The Nayar river, a non-glacial lifeline in Uttarakhand’s Garhwal region, is in quiet crisis. Once the pulse of local ecosystems and pastoral livelihoods, this Himalayan river is now a symbol of policy neglect and ecological fragmentation. In March 2025, a 200-kilometre foot march—from the river’s alpine origins in the Doodhatoli meadows to its confluence with the Ganga at Vyas Ghat—brought together researchers, students, and activists in a journey to understand this decline.
Organised as an offshoot of the historic Askot-Arakot Yatra, ongoing since 1974, the Nayar Yatra focused not just on rivers, but on the interconnected policies governing forests, grazing, water systems, and agriculture. Its message was clear: conservation must reconnect with communities and adapt to Himalayan realities.
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Nayar river: From pastureland to policy casualty
Doodhatoli—literally ‘bowl of milk’ in the Garhwali dialect—was once a flourishing high-altitude pastureland, supporting nearly 50,000 cattle and generating dairy products for regional markets. Spanning elevations of 2,000–2,400 metres across the districts of Chamoli, Pauri, and Almora, it earned the moniker ‘Pamir of Uttarakhand’ for its ecological richness and geostrategic importance.
But over time, forest protection laws, though well-intentioned, have choked traditional practices. As grazing was curtailed under the Forest Conservation Act (1980) and Wildlife Protection Act (1972), pastoral economies collapsed, triggering widespread outmigration. Only a few herders persist today, motivated more by cultural inheritance than economic viability.
The irony is hard to miss. Laws designed to protect the environment have often dismantled the very systems that nurtured it.
Conservation without communities
Successive forest policies have sidelined local knowledge and excluded communities from the very forests they once protected. In Doodhatoli, the cessation of transhumance—the seasonal movement of livestock—has led to ecological imbalances. Invasive species have spread, native grasses have declined, and forests have become more fire-prone.
On paper, forest officials may claim success. On the ground, however, forests remain degraded, employment is scarce, and villagers are disengaged. True forest health must be assessed using five interlinked indicators: sustained water sources, balanced wildlife patterns, reduced fire incidence, local employment, and robust community participation.
By all these metrics, the outlook is grim. Reports from the Department of Science and Technology confirm a steep decline in freshwater springs. Human-wildlife conflict is on the rise. The Migration Commission of Uttarakhand has identified over 1,000 ghost villages—abandoned due to declining economic prospects. Forest fires are increasingly frequent, and the disconnect between forest departments and communities is widening.
From blanket ban on grazing to adaptive management
Contrary to conventional conservation wisdom, controlled grazing may be part of the solution. Studies in journals such as Ecology Letters and Conservation Biology have shown that rotational grazing supports biodiversity, prevents monocultures, and maintains soil health. Evidence from protected areas like the Valley of Flowers and Doodhatoli reveals that herbivore exclusion can be ecologically counterproductive.
The takeaway from the Nayar Yatra is unequivocal: environmental governance must evolve from prohibition to adaptive co-management. Rotational grazing, regulated by community-based norms, can both restore degraded meadows and strengthen traditional livelihoods.
Water and agriculture—a vicious spiral
India’s water policy still leans heavily on dams and groundwater extraction, ignoring the humble, non-glacial rivers that sustain rural life. Rivers like the Nayar don’t offer hydropower potential, but they serve vital ecological and agricultural roles. Their decline threatens the entire web of local resilience.
In Garhwal’s hill districts, forests, farms, and water systems are tightly interwoven. As forests degrade, springs vanish. As water sources dwindle, agriculture becomes untenable. When farms fail, recharging the hydrological cycle through percolation and vegetation recovery is no longer possible. This is not a linear chain of causality—it is a collapsing feedback loop.
To break this cycle, policymakers must focus on sustainable mountain agriculture. That means promoting native seeds, mixed cropping, organic inputs, and water-harvesting systems rooted in traditional practices. Government support for millets like mandua (finger millet) and jhangora (barnyard millet), along with allied activities like beekeeping, floriculture, and medicinal herb cultivation, can turn conservation into income and create climate-resilient communities.
Reform Namami Gange with focus on tributaries
The Namami Gange programme has been central to India’s river rejuvenation strategy, but it has largely ignored upstream tributaries. Despite being part of the Ganga’s basin ecology, rivers like the Nayar, Ramganga, and Song have been sidelined from both funding and monitoring mechanisms.
This must change. The health of the Ganga depends not just on cleaning the river stem but on protecting its feeders. A ‘tributaries-first’ approach—one that includes headwater protection, spring revival, and community-based agriculture—can significantly amplify the impact of the Namami Gange mission.
A river carries more than water
The Nayar is not just a watercourse. It is a repository of memory, a witness to rituals, stories, and community practices that bind people to place. The Yatra reaffirmed what science is beginning to rediscover: conservation works best when culture and ecology move together.
India’s environmental laws must therefore reimagine conservation as inclusive and plural, not exclusionary. Policy frameworks should encourage school-based ecology education, intergenerational knowledge transfer, and ecological pilgrimages that foster stewardship. A top-down approach will not work in a region where the landscape is living history.
The decline of the Nayar reflects a deeper systemic failure—the inability of India’s environmental governance to integrate rivers, forests, and people. These are not separate domains; they are part of a single ecological and cultural fabric.
Revisiting and revising forest, agriculture, and water policies to work in tandem is no longer optional—it is essential. If the Himalayas are to remain resilient, they must be governed not just from above, but also from below, through the lived experience and wisdom of local communities. The Nayar Yatra may have ended, but its message continues to flow: reconnect the fragments, or risk losing the whole.
Dr Prem Bahukhandi is Trustee and Director, Friends of Himalaya.