Rahat: Persian Wheels in India

It was believed that the expansion of pumps and borewells made non-motorized technologies like the rahat a thing of the past. More than a decade ago, my thesis guide had written about a rahat in Kolar, Karnataka, one of the rare remaining examples of a rahat in use at the time. However, as we started looking for rahats in current use, I was led to encounter them in remote regions of western India.

 

Researching the presence and use of rahats in contemporary India allows for the problematizing of the discourse on technology and agriculture in post-Green Revolution India, while simultaneously interrogating the prevalent understanding of technology, modernity, and development.

This piece is informed by my positionality as an Italian MSc student. The methodologies leveraged for the research (La Vena, 2025), urged for continuous efforts for escaping pre-made categorizations, keeping track of hydrogeological knowledge as it was explained to us by farmers, often taking a step back to observe interactions, and situating diverging opinions in interviews that often turned into group conversations, as passersby stopped near rural wells to contribute their viewpoints.

 

My research set out to problematize the discourse on technology and development – rather than abide by a neoliberal narrative that romanticizes non-motorized technologies (through a ‘heritage’ lens). I aimed to deconstruct a prevalent understanding of technological development and seek a new discourse on society and technology rooted in observing a still perfectly functioning tool, the rahat. 

As a pair of bullocks drags a kunḍ (wooden beam) around in circles, the wheels (dabḍā) move and, in turn, lift buckets attached to a chain (mālā) out of the well. 

 

These kinds of water wheels and others (such as the cakkavaṭṭaka, araghaṭṭa, and ghaṭi-yantra) have been used since the 5th century CE in India but it wasn’t until the 13th century that the rahats made their appearance. They were quickly put to use since they simplified irrigation access compared to previous methods (Habib 1969). 

 

The mālā, found in sculptures dating as far back as the 6th century (Singh 1985), allowed a continuous flow of water to be generated from deeper wells. Their gears, which were introduced around the 13th-14th century through exchanges with Central Asia, Iran, and the Mediterranean basin, allowed the machinery to be operated through animal power, lifting water from deeper wells and in larger quantities than ever before.

Throughout my fieldwork and preliminary research, I noticed that people connect with rahats in different ways. For many, it brings back childhood memories of the time when their parents or grandparents used it to fetch water. Others comment on how the sounds of the rahat have a peaceful and joyful effect on the mind. This was echoed in conversations with farmers in Rajasthan: the sounds of wooden rahats are said to be particularly melodic. However, there exist few functioning examples of this kind today as they were substituted with metal wheels between the ‘50s and the ‘80s.

 

Interestingly, the first mention of rahats in India, an anecdote in a 14th-century text, reiterates this point – it is said that the Sufi saint, Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya, once passed by a farmer spurring his bullocks around a rahat and the sound emanating from the wheels was so melodious that the saint was sent into a state of ecstatic bliss.

These rhythmic sounds produced by the wheels often function as the background to the songs farmers sing when irrigating their fields. They consist of a combination of splashing water, the hollow sound of buckets filling up, and the teeth of gears clicking together. Oftentimes, the wooden frame of the machinery itself produces a low creaking sound (which can be heard clearly in this video), while the bells on the necks of the bullocks add to the melody. 

I asked those who assisted me during my fieldwork if they could ask farmers about these musical aspects. Initially, half amused and half embarrassed, the farmers declined to engage but briefly talked about two fairly well-known songs. The first was about the farmer Devla, who while sitting on the rahat in the fields, thinks of his beloved Devli, alone at home. The second song was a mocking spin on the well-known religious bhajan “Mavji to hai Avatari Maharaj”  (Mavji is indeed the great king incarnate), which interestingly amounted to something along the lines of “Mavji is crazy."  Mavji Maharaj was a revered saint in the 18th century and is venerated in the Vagad region of Rajasthan. His followers consider him to be an incarnation of Lord Krishna. The bhajan celebrates Mavji Maharaj as an "avatari," meaning an incarnation or divine descent, highlighting his spiritual significance. (From HelloBanswara, 2024).

On the other hand, these musical elements usually accompany irrigation and lose their original meaning if performed outside of their intended context (e.g. during an interview). These sounds and songs used to play a crucial role in rural life, as they accompanied the long hours of irrigation work in the fields. The sound of a rahat in the morning would be considered an invitation from the neighboring farmer to start work in the fields. According to Dev Singh, a farmer, the combined ‘voices’ of neighboring wheels, often belonging to relatives, produced a particularly pleasant musical harmony. It is also said that travelers from foreign lands followed these sounds when in search of water.

 

At the turn of the 20th century, wooden rahats could pump between 1600-1900 litres per hour, from an average depth of 12 metres (Mukerji, 1904). Although this model could reach deeper water tables, they would comport heavier strains with lesser results. The area that a wooden rahat could potentially irrigate varied significantly, covering as much as 30 acres in ideal conditions, and scarcely one acre in case of deeper wells and sandy soils (Baden-Powell 1868, Singh 1985). However, by 1969 rahats made of metal generated a flow of 14,000-18,000 liters per hour from water tables located at depths of five to ten meters (Dakshinamurti et al., 1973). The quantity of water lifted by a metal model was over nine times higher than the previous prototypes.

These new wheels were cheaper and quicker to build or repair and were less likely to break. Their introduction marked a shift in how rahats would be produced. Traditionally, three Jatis or professional communities were involved in the making of a wooden rahat. The Kumar community (traditionally potters) fabricated the clay pots, the Adivasi (tribal) community made the ropes from the roots of the Ghagra tree (Butea Monosperma), and the Suthar community (carpenters) assembled the wooden components. Generally, groups of farmers collectively built, assembled, and repaired a rahat.

 

Once iron wheels were introduced, farmers relied on specialized ironmongers for the build. This was a significant shift from the age-old cross-collaboration among groups of farmers as the primary approach to managing water. The notion of paying for water-related services was gradually introduced in every family. In July 2023, when I was conducting my fieldwork, there was only one rahat ironmonger (well past his 80th year) in the Gogunda tehsil of Rajasthan and a small number across the Marwar region. Once in high demand, the ironmonger said that he now gets barely one commission per year. In most cases, when a rahat breaks down, farmers prefer to invest in a new motorized pump, rather than repair it. Interestingly, a recent trend in the Rajsamand and Gogunda tehsils seems to be heading in the opposite direction. Frequent and prolonged power cuts have caused renewed local interest in rahat irrigation.

However, the dependency on a disappearing profession creates hiccups in the provision of repair services, forcing farmers to seek alternative solutions. 

 

Unlike pumps and borewells, rahats function on a steady-state principle (Kulkarni et al., 2018, p. 128) where they stop working when the water in the well falls too low. For this reason, farmers who use these traditional wells adopt practices that allow a parsimonious use of water resources. For example, the variety of crops that need to be grown is established based on the availability of water, rather than saleable value. 

 

This means that the use of a rahat won't directly result in scarcity for neighboring wells or for future generations, but rather groups of farmers can collectively take charge of governing water resources. 

As rahats are all but absent in rural landscapes in India, leaving pumps and borewells to support a near-complete shift towards intensive agriculture, the rhythmic sounds of this ancient technology ask us to stop for a moment and think. Can we reimagine rural areas as spaces fit for a pleasant pace of work and enjoyable labor? Can we reimagine irrigation through tools that bring communities closer together, with a clearer awareness of natural resources? 

As the last few rahats of India sing their closing song, can we remember what they say?

The research that inspired this article was supported by the Agro-Ecology for Sustainable and Just Groundwater Governance Project, with support from Amitangshu Acharya and Margreet Zwarteveen from IHE Delft, Pushkar Sohoni and Sara Ahmed from IISER Pune. 

 

I also want to thank Kalyani Thatte and Digvijay Patil from IISER Pune for the interesting conversations, advice, and materials; I am grateful for the guidance from Himanshu Kulkarni, Uma Aslekar, and Simran Sumbre from ACWADAM; from Gramshree I want to thank Bhagwati and Hem Raj; from the Foundation for Ecological Security, Meena Das Mohapatra, Girdhari Lal Verma, Shreya Sharma, Somya Patel, Khima Ram, Mona, and Muskan; from SOPPECOM, Seema Kulkarni and K. J. Joy. Following Farhad Contractor, Chattar Singh, Shagun Agrawal, Garima Rajput, and Smriti Singh Mandwa in their fieldwork in Jaisalmer was a very insightful experience. Ashis Panda’s support was key in finding the location of functioning Persian wheels, Dinesh Patel and Bhatta Ram were brilliant fieldwork companions. Pankaj Sekhsaria’s advice was key in putting things into perspective.

 

Last, but most definitely not least, my gratitude goes to the farmers in Maharashtra and Rajasthan who donated their time for interviews and conversations, teaching me about Rahats and conviviality. 

Baden-Powell, B. H. (1868). Hand-book of the economic products of the Punjab, with a combined index and glossary of technical vernacular words. Printed at the Thomason Civil Engineering College Press.

Dakshinamurti, C., Michael, A. M., & Mohan, S. (1973). Water Resources of India and Their Utilisation in Agriculture. https://books.google.nl/books?id=lOrGzgEACAAJ

Habib, I. (1969). Presidential address. Proceedings of the Indian History Congress, 31, 139–161. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44138351

Kulkarni, H., Aslekar, U., & Joshi, D. (2018). Specific Yield of Unconfined Aquifers in Revisiting Efficiency of Groundwater Usage in Agricultural Systems. Clean and Sustainable Groundwater in India, 125-137.
La Vena, P. (2025). Care and conviviality in Persian wheel irrigation. EPE

Mukerji, N. G. (1904). Handbook of Indian Agriculture. Read Books. https://books.google.nl/books?id=6mxbU5Owt1EC

Mavji Maharaj, HelloBanswara, https://www.hellobanswara.com/Mavji-Maharaj

Singh, C. (1985). Well-irrigation methods in medieval Panjab: The Persian wheel reconsidered. The Indian Economic & Social History Review, 22(1), 73-87. https://doi.org/10.1177/001946468502200104