for her mother.