When children first heard the name “Mhadei,” most were curious and at the end of a documentary screening, their eyes lit up with recognition, concern, and a surprising sense of ownership over this lifeline that flows through the Goa state.
Over several weeks, libraries in schools teams visited 18 schools across Goa from Taleigao to Talewada, from Chicalim to Khandepar to share the story of the Mhadei River through a documentary filmed by Gasper Desouza and Peter Desouza screening and interactive discussions opening the book “The River Mhadei: The Science and Politics of Diversion” What emerged was not just a simple exercise, but a window into how children perceive nature, belonging and justice. The film screening brought a fresh text to the library session and connected deeply with teachers and children as it represents the context in which all of us belong.
The sessions began simply: “What comes to mind when you hear the word ‘river’?” The answers were wonderfully practical. Children spoke of water for “drinking, washing clothes, bathing, cooking”. At GPS Amyawada Khandola, Children mentioned that “companies also use water” and “even plants need water.” At GPS Cansaulim, Prince mentioned a water body flowing behind his house, while Ajay recalled washing clothes and bathing in rivers back home.
Most children could name the Mandovi and Zuari rivers. Some mentioned the Ganga and Yamuna, rivers from textbooks and stories. But when asked about Mhadei, there was silence. One child at GPS Khandepar asked innocently, “Mhadei and Mandovi are the same, no?” This confusion makes sense. The Mhadei becomes the Mandovi once it enters Goa, but this geographical detail is lost on most children and even some teachers.
Everything changed when the documentary began. At GPS Taleigao, children gasped at waterfalls, trains, and boats moving alongside the Mandovi. At GPS Bazar Khandepar where the river flows through their own villages, children were amazed to learn “how big the Mhadei River is and how it flows through many villages.”
Recognition sparked joy. Children at GPS Paz smiled at each other when the song “Hanv Saiba” played, they knew it! At GPS Dharjo, children sang along to “Haav Saiba Poltadi Voita.” At GPS Chan, the teacher’s excitement was palpable as she pointed to familiar practices on screen: “Look, this is what we do in our place!”
The visuals became bridges to their own lives. Children connected scenes to streams near their homes, ponds in their neighborhoods, and family trips. At GMS Satrant, children shared memories of picnics to Salaulim Dam. At GPS Mavzo, Navami proudly announced that her native village Usgaon has the Mhadei flowing nearby, and her house is close to it.
Children were struck by the scale of the river’s journey. Shrisha at GPS Gautan said, “I was surprised to see how long and how big the rivers are.” At GMS Curpavaddo, children who thought they knew their rivers realized there was so much more forests, wildlife, festivals, and communities all connected to water.
Perhaps the most profound surprise was learning about the water dispute between Karnataka and Goa. This was new territory. At GPS Bazar Khandepar, a child asked, “Why are people fighting over our river?” At GPS Talewada, Children were confused: “People of different states can fight over water?”
A child’s response at GPS Haldanwada was particularly telling. When asked who owns the river, a boy replied, “Narendra Modi, as he is looking after all affairs of India.” The answer reflects how children are absorbing dominant narratives around authority and ownership, raising concerns about the influences surrounding them.
Who owns the river? This question brought fascinating responses. At GPS Chicalim, Riza thoughtfully said, “The river is owned by humans, trees, and animals and if we pollute them, animals, fish, and us will die.” At GMS Satrant, a teacher emphasized that “the river is everyone’s and nobody’s. We should not claim rights over natural resources.” Some see rivers as shared commons; others project authority as owners. The conversation itself becomes an opportunity to discuss it more.
One of the most moving parts of the sessions came when we asked: “If the river could talk, what would it say to us” “The responses were unanimous and heartfelt:
“Don’t pollute me.”
“Don’t throw garbage in me.”
“Please keep me clean.”
“Don’t block or divert my flow.”
“Take care of nature and animals.”
“Use water carefully and don’t waste it.”
Children understood the consequences with clarity. They said if rivers become polluted, “animals and humans will die,” “there will be less water,” “people will fall sick,” and “fish will die.”
Children asked questions that revealed both curiosity and deep concern:
Prasai (GPS Talewada):”Where does the river start from, and how does it become so big?”
Rashi:”How does rain know which river to go into?”
Aliza:”Can a river ever get sick like people do?”
Aftab: “How does the river feel?”
Soham (GPS Chan):”The river does not have legs, so how does it come from Maharashtra to Goa?”
The teacher’s response was poetic: “The flow is its legs otherwise, how would it come?”
Other questions spoke to environmental anxiety: Prem:”What will happen to the river if people keep throwing garbage into it?” Pushpendu (GMS Satrant):”Why do people fight over rivers when they belong to nature?” Saimon:”What happens to the fish when the water is diverted?” These aren’t just questions, they’re invitations to deeper conversations about ecology, ethics, and belonging.
Teachers were often as engaged as the Children. At GPS Chan, teachers shared childhood memories of farms and rivers. At GPS Khandepar, Teacher Preeti shared that she belongs to a fisherman community and considers the river their goddess, recalling the Naarila Poornima celebration during the rainy season. At GPS Mavzo, Teacher Varsha expressed gratitude: “Thank you for showing this wonderful documentary about our Mhadei River. Children learn many things about the outside world, but many times they don’t have any idea about what is happening in their own state.”
At GMS Satrant, teachers recalled memories related to the Zuari River, especially from when the bridge was being built, and emphasized that “animals, forests, and people are all dependent on rivers; life would not survive without them.”
By the end of each session, something had shifted. Children at GPS Bazar Khandepar said, “Protecting the river is important for the future, and everyone, even children like us, should help take care of it.” Some shared ideas: keeping it clean, planting trees, teaching others. At GPS Taleigao, children expressed “a sense of pride” about the rich flora and fauna around water bodies, the mapping techniques, and the beauty of forests. At GMS Curpavaddo, Prince declared, “I would not allow anyone to take the Zuari River away from its place, and I would fight to protect it.” Kajal summarized what she understood and said firmly, “I did not like the idea of diversion.” At GPS Aquem, children said they wanted to share what they learned on the phone to others.
One question stayed with me from GPS Chicalim: Do we really own nature? A child told me the river is owned “by us, fish, and trees.” This simple statement challenges the entire framework of ownership. Rivers are not owned by states or governments or even communities they belong to the ecosystems they sustain. Children understood that the health of the river affects everyone: people, animals, plants. They see the interconnection even when adults get caught up in legal battles over boundaries and rights.
When we ask children what surprises them about the Mhadei, their answers were tigers, waterfalls, forests, songs, struggles that remind us that wonder and concern can coexist. That education isn’t just about textbooks, but about helping children see the world they inhabit and their place within it. As Divya from GPS Mavzo said: “If the river could talk, it would ask people to take care of it.” Maybe that’s the fact that the rivers are already speaking. We just need ourselves to listen.
Blog written by: Vishwanath Bhatikar