All language subtitles for River Of Life

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.