On the river itself, before the urban city touches the waters with its sewage, the flower fields of are where people grow marigolds to make a livelihood as they have done for 200 years. The ‘beauty’ of the flower is its exchange value, which in turn supports a sustainable local economy. The river provides the natural soil fertility and the easily available ground water, along with its own land, the sandy riverbed, as a site for cultivation. One acre of land can yield over 15 tonnes of flowers, zafris, basanti and gaindas, in one 7 to 9 month long season of flowers. The flowers are grown and plucked by family and relatives and sold mostly in the Fatehpuri mandi in Old Delhi. Here, one of the largest retail flower markets in North India, tonnes of flowers are sold each morning in a matter of a few hours. From here they travel to temples, homes, onto truck bonnets as garlands, or as adornments in weddings and religious rituals. Often they land up back in the river as decaying garbage and debry.

Simultaneously the oblivious city uses water from the river and throws it back as sewage. Over 3000 million liters of sewage finds its way into the river from sinks, bathtubs, sewerage pipes etc. each day.

The local economy of the land is based on its fertility. However land of the flower fields is now priced at over 10,000 USD an acre as demand for ‘new’ land sours in the ‘globalising’ city for building stadiums, large temples and now the Commonwealth Games village. Selling it could make more money than growing flowers or vegetables might for the farmer. The ‘fertility of capital’ overtakes the ‘fertility of land.’ Land and ecology are inseparable, as is the relationship between the ecology of nature and of the ‘self.’ The changing ecology of the flower fields is the crumbling ecology of the ‘self’ in these times. The script seems to be prewritten. The river is timeless. The river is dead.