Original subtitles

NARRATOR: The Ganges.

These sacred waters, and the plains through which they flow,

have always nourished an extraordinary wealth of life.

And the lives of the people who inhabit her banks

have long been inextricably linked with nature.

But how did this intimate relationship evolve over the centuries

as waves of people swept across northern India?

Which creatures adapted to the tides of change?

And which ones vanished forever to live on only in legend?

The Ganges flows across the plains like a timeline through India's past.

And even today, a journey along her course

offers tantalizing glimpses into the rich natural history

of this most bountiful river.

Once every 12 years, 50 million people congregate on the banks of the Ganges

for the Kumbh Mela.

This Hindu festival is the greatest gathering on Earth.

Yet it's only a fraction of the half a billion population

that the river supports.

One out of every 10 people on our planet lives within the Ganges basin.

And the fertile waters brings sustenance to them all.

But the human crowds on the plains are only a recent phenomenon.

This was once India's great wilderness.

The river Ganges ends in the world's largest delta,

and originates in the highest mountain range.

But between these extremes,

she cuts a 1,500-mile course through the heart of northern India.

This vast expanse of lowland is known as the Gangetic Plains.

The river first meets the plains as she leaves the foothills of Himalaya.

As the fast-flowing mountain torrents reach flatter land,

they slow and spread out to create a band of marshy grassland.

This lush wilderness is known as the Terai,

and it's one of India's most productive landscapes.

The grass here can grow four metres each year.

Tall enough to conceal some oversized wildlife.

Today, most of the Terai around the Ganges has succumbed to the plough.

But isolated pockets still flourish

in the far reaches of some of her tributaries.

These grasslands are the last stronghold of the Indian Rhino,

which once roamed throughout the plains.

With so much to graze upon, huge herds of deer also thrive here.

And where there's this much prey, predators are never far away.

Tigers are surprisingly at home in this watery world.

And such prolific hunting grounds

enable them to grow into some of the biggest tigers in India.

The last fragments of this unique habitat are a rare reminder

of just how rich the banks of the Ganges must once have been.

And it was a wilderness like this into which people first arrived

over 40,000 years ago.

When nomadic hunter-gatherers discovered the Ganges,

they encountered a river teeming with so much life

that they decided to settle by her banks.

Today, many people still make a living from the river.

Fishing in ways unchanged since the times of the first settlers.

As more and more people arrived at the Ganges,

they began exploring further along her course.

Beyond the Terai, the river transforms into a wide waterway

that meanders slowly eastwards through the baking plains.

To consider the Ganges as a single river is misleading.

Because throughout her journey,

she's joined by thousands of tributaries,

many of them large rivers in their own right.

The southern tributaries are fed by rainfall on India's central plateau.

And they tumble from this higher land to meet the Ganges on the plains.

But there's another tributary that flows from a far more unlikely source.

The deserts of western India may seem an unpromising start for a river,

yet this is where the Chambal is born.

Fed by underground springs, the river flows through

some of India's most arid lands before reaching the plains.

Though some people do scratch a living here,

the Chambal remains a wildlife oasis

for the natural treasures once found right along the Ganges.

Some migrant birds, such as Bar-headed geese and Brahminy ducks,

fly all the way across the Himalaya to over-winter here in the desert sun.

Others, like spoonbills, take up permanent residence.

Indian skimmers are also seen here all year round,

fishing the well-stocked river.

This is one of only a few places

where these graceful birds still patrol the waters,

trawling for fish with their outsized lower bill.

Human influence on the Chambal is steadily increasing.

But today, the river still harks back to a time

when just a few early settlers shared the Ganges

with their natural neighbours.

As night falls over the desert,

the Chambal's most unusual inhabitants begin to surface.

On warm May nights, bizarre-looking crocodiles

haul themselves far up the sandy banks beckoned by strange sounds.

(SQUAWKING)

This female gharial is responding to calls from her young,

telling her they're ready to enter their new world.

Yet they're still within eggs buried in the sand,

and they need their mother to dig them out.

As few as 200 of these extraordinary reptiles survive in the wild.

So this precious brood represents a new generation of hope

for the endangered gharial.

Now exposed, they're vulnerable to predators

and instinct drives them towards the sanctuary of the river.

But even here, monsters lurk.

Male gharial that grow up to six metres long

also inhabit these waters, and at night they're on the hunt.

The gharial's formidable-looking jaws

are actually specialised for catching fish.

A thin profile allows them to snap shut with minimal water-resistance.

But in the shadowy light,

a small hatchling can easily be mistaken for prey.

During the early days of life, it pays to stick close to mum.

Gharials may be cold-blooded, but they make devoted mothers.

For six months, they attentively guard their young

and even share baby-sitting duties with other mothers

to allow each other a little time off to hunt.

Rain-fed tributaries such as the Chambal

play a small part in replenishing the flow of the Ganges.

But the majority of her water comes from a different source.

Throughout her journey across the plains,

the Ganges remains in the shadow of the Himalaya,

and she's continually fed by rivers

that flow from this colossal chain of mountains.

Water from many of the world's tallest peaks,

including Mount Everest, feeds into the Ganges.

Up here, the most important source of water is not rain,

but ice.

This glacial meltwater ensures a constant supply

to the arid plains, even during the driest months.

Almost half of the water in the Ganges originates from glaciers.

And these northern tributaries also bestow on the Ganges

an even more precious gift.

By May, temperatures on the plains can soar to 50 degrees Celsius.

Despite her meltwater supply, even the Ganges begins to recede.

And the searing sun bakes the earth dry.

Just as the stifling heat is becoming unbearable,

change is in the air.

As ocean winds carry moist air towards the plains,

clouds begin to fill the summer sky.

Laden with moisture, they grow dark and heavy

until finally, around mid-June, the monsoon arrives.

(THUNDER CLAPPING)

These are anything but grey days.

The monsoon rejuvenates life on the plains,

and it's welcomed by all.

The torrential downpours continue for three months,

and most of this water ends up in the Ganges.

Rainfall on the Himalaya

transforms mountain streams into raging torrents,

which carve their way down the rocky slopes.

These sediment-laden waters feed into the Ganges

until she can hold no more.

The river bursts her banks, flooding many thousands of square miles.

As the monsoon fades,

the receding floodwaters reveal their parting gift.

Mud.

Each monsoon, the Ganges collects half a billion tons

of mineral-rich sediment from the Himalaya and dumps it on the plains.

Over millions of years, this has created some of the world's richest soils,

which in some places are three miles deep.

For millennia, the fertile land

and year-round water supply provided by the river

have enabled the people of the plains to cultivate an endless variety of crops.

As farming flourished, the people began to worship

the miraculous life-giving powers of the Ganges.

The seeds of a new religion were sown.

People revered the natural forces and crops upon which they depended.

And one plant was considered more important than all the others.

Rice.

Perfectly adapted to grow in the Ganges flood cycle.

It's been the staple food for 7,000 years.

Today, paddy fields dominate the landscape.

And so much rice is grown here

that the area has become known as the rice bowl of India.

The rise of farming didn't only change the landscape,

it also offered a home to new creatures.

The people of the Ganges have long kept all sorts of domestic animals

and put them to use in ingenious ways.

Duck herding is an ancient and lucrative occupation.

So many ducks lay a lot of eggs,

and the herders are also paid to graze their flocks on the paddy fields.

As the ducks feed, they clear the weeds from the inundated fields,

and their droppings add extra dollops of organic fertilizer.

Yet it isn't just domestic animals that are welcome on the cultivated land.

The wetlands around the paddy fields

make an ideal home for all sorts of wild birds.

And one visitor to these fields is honoured as a bearer of good fortune.

Standing as high as a man,

the Sarus crane is the tallest flying bird in the world.

(CAWING)

These magnificent birds pair for life,

and their faithful nature has led them to be venerated

as symbols of marital bliss.

To help strengthen their partnerships,

the cranes perform elegant courtship dances.

Although some animals thrived in the changing landscape,

many were not so well-adapted to survive the rise of agriculture.

And not all made such amenable neighbours.

But at this time, the farmed areas were mere islands

within an endless sea of dense forest and grassland.

This untamed jungle teemed with animals,

some of which might seem more at home on the African savannah than in India.

It's often forgotten that both lions and cheetahs

once prowled these plains.

But how long could the growing human population

share the land with such powerful predators?

Settlements were springing up all along the Ganges.

And the river provided an open route of communication

through the otherwise impenetrable wilderness.

As traffic on the river increased,

small trading posts developed into large ports.

Within these towns, the civilization matured.

And religion grew more elaborate.

Hinduism evolved along the banks of the Ganges,

absorbing the local reverence for nature into a more complex faith.

But the river always remained at the very heart of the religion.

And soon she came to be worshipped as a powerful deity in her own right.

Ganga, the goddess of creation and abundance.

And there's one point along her waters

that's considered sacred above all others.

Varanasi lies about halfway along the Ganges

on the only stretch that turns to flow back towards the mountains

in which she was born.

Varanasi is the most ancient city on the river.

And it has long been deeply intertwined with the Hindu faith.

The orientation of the river

allows a long series of bathing ghats to face the rising sun,

illuminating the thousands of pilgrims that visit Varanasi

to pray in the hallowed waters.

The animist origins of the religion

ensured animals a powerful role in Hindu belief.

Ganesh, the elephant god,

and Hanuman, the monkey warrior,

are the most celebrated deities that take animal form.

But Hindus also associate many other creatures with their gods.

So many animals have been incorporated into the religion in one way or another

that exactly which creatures should be revered, and by whom,

is open to interpretation.

One man's deity may be another man's demon.

Considering 20,000 Indians die each year as a result of snakebite,

it's no surprise that the people of the Ganges fear snakes.

But not everywhere.

In a few places within the flood plain,

the religious significance of cobras is central to village life.

Though deadly, unusually high numbers of cobras

can be found slithering freely through the streets and houses.

Believing they've been blessed with the power

to overcome the effects of the venom,

the villagers pay the snakes little attention.

Bites do inevitably, and regularly, occur in these villages,

but the victims always refuse medical help.

Instead, they rely on faith healing.

It's claimed that no one in the village has ever died from a cobra's bite.

Even children appear to make a miraculous recovery.

Though the real truth behind this alleged immunity

remains shrouded in mystery,

it's a powerful testament to the reverence animals can command

amongst Hindu devotees.

Hinduism rapidly spread along the Ganges.

And it has proved to be a valuable ally for the wildlife of the plains.

As well as honouring animal deities,

the faith also teaches a more general respect for nature.

In flood plain towns, such as here in Bateshwar,

it's remarkable how much tolerance the local people afford

their many natural neighbours.

Rhesus macaques are far from the most holy of animals.

In fact, their mischievous nature can be a persistent nuisance.

The urban troops get up to all sorts of monkey business,

but it's their smash-and-grab approach to finding food that's the most trying.

Once again, the light-fingered macaques get away with another free lunch.

Yet, for the local people,

these animal encounters are just another part of daily life.

Over millennia, the Hindu reverence for nature

offered the river and her wild inhabitants considerable sanctuary.

But around a thousand years ago, things began to change.

Waves of Muslim invaders arrived from the west

and their influence spread right across the plains.

As well as introducing Islam to India,

they brought new ideas about technology, culture and art.

The Mughals were the last and most influential of these invaders.

And their legacy lives on

in the most spectacular architecture of the Ganges plain.

The intricate detailing within their buildings

displays the Mughals' fascination with the natural world.

But their attitude to nature was very different from the Hindus.

Their scientific heritage compelled them to understand and master it.

Around their palaces and tombs, they created formal paradise gardens,

which they stocked with game captured from the plains.

Coming from the barren deserts of Central Asia,

the Mughals were enchanted by the rich wildlife of the Ganges.

They were keen observers of animal behaviour,

and are considered to have been India's first great naturalists.

But they were even more passionate about another outdoor pursuit.

The Mughals were obsessive hunters.

And the more formidable the quarry,

the greater the respect a hunter commanded.

Mughal nobility competed to bag the largest number of big cats,

and many notched up prodigious totals.

But the impact their hunting had on the wildlife of the Ganges

would pale in comparison to that of the next wave of invaders.

The British came to India in search of commercial opportunity

and they were quick to realise the potential of the plains.

Agriculture grew to be big business, and wild animals were seen as vermin.

Large carnivores became public enemy number one,

and bounties were put on their heads.

Today, only 350 lions still survive in India.

But they've been wiped out entirely from the plains.

The Indian Cheetah fared even worse.

And by the middle of the 20th century, it was declared extinct.

Although hunting dealt a serious blow to the wildlife of the Ganges,

the habitat destruction under British rule took a far heavier toll.

Elephants were put to work,

plundering the very forest from which they'd been captured.

But while the wilderness was disappearing,

India was hurtling towards the industrial age.

Timber was in huge demand,

especially for the expanding railway network.

During the 1870s, one million sleepers were required every year,

for the new lines springing up across northern India.

By the time the British left halfway through the 20th century,

almost all the forests of the plains had disappeared

and the elephants living within them were left homeless.

Today, as machinery is increasingly used for heavy labour,

even working elephants are being made redundant.

But there's still one place along the Ganges

where these powerful beasts of burden are traded in large numbers.

The Sonpur Mela is the largest cattle fair in Asia.

It started over a thousand years ago, and it has been growing ever since.

On the first full moon in November,

people arrive from all over northern India to haggle over livestock.

The sheer quantity of domestic animals

affirms their status as the dominant creatures of the plains.

Sonpur's lively horse market provides endless entertainment

for the festival crowds.

But it's the elephants that are by far the biggest attraction.

Each morning, the mahouts lead their elephants down to the river

to be washed alongside thousands of worshippers,

creating one of the most timeless scenes of India.

The intimate relationship between elephant and man

had endured for millennia.

And these animals are still highly prized.

In good condition, elephants are sold for as much as �10,000

so it pays to look after them well.

Life for captive elephants can be far easier

than it is for the remaining wild herds of the plains.

The Ganges continues her eastward journey

through the endless farmland and enters Bengal.

It's autumn time and the rice is maturing in the ubiquitous paddy fields.

But in certain areas of Bengal,

the villagers hurry to clear their fields

before the rice is fully ripened.

Night is falling and their settlements are under siege.

They must prepare to do battle with an army of raiders

that strike under the cover of darkness.

It is a war that will be waged every night for the next six months.

Lookouts scan for any signs of hostile activity,

while the rest of the men prepare their weapons.

The enemy is marching onto the battlefields.

But they're too distant to be picked out by the sentry.

Only image-intensifying cameras

reveal the true nature of the advancing army.

Led by the normally solitary males,

smaller groups join forces to create a hundred-strong herd,

with enough might to take on the villagers.

Their joy at finding food belies the severity of their situation.

Farming has claimed so much wilderness from the plains,

that the few remaining wild herds are forced to raid crops.

(MAN YELLING)

(SPEAKING IN BENGALl)

(ALL YELLING)

The villagers must chase the elephants away

before they lose too much of their crop.

But it's a dangerous mission.

These hungry and desperate elephants can become extremely aggressive.

(ELEPHANTS TRUMPETING)

The same people that revere Ganesh, the elephant god,

have little choice but to do battle with his earthly incarnation.

Every year in Bengal alone,

the conflict can claim up to 100 lives from each side.

Tonight, most of the crop has been saved without bloodshed.

But the elephants are still hungry

and long-term peace will be far harder to secure.

As the Ganges continues through Bengal,

a major channel known as the Hooghly river

splits from the main waterway and heads south towards the sea.

Before the Hooghly empties into the Bay of Bengal,

it passes through Calcutta,

the largest city in eastern India.

Once the capital of the British Raj,

today this seething metropolis is home to nearly 15 million people.

Technology and industry rule here, and are helping shape the country

into one of the fastest-growing economies on Earth.

Calcutta is a fry cry from wilderness, yet life still thrives here.

And all these people still depend on the Ganges

for almost all the produce they consume.

For many animals, the pace of life on the plains has become too fast,

but some are more than able to keep up.

Even in the most man-made environments,

India's wildlife manages to surprise and inspire.

This may seem an unlikely setting for such a profusion of life,

but these mountains of waste are home for those who must survive

on what others discard.

It's an uncomfortable reality of modern India

that some have so little, they're forced to scratch a living here.

Yet, for others, this is heaven on Earth.

Black kites are expert scavengers

and they swarm in their thousands

scanning for rich pickings amongst the decay.

For opportunists who can compete in these brave new worlds,

this is a way of life worth fighting for.

Since people first arrived here,

life on the Ganges plains has transformed beyond recognition.

Yet it's always remained abundant,

and the river's gift of life has never run dry.

But for how long will her benevolence continue to flow?

When a Hindu leaves this world,

the most auspicious place to be cremated is on the banks of the Ganges.

Here, the body returns to the same waters that brought it life.

The soul is absolved of sin and blessed by the goddess Ganga

to ensure a safe passage into the next existence.

Through the eternal cycle of life, death and re-birth,

the Ganges remains at the very heart of the Hindu faith.

And it's this sacred connection the people share with their river

that can still save her from the pressures she faces.

As a new dawn rises over the river, she flows towards an uncertain future.

The demands of a growing population

are poisoning her waters and running the river dry.

But all is not lost.

The Ganges river dolphin

is one of the most majestic creatures found in these waters.

And it has survived the many changes through which the river has flowed.

Today, like so many animals of the Ganges,

these ancient mammals are vanishing from her waters.

But that any dolphins survive at all

brings hope that people can still make space for their unique wildlife.

As the river approaches the great wilderness of her delta,

she enters her final incarnation.

The Ganges becomes a vast waterway

and unleashes her awesome power to both create life,

and take it away.

Considering 20,000 Indians die each year as a result of snakebite,

it's no surprise that the people of the Ganges fear snakes.

But not everywhere.

In a few places within the flood plain,

the religious significance of cobras is central to village life.

Though deadly, unusually high numbers of cobras

can be found slithering freely through the streets and houses.

Believing they've been blessed with the power

to overcome the effects of the venom,

the villagers pay the snakes little attention.

Bites do inevitably, and regularly, occur in these villages,

but the victims always refuse medical help.

Instead, they rely on faith healing.

It's claimed that no one in the village has ever died from a cobra's bite.

Even children appear to make a miraculous recovery.

Though the real truth behind this alleged immunity

remains shrouded in mystery,

it's a powerful testament to the reverence animals can command

amongst Hindu devotees.

Hinduism rapidly spread along the Ganges.

And it has proved to be a valuable ally for the wildlife of the plains.

As well as honouring animal deities,

the faith also teaches a more general respect for nature.

In flood plain towns, such as here in Bateshwar,

it's remarkable how much tolerance the local people afford

their many natural neighbours.

Rhesus macaques are far from the most holy of animals.

In fact, their mischievous nature can be a persistent nuisance.

The urban troops get up to all sorts of monkey business,

but it's their smash-and-grab approach to finding food that's the most trying.

Once again, the light-fingered macaques get away with another free lunch.

Yet, for the local people,

these animal encounters are just another part of daily life.

Over millennia, the Hindu reverence for nature

offered the river and her wild inhabitants considerable sanctuary.

But around a thousand years ago, things began to change.

Waves of Muslim invaders arrived from the west

and their influence spread right across the plains.

As well as introducing Islam to India,

they brought new ideas about technology, culture and art.

The Mughals were the last and most influential of these invaders.

And their legacy lives on

in the most spectacular architecture of the Ganges plain.

The intricate detailing within their buildings

displays the Mughals' fascination with the natural world.

But their attitude to nature was very different from the Hindus.

Their scientific heritage compelled them to understand and master it.

Around their palaces and tombs, they created formal paradise gardens,

which they stocked with game captured from the plains.

Coming from the barren deserts of Central Asia,

the Mughals were enchanted by the rich wildlife of the Ganges.

They were keen observers of animal behaviour,

and are considered to have been India's first great naturalists.

But they were even more passionate about another outdoor pursuit.

The Mughals were obsessive hunters.

And the more formidable the quarry,

the greater the respect a hunter commanded.

Mughal nobility competed to bag the largest number of big cats,

and many notched up prodigious totals.

But the impact their hunting had on the wildlife of the Ganges

would pale in comparison to that of the next wave of invaders.

The British came to India in search of commercial opportunity

and they were quick to realise the potential of the plains.

Agriculture grew to be big business, and wild animals were seen as vermin.

Large carnivores became public enemy number one,

and bounties were put on their heads.

Today, only 350 lions still survive in India.

But they've been wiped out entirely from the plains.

The Indian Cheetah fared even worse.

And by the middle of the 20th century, it was declared extinct.

Although hunting dealt a serious blow to the wildlife of the Ganges,

the habitat destruction under British rule took a far heavier toll.

Elephants were put to work,

plundering the very forest from which they'd been captured.

But while the wilderness was disappearing,

India was hurtling towards the industrial age.

Timber was in huge demand,

especially for the expanding railway network.

During the 1870s, one million sleepers were required every year,

for the new lines springing up across northern India.

By the time the British left halfway through the 20th century,

almost all the forests of the plains had disappeared

and the elephants living within them were left homeless.

Today, as machinery is increasingly used for heavy labour,

even working elephants are being made redundant.

But there's still one place along the Ganges

where these powerful beasts of burden are traded in large numbers.

The Sonpur Mela is the largest cattle fair in Asia.

It started over a thousand years ago, and it has been growing ever since.

On the first full moon in November,

people arrive from all over northern India to haggle over livestock.

The sheer quantity of domestic animals

affirms their status as the dominant creatures of the plains.

Sonpur's lively horse market provides endless entertainment

for the festival crowds.

But it's the elephants that are by far the biggest attraction.

Each morning, the mahouts lead their elephants down to the river

to be washed alongside thousands of worshippers,

creating one of the most timeless scenes of India.

The intimate relationship between elephant and man

had endured for millennia.

And these animals are still highly prized.

In good condition, elephants are sold for as much as �10,000

so it pays to look after them well.

Life for captive elephants can be far easier

than it is for the remaining wild herds of the plains.

The Ganges continues her eastward journey

through the endless farmland and enters Bengal.

It's autumn time and the rice is maturing in the ubiquitous paddy fields.

But in certain areas of Bengal,

the villagers hurry to clear their fields

before the rice is fully ripened.

Night is falling and their settlements are under siege.

They must prepare to do battle with an army of raiders

that strike under the cover of darkness.

It is a war that will be waged every night for the next six months.

Lookouts scan for any signs of hostile activity,

while the rest of the men prepare their weapons.

The enemy is marching onto the battlefields.

But they're too distant to be picked out by the sentry.

Only image-intensifying cameras

reveal the true nature of the advancing army.

Led by the normally solitary males,

smaller groups join forces to create a hundred-strong herd,

with enough might to take on the villagers.

Their joy at finding food belies the severity of their situation.

Farming has claimed so much wilderness from the plains,

that the few remaining wild herds are forced to raid crops.

(MAN YELLING)

(SPEAKING IN BENGALl)

(ALL YELLING)

The villagers must chase the elephants away

before they lose too much of their crop.

But it's a dangerous mission.

These hungry and desperate elephants can become extremely aggressive.

(ELEPHANTS TRUMPETING)

The same people that revere Ganesh, the elephant god,

have little choice but to do battle with his earthly incarnation.

Every year in Bengal alone,

the conflict can claim up to 100 lives from each side.

Tonight, most of the crop has been saved without bloodshed.

But the elephants are still hungry

and long-term peace will be far harder to secure.

As the Ganges continues through Bengal,

a major channel known as the Hooghly river

splits from the main waterway and heads south towards the sea.

Before the Hooghly empties into the Bay of Bengal,

it passes through Calcutta,

the largest city in eastern India.

Once the capital of the British Raj,

today this seething metropolis is home to nearly 15 million people.

Technology and industry rule here, and are helping shape the country

into one of the fastest-growing economies on Earth.

Calcutta is a fry cry from wilderness, yet life still thrives here.

And all these people still depend on the Ganges

for almost all the produce they consume.

For many animals, the pace of life on the plains has become too fast,

but some are more than able to keep up.

Even in the most man-made environments,

India's wildlife manages to surprise and inspire.

This may seem an unlikely setting for such a profusion of life,

but these mountains of waste are home for those who must survive

on what others discard.

It's an uncomfortable reality of modern India

that some have so little, they're forced to scratch a living here.

Yet, for others, this is heaven on Earth.

Black kites are expert scavengers

and they swarm in their thousands

scanning for rich pickings amongst the decay.

For opportunists who can compete in these brave new worlds,

this is a way of life worth fighting for.

Since people first arrived here,

life on the Ganges plains has transformed beyond recognition.

Yet it's always remained abundant,

and the river's gift of life has never run dry.

But for how long will her benevolence continue to flow?

When a Hindu leaves this world,

the most auspicious place to be cremated is on the banks of the Ganges.

Here, the body returns to the same waters that brought it life.

The soul is absolved of sin and blessed by the goddess Ganga

to ensure a safe passage into the next existence.

Through the eternal cycle of life, death and re-birth,

the Ganges remains at the very heart of the Hindu faith.

And it's this sacred connection the people share with their river

that can still save her from the pressures she faces.

As a new dawn rises over the river, she flows towards an uncertain future.

The demands of a growing population

are poisoning her waters and running the river dry.

But all is not lost.

The Ganges river dolphin

is one of the most majestic creatures found in these waters.

And it has survived the many changes through which the river has flowed.

Today, like so many animals of the Ganges,

these ancient mammals are vanishing from her waters.

But that any dolphins survive at all

brings hope that people can still make space for their unique wildlife.

As the river approaches the great wilderness of her delta,

she enters her final incarnation.

The Ganges becomes a vast waterway

and unleashes her awesome power to both create life,

and take it away.