‘Children of the Ganges’ - the boatmen of India’s Varanasi
Their lives are deeply entwined with the sacred river Ganges but Varanasi’s mallah community say they have been overlooked.
Varanasi, India - “Hum paani ke jeev hain. We are creatures of water,” says 29-year-old Vishwakarma Sahni.
Sahni belongs to Varanasi’s community of approximately 8,000 mallah, the boatmen whose lives are deeply intertwined with the Ganges - a river considered sacred in India and which they hold in profound reverence.
To them, the Ganges is not merely a river; it is their lifeline.
On its journey eastward from the Himalayas, the Ganges traverses more than 2,500 km (1,550 miles) before flowing into the Bay of Bengal in the northeastern Indian Ocean. Along its route, it passes through several regions, including the ancient city of Varanasi, also known as Kashi or Banaras in Hindi. "Banaras" is derived from the word "Banarasi" in the Pali language.
Varanasi has long fascinated historians, anthropologists, artists and storytellers and is often celebrated as one of the world’s oldest inhabited cities. It also happens to be the constituency of India’s Prime Minister, Narendra Modi, who rode to power in 2014 with a promise to transform Varanasi into a Kyoto-style smart city, and who is facing elections again from later this month.However, the lives of Varanasi’s boatmen have remained largely overlooked, they say.
In 2018, despite widespread protests from the community, the Government of India granted permits to three private cruise ships to operate along the ghats of Varanasi - the small staircases which descend to quays and cremation facilities along the river.
The boatmen say their livelihoods have been badly disrupted as a result. The mallah, who identify themselves as Gangaputras or "sons of the Ganges" believe the state should have involved them in decision-making processes before implementing any changes to boating-related activities on the riverfront.
In recent years, the government has granted operation licences to several more luxury liners amidst protests from the boatmen. The boatmen fear that more private players will be introduced to riverfront activities, depriving them of what has been their sole source of income for centuries.
"What kind of government conspires with corporates to strip the citizens of their livelihood?" asks Pramod Majhi, a key figure in the community's resistance against what they perceive as oppressive and discriminatory state policies.
The boatmen community faced oppression not only under colonial British rule but also as a result of social and political subjugation in postcolonial India.
Under British rule, the mallah were classified as a "criminal caste", bringing stereotypes about alcoholism and “unruliness” which continue to cast a shadow over the community. Within Hindu society, they are relegated to the status of a “lower caste”.
Most boatmen experience poverty, as their earnings from rowing boats are often insufficient to support themselves and their families.
From August to October every year, the ghats are entirely submerged. During this period, the government imposes a complete ban on boating, forcing the mallah to rely solely on savings from the rest of the year. This period marks the most challenging time of the year for them.
To supplement their income, they often take on additional jobs, such as transporting firewood used in cremations at Manikarnika Ghat, one of the most sacred ghats in Varanasi, where cremations are carried out around the clock. This work is gruelling and yields roughly 300 rupees a day ($3.60), taking a significant toll on their bodies, as they often carry loads of as much as 100kg.
Most of the boatmen here aspire for their children to move away from the boating profession. "I've toiled all my life like a labourer. I hope my children find a different path," says 50-year-old boatman Santosh Sahni, who sets aside some of his daily earnings to pay for his children to go to school.
The most impoverished among the mallahs are the gotakhors (coin divers), who have no boats of their own and instead earn a living by diving into the Ganges to collect coins tossed into the river by pilgrims as religious offerings.
They hold their breath for long periods while plunging into the river - an act which can be fraught with danger and has resulted in many deaths from drowning.
Due to their close association with the river, many mallahs possess exceptional diving skills and are often employed by the authorities to undertake the grim task of retrieving deceased bodies from the river, typically in exchange for a meagre sum of money or bottles of cheap alcohol. Death is a frequent occurrence in the Ganges. Some meet accidental deaths, while others choose to end their lives in the river due to the belief that death in the sacred river brings moksha (liberation).
"The touch of a shav [a corpse] is hard to bear," says Shivnath Majhi, a 55-year-old gotakhor, who, over the years, has rescued several people from drowning and recovered countless bodies, many already in a state of early decomposition. “It's a desperate need for money that drives us.”
The mallah walks a tightrope of uncertainty, where death can come knocking in many forms; disease, drowning and destitution are most common.
Losing the main breadwinner to dangerous work and lack of healthcare can plunge an entire family into dire financial straits. "Everything fell apart," says Suman Sahni, 35, speaking of her husband, Mohan Sahni's death from throat cancer in 2022.
Mohan Sahni's mounting medical expenses compelled his wife, a mother of three, to sell the boat he owned. To meet household expenses, her 17-year-old son, Sunny Sahni, has taken up gotakhori, while her 15-year-old daughter, Kusum Sahni, sells garlands near the ghats.
"Every morning when Sunny enters the river, I fear that he may not come out alive," says Suman.
Despite their hardships, many in the community say they refuse to be mere victims of circumstances and strive for a life of dignity and hope.
After losing her husband, Rajkumar Sahni, to liver disease caused by excessive alcohol consumption, Sushila Devi, 51, ensured her daughters received an education at the government school.
"He would squander every bit of his earnings on sharab [alcohol]," says Devi, a mother of six.
It is common for women in the community to engage in various jobs to supplement their household income but Devi's is one of the few families within the community where young women actually go out of the home to work. While she, herself, strings beads to craft lockets from her home, which are are later sold in the wholesale market, her daughter, Janaki, works as a salesperson in a city shopping mall. "I never had the opportunity for education, but I ensured my girls received it," she says.
As the country heads to the elections this month, the mallah community's struggle for its members' rights and livelihoods will echo not only on the ghats of Varanasi but also in the voting booths of this historic city.
