The findings were certified by veteri- nary experts sent in early 2008 by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature. A report was submitted to the chief wildlife warden on February 26 which clearly concluded that the reptiles perished due to "visceral gout," a direct consequence of kidney failure. Sudhir K. Singh A 13-minute doc umentary recently screened at the Bharat Bhawan on the deaths in late 2007 of over a hundred "gharials" (gavialis gangeticus) in the National Chambal Sanctuary (NCS) was the first initiative, howsoever amateurish, to focus on the near extinction of the rare crocodilian specie. The importance of the gharial can hardly be over-stressed. Second only to the crocodile, it is to the aquatic eco-system what the tiger is to the terrestrial - a top predator. Only that it isn't a man-eater, living off the humble fish instead. Found primarily in the rivers and tributaries of northern India, especially the Chambal, Ken, Sone, and slightly down south, in the rain forests of the Mahanadi, the narrow snouted reptile has been on the critically endangered list since the seventies. Bhutan, Pakistan and Bangladesh, where they also exist, may already be bereft of the breed. Experts say 1,400 is all that remains of them in the country. Of these, well over 850 can be found within the confines of the NCS, which stretches 435 km across MP, Rajasthan, and UP. Perhaps, the only saving grace is that unlike the great Indian bustard, the lesser florican, the Indian otter, the skimmer, or the elusive dolphin, the gharial is still visible to the casual wild life adventurer. Which begs the question: how much longer? Journalist Lalit Shastri, who made the short, cites a shrinking pray-base, illegal sand mining, river bed cultivation, fishing, river pollution, and turtle hunting as the main factors behind the dwindling population of the specie. Though worried, MP forest department officials feel that the recent deaths, which mostly occurred along a 35-km stretch in the downstream part of the Jamuna near Etawah, was a "one-time tragedy". Since the post-mortem betrayed the presence of excessive lead, inflaming the kidneys of the gharials, it was argued that a disaster of such magnitude could not have occurred without a massive release of industrial effluents in the river. The toxic stuff was imbibed by the gharials though the medium of fishes, their main diet. The findings were certified by veterinary experts sent in early 2008 by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) at the behest of the newly formed gharial crisis management group. The vets spent a fortnight at the NCS. A report was submitted to the chief wildlife warden on February 26 which clearly concluded that the reptiles perished due to "visceral gout," a direct consequence of kidney failure. Be that as it may, the official view that the release of effluents was a "one-time affair" is at best wishful. The extent of pollution in the Jamuna seems to have been grossly underestimated. The toxicity of the river's water in winter is substantially diluted due to strong currents. That the gharials still failed to survive its aftereffects only confirmed the depth of contamination. T op guns in the forest service also draw satisfaction in the belief that the unfortunate loss can be more than made up by the sizeable number of freshly reared gharials awaiting release at the captive breeding centre at Dewri in Morena district. The bitter reality is that the artificially bred lot can never hope to match the survival and breeding potential of their adult mates. Which, of course, is not to underplay the importance of captive breeding, the fine art of which saved the American condor whose numbers were perilously close to extinction at 12, but have multiplied to a healthy 300 since. Even in MP, the gharial population drastically dipped when the Dewri centre was closed between 1998-2003. Genuinely dedicated officers, however, admit the larger causes behind the crisis. "Compared to the tiger, the gharial got a raw deal." How else could its numbers been virtually halved from a healthy 1,600 barely a decade ago? Those currently charged with managing the welfare of the wild have little of no "emotional" involvement with their job. Few have even a basic knowledge of ecology or genetics, not to speak of a holistic understanding of mother nature. Factor in the lack of political will in governments, both at the Centre and the states, and the big picture begins to emerge. Sand mining is rampant through out the Chambal sanctuary. With the result that the natural habitat of the gharial along the banks of the river has come under increasing pressure. Failure to fence their nesting sites pushed them further into harms way. Especially since the physical attributes of the reptiles don't suit movement on land. It is only to bask in the sun or to nest on the sandbanks that the gharial leaves water. Successive governments, regardless of the political hue, have conveniently turned a blind eye to the activities of the Gurjars who are behind the illegal business. But since their votes matter, no state regime has ventured so far as to haul the culprits over the coals. Which is possibly why the police has persistently failed to deal with the menace. The authorities, in fact, can be squarely blamed for paying scant respect to their own law. Mining leases were renewed even after the NCS was notified in 1981. This was in direct contravention of the Wild Life Act whose provisions expressly prohibited farming out fresh mining rights in the vicinity of a sanctuary three years after notification. It was as late as October 2006 that the central empowered committee appointed by the Supreme Court asked the state government to ban sand mining. But violations continue unabated.