Here Comes The Rain Again!

I think we may now definitively say that the Monsoons have arrived.  Frankly I’m a bit disappointed; I thought the arrival would be more dramatic. It’s true that for the first couple of months after I arrived here in Bangalore we experienced almost no rain whatsoever, whereas now the likelihood of rain is ever-present. But I expected the change to be more black and white.  In old books I’ve read it was normal for characters to recall the exact date the rains started in any given year.

In reality it has been getting progressively cooler, wetter and windier for some weeks.  Although locally it has been fashionable to state with some sense of anticipation that the rain falling outside was just a precursor, ‘you wait; the real thing is yet to come!’ The truth is the change in the weather has been a gradual transformation.

I believe down by the coast, or even in some northern cities it is possible to mark a specific day as the start of the Monsoon. Up here on the Deccan plateau our weather is more complicated.  Right now the prevailing winds come from the west and no doubt much of the rain falls on the Western Ghats, the range of mountains that run from Gujarat in the north to Kerala in the south and separate the interior from the coastal strip.

And that’s another thing.  I’ve seen tropical or sub-tropical rain systems in Africa, Singapore and China.  In Guilin in Southern China, where I spent most of last year, it was officially named “The year of two Aprils” on account of the heavy Spring rains which persisted through  May and June and even into July.  In one memorable typhoon in Hong Kong a few years back, I saw the city’s famous red taxis floating down the streets of Wan Chai on flash floods.  I know what heavy rain is.  Yet so far I’ve seen nothing here that would be unusual in an English summer.  Actually I quite enjoy it, but rather than the torrential downpours I was expecting, we have had several days of soft light drizzle.

The thing is the Monsoon is a big talking point in India.  Even among the urbane coffee set and expats that I have mainly met, it is a regular topic of conversation.  The rains will be late this year. No they will be on time but lighter than usual.  No this is going to be a normal year.  And so on.  When the western Monsoon did finally arrive in Kerala on the southwest coast, Saturday June 1st for those who are interested, the country’s press trumpeted it loudly. “Southwest Monsoon Arrives in Kerala” said The Hindu, “Monsoon Rains Hit Southern Kerala Coast: Weather Official” beamed the Times of India.  From there the rains will now advance progressively up the country to Delhi

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It matters.  In fact it matters enormously to the people here and to the whole Indian economy.  For me it places a question mark over my weekly game of golf and means that I no longer need to sleep with the aircon on.  Mid day temperatures in Bangalore now hover around 25 degrees Celsius instead of the high thirties which was standard back in April. But for almost a billion people it is literally the difference between feast and famine.

Around 70% of India’s population depends directly or indirectly on farming.  Agriculture makes up 14.5% of the country’s GDP.  In global terms India is both one of the biggest producers and consumers of food.  Most farms are rain-fed and have no other form of irrigation, yet 75% of the annual rainfall will come between June and September.  A weak monsoon or even drought damages the rural economy, affecting the country’s bottom line growth figures; it causes suffering among agricultural communities and can lead to civil unrest and political turbulence at national level.

No wonder then that so much national energy is spent on trying to mitigate the effects of the Monsoon.  The government’s Indian Council of Agricultural Research, including its facility here in Bangalore, puts a lot of effort into developing drought resistant strains of staple crops.  The Indian Meteorological Department is constantly tasked with developing better forecasting tools and producing early warning systems for droughts, which are now expected to occur at roughly five yearly intervals. No doubt much could also be done to conserve what precious supply of water exists.

In the long run however India needs to reduce its dependency on this annual event which is both unpredictable and outside its control.  India is proud of its status as a BRIC nation, and Indians are fond of announcing that this is the First World.  Yet surely, whatever development means it has to imply that a country has advanced to a level where political, social and economic success are not left to the caprice of the weather?

[P.S. Since I published this post almost 1,000 people have been killed in some of the worst flooding North India has experienced in years.  In Bangalore however, we are still waiting for some proper rain.]

Heat and Dust

I’ve been in India for just over a month now.  In that time the day time temperatures have soared from a pleasant 28 degrees to a blistering 36.  Outside of our compound the landscape is brown and shriveled. Choking red dust gets everywhere.  It makes you want to shower several times a day, and at night sleep is only possible with the AC on

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No doubt this collective extra demand for power is the root cause of the power cuts which, always fairly frequent, now affect us daily.  There has also been another memo from ‘the management’ to all residents warning that the consumption of water is unsustainable and getting worse.  Already there is a moratorium on washing cars, although this is widely ignored.  Now they say if the situation doesn’t change they may have to drain the swimming pool!

No doubt the problem is exacerbated by the ubiquitous Reverse Osmosis machines fitted in almost every house and apartment.  The RO machines plumbed into the mains take the widely distrusted tap water and produce sparkling pure potable water.  But for every glass of Adam’s ale they give, over two litres of waste water is poured down the sink.  Of course we try to make use of what we can, collecting it in jugs and using it to water the pot plants.  But it becomes a bit oppressive, and there’s only so much that the plants can drink.  But over consumption is merely the proximate cause of the drought.  The roots go much deeper and wider.

Bangalore is classified as a tropical savannah region.  Average yearly rainfall here is 975mm (38 inches), not much less than Manchester’s, but nearly all of that occurs during the five months of the year when the monsoons blow.

As something of a boom town the city and surrounding region has seen spectacular growth in the past few decades.  In 1961 the population was 1.2m, the sixth largest city in India.  Today, driven by manufacturing, IT and even the Indian space programme, the population now stands at around 9m, the third largest in India.  That number includes a higher proportion of affluent middle class Indians who expect to enjoy a first world standard of living.  However, the region saw heated disputes over water 100 years ago, and all that extra population only makes the situation worse.

 A beautiful new airport opened 40km North West of the city in 2008.  It compares favourably with any similar new airport in Asia: Bangkok, Hong Kong, Kansai etc.  It has brought a great influx of private investment to the North of the city.   New hotels, restaurants and above all countless new condominiums and walled residential developments are springing up all across the region.  This includes the one where I am staying, which is barely four years old.  But where is the infrastructure to support this growth? Road surfaces are gradually being improved.  There is even a new over overhead expressway linking the airport with the downtown area, or there would be if the money hadn’t dried up half way through.  But what about electricity, or even more pertinently water?

There are few rivers and virtually no standing water.  For domestic use as well as for industry or agriculture, water here comes from boreholes.  But every year they have to go deeper.  According to the Times of India, current wells reach down 1,000 metres to find an adequate supply, and new technology is being sought to extend the range to 2,000 metres.  When one borehole dries up they immediately make plans to sink another, seemingly unaware that the aquifers are all connected underground.

Planning has something of a bad name these days in the west.  In the post communist world it smacks of state interference and petty bureaucracy. In the UK, David Cameron’s libertarian government has fought a sustained campaign against the planners blaming regulation and red tape for holding up much needed growth.  But he and other like minded politicians should take a look at Bangalore.

India is making great strides towards solar power, playing to a natural strength.  Presumably the power cuts will eventually be sorted out.  But where will the water come from?  In the end it may be this more than any other factor that puts a natural cap on development here.

Feeling Thirsty?

Today is World Water Day and 2013 is the UN’s International Year of Water Cooperation.

World Water Day was established as an annual event 10 years ago to highlight the plight of millions of people who live without secure access to clean fresh water.  According to UN figures 780 million people – 1 in every 9 – don’t have access to clean water.  Dirty water kills 3.4 million people every year.  A child dies every 21 seconds from a water related disease.

This has greater significance than usual for me this year as I am currently staying in India, in Bangalore in the southern state of Karnataka.  The climate here for eight months of the year is hot and dry.  The region depends entirely on the annual Monsoon rains that fall between June and September to refill rivers and aquifers. In the residential compound where I am staying, householders have recently received a communication from the management company saying that collectively we are using too much water and imploring residents to be more efficient in their usage.

It’s a big deal.  In 2009 the Monsoon ‘failed’ in India.  This is to say the rains came late and when they did come they brought about 43% less water than an average year.  Thousands died in the drought and neighbours turned upon each other in vicious squabbles over water.  India was forced to increase food imports and world sugar prices reached a 30 year high. Of course water is essential not just for drinking but for agriculture, industry, power generation and for the country’s wildlife.

Last year, a long running dispute over the use of water in the Cauvery (Kaveri) River which runs between Karnataka and the neighboring state of Tamil Nadu burst back in to life.  An agreement forged in 1892 between the princely state of Mysore and the Madras Presidency, part of the British Raj, attempted to divide the river water fairly for all people living along its course, but population growth has put that agreement under continuous stress ever since. It has been a constant problem for the successor states of Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, Kerala and Puducherry.  Last year the state of Karnataka restricted water flowing across the border and in the ensuing arguments the Supreme Court of India had to order Karnataka to release more water.  The decision led to strikes and demonstrations across the state.

Worryingly, a report published last November by researchers at the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research warned that changes to global weather patterns could cause Monsoon failures to happen more frequently, with severe water shortages occurring one year in every five..

The one good thing about the Cauvery dispute is that is entirely contained within India and the national government and its agencies can enforce relatively peaceful resolutions.  The UN is currently monitoring several regions of the world where international water disputes have the potential to develop in to more serious conflicts.  These include water from the Euphrates and Tigris rivers which are shared between Turkey, Syria and Iraq; the Jordan River which involves Israel, Jordan, Lebanon and the Palestinian territories; The Nile which borders Egypt, Ethiopia, Sudan and South Sudan; The Mekong River which links China, Vietnam, Laos, Burma, Thailand and Cambodia; and the Central Asian basin around the Aral Sea, connecting Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan.

Many analysts predict that water will be the main cause of wars in the coming century.  In fact some people point to the recent conflict in Darfur and the 1994 genocide in Rwanda as examples of ‘water conflicts’, hence the emphasis on Water Cooperation which is the theme of this year’s activities.

Here in Karnataka, in the village down the road the bore holes are drying up and the Monsoon is still three months away. Meanwhile, at the exclusive golf course where I have been spending much of my time here in Bangalore, members complain about the state of the fairways which are hard and dry, and the owners are buying tanker loads of water to fill the ornamental lakes.  What was that about water cooperation?