From the melodious strains of Mahabahu Brahmaputra to the haunting beauty of Bistirna Paarore, the voice of Bharat Ratna Bhupen Hazarika immortalised the river Brahmaputra as a symbol of might, beauty and timeless grandeur. His music conjures the essence of a river that is not merely a geographic feature but the lifeblood of Assam, flowing with stories and songs through its entire length.

Growing up in Dibrugarh, a town cradled on the southern banks of the Brahmaputra in Upper Assam, I often stood in awe of the river’s imposing expanse. From the southern shore, the northern banks seemed like an unreachable mirage, hidden beyond the sheer width of its waters. During the monsoon, the river transforms into a churning colossus, its swirling currents a potent reminder of nature’s raw, untamed power.

It inspires both reverence and a creeping fear—the kind that clutches the heart as one wonders what devastation might unfold should the flood protection embankments falter. Yet, amid these fears, the river stands eternal, demanding silent prayers and offerings of respect from those who call its banks home.

But time has etched changes into the face of this mighty river. What once brimmed with water up to its banks, even during autumn and winter, now reveals vast, desolate stretches of sand. The riverbed lies exposed for kilometres, reducing the Brahmaputra to a narrower, quieter version of its monsoon self. The boats that once danced across its waters during the dry season now yield to jeeps and SUVs, leaving trails of dust where waves once lapped.

The sight of vehicles weaving their way across the sandy expanse is a stark, unsettling contrast to the river’s erstwhile majesty—a poignant reminder of how even nature’s giants are not immune to the passage of time and the imprint of human activity.

A tale of draught and deluge

To those who have lived alongside it, young and old alike, the sudden emergence of the riverbed feels almost like a betrayal. Speculations abound, with the finger of suspicion pointing toward the upper stretches of the Brahmaputra in China. Dams built along its course in Tibet have sparked concerns of a man-made drought in a region once synonymous with lush rainforests, vibrant flora and teeming fauna.

While glimpses of the riverbed were a rarity in the past, they have now become an all-too-frequent sight, especially during the dry months from November to March.

During the monsoon, the Brahmaputra and its tributaries, swelled by rains cascading down the hills of Arunachal Pradesh, transform into torrents of destruction downstream in Assam. The terror of floods is perennial, yet the announcement in May 2022 of India’s second-largest dam at Yingkiong in Arunachal Pradesh added another layer of apprehension.

The proposed reservoir, with a capacity to hold 10 billion cubic metres of water, aims to counteract China’s plans for massive dam-building on the river’s upper stretches. At a cost of Rs 50,000 crore, the dam is designed to store water during the monsoon and release it gradually during the dry season, ensuring water security for India’s northeastern regions.

While ambitious, the dam also casts long shadows of doubt. The Brahmaputra flows for 918 kilometres through India, but a significant portion of its non-monsoon water comes from snowmelt in Tibet.

If China decides to store or divert this vital water upstream, the very viability of India’s dam could come into question, jeopardising water flow downstream. Such a scenario could trigger a severe crisis for India’s northeastern states and Bangladesh. Most importantly, if there is a sudden release of water from China how long it will be able to hold the water.

China’s dams, looming like ‘water bombs’ upstream, pose a dual threat: an ecological disruption from controlled or diverted flow and the apocalyptic danger of sudden, catastrophic releases. The Brahmaputra, a river that has inspired awe, reverence and art, now stands at a crossroads—a victim of geopolitical manoeuvers and a harbinger of the precarious balance between human ambition and nature’s fury.

China’s colossal threat

China’s audacious plan to construct the world’s largest dam on the Brahmaputra river has raised alarm bells in India and Bangladesh, the river’s downstream neighbours. Announced as part of Beijing’s sweeping development strategy, this colossal hydropower project, estimated at an astronomical $137 billion, is set to dwarf even China’s Three Gorges Dam. Positioned on the lower reaches of the Yarlung Zangbo River, as the Brahmaputra is called in Tibet, the dam will be located near the point where the river takes a dramatic U-turn before flowing into India and eventually Bangladesh.

The project promises immense engineering feats and geopolitical ripples. Nestled in a tectonically active zone, this Himalayan dam is designed to harness the energy of one of the world’s deepest canyons. With a vertical drop of 2,000 metres over a mere 50-kilometre stretch, it is touted as one of the planet’s richest hydropower reserves.

China anticipates the dam will generate a staggering 300 billion kilowatt-hours of electricity annually, sufficient to power over 300 million people—a scale that highlights its ambition.

India’s strategic concerns

For India, the ramifications of this project extend far beyond energy. The dam grants China the potential to control or manipulate the flow of the Brahmaputra, which could have significant consequences for India’s northeastern states and Bangladesh. In times of political tension, the ability to release massive amounts of water could transform this infrastructure marvel into a weaponised asset, threatening floods and devastation downstream.

The significance of the Expert Level Mechanism (ELM), established in 2006 to address issues related to shared rivers between New Delhi and Beijing is massive. Under this mechanism, China shares hydrological data with India during the flood season, though trust and transparency remain tenuous amid growing tensions.

Geologically, the tectonic instability of the Tibetan Plateau compounds the risks. Frequently rocked by earthquakes, this region presents formidable challenges for any mega-infrastructure project. Although China has sought to assuage concerns, claiming the dam is engineered with cutting-edge technology and prioritises ecological protection, the real power of nature is at best unknown and unpredictable.

The sheer scale of the Brahmaputra dam is mind-boggling. According to reports, the project will exploit nearly 70 million kilowatts of hydropower potential—equivalent to the combined capacity of three Three Gorges Dams.

While China heralds the dam as a symbol of its engineering prowess and energy ambition, its construction echoes louder in the corridors of geopolitics. For India and Bangladesh, the Brahmaputra is more than a river. It is a lifeline and a force of nature that shapes the destiny of millions. As China advances this mega-project, the question remains whether the river will become a bridge for cooperation—or a flashpoint for conflict.

Is the proposed Yingkiong dam a saviour?

From a geopolitical standpoint, the Yingkiong dam is instrumental in reinforcing India’s riparian rights over the Brahmaputra, especially in the face of China’s aggressive development of upstream megadams. These Chinese projects have raised legitimate concerns about potential disruptions to water flow, sedimentation dynamics and ecological stability in downstream regions of India and Bangladesh.

The Yingkiong dam, as planned, aims to mitigate these risks by improving water management, providing storage solutions and offering robust flood control mechanisms. However, the real challenge lies in translating these expectations into tangible outcomes, particularly given the unpredictability of China’s actions, which could escalate ecological tensions and complicate regional cooperation.

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Yingkiong dam: India’s last line of defence against China’s ‘water bombs’ on the Brahmaputra