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Compliances

Compliances refer to the process by which an organization ensures that it follows all applicable laws, regulations, standards, and ethical practices relevant to its operations. This includes adhering to environmental laws, maintaining fair labor practices, and upholding strong governance and transparency standards. Effective compliance helps organizations reduce legal risks, build trust with stakeholders, and operate responsibly within society. It also supports long-term sustainability by aligning business activities with regulatory requirements and ethical expectations.

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21 Sep 2026

Christ’s Child: El Nino and Indian Monsoon examines how El Niño and the Indian Ocean Dipole can influence India’s monsoon, rainfall distribution and agricultural conditions, with particular attention to the uneven and delayed 2026 monsoon. SummaryThe article examines the relationship between El Niño and the Indian monsoon, beginning with the historical tendency for El Niño years to coincide with weaker monsoon rainfall in India. It explains how the Indian Ocean Dipole (IOD) can sometimes modify or counteract El Niño’s influence, making the relationship more complex than a simple cause-and-effect pattern. The article then looks closely at the 2026 monsoon, including its delayed progression, rainfall deficits, intense regional downpours, floods and landslides, and uneven distribution across different parts of the country. Particular attention is given to agriculture, where irregular rainfall affected Kharif sowing, paddy cultivation, irrigation costs and crops such as rice, pulses and oilseeds, with West Bengal also experiencing delays before later rainfall helped recovery in some areas. The article highlights the wider chain linking deficient or delayed monsoon conditions with lower agricultural productivity, rural income pressures, food prices and increased dependence on groundwater. It concludes by discussing practical responses including micro-irrigation, wetland restoration, groundwater recharge, improved drainage, crop diversification and shorter-duration, drought-resistant seed varieties to strengthen resilience against increasingly variable rainfall. World Meteorological Organizations (WMO) has assumed on the possibility of an El Nino episode that it may be bad news for the Indian Monsoon. Though experts’ opinion was it would be premature to say anything definitely at the juncture, an El Nino year usually negatively impacts rains during the monsoon.  On 10th March the India Meteorological Department (IMD) predicted that day temperatures are likely to remain above normal by 5 to 7°C over Jammu and Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh, by 4 to 6°C over places of North East India including Delhi NCR, Gujarat and Madhya Pradesh during few days in the month .  El Nino refers to the periodic large-scale warming of the ocean surface temperature in the central and eastern equatorial Pacific Ocean coupled with changes in the tropical atmosphere circulation including wind pressure and rainfall pattern (Vishwa Mohan, The Times of India, March 11, 2026).  The History:  Since 1980, there have been 14 El Nino years, 9 out of 14 have corresponded with deficient monsoon in India with rainfall at least 10% below the average. The year 2018 experienced deficit of rainfall at 9.4 %.  There is an established connection between the El Nino year and poor monsoon, though there have been exceptions. The notable example is 1997, when the monsoon was normal despite a super strong El Nino.  In 1997, a strong positive phase of the Indian Ocean Dipole (IOD), counteracted the El Nino. IOD is a measure of the temperature difference between surfaces in the ocean’s east and west regions. This year it is predicted that the IOD will probably be positive.        Fig 1: El Nino and Indian Ocean Dipole    IMD prediction:  June - September rains are likely to be below normal in South, Central and North West India. Monsoon onset over Kerala expected to be delayed. June is predicted to be hotter than normal.  On 30th June, 2026, IMD confirmed its forecast of below normal rainfall this year.  The 2026 monsoon in India experienced delayed onset and localised deficit, with IMD forecasting overall rainfall at 90% of the long period average.  March -May: pre monsoon showers were 1313mm nationally, close to the normal rainfall of 1306mm. Rainfall in the month of June experienced a deficit. June 2026 faced a slow start particularly across central and western states like Maharashtra and Gujarat due to delayed monsoon progression. August, 2026 experienced active spells targeting Kerala, Coastal Karnataka and south interior Karnataka with heavy to extremely heavy rainfall. Widespread rain is observed across Uttarakhand, Himachal Pradesh, Gangetic West Bengal and Odisha, though average rainfall is still below normal for several interior tract. Since July localised floods and landslides affected multiple regions in Himalayan region and North East India, mainly Assam caused more than 200 deaths. Uneven progression impacted Kharif crop sowing schedule. As a result, the cost of irrigation has created a problem. There is regional stress for major summer crops like rice, pulses, and oil seeds. Initial dry spells delayed paddy, coarse cereals and pulses planting in key rainfed areas, forcing contingency plans across nearly 200 vulnerable districts. There are also recovery signs during late July and August. Revival and localised heavy spells in late July and August have helped improve soil moisture and catch up on delayed sowing in several tracts, though regional anomalies persist. In the first week of August, 2026, heavy rainfall took place over Delhi, Haryana and eastern Rajasthan. But this heavy rainfall didn't reduce the overall country's deficits in rainfall. At least 11% deficit in rainfall will persist according to IMD. Many agrarian states of the country including Bihar, Jharkhand, Uttar Pradesh and Andhra Pradesh will continue to witness deficient rainfall affecting agricultural productivity (The Times of India, Kolkata, August 10, 2026) West Bengal: Erratic and delayed start across eastern India due to early El Nino impact led to a slow beginning for Kharif crop sowing in west Bengal. But July experienced deep depressions in the Bay of Bengal and subsequent heavy rainfall. This situation eliminated deficits enabling a steady recovery in paddy transplantation. June rainfall deficits and slow progression put initial stress on agricultural pockets postponing nursery bed preparation. Districts of South and West Bengal experienced weeks of delay in the standard Aman paddy schedule as farmers awaited proper soil saturation. During the early days of monsoon, the dry pockets of the state relied on ground water to protect seed beds. In another negative, it rained in many parts of the country at the time when the sowing of Kharif crops had ended in almost 88% of the country's total sown areas. Approximately 52% of the country's net sown area is rainfed and relies directly on monsoon rainfall. During 3 July to 31 July at least 34 places of the country experienced 200mm rainfall or more in 24 hours. Umargram of Bhaldas district of Gujarat experienced 1067mm rainfall on 23 July. It is the highest recorded rainfall in a day in 2026.  Umargram, Gujarat ------- 1067mm----2026  Sohora, Meghalaya ------1563.3mm--1995  Amin div, Laksha div----1168.5----------2004  In general, the rainfall scenario of the country is as follows,  Deficit rainfall in the first week of July,2002 amounting to 35%. On 9 July depression in the Bay of Bengal initiated rainfall throughout the country. July rainfall became normal after the first week. After the second week of July the deficit rainfall amounted to 51%. August,2026 closed out with a sharp 16% nation -wide rainfall deficit. August 2026 is registered as one of India's warmest August months since 1901. Isolated heavy to extremely heavy downpours over West Bengal, Jharkhand, and parts of Madhya Pradesh, while Punjab, West Rajasthan, and the southern peninsula remained largely dry. The first 9 days of September,2002, experienced a deep of 26% deficit affecting cotton, soybean and pulses production. Over 14 states and Union Territories report severe rainfall deficiencies. Heavily affected states include Andhra Pradesh and Punjab (40%), Goa, Kerala (24%), parts of Maharashtra (Vidarbha and Mararathwada), Karnataka, Rajasthan, and Gujarat (20%) Bihar (27%), Assam, Mizoram, Manipur, Arunachal Pradesh, Meghalaya and parts of East and North East India including some parts of West Bengal. The scenario may change as the withdrawal of monsoon is not complete. In the third and fourth week of September the rainfall pattern may change the scenario of the monsoon rainfall in 2026. There are areas of India with above normal rainfall during the 2026 monsoon although rainfall distribution is highly uneven. Gujarat and some parts of central India IMD recorded an isolated extremely heavy rainfall in Gujarat region and northern Madhya Pradesh on 13 September.  Delayed or deficient monsoon ----------- low agricultural productivity -------------low rural income --------------- increased food prices ------------- high dependence on ground water --------- ground water depletion.    The solution:  Micro -irrigation: deployment of Drip sprinkler irrigation can reduce water conservation by 30 -50% and enhance crop productivity. Restoration of wetlands:  Wetlands are the source of water during dry spells for preparation of paddy seed beds. Wetlands can reduce the possibility of flooding during heavy rainfall. Monitoring drainage infrastructure in flood prone urban areas. Strengthening ground water recharge systems to improve water management during extreme weather. Crop switching may take place. In rain deficit areas water -heavy paddy farming may be transformed into low -water, drought- resistant alternatives like millet and oilseeds. Short - duration seeds may be used in some water deficit parts of the country.  Quick yielding seed varieties that mature faster, allowing farmers to save their yield even within a compressed monsoon timeline should be taken into consideration.  ...Read more

16 Sep 2026

16 September 2026 | Kolkata Climate change is becoming a financial risk for Indian banks, not just an environmental concern. Heatwaves, floods, water stress and the shift towards a low-carbon economy can weaken borrowers, damage assets and affect loan repayments. The question is whether banks are identifying these risks early enough without making credit harder for smaller borrowers with limited capacity to adapt. SummaryA flood can damage property used as collateral, extreme heat can disrupt industrial production, and water stress can weaken the finances of water-intensive businesses. These effects can eventually reach a bank through weaker cash flows, repayment stress and potential losses. RBI's climate-risk work has already examined how physical and transition risks could affect banks, while highlighting significant data and modelling challenges. This article looks at how those risks move from the physical economy into credit decisions, collateral, insurance and provisioning. What happens when climate risk reaches a bank’s balance sheet? Climate change does not appear on a bank’s books simply as an environmental concern. It can enter through the borrowers, assets, cash flows and repayment capacity connected to the loans a bank has issued. A heatwave, for example, can disrupt industrial productivity or raise cooling costs. A flood can damage a factory, warehouse or residential property. Water shortages can interrupt production, increase operating expenses or reduce revenues. As these pressures build, businesses may face weaker cash flows and greater difficulty servicing their debt. For a bank, the chain can therefore be direct: Climate shock → disruption to business or assets → weaker cash flow → repayment stress → potential credit loss. Climate-related damage can also affect the value of collateral. If a property or industrial asset securing a loan is damaged, becomes less productive or loses market value, the bank may have less protection if the borrower eventually defaults. That is why climate exposure is not limited to loans labelled “green” or “sustainable.” A conventional loan to a factory, farm, housing project or small business can also carry climate-related financial risks if the borrower or the underlying asset is exposed to physical hazards or to changes brought about by the transition to a lower-carbon economy. For banks, the climate question is ultimately a financial one: how could environmental shocks change the ability of borrowers to repay and the value of the assets standing behind those loans? Climate Risk to Credit Risk HEAT / FLOOD / WATER STRESS / TRANSITION POLICY → Business or asset disruption→ Higher costs / lower revenue→ Weaker borrower cash flow→ Repayment stress→ Default / restructuring risk→ Bank credit loss / provisioning pressure Illustrative transmission pathway; actual impact varies by borrower, sector, location and scenario. How does a bank measure a risk that has not happened yet? Climate stress testing is a one-way, banks can try to answer this question. Rather than waiting for a climate-related disaster to expose financial losses, banks can test how their portfolios might respond under severe but plausible climate scenarios. The aim is to understand where borrowers, assets and repayment capacity could come under pressure before those risks materialise. In 2022, the RBI’s pilot Climate Vulnerability Assessment and Stress Testing exercise examined both physical risks, including floods and cyclones, and transition risks. Participating banks used information about their borrowers and collateral, along with vulnerability factors provided by the RBI, to estimate how climate scenarios could affect probabilities of default and potential credit losses. The results showed that climate scenarios could materially increase the potential for credit losses. The RBI reported a 66.1% increase against the baseline for flood risk and a 138% increase under a short-term tail-risk scenario. However, these figures need to be read carefully. They were scenario-based results, not forecasts of actual future losses. They indicate how losses could change under particular assumptions, rather than predicting exactly what will happen. That makes the assumptions behind a stress test as important as the final number. The choice of climate scenario, the vulnerability factors used, the exposure of borrowers and the value of collateral can all influence the outcome. A climate stress test, therefore, is not a prediction machine. It is a way of asking how resilient a bank’s balance sheet could be if climate risks become financial risks. RBI Climate Stress-Test Snapshot RBI PILOT CLIMATE VAST — 2022 15 banks assessed Physical-risk scenarios Flood: +66.1% credit-loss potential vs baselineCyclone: +65.8% Short-term tail-risk scenario: +138% Transition-risk scenarios Below 2°C:2030 +106% | 2040 +109% | 2050 +107% Divergent Net Zero:2030 +110% | 2040 +130% | 2050 +146% Scenario-based results from RBI's pilot exercise, not realised losses or forecasts. How much of the risk can banks actually see? This is one of the biggest challenges in assessing climate-related financial risk. Understanding climate exposure requires detailed information about where borrowers and collateral are located, what hazards they may face, how financially vulnerable they are and how well they can adapt. Without this information, a bank may know that an exposure exists without being able to accurately estimate how severe its financial impact could be. The RBI’s pilot exercise identified several information gaps, including difficulties with geographic data, forward-looking indicators, emissions data and information from counterparties. The central bank has also highlighted the uncertainty involved in modelling climate-related risks over longer time horizons. This creates an important distinction between known, estimated and unknown exposure. A bank may know its overall exposure to a particular sector or geography, for example, while having limited information about how individual borrowers within that exposure would perform under a specific climate scenario. The quality and availability of data can therefore directly affect how precisely the bank can assess potential losses. The challenge is not simply that some climate risks are difficult to predict. It is that some of the information needed to measure those risks may not yet exist, may be incomplete, or may not be comparable across borrowers. That information gap is itself a risk-management issue. If a bank cannot clearly see where its exposure lies or how vulnerable its borrowers and collateral may be, its ability to prepare for potential losses is also limited.  “KNOWN / ESTIMATED / UNKNOWN” KNOWN Disclosed sector exposureDisclosed geographic exposureReported climate scenarios ESTIMATED Future borrower vulnerabilityPotential collateral impactFuture transition costs UNKNOWN / NOT DISCLOSED Uninsured exposureClimate-linked default impactClimate-linked provisioningBorrower adaptation capacity Only classify information as “unknown” after it has been requested and not provided.What happens when climate damage affects collateral and insurance? For housing and other asset-backed lending, physical climate damage can create another layer of financial risk. A flood can damage a property that has been pledged as collateral for a loan. Damage to an industrial facility can reduce the value or usability of buildings, equipment and inventory. If the underlying asset loses value, the lender may also face greater exposure if the borrower struggles to repay. Insurance can absorb part of such a loss, but simply having an insurance policy does not tell the full story. For a lender, the key questions are: What is covered?How much is covered?Which risks are covered?What are the exclusions and deductibles?How quickly are claims settled?Who bears any uninsured loss? For climate-exposed lending, these details can significantly influence the actual protection available to both the bank and the borrower. The presence of insurance, therefore, should not be treated as proof that climate risk has been fully protected against. The real test is whether the coverage is adequate when the loss actually occurs.Where does provisioning fit in? If climate-related disruption increases the probability that a borrower will default, it can influence how banks assess expected losses and manage provisions against potential credit risks. But identifying exactly how much of a loss is caused by climate-related factors is not always straightforward. A borrower’s financial position can be affected by several pressures at the same time. Extreme weather may coincide with higher energy costs, weaker demand, supply-chain disruptions, regulatory changes and rising financing costs. Separating the impact of climate-related factors from these other drivers can therefore be difficult. The challenge is not simply to identify whether a loan is exposed to climate risk. It is to understand how climate factors interact with ordinary credit risk and how that interaction could affect the borrower’s ability to repay. This means banks need to look beyond simply attaching a “climate risk” label to a loan. The more important question is how climate-related pressures could change the underlying probability of default, expected loss and overall credit quality. Climate risk, in other words, is not a separate category sitting outside traditional banking risk. It can become part of the credit risk already sitting on a bank’s balance sheet.Is transition risk just as important as floods and heat? Not all climate-related financial risks come from physical events such as floods, heatwaves or cyclones. The transition towards a lower-carbon economy can create financial pressure of its own. Policy changes, shifts in technology, carbon-related costs, changing consumer demand and international trade measures can all affect businesses and the sectors in which banks have lent money. For a carbon-intensive borrower, these changes can reduce profitability, require additional capital expenditure or lower the value of existing assets. A business may therefore face financial pressure even without experiencing a direct physical climate disaster. CEEW’s work on transition-risk scenarios for India’s financial sector highlights the importance of adapting global climate scenarios to India’s own economic and financial conditions. This includes accounting for uncertainties around policy, technology, trade and the availability of climate finance. For banks, this means assessing two sides of the climate-risk equation: Physical risk: What happens if climate hazards become more severe and cause greater damage to businesses, assets and borrowers?Transition risk: What happens as the economy changes in response to climate policy, technology, markets and the shift towards lower-carbon activity? A bank that looks only at floods and heatwaves may therefore miss another source of financial stress: the economic transition itself.Physical Risk vs Transition Risk PHYSICAL RISKTRANSITION RISKHeatwavesPolicy changesFloodsCarbon costsWater stressTechnology shiftsCyclonesChanging demandAsset damageTrade measuresProduction disruptionStranded assets Both can create:Cash-flow pressure → Credit riskCould climate-risk pricing make credit harder for smaller borrowers? This is where climate-risk management intersects with financial inclusion. Large companies often have greater resources to invest in cooling systems, flood protection, water efficiency, insurance and business continuity measures. Smaller businesses, however, may have far less financial capacity to adapt to climate-related disruptions. If banks simply classify climate-exposed borrowers as higher-risk customers, some vulnerable businesses could face tighter lending conditions precisely when they need access to capital to strengthen their resilience. That does not mean climate exposure should be ignored. Instead, banks need to distinguish between exposure and resilience. A borrower operating in a high-risk area but making credible investments in adaptation may present a very different financial risk from a borrower facing similar exposure with little capacity to prepare or respond. The objective, therefore, should not be to withdraw finance from vulnerable sectors or locations. It should be to identify climate-related risks early enough to manage them while continuing to support borrowers in building greater resilience. What should banks disclose? RBI's climate-related financial-risk work has focused on areas including governance, strategy, risk management, metrics and targets, alongside the need for better and more granular data. For lenders, meaningful disclosure should help answer practical questions: Where is the exposure? Which sectors and locations are most vulnerable? What scenarios were tested? What time horizon was used? How much of the exposure is insured? How could collateral values change? What happens to defaults and provisioning under stress? What adaptation measures are borrowers taking? And, importantly: What information remains unavailable? Bank Climate-Risk Dashboard PHYSICAL EXPOSURE •    Flood•    Heat•    Water TRANSITION EXPOSURE •    Carbon-intensive sectors•    Policy sensitivity•    Technology risk FINANCIAL EXPOSURE •    Loan exposure•    Sector concentration•    Geographic concentration PROTECTION •    Insurance•    Adaptation spending•    Restructuring options FINANCIAL CONSEQUENCE •    Default risk•    Collateral risk•    Provisioning DATA STATUS •    Known•    Estimated•    Unknown Populate only with verified bank data. Where does this leave Indian banks? India’s financial system is developing the tools needed to understand climate-related financial risk, but significant challenges remain in measuring that risk accurately. RBI’s pilot exercise showed that climate scenarios can materially affect potential credit losses while also highlighting gaps in data availability and climate-risk modelling. The next step is to move beyond broad recognition of climate risk towards a more granular understanding of which borrowers, sectors and assets are exposed, how vulnerable they are, and what that exposure could mean financially. This requires climate risk to move beyond sustainability teams and become part of mainstream credit assessment, risk management and financial decision-making. Ultimately, the challenge for Indian banks is not simply to recognise that climate change creates financial risk, but to understand where that risk sits, how large it could become, and how early it can be managed.  The real test: Can banks price climate risk without pricing people out? Climate risk can enter the financial system through several interconnected routes. Flood → damaged collateral. Heat → disrupted production. Water stress → higher operating costs. Transition policy → higher costs or changing asset values. The financial consequences may eventually appear as weaker cash flows, loan restructuring, defaults or greater provisioning pressure. But managing these risks should not simply mean avoiding every borrower, sector or location exposed to climate hazards. That approach could protect a bank’s balance sheet in the short term while making access to finance harder for the very businesses and communities that need capital to adapt. Banks therefore need to understand the nature of the exposure, identify areas of uncertainty, assess the borrower’s resilience and support credible adaptation where it is financially viable. The most useful climate-risk assessment may ultimately be one that clearly separates what is known, what is estimated and what remains unknown. This distinction matters because climate-risk decisions are only as reliable as the information and assumptions behind them. For Indian banking, the challenge is no longer simply recognising climate change as a financial risk. The real challenge is to determine where that risk sits, how large it could become, who ultimately carries it and what can be done before it turns into a balance-sheet problem. And that is where climate-risk management must go beyond risk avoidance. The goal should not be to price vulnerable people out of finance, but to price risk accurately enough to manage it while keeping viable borrowers within the financial system. Sources: Reserve Bank of India — Climate Stress Testing and Scenario Analysis: Navigating Uncharted WatersPrimary source for RBI's 2022 Climate Vulnerability Assessment and Stress Testing exercise, physical and transition-risk scenarios, results, methodology and data challenges.RBI Climate Stress Testing and Scenario AnalysisReserve Bank of India — Report on Climate Risk and Financial StabilitySupports the discussion of physical and transition risks, climate-related financial stability and stress testing.RBI Climate Risk and Financial Stability materialReserve Bank of India — Climate-related Financial Risk DisclosuresSupports the discussion of governance, strategy, risk management, metrics, targets and climate-risk data requirements.RBI Climate-related Financial Risk Disclosure FrameworkCEEW — Transition Risk Scenarios for India's Financial SectorSupports the discussion of transition-risk scenarios and India-specific financial-sector climate modelling.CEEW Transition Risk Scenarios for India's Financial SectorIRDAI — Insurance Regulatory MaterialTo support insurance coverage, claims, exclusions and disaster-related insurance analysis once the specific case/borrower is established.IRDAI Regulatory Material ...Read more

16 Sep 2026

SummaryA long-drawn debate still goes on regarding the erosive nature of Indian Sundarbans, precisely the Gangasagar Island. Highly revered for the cultural significance of Sagar mela at makar Sankranti, this island draws its significance from the confluence of main flow of river Ganga through its medieval channel of Adi Ganga with the Bay of Bengal. In the Anthropocene when climate change and sea level rise are gnawing at the spine, what makes Gangasagar Island increasingly vulnerable is the galaxy of geomorphic factors and anthropic interference which play their roles in shaping the erosion accretion pattern of the island.   Highly acclaimed for the world famous Gangasagar mela at Kapil Muni ashram, every year, Gangasagar Island is one of the most vulnerable islands of Indian Sundarban. Located at a distance of 100 km from Kolkata at the confluence of rivers Bhagirathi and Hugli, this island is approximately 30 km in north-south extent and 12 km in east-west.   Premature reclamation was done in Sagar Island like the rest of Sundarban, by embanking the coastline and major tidal channels, completely blocking the smaller tidal creeks followed by deforestation. Sagar Island has been in news owing to continuous coastal erosion, which has compelled to shift the Kapil Muni temple. Most experts have shifted the blame to climate change, ensuing sea level rise (terms which are sure to capture attention within a blink of the eye). Nevertheless, geomorphic uniqueness of Ganga-Brahmaputra delta, Sundarban and the continuous in equilibrium caused by anthropic interference play their roles in carving the erosion-accretion pattern. Reclamation by preventing the tidal spill area also results in loss of morphologic equilibrium. As Hugli estuary is a macrotidal resonant estuary, loss of tidal spill area results in disequilibrium by reducing the intertidal area and increasing the mean depth of the estuary. The estuary then tries to restore the equilibrium by active erosion of embanked channel margins and by in channel sedimentation which reduces the depth (Pethick, 1994).  Erosion accretion scenario of Gangasagar Island:  The progradation and retrogradation of any delta is determined by the occupance and abandonment of the distributary channels. The relative dominance of erosive wave and tidal action and accreting fluvial forces demarcates the stability of the delta. The Ganga Brahmaputra delta is tide dominated and the western part of the delta of which Indian Sundarban is a part, is retrograding in nature due to various factors. The silt trapping ‘Swatch of No Ground’ submarine canyon, subsidence of Bangladesh side due to neo-tectonic movements causing the major flow of river Ganga towards Padma, siltation of the offtake points of river Ganga with its distributaries and sediment trapping by construction of barrages and dams in the upstream by humans have contributed to sediment starvation causing retrogradation of Western Ganga Brahmaputra delta.  Both erosion and accretion can be found sporadically with erosion being the main characteristic. The northern part of Gangasagar Island was observed to be detached from the islet of Ghoramara episodically between 1903-19014. The time span of 1922-1997 saw maximum erosion at Shibpur-Boatkhali area with recession rates as high as 23.8 m/y with 6 m frontal dune and series of embankments being obliterated (Bandyopadhyay, 1997). Erosion at Gangasagar Island has been so frequent that the Kapil Muni temple a shrine of great cultural significance had to be shifted about six times since it was built. The earliest recorded temple (Anon, 1841; Wilson, 1846) was submerged in mid-19th century. A number of temporary temples were constructed subsequently (O Malley, 1914; Mitra, 1954; Ray, 1971). Though a permanent building was constructed in the year 1961 but it too got eroded. The present temple was constructed in 1973, some 1.5 km inside the spring tide line (Bandyopadhyay, 1997).  Interestingly, an erosion accretion cycle got superposed over the dominant erosive pattern at the southern sector between Gangasagar and Basantapur since 1922-23. This region retrograded during 1922- 1942, prograded during 1942-1969, retrograded again during 196869 – 1975 and was almost stable during 1975-1997. Small islands in the Baratala branch to the east of Sagar Island grew and disappeared bearing testimony to the ephemeral nature of Hugli estuary. A fusion of Kabasgadi Island to the left bank of the estuary between 1967-68 and 2001 was observed. The widening of the Baratala river throughout previous 200 years remarked that Sagar was attached to the area to its east sometimes in the past (Bandyopadhyay, 2000). Long term oscillations in the thalweg of Hugli are observed and changes in the islands of Hugli estuary are linked to the changes in its tidal channels and sand ridges. Reworking of sediments by wave action plays an important role in regulating the ephemeral nature of islands in Hugli estuary. Moreover, the islands are characterized by cyclical patterns of erosion and accretion and this strongly discards the model of sea level rise.  Even in the 80s, Muriganga river was accessible, better than the present times. Vessels used to ply regularly from Lot no 8 of Kakdwip to Kochuberia of Gangasagar Island. The journey was hassle free unlike today when vessel service needs to be kept closed for at least 5 hours daily as there is a risk of getting obstructed by bars. Even the coastline was different; one had to walk for about 2 km crossing sandy path. The sandy beach was interspersed with runnels (depressed areas filled with clay) and beach berms (sand dunes). One had to cross a tidal creek to reach Beguakhali to the east from Gangasagar. This path was laden with mangrove patch. A lighthouse was present even then about 500 m from sea. High sand dunes were present in Tapovan area. Concrete embankment which was created in 2022 March breached within September 2022. Even high concrete embankments broke down during cyclone Sitrang of 2023.     Fig 1: Erosion accretion scenario of Gangasagar Island  Previously, during the 80s, Gangasagar creek was surrounded by mangrove patch and to its east, a sand ridge used to block the creek perpendicularly. At some places these sand ridges were 30-40 feet high. Even sand encroachment at Raspur, Basantapur villages were observed previously. Even past remnants of zamindari embankments used to get exposed in these areas along with exposure of tree trunks.  This bears testimony to the fact that there was a forested stretch to the southern portion of these settlements. For the previous 30 years, these areas have been experiencing beach lowering.   Gangasagar Island has lost about 12.982 km2 and gained about 10.244 km2 within 1968 and 2021. Erosion persists more in the north east and south east portions adjacent to Kochuberia, Haradhanpur, Dhablat and Beguakhali to the west.  SL NO ISLAND UNITS     Area (km2)     1920 1968 1978 1988 2006 2019 2021 2023 2025 1 G Plot 57.2 55.7 51.9 50.4 42.4 41.8 41.6 41.8 41.2 2 Mousuni 30.6 30.2 33.3 27.6 29.4 28.1 27 26.7 25.8 3 Sagar  242.9 258.8 248 253.4 236.8 240.2 235.7 231.5 4 Namkhana 154.4 157.4 155.3 156.4 151.9 145.3 147.7 147.1 146.2  Displacement of residents from Ghoramara and conflict:  People of Lohachara and Khashimara (Ghoramara) have been rehabilitated at Dhablat, where at present 267 families reside. Presently, agriculture relies on paddy and khesari (pulses). Freshwater supply has resulted in cultivation of Aman paddy and potatoes in the winter. Watermelon is no longer profitable. Also, people of Lohachara have bought land at Kakdwip. Literacy is high in Gangasagar Island but outmigration is common among the young generation.   Connectivity has increased at Gangasagar Island, which is a sign of development according to the local residents. All small and big tourist resorts, even the government bungalows get filled during Gangasagar Mela. Erosion has increased in the past 4-5 years. People demand concrete Aila bandh (15 ft deep) to be constructed in front of Kapil Muni temple. Gunny bags are provided to protect the area adjacent to Kapil Muni temple just before Gangasagar mela.  Displaced to Displaced from Year Brief description Phuldubi             (80-85 families) Khashimara, Ghoramara 1964 Each family was given 0.533 ha of land from the Government Dakshin Haradhanpur (50                    families approximately) Khasimara 1964 Each family was given 0.533 ha of land from the Government Bankimnagar Lohachara 1972 Each family was given 0.883 ha of land from the Government. Bankimnagar Colony Fisherman Cooperative Society was established. Gangasagar Colony Ghoramara 1981 Each family was given 0.267 ha of land from the Government and one room earthen house was given. Jibantala Kamalpur Lohachara, Ghoramara 1983 Each family was provided with asbestos roof pucca house and 0.2 ha land.      Plate 2: In front of Kapil Muni Temple, 2026 (Photo credit: Dr Kanailal Das)  It is thus of no doubt that Kapil Muni temple awaits yet another shift. However, the timeline may be disputed upon. Wave dashing engulfs the sea facing islands and Gangasagar Island is no exception in this case. Options like offshore breakwater and artificial coral reefs have been thought about but these options are not only exorbitant but also are sure to cause other knock on effects on the natural systems operating here.   References:  Bandyopadhyay S. (1997): Coastal erosion and its management in Sagar Island, South 24 Parganas, West Bengal Indian JournalEarth Sci. 24(3-4) 51-69 https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.7264120. Bandyopadhyay S. (2000): Coastal changes in the perspective of long term evolution of an estuary: Hugli, West Bengal, India, Proc. Int. Quat. Seminar on INQUA shoreline, Indian Ocean Sub-Commission: 103-115.  Bandyopadhyay S. and Bandyopadhyay M. K. (1996): Retrogradation of the western Ganga-delta, India and Bangladesh, Possible reasons. In. Tiwary, R.C. (ed.), Proceedings of 6th conference of Indian Institute of Geomorphologists, National Geographer, 31(1&2): 105-128. Bandyopadhyay S., Kar N.S., Dasgupta S., Mukherjee D. and Das A. (2023): Island area changes in the sundarban region of the abandoned western ganga–brahmaputra– meghna delta, India and Bangladesh, Geomorphology 422 (2023) 108482, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.geomorph.2022.108482. Mitra R (2013): Need of a paradigm shift in disaster management approach: A case study from coastal Sundarbans presented in 7th Biennial Conference Indian Society for Ecoloical Economics (INSEE) Global Change, Ecosystem Sustainability. O Malley’ L.S.S. (1914): Bengal District Gazetteers: 24 Parganas (Bengal Secretariat Book Depot, Calcutta) 1914. Paul A. K. (2002): Coastal geomorphology and environment published by acb publications. Paul A.K. (1991): Effective management strategies for the coast of West Bengal J. Geogr. Rev. India 53, pp 60-74. Pethick J (1994): Estuaries and Wetlands: Function and form In Wetland Management, edited by Falconer, R.A. and Goodwin P (Thomas Tetford), London 1994, pp 75-142. Ray A.K. (1971): The Gangasagar Fair (In Bengali), In Mitra, A. Ed. Religious Festivals and Fairs of West Bengal in Bengali, 3 (24 Parganas district), Govt of India (Census Operations), New Delhi, 255-271.   ...Read more

14 Sep 2026

A deeply personal journey through the Indian Sundarbans, where grief becomes responsibility and memory becomes action. Prof Ujjwal K Chowdhury reflects on education, climate vulnerability, mangrove protection, safer livelihoods and community resilience—arguing that the future of the delta depends not on sympathy alone, but on giving its people the power to remain, rebuild and thrive. SummaryThe article traces a deeply personal journey through the Indian Sundarbans, where memory, grief and responsibility gradually become inseparable from questions of education, climate resilience and community survival. It moves from early encounters with village life to the experience of a cyclone-damaged school, showing how environmental destruction is felt through lost learning, insecure livelihoods, migration and social vulnerability. The piece argues that schools in the Sundarbans must become centres of resilience, equipping children with ecological awareness, disaster preparedness, digital confidence and practical skills rooted in local realities. It also examines mangrove restoration, blue-carbon possibilities, responsible tourism, safer livelihoods and anti-trafficking efforts as interconnected parts of protecting the delta. Throughout, the article insists that the people of the Sundarbans should not be reduced to symbols of suffering, but recognised as active participants in shaping their own future. Its central message is that the region’s survival will depend on turning emotion into sustained solidarity, stronger institutions and practical action that allows communities to remain, rebuild and thrive. A first person journey through memory grief and hope in the Indian Sundarbans Before the Delta I Learned to Listen I grew up between two very different landscapes, and both taught me to listen. I studied in the Ramakrishna Mission at Aalo and later at Narendrapur until I attained adulthood. Those years gave me an education in discipline, simplicity and service. They also left me with a quiet unease about suffering that people learn to accept as normal. I did not have the language for it then. I only knew that a child who had less was not worth less.At Jadavpur University, while pursuing my Master's in International Relations, another education began. The campus opened the door to social realities and to the politics of socialism and social justice. Poverty was no longer a distant picture or a line in a textbook. It had history, power and policy behind it. I began to ask why some children inherit choices while others inherit only risks, why a village is praised for its resilience when it has first been denied safety, and why the poor are so often expected to adjust to conditions that the privileged would never accept.That education did not make me an expert on other people's lives. It made it more difficult for me to look away. The values I had absorbed at Aalo and Narendrapur met the questions I encountered at Jadavpur, and together they shaped a way of seeing. Service could not mean standing outside a community with answers. Social justice had to begin with listening to people who had been living with the problem long before the city discovered it. 1988 I Entered Through a Wedding My first visit to the Sundarbans was in 1988, when I was studying for my Master's in International Relations at Jadavpur University. I did not go in search of a landscape to describe, a report to write or a cause to claim. I went because Geetadi, the rural woman who had cared for me when I was a young man living alone, invited me to her daughter's wedding in a village near Lakhsmikantapur. I went as someone who had been invited into a family, not as a benefactor or a guest of honour.The city gradually dissolved into fields, narrow roads, river crossings and the smell of wet earth. In that village, life moved to another rhythm - slower perhaps, but also harder and more dependent on one another. The wedding was held together by many hands. Neighbours cooked, men arranged chairs, women sang, and children ran barefoot through the afternoon. Poverty was visible, but so was a social wealth that Kolkata often conceals: the assurance that, in a difficult hour, somebody will come and stand beside you.I remember eating a simple meal and feeling richer than I had at many city dinners. The rice was ordinary. The generosity was not. I was meeting the Indian edge of the world's largest delta through a human invitation, and that first welcome has remained with me. Even now, I understand the Sundarbans through people before postcards, through the hands that cook, row, teach, repair and endure. The Delta Stayed With Me I returned many times after that first journey. The number may now be more than fifty, but counting visits does not explain what the place has done to me. Each journey altered the picture I had carried back from the previous one. The Sundarbans was never only the forest, never only the tiger, the river or the tide. It was a mother waiting for news of a boat, a child trying to keep a notebook dry, a teacher opening a classroom after a storm, a family rebuilding a wall before it had recovered from the last one.There is a word for the feeling that makes another person's suffering impossible to treat as somebody else's problem: pathos. It is often described as an appeal to emotion, but in the Sundarbans I have understood it as something more demanding than sentiment. It is the moment when a damaged roof becomes a child's lost school day, when a saline pond becomes a family's shrinking food supply, and when a mangrove becomes the thin living line between a home and the sea. Feeling becomes an obligation to know, and knowing becomes a responsibility to act with humility.That emotional connection is a large part of how I came to own up to my responsibility toward the Sundarbans. I do not own the land. I do not speak for its people. The place slowly entered my moral geography, and its pain began to feel personal without ever becoming mine to possess. My background, my teachers and my education had prepared me to recognise an injustice. The people of the delta taught me that recognition is only the beginning. The Day Maa Said Okay Years later, during the strange half-opening of India after the first lockdown, I asked my mother if she would come with me to a school in the Sundarbans. She had been confined at home for months. I promised a careful drive, no crowds and a slow return. I told her she would see water, forest land and Sundari trees. She listened and said, simply, 'Okay. Let us go.' I did not know that this small consent would become one of the most important sentences of my life.On November 1, 2020, Maa sat in the back seat wrapped in a shawl. She told me to drive slowly and not overtake. 'This is not the time to prove anything,' she said. I still hear her voice when I am impatient. As Kolkata fell behind us, the sky widened. Buildings gave way to fields, water and the long, patient green of Bengal. The Sundarbans seemed to exist halfway between soil and river, with the borders between land and water forever being redrawn.The school did not look like a school when we arrived. Cyclone Amphan had torn away part of the asbestos roof, and the pandemic had emptied the classrooms. There were no children, no laughter and no roll call. Yet a few stubborn people were refusing to let the school die. Jaikrishna Haldar, its founder, spoke quietly: 'This school will start again.' He sounded like a caretaker refusing to abandon a child.Maa walked through the broken corridors and asked how long the school had been shut. 'Since COVID,' I said. 'And Amphan finished what COVID started.' She nodded. Then she gave the tragedy its most exact description: 'Children will suffer quietly. Adults will pretend they do not know.' The sentence has stayed with me because it did not ask for pity. It asked adults to accept responsibility.Next to the school was a small manmade mini Sundarban - six ponds, trees, mangroves and Sundari plants, protected through community labour. Maa touched the leaves, plucked a little flower and smiled. I took a photograph of her in the sunlight, calm and alive. When I look at it now, I see more than a mother enjoying a day outside. I see the last full journey I made with her. We returned to Kolkata, fell ill with COVID, and on November 24 she was gone. A Dying Wish From Maa Became a Promise Before she was taken to hospital, Maa gave me five wishes: travel more, complete my work, look after my health, do not grow old in loneliness, and do something for the school we had just visited. The last wish was spoken without drama. That was its power. A mother who had spent her life caring for others was placing one small unfinished responsibility in my hands.On her first death anniversary in November 2021, I returned to the Sundarbans. I invited nearly five hundred villagers to a feast in her memory. We ate, remembered and allowed grief to become communal. Women served rice with practised generosity. Children ran barefoot between the adults, carrying on with the authority of life. They did not know that, for me, every face in that gathering was part of Maa's final instruction.Out of that grief came the Smt Anu Chowdhury Memorial Educational Foundation. We adopted Vivekananda Adarsha Vidyalaya, run by Vivekananda Sangha in Sankijaan village in the Kultali police station area. The school did not become a monument to my mother, and certainly not to me. It remained what it had always been: a village's claim to its children. The work began with listening to teachers, families and students, and with accepting that a damaged school needs continuity more than ceremony.A school bell in a village announces something larger than the beginning of a class. It says that the children are still here, that learning has not been washed away, and that their future will not be surrendered quietly to poverty, storms or migration. The promise I made after Maa's death has meaning only when the school becomes stronger in the hands of the community. A School Is a Living Ecology At Kultali, I have slowly learned that grassroots education cannot be separated from the ecology and economy around it. A child who learns about water should be able to understand the salinity of the family pond. A child who studies the weather should know what a cyclone warning means. A child who learns digital skills should also know how to use digital finance safely. A young person who loves the mangrove should be able to imagine a livelihood that does not require abandoning home in desperation.The education we are trying to support is therefore holistic and rooted in place. It combines foundational learning with respect for the local language and culture, ecology, arts, sports, digital exposure, community learning and everyday sustainability. It is value-based without being moralising, nature-based without becoming a field trip, and participative enough for a child to ask questions that an adult may not have anticipated. The aim is not to burden children with every problem of the delta. It is to give them knowledge, confidence and choices.Teachers carry much of this work. They need training, professional dignity and the freedom to help children learn beyond memorised answers. A school cannot become resilient if its teachers are left alone after every cyclone to reconstruct both the roof and the learning process. The community, too, must see the school as its own institution. Parents who fish, cultivate land, work as agricultural labourers or migrate for income carry knowledge that belongs in a child's education.The work is now gradually extending from Kultali towards Jhorkhali and Sagardweep, where two more schools are being supported in the process. This is a small beginning, and it remains unfinished. But its direction matters. The purpose is to build a connected culture of learning in which children in different corners of the delta can study, create, stay safer and see dignity in their own surroundings. The expansion is not about spreading a name. It is about widening the circle of children who are allowed to imagine a future. A Delta Negotiating With the Future When I return now, I cannot see the Sundarbans only as beauty. I see a place negotiating with the future every day. The danger is not one dramatic morning when the ocean swallows everything at once. It is the slow loss of a field, a pond, a tree, a home, a village and a memory. Sea levels in the Bay of Bengal are rising, land is subsiding in places, fresh sediment is not reaching every part of the delta, embankments weaken, and salinity enters ponds and fields. Storms arrive with greater force and leave behind years of recovery work.Research projections have warned that roughly 60 to 80 percent of India's mangrove area could be at risk by the end of this century if sea-level rise, erosion and salinity continue unchecked. The range should not be used as a prop for either panic or denial. It should be treated as a summons to prepare. The Sundarbans may drown in pieces before it disappears from a map: a saline pond, a child leaving school after a parent migrates, a young woman lured away when a storm destroys household income. Ecological loss and human loss are one entangled story here.Preventing that future will require more than concrete and more than plantation photographs. Tidal creeks must be reopened where they have been blocked, and mangroves must be restored with native species in the right places. Natural regeneration should be protected wherever mud and water can do the work. Low-cost living shorelines, including silt-trapping terracotta rings, deserve serious expansion. Embankments will still be necessary in many places, but they must work alongside the natural shield rather than replace it.Homes and schools need raised foundations and safe shelters need to be designed into village life. Where land is truly vanishing, relocation must be dignified, voluntary and planned around livelihoods, schooling and social ties. The region needs a Bengal Delta Commission with a long-term resilience fund, transparent data and a strong role for local communities. Kolkata must understand that the safety of the Sundarbans is part of its own safety. The city breathes behind a delta that it rarely sees. Tourism Must Arrive Lightly I think often about the beauty and possibility of Jhorkhali and Sagardweep. Jhorkhali is a natural gateway to the delta, where river routes, village life and mangrove landscapes can meet visitors. Its attraction should not be turned into a noisy picnic spot or a row of concrete resorts. The real experience is quieter: a boat slipping through a channel, a bird lifting from the bank, a local guide explaining the tides, and a meal cooked by a family that knows the soil and river because it has lived with both.Sagardweep carries another kind of beauty. It is where the Ganga meets the Bay of Bengal, where the Kapil Muni shrine, the beach, pilgrimage and coastal ecology share one fragile island. Birdwatching, village walks, local food, craft and mangrove interpretation can create income beyond a short pilgrimage rush. They can also help visitors understand that the island is not an empty stage waiting for development. It is a lived landscape with its own limits and memory.Tourism should follow the carrying capacity of the place. Boats should be licensed and limited, fuel and noise pollution controlled, sewage treated, plastic refused and sensitive habitats kept out of bounds. Small homestays, community kitchens, boat cooperatives and women-led enterprises can keep money in the villages. Local people should be hosts with rights, not scenery for someone else's weekend. Their music, food, craft and stories should remain living community traditions, not performances stripped of meaning for tourists.A transparent share of tourism revenue should return to mangroves, schools, clean water and disaster preparedness. After more than fifty journeys through Kultali, Jhorkhali and Sagardweep, I am convinced that the Sundarbans can become more secure through mindful eco-tourism, but only if tourism learns restraint. The forest should be allowed to remain a little shy. The most successful visit may be the one that leaves the visitor changed and the village no poorer. Let the Mangroves Earn for the People The mangroves are living infrastructure. Their roots hold mud, slow waves, shelter fish and protect the edge of the land. Their wood, leaves and waterlogged soil store carbon for long periods. When that carbon is measured, protected and independently verified, it can become part of a blue carbon economy. In plain language, the world can pay the people of the Sundarbans to keep mangroves alive, provided the money is honest and the community is not treated as a labourer on its own land.One site-specific study cited in carbon research measured nearly 28 tonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent being absorbed each year in mangrove stem biomass per hectare. As an illustration rather than a promise, a 1,000-hectare project at that rate could represent about 28,000 tonnes of credits a year. At an indicative 15 to 35 US dollars per credit, the gross climate value might be roughly 0.4 to 1 million US dollars annually before verification, monitoring, market changes, transaction costs and community payments. The figures are meaningful only if the people who protect the forest share fairly in the value.Carbon farming must not become a new form of exploitation. Existing forests must be protected as carefully as degraded areas are restored. Each site needs its water movement, soil, salinity and natural species understood. Planting the wrong trees for a report can waste money and trust. Carbon rights must be clear, communities must give informed consent, and independent auditors must verify claims. Benefit-sharing should be simple enough for a village meeting to understand, with a meaningful share reaching village institutions, women's groups, nurseries, fishers, honey collectors and young forest monitors.The income need not come from credits alone. Mangrove honey, sustainable fisheries, fish and crab value addition, guiding, restoration work and local craft can grow around the forest. CSR can support early research and monitoring; carbon revenue can help sustain long-term stewardship. Built patiently, the mangrove can help finance a school, a clinic, clean water and safer livelihoods. Its economic value should strengthen its moral value, never replace it. Preparedness Is Love Made Practical In the Sundarbans, disaster preparedness cannot begin when a cyclone has already been named. It has to become ordinary life. Every household should know the safest route to a shelter, keep dry food and water, store medicines and papers in waterproof bags, maintain a charged phone or radio, and keep an emergency kit ready. Panchayats should know who will need help first. Every village should know its evacuation boat, vehicle or raised platform before the wind begins to rise.Schools can become the heart of this preparedness. Children can learn first aid, water safety, evacuation drills and how to help a grandparent move safely. Teachers, youth groups, fishers, religious leaders, Anganwadi workers and women's groups can form local response teams. Warnings should travel through community radio, loudspeakers and phones in familiar language. Public buildings must be rebuilt safer, not merely faster. The goal should be zero avoidable deaths, because a poor family should not have to pay for a preventable failure with a life.I want the school at Sankijaan to teach more than examinations. A young person should be able to test soil and water, understand a weather warning, help in a first response, use digital finance safely and find a livelihood without abandoning home. Green skills, financial literacy, digital confidence and disaster readiness protect the same human being. Resilience is a family knowing what to do before the wind arrives, and knowing that the institutions around it will not disappear when the water rises. Breaking the Chain of Trafficking The fight against human trafficking must stand beside the fight against ecological destruction. When a cyclone takes away a boat, a crop or a roof, desperation creates an opening for an agent promising a job or marriage. Male migration leaves many women managing households alone. Remote geography and low awareness can hide the truth until a girl or young woman is far away. Climate pressure can turn a region into a source of trafficking if society looks away.The response has to be concerted and local. Girls must stay in school and gain real pathways to skills and income. Women, teachers, Anganwadi workers, self-help groups, panchayats and youth clubs should learn to recognise recruitment, verify an employer or marriage proposal, record travel details and report quickly. A bilingual documentary, an illustrated Bangla booklet and women-led meetings can make the invisible visible without shaming survivors. Villages must notice unexplained advances, sudden school dropouts and migration that nobody can trace.A safe village is not one where nobody leaves. It is one where people leave by choice, with information, documents, a traceable destination and a way home. Survivors need protection, counselling, legal support and respect. Education, local enterprise and disaster resilience are anti-trafficking measures too. When a child has a school, a woman has an income and a family has options after a storm, the trafficker loses power. The People Who Keep Teaching Me On one later visit, a Class I girl named Sneha ran up with her ribbon slightly undone. 'Baro Sir, you have come again,' she said. I told her I kept coming because she kept showing up. Then she asked whether I also had examinations. When I laughed, she became serious: 'Then you also study, Sir. Otherwise you will fail.' In that salt air, a child reminded me that learning is a mutual obligation. I had gone to the school thinking I had something to offer. She sent me back knowing that I still had much to learn.Debasish Das, one of the young teachers carrying the school forward, once looked at the long list of repairs, attendance, training and donor conversations and said, 'The tide does not ask if we are overwhelmed. It comes. We adjust.' I hear capability in that sentence, but I also hear the exhaustion behind it. The people of the Sundarbans have adjusted for generations. Our responsibility is to turn adjustment from a permanent condition of suffering into resilience with choices, institutions and support.The people who live here are not waiting to be rescued into dignity. They are already producing dignity under conditions that would test anyone. What they need is a fairer share of safety, education, information, opportunity and decision-making power. Any outside effort is worthwhile only when it strengthens that agency and becomes less necessary over time. The Paper Boat I Carry Before I left one afternoon, Sneha returned with a paper boat made from an old notebook page. 'For you,' she said. I asked why I needed a boat. She answered with the certainty of a child who understands the delta: 'When water rises, boat is needed.' I held it as if it were made of iron.I want to carry that paper boat as my picture of the Indian Sundarbans. It is not a doomed landscape waiting for pity, and it is not a resource waiting for extraction. It is a living place where education can reduce vulnerability, mangroves can protect and earn, tourism can learn restraint, women and children can be safer, and people can remain in communion with nature without being punished for being poor.When I look back, the path to the Sundarbans seems to have been made from many small recognitions. The Ramakrishna Mission taught me to value service. Jadavpur University taught me to see the structures behind suffering. The people of Lakhsmikantapur first welcomed me without asking what I could do for them. Maa took me to a wounded school and then left me her dying wish. The children and teachers of Kultali have kept turning that wish into a living question.Today the work is moving from Kultali towards Jhorkhali and Sagardweep, with two more schools being supported. I speak of this only because the journey is continuing, not because it belongs to me. Every school that opens its doors after a storm, every girl who remains in learning, every family that reaches a shelter in time, and every mangrove allowed to grow is a quiet answer to the fear that the delta has been abandoned.I do not know whether the Sundarbans can be saved by our generation. I know what saving it must mean: safe homes, functioning schools, protected forests, honest livelihoods, clean water, preparedness before disaster and a voice for the people who live there. Maa's last wish remains my compass, but the people of the Sundarbans are the ones who show me the direction.If water rises, a boat is needed. Sometimes it is made of wood. Sometimes it is made of a school, a mangrove, a neighbour's hand or a child's stubborn hope. I carry the paper boat because it reminds me that the future of the Sundarbans will not be secured by emotion alone. It will be secured when emotion becomes attention, attention becomes solidarity, and solidarity gives people the power to remain, rebuild and thrive. ...Read more

14 Sep 2026

The Rasuwa disaster was not simply a flood. Climate change increased the mountain’s instability, while human exposure, infrastructure choices, weak warnings, poverty and fragmented governance turned a natural hazard into a human-amplified catastrophe. SummaryThe 26 August 2026 disaster in Nepal’s Rasuwa region began with a massive rock-and-ice avalanche that triggered a destructive surge through the Bhote Koshi and Trishuli river system. Climate change may have increased the underlying instability of glaciers, permafrost and mountain slopes, but the article argues that human decisions greatly amplified the consequences. Homes, roads, hydropower plants, tunnels, worker camps and economic corridors had been built in highly exposed terrain, while warning systems were not designed to detect such a rapidly developing cascade. Poverty, seasonal populations, fragmented governance and inadequate investment in prevention further narrowed the choices available to communities. The analysis calls for basin-wide risk planning, stronger early-warning systems, safer infrastructure, better relocation and adaptation finance, and greater accountability in development decisions. It also warns India to learn from Rasuwa, as similar combinations of climate hazards, infrastructure and human exposure exist across the Himalayan region. ANATOMY OF A CATASTROPHEAn analysis by Prof Ujjwal K Chowdhury, a noted academic and sustainability warrior.  Climate change primed the mountain. Human decisions placed people, power, roads and hopes directly in the path of the collapse. An evidence-led analysis of the 26 August 2026 disaster, the choices that magnified it, and the reckoning Nepal and India cannot postpone. The first explanation is true, but incomplete. A warming Himalaya helped destabilise ice, rock and frozen ground. It does not by itself explain why a mountain failure became a national catastrophe: why workers were inside tunnels, why homes and markets stood on river terraces, why a border corridor could be cut at so many points, why warnings did not reach people in time, or why one shock could disable electricity, records, communications and rescue routes together. Climate was the trigger. Exposure and institutional weakness supplied the ammunition. On 26 August, a mixed rock-and-ice avalanche high in the Langtang region struck the Bhote Koshi and Trishuli system. The collapse generated a seismic signal of about magnitude 5.2, not from an earthquake but from the mass movement itself. A pulse of water, ice, rock and sediment travelled more than 100 kilometres through a narrow, steep valley. At points, the river reportedly rose as much as nine metres in roughly 30 minutes. The geography was violent. The disaster was also designed, piece by piece, by where society had chosen to build and how it had chosen to govern risk. TriggerPathwayExposureVulnerabilityRock and ice avalancheNine metre river pulse in 30 minutesHomes, roads, tunnels, plants, campsNo end to end warning or safe retreatWarming and permafrost stressDebris amplified velocity and reachSettlements on terraces and banksPoverty, weak buildings, broken accessDevelopment choicesBottlenecks and cascading failuresTrade and tourism corridorsFragmented mandates and thin finance The numbers remain provisional and will change as identification and search continue. Nepal’s official situation update of 10 September reported 1,377 bodies recovered, 5,130 people missing, including roughly 600 foreign nationals, and 13,656 rescued. These figures describe the scale of the emergency, not a final death toll. They also reveal why a single-cause story is inadequate: a rare geophysical event became a mass-casualty event because a densely used development corridor had almost no time, space or redundancy when the river changed character. Name the Event Correctly Calling this “a flood” hides the mechanism. The initiating failure appears to have been a rock avalanche that entrained glacier ice and fractured mountain material before reaching the river. The material may also have interacted with deposits left by earlier failures and briefly dammed or redirected water. The result was not simply rainfall running downhill; it was a high-energy sediment-and-water surge. That distinction matters because a rain gauge can be quiet while an upstream slope is already becoming a missile. Scientific teams are still resolving the exact sequence, volume and source geometry. Preliminary remote-sensing research points to a very large disturbed footprint, a steep descent and destruction across buildings and roads. The honest conclusion is not uncertainty about whether the event was dangerous. It is uncertainty about which warning signatures would have appeared first. Disaster policy must be designed around that uncertainty, because waiting for a perfect forecast is another way of choosing not to warn.A hazard becomes a disaster when a society has made the hazard’s pathway the address of its future. Climate Primed a Mountain Under Stress The climate signal is substantial. ICIMOD reports that glacier loss in the Hindu Kush Himalaya accelerated by about 65 percent in 2011–2020 compared with the previous decade. Its 2026 assessment says the region lost about 12 percent of glacier area and 9 percent of ice reserves between 1990 and 2020, with the rate doubling after 2000. Permafrost is also warming and weakening. Around the high elevations where ice and rock meet, the margin of stability is being eroded from above and below. But attribution must be disciplined. Scientists cannot responsibly say that warming alone “caused” this particular slope to fail without reconstructing the slope’s geology, fracture networks, meltwater pathways and short-term weather. What can be said with confidence is that warming changes the background odds: glaciers retreat, ice buttresses thin, meltwater enters cracks, and frozen ground loses its cement. The same mountain can therefore fail under conditions that once would have been less likely to produce such a connected cascade. That is why climate change is best understood as a risk multiplier, not a complete explanation. It loads the gun. Land-use decisions, infrastructure design and institutional failures determine where the bullet lands and how many people are in the room. The First Human Multiplier Was Exposure The river corridor was not empty wilderness. It carried homes, shops, hotels, customs and security facilities, truck yards, bridges, roads, power stations, labour camps and the daily economy of a trans-Himalayan route. Settlements expanded onto alluvial fans and river terraces because those are the few relatively flat surfaces available in a steep valley. “Flat” was mistaken for “safe.” A terrace is often a former flood path waiting for the next, larger pulse. The 2015 earthquake made this pressure worse. Families displaced by that disaster needed land quickly, and some resettlement and rebuilding occurred close to the Trishuli and its tributaries. In a poor mountain district, the choice is rarely between a safe site and an unsafe site. It is between an exposed site and no house, a roadside shop and no income, a lodge near visitors and no livelihood. Risk maps that do not come with land, credit and services are not plans; they are warnings people cannot afford to obey. The scale of exposure also had a temporal dimension. Hydropower construction brings rotating workforces; tourism brings seasonal crowds; trade brings drivers and loaders who may sleep in temporary camps; roads bring fuel and machinery. A hazard that occurs at dawn on a workday can kill a different population than the same hazard at midnight in the dry season. Emergency planning that counts permanent residents alone will systematically undercount the people actually present. Hydropower Turned One River into a Chain of Targets Nepal’s hydropower ambition is economically understandable. Electricity exports and domestic supply can transform a landlocked, mountainous economy. The problem is not hydropower as an idea. It is treating a high-energy river as a sequence of separate project sites when the hazard operates at basin scale. Reports indicate that at least 12 hydropower plants were badly damaged; more than 430 megawatts—over 10 percent of national capacity by some estimates—went offline. Those numbers are not just an energy story. They are evidence of concentrated exposure. Run-of-river projects are engineered around expected flows, sediment and floods, not necessarily a sudden cryospheric surge carrying house-sized boulders. Intakes can choke with debris. Desanders can be overwhelmed. Surface powerhouses and switchyards can sit on low benches because that is where construction is practical. Tunnels can become traps when access roads and portals fail. Worker camps, often temporary and poorly protected, can be the most vulnerable assets of all. When several projects occupy one narrow gorge, the failure of one bridge, intake or power line can block the rescue of the next. There is a second-order danger: infrastructure can amplify flow. A bridge or diversion structure may trap logs and boulders; a breached temporary obstruction may release a secondary pulse; spoil heaps may be remobilised into the river. It would be wrong to declare that every plant “caused” the flood. It is equally wrong to pretend that project siting and construction debris are neutral when a natural surge enters an engineered corridor. The right test is cumulative: what does the entire basin do when its most extreme plausible event arrives? The Road to Prosperity Became a Channel of Destruction Mountain roads are lifelines, but cut slopes and spoil dumps can become failure surfaces. Excavation removes toe support. Unlined drains concentrate runoff. Muck tipped near a stream is a ready-made load for the next surge. Quarrying and sand or boulder extraction can lower banks, destabilise crossings and remove the roughness that once slowed water. In a narrow valley, a road is not merely beside the river: it can redirect it, constrict it and then be carried into it. The flood damaged bridges and long stretches of highway, severing the very routes needed to bring in fuel, food, excavators and forensic teams. This is a classic infrastructure paradox: the more a remote region depends on one corridor, the more valuable that corridor becomes—and the more catastrophic its failure. Resilience means alternate alignments, stockpiles on safe ground, breakaway structures where appropriate, and rescue logistics that do not assume the road will still exist. The Warning System Was Looking for the Wrong Disaster Nepal has invested in flood warnings, but a sensor is not a warning system. A functioning chain needs detection, interpretation, a decision rule, communications that survive the first failure, trusted messengers, evacuation routes and a population that has practised what to do. In Rasuwa, the event moved too fast for a conventional rainfall-triggered alert. If the upstream catchment has no real-time seismic, acoustic, camera, lake-level and river-stage integration, the first unmistakable signal may be the wall of water itself. The reported nine-metre rise in about half an hour illustrates the brutal arithmetic. A message that takes ten minutes to verify, five minutes to translate, five minutes to relay and another ten minutes for people to decide may arrive after the safe window. SMS alone cannot solve this. Sirens, radio interruption, satellite links, local volunteers, marked vertical evacuation sites and drills are needed. The alert must say where to go, not merely that a river is rising. The neighbouring border adds a governance problem. The headwaters, glaciers and observation points do not respect administrative lines. Nepal needs dependable, rapid, machine-readable data from upstream territories, with agreed protocols for an alert that can be issued even when the science is not yet complete. Diplomacy over data is life-saving infrastructure. Delayed information is not a technical inconvenience; it is lost evacuation time. Tourism Pilgrimage and Labour Added Seasonal Density The Himalaya’s tourism economy brings jobs, foreign exchange and a reason to keep remote corridors open. It also places lodges, tea houses, kitchens, guides, porters and transport workers close to unstable banks. Seasonal visitor numbers can make a settlement several times more crowded than the census suggests. A building permit that counts only local households misses the people who sleep, work and travel through the valley during the hazard season. The answer is not to criminalise tourism or freeze mountain communities in poverty. It is to regulate the footprint: no new accommodation in mapped flow paths; structural retrofits and clearly signed vertical refuge in existing clusters; occupancy registers; multilingual alerts; and evacuation exercises involving visitors and operators. The safest hotel is not the one with the best view of the river. It is the one whose guests know the route uphill before the lights go out. Poverty Made Relocation Almost Impossible Disaster vulnerability is income made visible. A family with savings can move stock, reinforce a wall, buy transport and wait out a warning. A labourer in a tunnel, a small shopkeeper, or a farmer on a river terrace may have no second plot and no insurance. Informal housing is not evidence of ignorance; it is often evidence that formal safe land is unaffordable, unavailable or blocked by tenure rules. This is also why “just move uphill” is not a policy. Relocation must preserve schools, water, health care, markets, land rights and access to work. Otherwise people return to the hazard, as they have after many mountain disasters. Managed retreat is a social contract, not a bulldozer. Its cost should be compared with the price of rebuilding the same road, bridge and home after every extreme event. Finance Funded Concrete Faster Than Safety The asymmetry is stark. Commercial infrastructure can often secure a loan because electricity revenue is legible. A community siren, a glacier camera, a safe relocation site or a cross-border data protocol produces benefits that are diffuse and difficult to monetise. Funding therefore arrives faster for concrete that earns a return than for public systems that prevent a loss. This is a market failure disguised as development momentum. Nepal’s glacier-risk resilience project was approved through the Green Climate Fund after a lengthy, roughly seven-year pipeline; the verified project grant is about $36.1 million and implementation began in 2026. The programme is valuable, but the timing exposes a structural injustice: adaptation money can take years while a slope can fail in seconds. Climate finance must be judged by time-to-protection, not only by money pledged. International lenders and donors should fund the monitoring, zoning and maintenance that make their roads and power investments safer. Ages-long Governance Failed Before the Water Arrived The deepest man-made cause is fragmented responsibility. A glacier is watched by one institution, a road licensed by another, a hydropower intake approved by another, a municipality responsible for land use, and a district administration expected to coordinate rescue. Each decision may pass its own checklist while the combined system becomes unsafe. Environmental impact assessments that study projects one by one cannot see a basin-wide cascade. The missing instrument is an independent, conflict-free cumulative risk review with the power to say no, slow a project or require redesign. It should audit existing dams, tunnels, worker camps, spoil sites, bridges and settlements against updated cryospheric scenarios. After the 2025 flood in the same watershed killed 19 people and damaged infrastructure, a serious post-disaster audit should have treated the valley as an active warning, not as a closed chapter. Memory is a safety system; institutions keep deleting it. The Current Government Deserves Credit and Must Now Raise the Standard The Nepal government’s response deserves clear recognition. The Army, Nepal Police, Armed Police Force, NDRRMA, provincial bodies and local governments mobilised under extraordinarily difficult conditions. Helicopters, drones, tunnel teams, medical responders, forensic specialists and foreign search-and-rescue support were brought into a corridor where roads had vanished and debris-filled tunnels remained dangerous. India, China, the Republic of Korea, the UAE, Malaysia, Australia, Singapore and Israel were among those contributing specialised capacity. The rescue of thousands—including more than 300 foreign nationals—required persistence, not headlines. The financial mobilisation is also significant. Official reporting on 11 September put deposits in the Prime Minister’s Disaster Relief Fund at NPR 13.23 billion, alongside $23.28 million in designated dollar accounts—together more than $100 million equivalent at prevailing exchange rates. The government has released NPR 1 billion through NDRRMA, while assessments and identification continue. The responsible reading is that this is a measure of funds mobilised or held, not a claim that every dollar has already reached every affected household. Transparent district-level dashboards, beneficiary lists and independent audits will turn solidarity into trust. The government has also been right to demand climate justice. Nepal has contributed little to the cumulative emissions driving global warming, yet it is paying in lives, infrastructure, debt and lost development. Asking larger emitters to provide loss-and-damage compensation is not an attempt to evade domestic accountability. It is a demand that those who benefited most from carbon-intensive growth help finance protection and recovery for those facing the sharpest consequences. The two duties are simultaneous: Nepal must govern its hazard honestly, and wealthy high emitters must stop treating Himalayan loss as a humanitarian footnote. What Nepal Must Focus on Now First, secure survivors before rebuilding the old exposure. Complete identification with dignity; restore food, water, health care, schooling and livelihoods; and provide cash and legal help for families whose documents disappeared. Every reconstruction decision should be tagged to a hazard map. “Build back better” must mean build somewhere safer, or build in a way that can survive the credible event—not rebuild the same shop on the same fan because the land title is convenient. Second, create a whole-mountain observation and warning architecture. Combine satellite radar and optical imagery, seismic and infrasound sensors, glacier and permafrost measurements, cameras, lake levels, river gauges and trained local observers. Monitor not only known glacial lakes but unstable rock slopes and new lakes formed by the collapse. Use layered alerts: automatic local sirens, radio and satellite messaging, police and community runners, and pre-agreed evacuation triggers. Test them at night, in monsoon weather and with power and mobile networks switched off. Third, impose a basin-wide safety reset. Map red, amber and green zones; halt new construction in flow paths; relocate the most exposed homes and camps with compensation; and require independent cumulative assessments for hydropower, roads, mines and tourism. Audit every intake, powerhouse, switchyard, tunnel portal, bridge, spoil dump and access road. Require emergency drawdown, shutdown and worker-accounting protocols. A project that cannot explain how it will warn and evacuate its people is not resilient, whatever its concrete strength. Fourth, build redundancy into the state. Store land, health and identity records in protected, replicated systems. Pre-position excavators, fuel, bridge components, drones, body bags, DNA kits and communications equipment on safe ground. Train municipalities to operate for weeks without Kathmandu. Create a permanent recovery authority that can coordinate housing, compensation, infrastructure and ecological restoration beyond the news cycle. The first rescue saves lives; the recovery system determines whether the next disaster finds the same people in the same place. India Must Read the Same Warning India should not read Rasuwa as a foreign tragedy. The same Himalayan arc crosses Uttarakhand, Himachal Pradesh, Sikkim, Arunachal Pradesh and Ladakh. The country has already seen the cost of compound mountain hazards: the 2013 Kedarnath disaster, the 2021 Chamoli rock-and-ice event and the 2023 South Lhonak glacial lake outburst flood in Sikkim. Each case carries a different mechanism, but the policy lesson is shared: a high-altitude trigger can meet roads, dams, tunnels, pilgrims, workers and settlements that were designed for yesterday’s climate. India’s first lesson is to stop treating project-by-project clearance as basin planning. Before approving another hydropower cascade, ask what happens when a debris surge removes the road, blocks the tunnel, overwhelms the intake and cuts the evacuation bridge at the same time. The second is to count transient populations: pilgrims, tourists, construction labour and military or border personnel. The third is to integrate the Indian Space Research Organisation, the Central Water Commission, GSI, NDMA, state disaster authorities and local communities into one operational warning chain rather than a shelf of reports. The fourth lesson is cross-border realism. Rivers, air masses, glaciers and seismic signals cross Nepal, India and China. India should support a standing Himalayan data-and-alert compact with shared thresholds, rapid exchange and joint exercises. It should help Nepal with drones, LiDAR, bridge logistics, forensic capacity and training while also making its own mountain infrastructure safer. The fifth is political: climate justice is not only a diplomatic phrase used by Kathmandu. Indian states in the Himalaya will increasingly need loss-and-damage finance, insurance reform and adaptation grants that do not arrive after the next catastrophe. The Mountain Fell Human Systems Chose the Exposure There is a seductive comfort in blaming climate change alone. It makes the disaster feel inevitable, global and therefore beyond local responsibility. There is an equal and opposite error in blaming poor planning alone, as if better engineering could freeze a warming mountain in place. Both are evasions. The truth is harder and more useful: climate change enlarged the hazard; development decisions enlarged the population and assets in its path; weak warnings shortened the escape window; fragmented governance multiplied failures; poverty narrowed the choices; and slow international finance left prevention underbuilt. Nepal’s rescue effort shows what the state can do when it is forced to concentrate its full capacity. The next test is whether that urgency survives the cameras. The country should accept help without surrendering public scrutiny, demand compensation without excusing unsafe domestic choices, and rebuild with the courage to move people and cancel projects. India should do the same before its next Himalayan warning becomes an obituary. The question is no longer whether the mountains are dangerous. The question is whether our institutions will keep making danger profitable, normal and occupied. Sources and Evidence:The article distinguishes official situation figures from early media estimates and from preliminary scientific interpretation. Casualty and rescue numbers are provisional. The physical sequence remains under investigation; where evidence is preliminary, the language above says so. [1] Nepal Ministry of Foreign Affairs Daily Situation Update 10 September 2026. official casualty, missing, rescue, response and international-support update Open source [2] Nepal Ministry of Foreign Affairs Diplomatic Briefing 3 September 2026. official account of mobilisation, specialist teams, reconstruction and climate-justice position Open source [3] Radio Nepal Report on Prime Minister Disaster Relief Fund 11 September 2026. reported rupee and dollar deposits and NDRRMA release Open source [4] Scientific American Why Glacial Collapse Likely Caused the Nepal Disaster. early scientific explanation of the rock-and-ice avalanche and climate context Open source [5] The Guardian What We Know About the Link Between Nepal’s Flash Floods and Our Climate Crisis. reported fall height, travel speed, river rise and exposure context Open source [6] Nature News on the Nepal Disaster. scientific context and expert interpretation Open source [7] Kathmandu Post Rasuwa Flood Science and Risk Reporting. bedrock failure, preliminary volumes, monitoring and early-warning needs Open source [8] ICIMOD Himalayan Climate and Water Atlas Updates. glacier loss, permafrost, dangerous lakes and monitoring gaps Open source [9] UNDP Nepal and Green Climate Fund Glacier Risk Reduction Project. verified $36.1 million grant, seven-year programme and risk-reduction measures Open source [10] Reuters Nepal Flood Search Rescue and Rebuilding Reports September 2026. reported national toll, hydropower damage, rebuilding needs and rescue logistics Open source [11] Associated Press Nepal Flood Aftermath Report 8 September 2026. reported infrastructure damage, blocked routes and preliminary reconstruction costs Open source [12] Stimson Center Analysis of the Rasuwa Cascade. preliminary cascade reconstruction and monitoring lessons Open source [13] University of Reading Expert Comment on the Rasuwa Avalanche. expert interpretation of slope failure, permafrost and warning-chain limits Open source [14] When a High Mountain Slope Failure Cascades Downstream. preprint with uncertainty-explicit remote-sensing reconstruction Open source [15] Counterview Climate Change a Trigger Not the Whole Story. human drivers, hydropower force multipliers and climate-justice framing Open source [16] India National Disaster Management Authority Sikkim Glacial Lake Outburst Flood Materials. Indian comparison and early-warning lessons Open source ...Read more

11 Sep 2026

Ahmedabad, once seen as a pioneer in urban climate adaptation, has been ranked the least climate-resilient major city in the world in a new AlphaGeo study. The finding exposes a widening gap between the city’s climate-risk exposure and the effectiveness of its adaptation measures.  SummaryA new AlphaGeo study has placed Ahmedabad at the top of a global ranking of cities facing the highest residual climate risk, raising questions about whether existing adaptation measures are keeping pace with worsening hazards. The study assessed 72 major cities using its Climate Risk & Resilience Index, which considers both physical exposure to hazards and the level of protection provided by adaptation measures. Ahmedabad recorded a resilience-adjusted risk score of 41, largely driven by extreme heat, while several other South Asian cities also featured among the higher-risk locations. The ranking is particularly significant because Ahmedabad has long been presented as a climate-adaptation pioneer. Following the deadly 2010 heatwave, the city introduced South Asia’s first Heat Action Plan, with measures including heat alerts, public-health advisories, cooling interventions and reflective roofs. However, the AlphaGeo assessment suggests that such interventions have not been sufficient to close the city’s wider adaptation gap as climate threats intensify.  The study also highlights a broader South Asian problem, where cities face substantial exposure to heat, flooding and other hazards while adaptation investment remains comparatively limited. Hyderabad, Multan, Dhaka, Kolkata and Lahore were among the other cities with high resilience-adjusted risk scores. In contrast, Chicago recorded the lowest score among the cities studied, while Beijing, Tianjin and Shenzhen were highlighted for relatively strong adaptation efficiency.  For Ahmedabad, the challenge extends beyond heat. Rapid concrete development, limited tree cover in several neighbourhoods, heat-retaining surfaces, shrinking natural drainage channels and waterlogging during intense rainfall can increase residents’ exposure to climate extremes. The risks are also unevenly distributed, with poorer communities often having less access to shade, cooling and reliable infrastructure.  The study therefore raises a larger question about what climate resilience should actually mean for a city. A heat action plan or adaptation policy can provide an important framework, but resilience ultimately depends on whether those measures translate into safer neighbourhoods, functioning infrastructure and protection for people most exposed to climate hazards. For Ahmedabad, the ranking is a warning that climate leadership cannot be measured only by the existence of policies; it must also be judged by how effectively those policies reduce risk on the ground.  Original Writer & Courtesy Original writer: Rajiv Shah  Original article: “Ahmedabad world’s least climate resilient major city: AlphaGeo study”Courtesy: Counterview.net Counterview.net ...Read more

10 Sep 2026

  SummaryThe present is tumultuous with all kinds of disasters looming in and guess what, we are to blame mostly. In the actively changing and evolving Himalayas, claws of so called development seep in causing the Himalayas to bleed and the rivers changing their courses, changing their planform, often flooding and leaving millions homeless. Be it the charlands of West Bengal or the upstream stretches of Ganges in the Himalayas, anthropogenic activities in the form of river engineering, development of smart cities, river linking projects and what not, we are interrupting with the fluvial dynamics only to get doomed.  Avulsion and shifts in river courses are characterized by scouring of riverbed and banks. These phenomena are common in case of Himalayan rivers and have been on the increase in the Anthropocene. Humans can completely alter a river system turning it into a controlled one by damming its course, by flow diversion, by dredging or clearing the channel, by straightening the channel pattern or by increasing its supply via an artificial channel. In order to control flooding and river bank erosion, channels are frequently modified. Modifications of channels often include channel widening, channel deepening, artificially cutting meanders and even channel straightening. This jeopardizes the hydrologic regime. Also, if channelization occurs, higher flows are often found downstream as the water rushes out of the channelized reach. High backwaters are resulted, resulting channel deposition lowering the channel capacity.   A direct change in the river system is caused when dams are constructed. The hydrologic regime is altered by flow regulation, decreasing peak flows and increasing low flow. As a result, sediment transport capacity is modified inducing erosion and deposition affecting channel morphology. Dams also cause deposition in and above the reservoirs which thereby lose their capacity to retain water. Spillway water from dams is devoid of sediment load and thus tends to erode the channel immediately downstream.  The case of Aswan dam can be cited as an example where scour erosion is noted in the lower reaches, with a lean sediment transport and downstream erosion as the flow is regulated. Increase in depth and decrease in width is also reported for other channels which have experienced dam construction.  Morphologic discourse of the Ganga valley leads to its classification into 7 segments (Singh and Singh, 1992). Variation in discharge, sediment load, ground slope, anthropogenic activities and tectonics result in variation in channel morphology (Valdiya, 2003). Geology, geomorphology, climate alongwith human influence modifies fluvial dynamics. The outer Himalayan belt consists of recently uplifted Siwalik of Miocene Pliestocene detritus filled sediments – coarse sandstones, clays and conglomerates. Except the Siwaliks, the concerned region is a portion of the Ganga megafan and this surface shows several north-south aligned drainage channels (Shukla et al., 2001). This region is deeply incised by the active Ganga River and other rivers. Active incision of channel over the megafan surface is evidenced by the prominent channel scarps.  Over the years, channel sedimentation with the formation of channel bars in Ganga and other rivers is observed. Decline in the number of bars accompanied with increase in size of the bars indicates rapid silt deposition. Sandbars are observed to change occasionally during floods. The shifting nature of Ganga channel is evidenced by the presence of an abandoned channel within the cross section situated below the Chandi bridge, located on the left bank of river Ganga at Nildhara area.  The Bhimgoda barrage is located on river Ganga at Har ki Pauri. It was built as the headworks of upper Ganges canal. The initial barrage was completed by 1854. Replaced twice, the barrage was completed in 1983. The primary purpose of the barrage was irrigation; it was also used to generate hydroelectricity and used for flood control. The barrage has a length of 454 m and a spillway capacity of 19,300 m3/s.  The local geomorphology of the Ganga River is significantly altered due to the construction of the Bhimgoda barrage as it results in huge diversion of water into the upper Ganga canal. This leads to excessive in channel sedimentation in both upstream and downstream courses interrupting the natural channel equilibrium. As a result, the flow velocity is reduced in the lean periods with the reduction in monsoonal rainfall. The braided floodplain dynamics also gets altered as a result.  The Bhimgoda barrage diverts the the river water into the upper Ganga canal for hydroelectric power generation. Studies indicate that water velocity of river Ganga is about 1-1.9 m/s in the Haridwar region after the Bhimgoda barrage (Kumar et al., 2023).  There have been drastic changes in water discharge, sediment concentration and calculated sediment load before and after the construction of the Bhimgoda barrage. The water discharge was uninterrupted with high velocities (reaching up to 1.5-2 m/s), with massive flushes during monsoon. Post construction, this discharge has become fractioned upto 300-400 cumecs are permanently diverted out of the river into the canal system. Sediment concentration was highly variable before the construction (varying from <50 mg/l in winter to >2000 mg/l in monsoons). Post construction sediment concentration has become high upstream of the gates, heavily diluted getting finer downstream due to sediment trapping. The calculated sediment load used to pass uniformly downstream scaling up to 8 million tonnes/day across the upper Ganga. Post construction this has been disrupted, massive trapping upstream now leads to a drastically lower calculated sediment load footprint in the downstream riverine stretch.  Braiding index according to Brice has been calculated for this stretch for the years 1916,1972,2005 and 2026. The braiding index in 1916 was 7.347, for 1972 it was 6.76, in 2005 it was 5.4779 and in 2026 it increased to 6.26.                                                                           Fig 1: Location of Bhimgoda barrage and change in braiding immediately upstream and downstream of the barrage (1916,1972,2005,2025)        Source: SurveyofIndia toposheets 53K/1 and Google Earth Imagery)  Photo 1: Braiding and bar formation in the vicinity of Bhimgoda barrage (Dutta, 2001)  Fig 1: Changes in braiding at Haridwar, with location of Bhimgoda barrage (1916,1972,2005,2025 – Source: Survey of India toposheets 53K/1 and Google Earth Imagery)  Increase in braiding index indicates that a river is shifting from a single channel into a more complicated network of multiple branching channels which rejoin each other and are separated by islands or sandbars. Often this indicates higher sediment loads, unstable banks and changing water flows. There is also more fluctuation of discharge. Factors like flatter slope leads to a velocity drop, initiating sediment deposition and weak riverbanks which can collapse easily widening the active channel belt. Increase in stream power can also cause increasing braids. Anthropic interference in the form of river engineering works thus often lead to modifications in fluvial dynamics interrupting the morphologic equilibrium of rivers.  References:  Dutta R.K. (2017): Controlling Factors of Channel Shifting and Avulsion in Haridwar District, Uttarakhand Geographical Review of India 79(2) June 2017, 153-167 Kumar D, Kumar A, Malik D.S., Sharma R and Gupta V (2023): Effect of Barrages and Anthropogenic Activities on Ecological Integrity of the Ganga River: A Review on  Current Issues and Restoration Efforts AgroEnvironmental Sustainability, 2023, 1(1), 67-75 https://doi.org/10.00000/s2023010109  Shukla, U. K., Singh, I. B., Sharma, M., & Sharma, S. (2001). A model of alluvial megafan sedimentation: Ganga Megafan. Sedimentary Geology, 14, 243–262. Singh, M., & Singh, I. B. (1992). The Ganga River Valley: Alluvial valley in an active foreland basin. In 29th International Geological Conference, Kyoto, 2 (p. 30). Japan. Valdiya K.S. (2003): Reactivation of Himalayan Frontal Fault, Current Science, 85(7), 2001 1031-1040. ABOUT AUTHOR  Dr Karabi Das, Masters in Geography from University of Calcutta, former Senior Research Fellow, UGC, PhD on Physical and Socioeconomic changes in the Indian Sundarban is presently working as Assistant Professor of Geography, Dr Kanailal Bhattacharyya College, Howrah.She has participated in many national and international seminars and has 12 papers and 10 book chapters to her credit.Her areas of interest include Fluvial Geomorphology, river in equilibrium and human environment relationship. ...Read more

09 Sep 2026

Pune’s ambitious riverfront project is facing questions over flood safety, shrinking river space, ecological damage, sewage treatment and climate resilience, with SANDRP warning that a project meant to rejuvenate the Mula-Mutha could instead increase the city’s vulnerability. SummaryPune’s River Front Development (RFD) project is being questioned by environmental researchers and urban-planning experts over its flood calculations, ecological impact and compliance with existing regulations. A technical presentation by architect and riverfront researcher Sarang Yadwadkar, discussed by SANDRP, examines the project’s Detailed Project Report, government correspondence, Water Resources Department guidelines and environmental-clearance conditions. The analysis raises five central questions: whether the flood values are accurate, whether the river’s cross-section will be maintained, whether the effect of river confluences has been considered, whether climate change has been factored into planning, and whether Indian standards for river embankments are being followed. Concerns also extend beyond flood risk to the loss of riparian vegetation, inadequate sewage treatment and the construction of structures within the riverbed. With the project already substantially advanced, the debate is increasingly about whether Pune is creating a safer riverfront or altering the river in ways that could worsen future flood and ecological risks.  Is Pune building a riverfront or increasing the river’s risks? Pune’s River Front Development project has been presented as an effort to transform and rejuvenate stretches of the Mula-Mutha river system. The project, designed by HCP Design, Planning and Management Pvt. Ltd., has also drawn comparisons with the Sabarmati Riverfront project in Ahmedabad. SANDRP notes that the two river systems have substantially different landscapes and hydrological conditions, raising questions about whether a similar model can safely be applied to Pune.  The technical analysis highlighted by SANDRP focuses particularly on the project's stated objective of reducing flood risk. It examines the seven upstream dams, the three major river confluences within Pune and the flood-discharge figures used in the project planning. 1. Are the flood values being used correctly? One of the most significant concerns relates to the flood values used to design the riverfront. According to the SANDRP analysis, the flood figures used in the RFD project differ substantially from figures provided by Maharashtra’s Water Resources Department. At the Mula-Mutha confluence, the RFD project reportedly uses a 100-year flood discharge of 4,760.89 cubic metres per second, while the WRD figure cited by SANDRP is 12,868.80 cubic metres per second.  The analysis argues that the project calculations do not adequately account for water released from all seven upstream dams as well as runoff from the free catchment area between the dams and Pune. Another concern is the confluence or backwater effect. When rivers meet, changes in flow and water levels can cause water to back up upstream. SANDRP says Maharashtra WRD guidelines require this effect to be considered when flood lines are determined. The analysis therefore concludes that the flood values used in the project may be significantly underestimated. 2. Will the river’s natural cross-section be maintained? The second question concerns the amount of space being left for the river itself. SANDRP's analysis points to project documents indicating changes to the river's cross-section as a result of the proposed riverfront structures and land works. It argues that reducing the available river section can have consequences during extreme flows, particularly when the city is already facing intense rainfall events. The analysis also refers to correspondence between the Pune Municipal Corporation and the Water Resources Department concerning changes to the river's cross-section. According to the presentation, these changes raise questions about whether the project complies with conditions attached to its environmental clearance and WRD guidelines.  3. Has the confluence effect been considered? The Mula-Mutha system is not simply one uninterrupted river channel. Multiple rivers meet within Pune, making the behaviour of water during extreme rainfall more complicated. SANDRP's analysis argues that the project’s flood modelling does not adequately account for these confluence effects. This matters because water moving through a river can slow or back up when it encounters another high-flow channel. During a cloudburst or major rainfall event, simultaneous releases from upstream dams could send large quantities of water towards the city within a relatively short period. The analysis therefore questions whether the project's flood calculations accurately represent what could happen during an extreme event.  4. Where is climate change in the planning? Climate change is another major concern raised by the analysis. A Maharashtra government climate assessment prepared by TERI in 2014 projected changes in rainfall patterns, including increased rainfall intensity alongside changes in the number of rainy days. SANDRP argues that such climate projections do not appear to have been adequately incorporated into the RFD's planning and flood assessment.  This becomes particularly important as Pune experiences increasingly intense rainfall events. Infrastructure designed around historical rainfall patterns may face higher risks if future rainfall becomes more extreme. For a project costing thousands of crores, the analysis argues, climate resilience should be a central part of the design rather than an afterthought. 5. Are Indian standards for river embankments being followed? The fifth question concerns the location and design of embankments. Indian standards for river embankments recommend aligning such structures with the natural banks of rivers. SANDRP's analysis argues that parts of the Pune project instead place embankments further into the riverbed. The presentation also highlights construction and debris dumping within the river area, including a road reportedly being built within the floodline. According to the analysis, information obtained through RTI indicated that the riverbed road did not have the necessary WRD clearance or studies from relevant technical agencies.  Flooding has already raised concerns The debate is not entirely theoretical. The SANDRP analysis refers to an August 2025 event when a flood level reportedly exceeded the threshold at which the riverfront was expected to remain safe. The presentation states that a discharge of 71,408 cubic feet per second resulted in flooding/submergence of parts of the riverfront, despite the project's stated threshold being considerably higher.  The analysis argues that additional construction within flood-prone areas could further restrict the river's natural capacity and potentially increase flood levels and their horizontal spread. The ecological cost Flood safety is only one side of the debate. SANDRP and environmental experts also raise concerns about the destruction of riparian forests and riverine habitats. These areas support native trees, natural vegetation, birds, aquatic organisms and the wider ecological connection between land and water.  The Pune Municipal Corporation has proposed planting around 45,000 trees, but environmentalists argue that plantations cannot simply replace naturally evolved riparian ecosystems. Jeevitnadi Foundation's Shailaja Deshpande, quoted by Counterview, argues that natural riparian species and ecosystems perform functions that conventional plantations cannot replicate, including supporting aquatic life and maintaining interconnected food chains.  A riverfront cannot be separated from sewage management Another contradiction highlighted in the Counterview report is the gap between the promise of a cleaner river and Pune's sewage-treatment capacity. The city reportedly generates around 1,634 MLD of sewage. Even after the JICA-supported sewage treatment programme is completed, Counterview reports that an estimated 629 MLD of untreated sewage could continue entering the rivers.  This raises a fundamental question: can a river be genuinely rejuvenated through landscaping and embankment construction if untreated sewage continues to enter the system? Environmentalists cited in the report have also questioned whether existing sewage-treatment plants are consistently meeting CPCB standards.  The Sabarmati comparison Ahmedabad's Sabarmati Riverfront has often been presented as an inspiration for Pune's project. But the comparison has also become controversial. Counterview notes that portions of the Sabarmati Riverfront were submerged during the monsoon, adding to questions about the suitability of replicating the model elsewhere. The SANDRP analysis argues that Pune's river basin has its own hydrological characteristics and should not simply be treated as another version of the Sabarmati.  Legal and procedural questions The project has also faced environmental and legal challenges. Counterview reports that the National Green Tribunal had previously directed the Pune Municipal Corporation to amend aspects of its environmental clearance and had halted tree-felling activity. An amended clearance issued in 2024 was subsequently challenged as well.  SANDRP's analysis further points to differences between the project's Detailed Project Report and Environment Impact Assessment, including differing descriptions of proposed changes to the riverbed.  What happens next? The project has already reached an advanced stage, with Counterview reporting that around 80% of the priority stretch has been completed and the estimated project cost at approximately ₹4,727 crore. The concern raised by SANDRP is therefore not simply whether Pune should have a riverfront. It is whether the remaining work can be reassessed against actual flood behaviour, ecological conditions, climate projections and regulatory requirements. The larger issue is whether urban river development should prioritise concrete embankments, roads and beautification, or whether the river's natural floodplain, riparian ecosystem and capacity to absorb extreme flows should remain central to planning. The SANDRP analysis ultimately calls for closer scrutiny of the project's flood calculations, environmental impacts and compliance with existing standards before further interventions alter the river irreversibly. SOURCES AND ABOUT AUTHOR Original analysis/presentation: Sarang Yadwadkar, Architect and member of the Planning Committee of the Development Plan of Pune City. Context and explanatory text: Tara Tanmayi S., SANDRP. (SANDRP) Courtesy: Counterview.net — “Riverfront or river death? SANDRP warns of ecosystem collapse.” Counterview.net article ...Read more

09 Sep 2026

SummaryIn an era when the world is perturbed with ecological flow of rivers and river health, man made lakes and natural rivers of Hyderabad are in deep crisis, gasping for breath. In the Anthropocene, maintaining health of the waterbodies seems to be a gruesome challenge. The article hereby takes up all these issues hoping for a better future.  Rivers and lakes of Hyderabad are facing severe ecological decline. The major lakes and rivers of Hyderabad and Secunderabad are now considered as poorly rated water quality basins and water flows. Highly polluted untreated sewage, millions of litres of waste are directly meeting the river stretch and urban lakes. Besides, unchecked chemical discharge from nearby manufacturing and industrial centres, dumping of construction debris, plastic waste, and uncontrolled encroachment have led to the degeneration of the river and water bodies of Hyderabad and Secunderabad.  The impact of the degeneration:  Oxygen depletion ------ very low DO, dissolved oxygen even drops down to 0.3mg/l as it is in Durgam Cheruvu ------------ Biologically dead water ------ considered lowest grade 'E quality ' as in Asanikunta and Sunam Cherevu ---- unfit for any public use or ecological use ------------ stagnant water --------- infamous breeding grounds of disease carrying mosquitoes.  Historical Musi River:  Once dynamic and wider, River Musi, a tributary of river Krishna, flows right past the Southern edge of Osmania General Hospital. The river Musi in Hyderabad is heavily polluted with millions of litres of daily untreated domestic sewage, toxic industrial and pharmaceutical waste. Besides urban encroachment and loss of wetlands due to urban expansion have led to the shrinkage of natural water flow and natural vegetation cover.  As per archaeological evidences the oldest settlement on the Musi River bank date back to the 5th century, when Vishnu Kundinis built their capital to the south bank of the river at Indrapalanagar. But the power centres on the Musi River moved westwards to the interior parts of Telengana. The famous Golconda fort is on the north bank of the river.  Musi, popularly known Machukunda, is a major tributary of the Krishna River in Telangana, India. It is flowing through the heart of the Hyderabad city separating old city from the modern urban settlement. It originates from the hill Avantagiri and flows about 250 km before merging with the Krishna River at Vedapalli. Musi is formed by the convergence of two small rivers, the Esi and the Musa. In the late 16th century, Muhammad Quil Qutb Shah found Hyderabad on the banks of Musi River for the expansion of settlement beyond the crowded Golconda fort. A bridge named Purana Pul (old bridge) was constructed in the late 16th century to connect the capital of Golconda.  Even in the 19th century, Musi was a wide, dynamic and ecologically vibrant river. The banks and the ghats of the river Musi experienced many cultural activities of the settlements along the river. The river was then associated with green spaces, temples, washing ghats and grand palaces belonging to the Nizams. People of the nearby settlements used daily for fishing, farming, rituals and drinking water needs.  Bathukamme:  It is a vibrant nine -day floral festival celebrated by the women in Telengana to honour Goddess Gauri and worship nature. Women gather in circles around floral arrangement clapping rhythmically and singing traditional folk songs. Then the Bathukamma, the floral arrangements looking like a conical hill of flowers are floated in water of river Musi. The festival marks praising womanhood, life and nature.  Muharram:  The river Musi served as the traditional culminating point for processions with ceremonial alams. These are brought to the waterfront, sometimes alams are immersed in the river. An alam is crescent - and - star shaped decorative metal ornaments capping a mosque’s dome or minaret. Shia Muslims carry the alams, which represent justice, sacrifice, and the eternal victory of truth over tyranny.  Livelihoods:  Generation after generation washer folks (Dhobis) utilised traditional ghats of the river Musi for community trade and daily urban life. Fig 1: Two stretches of Musi River, 1975 (Source: Survey of India Toposheet no 56K/7, 56K/11)  Fig 2: Musi River, 2026 (Source: Google Earth Image)    Photo 1: Musi river in 2026 (Photo credit: author)  What is the present scenario?  1.  Now the river is reduced to a mostly dry or sluggish water flow within the city. The flow of the river Musi is now being controlled by building two reservoirs named Osman Sagar and Himayat Sagar. The reservoirs were designed for drinking water and flood control.  2. The downstream section of the river has deteriorated from a historic water lifeline to ecologically dead water flow. About 1,00,000 residents across at least 30 downstream villages are highly affected by the polluted stretch of the river.  3.Recent environmental studies indicate that the Musi is one of the most pharmaceutical contaminated rivers. Massive volumes of dumped pain killers, antibiotics and cardiac medicine have created a major global hotspot for drug - resistant bacteria. This has caused loss of efficacy of common medical treatments for the locals.  4. Downstream communities are experiencing severe chronic illness, high rate of kidney disease, skin allergies, stomach infections and various types of cancers, food chain contamination.  5. Over 1.5 lakh acres of agricultural land use this toxic water for the production of crops like cotton, vegetables and paddy. Heavy metals like lead, nickel and chromium are abundantly present in soil, crops, vegetables and local fish. Toxic substances are returning to the plates of Hyderabad residents.  6. Shallow borewells and open wells in the villages along the Musi River are drawing highly saline and contaminated water unfit for consumption as toxic substances reach the local ground water table.  What are the measures taken by the Telengana Government?  The Government of Telengana established Musi River Rejuvenation Project, MRRP. The State Cabinet formally approved 7,345 crore rupees for the execution of core phase 1.  1.Phase 1 execution plan includes on ground cleaning and restoration across a 21 km priority corridor stretching from the Osman Sagar and Himayat Sagar catchment down to Bapu ghat.  2. Sewage Treatment Plants, STP’s, are installed across Hyderabad suburbs. Daily 1,500 million litres of waste water are treated in the plants.  3. Social Rehabilitation: The Government approved allotment of 15,000 double bed room along with financial compensation for legally titled property owners.  4. Urban land and buffer zoning: Boundary along the riverbeds is enforced to clear illegal dump yards and to stop further encroachment of the areas adjacent to riverbed.  Community participation and citizens’ movement:  1. Musi Jan Andolan, MJA, an independent non - political platform-initiated movement to safeguard the Musi River and protect the thousands of families living along the river.  MJA highlights that over 36% of the total project budget is allocated for concrete heavy infrastructure, multi lane roads, bridges, toe walls and retaining walls.  MJA demands tree plantation all along the stretch of the riverbank. The organisation warns that replacing natural river banks with the concrete creates urban heat island effect. Again, it will destroy native vegetation and prevent natural ground water recharge.  2. Community participation in cleaning the river is urgently necessary. The residents of the Hyderabad and Secunderabad should be aware of the result of the death of a once wide and dynamic river like Musi.  The residents should play active role against the dumping of the toxic substances along the riverbank. The pharmaceutical waste must be collected from the hospitals regularly by the concerned authority and the community participation is needed to monitor the matter.  Contaminated and untreated waste water from the houses of the municipal wards should be treated in the treatment plants before mixing with the river water.  Traditional festivals along the river Musi must be restored so that the people can play active role in protecting the river from drying.  RK Puram lake:  The Ramkrishna Puram Lake (RK Puram Lake), originally Mukidigan Cherevu, was constructed by the Nizam in 1798. It was once a massive 100 -acre water reservoir to support the growing Secunderabad cantonment area. The lake was clean up to 1960 and the lake served as a major drinking water source for nearby villages and colonies. It was famous nesting place of migratory birds. Now the lake area came down from 100 acres to only 40 acres. After 1960 following the establishment of public sector unit and housing society the lake became the site of domestic sewage and garbage.  Ramkrishna Puram lake in Hyderabad faces severe degeneration due to unchecked sewage inflows, garbage dumping and uncontrolled encroachment. Once the lake was a highly attractive and beautiful destination, now the urban settlements around the lake experience urban flooding during heavy rain almost every year. Once it was an important reservoir of flood waters.  Causes of degeneration:  1. Untreated domestic waste water are supplied to the lake for years. This had blocked the storm water channels.  2. Rapid urbanization around the lake, primarily due to the availability of water, had caused shrinkage of the lake bed areas.  3. Low lying residential colonies get regularly under water during monsoon. Again, during lean period heavy algae growth foster ideal breeding grounds for disease carrying mosquitoes.  4. Rapid urbanization around the lake and subsequent withdrawal of groundwater in huge amount made the situation worse. Groundwater depletion in and around the lake RK Puram is related to the expansion of urban settlements. Again, natural percolation of surface water during monsoon is being hindered due concrete surface area expansion.    Fig 3: RK Puram lake in 1978 and in 2026 (Source: Survey of India toposheet and Google Earth Image)  Photo 2: RK Puram lake in 2026 (Photo credit: author)  Initiatives to be taken:  1. Illegal constructions around the lake area should be stopped.  2. The lake must not be the natural dumping ground of the urban waste material  3. Regular monitoring of the change in areas of the water surface of the lake.  4. Change detection with the help of satellite images should be done time to time.  5. Seasonal water depth variations should be observed and the data must be restored for restoration of the lake.  6. Auditing inflow points and mapping all storm water drains ensuring rainwater inflow into the lake.  7. Construction debris and sediments should not be allowed to inflow with the rainwater during monsoon.  8. Stopping plastic and trash dumping which is reducing the water holding capacity of the lake.  9. To check the bank failures along the circular pathway for the walkers. Local people are of the opinion that the lake is also experiencing climate change impacts, mainly changing rainfall pattern of the region. In recent past the region experienced enough rainfall during monsoon. K. Shridhar, a local resident with his friends told that in their teens, before thirty years, they enjoyed swimming in the lake. This year also the region has experienced below normal rainfall.  Hossain Sagar:  Even the large Hossain Sagar in Hyderabad (spanning about 5.7sq km) is currently dealing with environmental challenges including high pollution, heavy algal bloom and foul odours. The Hossain Sagar Lake in Hyderabad was built in 1562 AD across the river Musi during the Qutb Shahi dynasty to meet the drinking water needs of the growing settlement outside Golconda fort. The lake was the primary drinking water source for Hyderabad as the lake physically separates the core of Hyderabad from Secunderabad.  It is now an important tourist destination of Telengana with its beautiful necklace roads and the statue of Lord Buddha on the Gibraltar Rock in the middle of the lake.  Fig 4: Hussain Sagar in 1975 and 2026 (Source: Survey of India toposheet and Google Earth Image)  Photo 3: Hussain Sagar in 2026 (Photo credit: author)  Major initiatives taken:  1.Multiple STPs are set up around the lake to check the mixing of untreated sewage inflows.  2.To check the mixing of dry weather sewage from feeder drains like Banjara nala, Picket nala and Balkapur nala diversion structures are constructed.  3. Constant removal activity of floating solid waste.  4. Hossain Sagar Lake and catchment Area Improvement Project was launched in 2006 to upgrade sewerage infrastructure and manage nutrients- rich sediments.  But the result of the initiatives is not satisfactory:  The STPs and interception and diversions systems are not capable to tackle the problem in eradicating the pollution of the lake.  National Green Tribunal, NGT, indicated that nearly 376. 5 million litres per day of waste is still entering the lake.  Balanagar industrial area is still supplying highly toxic chemicals through the Kukatpally nala.  Reports from CAG and the Pollution control Board stated that the lakes Dissolved oxygen, DO, level dropped down below 3 mg/l, while The Central Pollution Control Board recommends 6 mg/ l for a healthy water body.  Citizens Role:  1. Stop single use plastic  2. Segregate waste properly.  3. Traditional Plaster of Paris idols should be discarded, Eco-friendly clay idols for Ganesh chaturthi and Durga should be made, immersion of the idols should be stopped directly in Hossain Sagar, may be immersed in baby ponds.  4. Communities living along the Kukatpally nala should check the mixing of untreated waste by installing simple wire -mesh trash traps at the community drains.  5. Community participation will include vigilance and reporting and giving support by making local lake warrior groups.ABOUT AUTHOR Dr Kanailal DasMasters in Geography from University of Calcutta, former senior research fellow, CSIR, PhD on Vulnerability of Gosaba, Basanti, Sundarban from Vidyasagar University.He has participated in many national and international seminars and has papers and book chapters to his credit.     ...Read more

09 Sep 2026

India’s rural schools are not empty because families have stopped valuing education. They are losing relevance because the system has struggled to deliver learning, capable teachers, functional infrastructure and pathways to a changing world. As India looks towards 2030, rebuilding the rural government school must become a priority—not simply by adding infrastructure, but by restoring capability, dignity and trust. SummaryIndia’s rural government schools face a deeper crisis than declining enrolment: many are struggling to deliver foundational learning, adequate infrastructure, teacher availability and meaningful pathways for children. Despite near-universal enrolment among rural children, learning outcomes remain uneven, while teacher vacancies, single-teacher schools and infrastructure gaps continue to weaken the public-school experience. The challenge is not simply whether schools should remain open, but whether they can become relevant to the aspirations and realities of rural families. The article examines policy efforts under NEP 2020, NIPUN Bharat and the 2030 education agenda, alongside examples of communities and states rebuilding public-school capacity. It argues for stronger teachers, mastery-based learning, digital and AI literacy, nutrition, functional infrastructure, local skills and transparent community participation. By 2030, the real measure of success should be the capabilities and opportunities a rural school gives every child—not merely the number of schools or students on paper. Why rural India's government schools are losing relevance - and how to rebuild them by 2030 NEP 2020 promises children who can read, reason, create, code and choose a livelihood. In too many villages, the State still struggles to provide the teacher, toilet, meal and lesson needed to get there. The rural school is not redundant. Its delivery model is. The central question in rural Indian education is no longer whether children are enrolled. It is whether the school gives them enough power to read with understanding, handle numbers, communicate across languages, use digital tools safely, question an automated answer and imagine work beyond inherited occupations. Across large parts of the country, government schools remain present in official registers but absent from the future children are being prepared to enter.This is not a claim that every public school is failing, or that private schools are automatically better. Kerala, Himachal Pradesh, Punjab, Tamil Nadu and many individual schools elsewhere show that public education can be rigorous, humane and trusted. Nor is a merger always wrong: a school with five children, one exhausted teacher and no laboratory may need a stronger nearby hub. The harder point is that the average rural public-school design has drifted away from both family aspirations and India's own stated education policy. A school may become empty because families lost faith, and families may lose faith because the school became empty. That is a policy loop, not a verdict on the child.  Access has widened. Learning has not caught up. India has made a significant access achievement. ASER 2024 found that 98.1 per cent of rural children aged 6-14 were enrolled. Families have not rejected education; they have brought children to the school gate. The crisis begins after the gate. In 2024, only 23.4 per cent of Grade III children in government schools could read a Grade II-level text. By Grade V, the figure was 44.8 per cent in government schools, compared with 59.3 per cent in private schools. Only 27.6 per cent of Grade III government-school children could do a subtraction problem; just 30.7 per cent of all Grade V children could solve basic division, rising to 45.8 per cent in Grade VIII.The adolescent picture is more damaging. ASER's 2023 Beyond Basics survey of rural youth aged 14-18 found that only 43.3 per cent could correctly solve a three-digit-by-one-digit division problem. About one in four could not fluently read a Grade II-level text in the regional language. Only 57.3 per cent could read simple English sentences and, among those, 73.5 per cent could explain their meaning. Digital access is also being mistaken for digital capability: 82.2 per cent of 14-16-year-olds knew how to use a smartphone, but only 57 per cent had used one for education in the previous week, while 76 per cent had used one for social media. A young person may navigate a video feed and still be unable to verify a source, fill an online form, protect a password, read a spreadsheet or question an AI answer.The Karnataka evidence cited in the accompanying Counterview report is a warning even in a state associated with technology. Across a 30-district study, 32.7 per cent of Grade I children could not recognise letters, 39.8 per cent could not read words and only about 34 per cent of Grade V children could read at Grade II level. The report also points to roughly 43,000 teacher vacancies and more than 6,150 single-teacher schools. The problem is therefore not only the number of posts. A teacher who has not been prepared for early reading, level-based instruction, practical mathematics, multilingual pedagogy, digital safety or AI ethics cannot acquire those capacities merely because a new online module has been uploaded.  NEP 2020 is written in the future tense. The National Education Policy 2020 imagines a 5+3+3+4 structure, foundational literacy and numeracy, early learning in the home or local language, less rote learning, competency-based assessment, subject flexibility, arts and physical education, vocational exposure from the middle grades, digital learning, inclusion, school complexes and stronger teachers. It expects a learner who can think, communicate, collaborate, solve problems and continue learning. NIPUN Bharat turned the foundational promise into a national mission, with Grade III as the target for basic reading, writing and numeracy. That 2025 deadline has passed, while the learning gap remains.The distance between policy and classroom is not a philosophical disagreement. It is a supply-chain failure. NEP needs time, subject teachers, school leadership, libraries, laboratories, transport, technology, health support and a professional culture that protects teaching. Rural schools too often receive the curriculum as a PDF and reform as a compliance form. They are asked to teach English, mathematics, digital skills and now AI literacy without the staff, equipment and training needed to do so. NEP also refuses the old academic-vocational hierarchy: a rural child should be able to learn algebra and understand a water pump, English and food processing, science and the local craft economy. Too many schools currently provide neither strong foundations nor credible practical pathways.  NITI Aayog's mirror: a chain of small failures. NITI Aayog's May 2026 report, School Education System in India: Temporal Analysis and Policy Roadmap for Quality Enhancement, draws on UDISE+ data from 2014-15 to 2024-25, PARAKH 2024, National Achievement Survey evidence and ASER 2024. Its central value is that it does not reduce the crisis to one statistic. India now has about 14.71 lakh schools serving more than 24.69 crore students, and primary access is close to universal, but higher-secondary gross enrolment is only 58.4 per cent. Government schools' share of enrolment fell from 54.3 per cent to 49.25 per cent over the decade, while private unaided schools rose from 31.7 per cent to 38.8 per cent. The shift reflects demography, migration, consolidation, data cleaning and family choice, but it also signals a weakening public contract.More than one-third of schools have fewer than 50 students. NITI records 1,04,125 single-teacher schools serving 33,76,769 pupils. A national pupil-teacher ratio can therefore look comfortable while a remote teacher is handling several grades, records, meals and surveys. Secondary dropout stood at 11.5 per cent in 2024-25, driven by cost, distance, migration, early work, early marriage, weak foundations and the belief that more schooling will not change a family's income.Infrastructure has improved, but administrative availability is not daily functionality. Functional girls' toilets rose from 85.17 per cent in 2014-15 to a reported 94 per cent in 2024-25, yet 98,592 schools still lacked one; 61,540 had no usable toilet, 14,505 lacked functional drinking water and 59,829 lacked handwashing facilities. Electricity reached 91.9 per cent, but 1.19 lakh schools still lacked functional electricity. Computers were reported in 64.7 per cent of schools, internet in 63.5 per cent and smart classrooms in only 30.6 per cent. PARAKH 2024 showed a national Grade IX pattern of 54 per cent in language, 37 per cent in mathematics, 40 per cent in science and 40 per cent in social science. Inclusion is equally uneven: ramps were reported in 79.1 per cent of schools, while only 33.4 per cent had functional toilets for children with special needs.NITI's diagnosis forms a chain: fragmented schools make staffing difficult; weak staffing produces weak learning; weak learning pushes families towards private options or out of school; falling enrolment then justifies further consolidation. Its answer is connected school complexes, functional infrastructure, shared teachers and facilities, mastery-based pedagogy, welfare support, portable records for migrant children, local accountability, relevant vocational pathways and technology that serves judgement. Each recommendation needs an owner, deadline, public dashboard and consequence when the water, teacher or lesson does not arrive.  Ninety-four thousand doors and the danger of a spreadsheet solution. Between 2014-15 and 2024-25, the UDISE series shows government schools falling from 11.07 lakh to 10.13 lakh. Total school enrolment fell from 26.95 crore to 24.69 crore, while private schools rose broadly from 2.88 lakh to 3.39 lakh. The arithmetic is real, but the headline '94,000 schools closed' does not explain how many were merged, reclassified, cleaned from inactive records or genuinely shut. India has a falling fertility rate, migration and urbanisation. A smaller school-age population will eventually change the network. Yet demography cannot explain away the loss of trust if government schools were consistently useful, safe and aspirational.A well-funded composite school can offer subject teachers, a library, laboratory, sports, counselling and skills that a tiny single-teacher school cannot. But 'within five to ten kilometres' is not a neutral phrase in a mountain village, floodplain, forest or tribal settlement. It means a road, river, monsoon, unsafe stretch, missing bus and a parent who cannot leave work to escort a child. Girls and children with disabilities pay the highest price. Every merger must therefore be tested against travel time, safety, seasonal access, transport cost, attendance, learning and equity. Consolidation should be a service upgrade, never a budget cut or abandonment disguised as rationalisation.  Why families are voting with their feet. Parents do not need a national report to know that a child is behind. They see a paragraph copied without understanding, change counted incorrectly at a market stall, a teacher managing several grades and election duty, and a private school promising English, tests, uniforms, transport and a future. Even when a private school is not objectively stronger, it signals seriousness. The falling government share is not simply a story of affluent families leaving; it is the aspiration of small farmers, construction workers, migrants and landless labourers for children who can read a bank message, compare prices, understand a loan, use a government portal, speak to a customer, migrate safely or build a local enterprise.Quality must therefore mean visible powers: reading a medicine label, calculating a wage, writing an application, understanding a map, identifying a scam, repairing something, growing or selling something and finding the next course. The answer is not a coaching centre or an artificial English accent. It is strong foundations linked to real use: local-language learning, English as a bridge, mathematics through markets and farms, science through water and soil, digital skills through public services and livelihoods, and clear pathways to higher study, apprenticeships and enterprise. Trust returns through repeated visible acts - a clean toilet, a present teacher, a reliable meal, a child who reads better this month, and a parent who can see what the school received and spent.  When the camera enters the school. In August 2026, the youth movement known as the Cockroach Janata Party, or CJP, launched School Thik Karo - Fix the Schools. Its volunteers entered government schools, recorded conditions and published what they saw. The checklist was basic: drinking water and functional toilets; electricity and usable classrooms; boundary walls and campus safety; midday meals and teacher attendance. The visual force of the campaign mattered because a dashboard can say 'infrastructure available' while a phone video shows a broken roof, a clogged toilet, missing windows, children without benches or a class in a borrowed shed. Reports placed such exposures across Madhya Pradesh, Mizoram, Uttarakhand, Bihar, Karnataka, Rajasthan and West Bengal. In Rajasthan, a school in Rampura Kanwarpura was reported to be functioning in a buffalo shed; later reports said the unsafe structure was demolished and a new building of about Rs 18 lakh announced.The campaign also showed how quickly school scrutiny becomes political conflict. In Bankura, West Bengal, CJP volunteer Abdul Hafeez reportedly suffered an attack along with his father, who died two days later from injuries, according to an Al Jazeera account; competing claims about political responsibility remain subject to due process. In Latur, Maharashtra, an FIR was reported against organiser Abhijeet Dipke and others after a teacher alleged unauthorised entry, filming, questioning of students and threats; CJP disputed the account. A Rajasthan team also reported an attack, while a Hingoli headmaster was reportedly suspended after complaints of intoxication and neglect. These allegations require investigation, not headline conviction.Government responses included reported restrictions in Rajasthan on outsider visits, photography, videography and interviews. Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis dismissed the campaign as a political programme and said most Zilla Parishad schools were good. CJP exposures are not a representative sample, cannot measure learning and cannot replace trained inspections or social audits. But they reveal an accountability weakness. The answer is neither mob inspection nor official secrecy: it is lawful citizen access, child protection, independent audits, transparent school-level records and consequences for failure. Most teachers work under difficult conditions and should not be collectively demonised. Yet a public school must not function as a head teacher's fiefdom.  Money is moving. Trust is not. The Union's 2026-27 budget places total Ministry of Education outlay at about Rs 1,39,289 crore, including roughly Rs 83,562 crore for school education. It lists Rs 42,100 crore for Samagra Shiksha, Rs 12,749.99 crore for PM POSHAN, Rs 7,500 crore for PM SHRI and Rs 3,200 crore for Atal Tinkering Labs. Rajasthan has budgeted Rs 550 crore to repair more than 2,500 schools, Rs 1,000 crore for 400 CM-RISE schools, AI learning labs in 1,000 schools and a School on Wheels in each district, alongside a reported larger infrastructure plan. West Bengal cleared an ADB-backed project of about Rs 2,349.78 crore for roughly 430-432 schools, including classrooms, laboratories, libraries, ramps, toilets, kitchens and teacher development.The scale is welcome, but a model school in a project boundary does not repair every small primary school outside it. NITI notes that public education spending has remained around four per cent of GDP in recent years and records 4.6 per cent in 2021, below the six per cent aspiration associated with the Kothari Commission and NEP 2020. The issue is not only to spend more. It is to weight money towards remoteness, poverty, tribal and migrant populations and disability; release it predictably; ring-fence maintenance; publish its use; and protect teachers from non-teaching work. The real budget test is not a sanctioned amount but a functional service in the village.  The exceptions expose the rule. Kotlapur in Karnataka shows that the public system can revive. Its government school had effectively shut down in 2008 as parents moved children to a nearby private school. When headmaster Dr Vijaya Kumar arrived in 2025, he painted walls, built a Kannada language laboratory and small library, went door-to-door, explained entitlements and rebuilt the school's social presence. The village contributed about Rs 65,000 for CCTV. A fixed deposit of Rs 1,000 a year was created for each Grade I child, to mature after 18 years. Uniforms, books, shoes, socks and eggs made the promise visible. By 2025-26, reported enrolment had reached 42 with four teachers, supported by a School Management Committee.Kotlapur proves both possibility and indictment. Leadership, parent partnership and a visibly better school can restore trust; it is unacceptable that ordinary functionality should depend on a heroic headmaster, donations and personal ingenuity. Kerala's public investment and foundational culture, Tamil Nadu's mother-tongue and welfare emphasis, Himachal Pradesh's access in difficult terrain, Punjab's recent learning gains and community-linked models in Nagaland offer mechanisms worth adapting. The aim is not to copy a state wholesale but to identify what worked and fund it until it becomes routine.The rural school should connect the village to itself and the world. District skill maps can link schools with ITIs, Krishi Vigyan Kendras, self-help groups, cooperatives and practitioners in agriculture, food processing, repair, craft, energy, health, climate, logistics, bookkeeping and digital services. A paid practitioner may mentor a 30-60-hour module, but the teacher must convert experience into language, mathematics, science, design and reflection. Measuring a field, calculating yield, writing an invoice, checking an online payment or verifying an AI answer makes English, mathematics, science, civics and AI literacy useful. Vocational learning must not become caste or class tracking; every module needs bridges to higher study, ITI, polytechnic, apprenticeship, university and enterprise. Five international reminders, not five imports.  China shows the strength and risk of consolidation: better-resourced rural centres, shared expertise, digital links and a nutrition programme reported to benefit more than 37 million students. India can borrow the network logic only with transport, boarding and family contact. South Africa funds poorer schools more through its quintile model and combines no-fee access with nutrition committees. Brazil links social protection to education, redistributes funding through Fundeb and directs at least 30 per cent of federal school-feeding resources to family farming - a cue for deeper local procurement under PM POSHAN.Indonesia's school operational assistance model shows the value of predictable, flexible funds for broken taps, learning materials and connectivity, paired with public ledgers and audits. Finland combines serious teacher preparation with free materials, a daily meal, welfare services and transport when the journey is long or dangerous. India cannot transplant these systems, but it can borrow their principles: weighted equity, local flexibility with transparency, respected teachers, early intervention and the removal of food, health, transport and safety barriers. Ten non-negotiables for a different rural school by 2030.  Functional school guarantee. Every government school should have safe classrooms, drinking water, separate usable toilets, handwashing, electricity, a kitchen, basic furniture, accessibility, a library corner, play space and a maintenance calendar. Dashboards must report monthly functionality, not one-time availability.Rural teacher guarantee. Where there are multiple grades, provide at least two trained primary teachers and named access through a school complex to mathematics, science, English, languages, arts, physical education and vocational learning. Fill vacancies, offer hardship incentives and protect instructional time.Mastery before promotion. Test reading, writing and numeracy at the start of every year, group support by learning level, provide stigma-free catch-up and continue foundational support after Grade III. Assessment must change teaching, not punish children.English and mathematics for use. Build bilingual English around markets, health, work, migration, public services and digital communication. Teach mathematics through money, measurement, time, data, estimation, geometry and reasoning before abstract procedures become meaningless.Human-centred digital and AI literacy. Put power, connectivity, shared devices, offline content and teacher preparation before smart-classroom branding. Teach source checking, privacy, cyber safety, bias, copyright and verification. Children must use tools without surrendering judgement.Consolidate resources without abandoning habitations. Approve mergers only after testing travel, safety, monsoon access, disability access, girls' safety, cost, attendance and learning. Provide buses, bicycles, escorts or hostels when a child must travel.A local multiple-skills curriculum. Offer 30-60-hour modules in agriculture, water, food, repair, craft, energy, health, digital services, climate and enterprise. Pay and train practitioners, award portable credits and keep every academic route open.Nutrition, health and dignity. Strengthen PM POSHAN kitchens, local procurement, menus and social audits. Link schools to health screening, menstrual hygiene, counselling, disability support, physical education and mental-health referral. Track meals served, not meals sanctioned.Open governance and safe scrutiny. Train School Management Committees, give them usable budgets and publish staffing, attendance, facilities, meals, grants, repairs and learning progress without exposing children. Provide lawful observation and protected complaint channels.Weighted finance, leadership and proof. Fund remote, poor, tribal, migrant and disability-heavy schools more per child; release maintenance money predictably; train head teachers as instructional leaders; and publish a rural scorecard based on what children can do, not only what schools possess.  The 2030 test is brutally simple. By 2030, India should answer a child's question without hiding behind enrolment. Can she read a new text and explain it? Can he divide, estimate, measure and reason? Can they use English and a device to learn without losing the strength of their home language? Can they ask whether an AI answer is true, fair and safe? Can they learn a local skill without being sentenced to a caste or occupation? Can they stay through adolescence because transport, food, toilets, health and hope are present?A private tuition market can sell English, a phone can deliver a video and a skill centre can teach a machine. Only a strong public school can combine knowledge, citizenship, nutrition, dignity, peer life, local belonging and a route to the wider world for every child, including the child whose parents cannot pay. The problem is not that rural India has too many public schools. It is that too many have been left with too little capability to justify the faith placed in them. Closing a school may reduce an administrative line; rebuilding it can change a family's trajectory. Kotlapur shows the possible future, CJP shows the cost of leaving the present untouched, and NITI provides the architecture. The remaining requirement is political courage: let citizens see, make teachers capable and respected, fund the last mile and judge the system by the power it gives a child. #RuralEducation, #GovernmentSchools, #EducationInIndia, #RuralIndia, #EducationReform, #NEP2020, #NIPUNBharat, #FoundationalLearning, #EducationEquity, #DigitalLiteracy, #AILiteracy, #VocationalEducation, #PublicEducation, #SchoolInfrastructure, #TeacherShortage, #Education2030, #InclusiveEducation, #CommunityEngagement, #SocialImpact, #SustainableDevelopment ...Read more

08 Sep 2026

Climate justice cannot be separated from workers’ rights. As decarbonisation, climate change and digitalisation reshape jobs and industries, a truly sustainable transition must protect livelihoods, strengthen social dialogue and ensure decent, inclusive work. SummaryThe climate crisis is already reshaping workplaces through extreme heat, disasters, job losses and disruptions across industries, particularly in the Global South. At the same time, the shift away from fossil fuels, alongside digitalisation and automation, is changing both the number and nature of jobs, creating new challenges for workers and trade unions. The article argues that treating environmental goals and workers’ rights as separate issues creates a false conflict between jobs and climate action. A Just Transition must instead place workers and affected communities at the centre through collective bargaining, social dialogue, social protection, reskilling and gender equality. Examples such as heat agreements in Cambodia and worker-focused planning around offshore wind demonstrate how climate action and livelihood protection can work together. Ultimately, integrating labour and environmental governance is essential to ensure that the transition is not merely green, but genuinely just and inclusive. The climate crisis is no longer a distant threat. It is changing the world of work in real time - reshaping economies and workplaces. Heatwaves, floods, storms are disrupting work and industries, while entire communities tied to fossil fuel industries face decline as economies decarbonise. Countries in the global south are more prone to climate change induced disasters¹ and as such industries and workers here are more affected than others. Heavy flooding seriously affected industrial production in many Asian countries including 0Bangladesh, parts of Pakistan and India, Cambodia, Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam, Sri Lanka and China in 2023-24, particularly in the garment sector². This led to job losses as well as loss of wages for several hundreds of workers, a large number of whom are women. Heat stress is affecting workers at an unprecedented level. A 2024 report of the International Labour Organisation (ILO, 2024)³ estimated that 18,970 deaths and 22.85 million occupational injuries were attributable to excessive heat every year, with about 71% of the global workforce being exposed to excessive heat. Workers working outdoors in agriculture, construction, transport etc., bear the brunt of the heat as do workers in poorly ventilated workplaces such as foundries or even garment factories. Climate change mitigation and adaptation efforts are therefore necessary and the need is immediate, all the more so as the interests of working people are aligned with the success of climate change mitigation strategies. Governments are in the process of implementing policies to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and move away from fossil fuels. However, the movement from fossil fuel to renewable energy has meant loss of jobs, in sectors such as coal and oil and increased informalisation of jobs that used to be permanent jobs. Job losses, especially in unionised sectors have made trade unions wary of climate change mitigation measures. Renewable energy such as solar and wind power energy, is gaining traction, even as coal is continued to be used. China, USA and India are among the top ten solar and wind energy producing countries. They are also among the top ten coal producing countries with China and India leading. Which means that the top coal producing countries are building the resources to produce more renewable energy. But, the number of jobs in these sectors is estimated to be far less than in the traditional energy sectors such as coal and oil. Most of the jobs are precarious, and are still non-unionised. For workers and unions, decarbonisation of the economy is an additional challenge as it has affected employment both in numbers and in nature. The logical sequitur is that workers’ rights should be considered central to climate change governance – both adaptation and mitigation strategies, as workers’ jobs are being lost and as workers’ face extreme heat stress and other effects of climate change. However, this is not always the case. Compartmentalization of workers’ rights and climate justice Climate change is treated primarily as an environmental challenge, even though workers and people in general are affected by it. Climate governance frameworks, whether policy, law, or corporate guidelines, treat environmental goals as completely separate from workers’ rights. The recent advisory opinion of the International Court of Justice (ICJ) is a case in point. The ICJ issued a unanimous Advisory Opinion⁴ affirming governments’ binding obligations under international law to combat climate change through measures that limit greenhouse gas emissions and foster international cooperation, to achieve the objectives of their nationally determined contributions. Although the Court recognised the binding nature of the Paris Agreement⁵ alongside the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, it notably omitted explicit reference to workers’ rights. The omission is significant because the Paris Agreement in its Preamble itself affirms “the imperative of a just transition of the workforce and the creation of decent work and quality jobs”⁶. The ICJ’s opinion in omitting workers’ rights follows a trend in climate governance - compartmentalisation between labour rights and climate change mitigation and adaptation measures. Government policies as well as guidelines of Intergovernmental organisations such as Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) follow the same trend. The Paris Agreement follows the International Labour Organisation (ILO) Guidelines⁷ for a ‘just transition towards environmentally sustainable economies and societies for all’ which identified the importance of social dialogue, social protection, fundamental principles of rights at work and gender specific policies for achieving just transition. Just transition is broadly understood to mean promoting environmentally sustainable economies in a way that is fair and inclusive to everyone concerned – workers, enterprises and communities – by creating decent work opportunities and leaving no one behind. However, government policy frameworks for climate change mitigation which are formulated as a consequence of governments’ obligations under the Paris Agreement are drawn up with little or no inputs from trade unions. In Chile, which has taken its climate change mitigation obligations seriously, it needed a Supreme Court judgement to ensure consultation with affected workers in the closure of a coal powered thermo electric power plant. In the case of Company Workers Union of Maritima Commercial Somarco Ltd. and others vs. Ministry of Energy⁸, the obligation of governments to ensure just transition was recognised by the Supreme Court. It was held that agreements adopted by the State of Chile to achieve carbon neutrality require a just transition strategy both for the workers harmed by the loss of their direct and indirect source of employment and for the communities affected by the loss of services linked to the development of the declining thermoelectric activity. The ruling ordered the government authorities to implement a plan for the workers affected by the decarbonization process, consulting them in that process. The 2023 update of the OECD Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises on Responsible Business Conduct⁹ includes ‘recommendations for enterprises to align with internationally agreed goals on climate change and biodiversity’ and ‘recommendations on how enterprises are expected to conduct due diligence on impacts and business relationships related to the use of their products and services’. The recommendations on climate change do not specifically mention workers’ rights except in the context of training in environment, health and safety, and hazardous waste. This compartmentalisation is also seen in policy frameworks on human rights due diligence¹⁰, where climate change mitigation and adaptation has assumed greater importance. Most of these laws and guidelines have clauses on workers’ rights and environment/ climate issues, which remain isolated from each other. Labour rights and environmental standards are treated as being in separate silos. 1. Asia and the small island nations in the Pacific are affected more than Europe/ N America. See https://wmo.int/news/media-centre/climate-change-and-extreme-weather-impacts-hit-asia-hard .Since Asia is the hub of garment production, this industry was affected disproportionately in 2023-24. 2. ILO, The Heat is On: How heat stress impacts the apparel industry, jobs, and worker health, Geneva: International Labour Office, 2025. 3. Flouris, A., Azzi, M., Graczyk, H., Nafradi, B., and Scott, N., eds. 2024. Heat at Work: Implications for Safety and Health. A Global Review of the Science, Policy and Practice. International Labour Office, Geneva, 2024. 4. Obligations of States in respect of Climate Change (Advisory Opinion) [2025] ICJ Rep. 5. The Paris Agreement is a legally binding international treaty on climate change. It was adopted at the UN Climate Change Conference (COP21) in Paris, France, on 12 December 2015 and entered into force on 4 November 2016. Its overarching goal is to hold the increase in the global average temperature to well below 2°C above pre-industrial levels and pursue efforts “to limit the temperature increase to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels. See more here - https://unfccc.int/sites/default/files/english_paris_agreement.pdf 6. Ibid. 7. International Labour Organization, Guidelines for a Just Transition towards Environmentally Sustainable Economies and Societies for All (ILO 2015). 8. https://climatecasechart.com/non-us-case/company-workers-union-of-maritima-commercial-somarco-limited-and-others-with-ministry-of-energy 9. Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, OECD Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises on Responsible Business Conduct (OECD 2023). 10. There is an increasing number of human rights due diligence (HRDD) law and policy frameworks such as the OECD Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises on Responsible Business Conduct, the European Union’s Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence Directive, the German and French laws on corporate due diligence which are meant to deal with responsibilities of multinational corporations in their supply chains across the world. Decarbonisation and digitalisation: a double disruption This compartmentalisation risks creating a narrative that there is an apparent contradiction between measures to mitigate climate change and the rights of workers; that advancing climate justice would necessitate sacrificing secure employment or organised labour power. This is a wrong narrative. There is only one planet on which both jobs and the environment exist, and because there’s no economy, and no work, on a dead planet. The climate crisis has coincided with major advances in technology, and the world of work is facing challenges brought forth by decarbonisation and digitalisation. Workplaces are changing with the introduction of newer technologies both because of advances in technology and by the need to decarbonise the economy. The changes are far more rapid than we have seen in the past, and the effect is felt in several sectors. Technology change is not new. Technology has always changed the way industries function and therefore the way that workers have worked. The first three industrial revolutions changed manufacturing processes. The first industrial revolution transformed work with the advent of mechanization and steam power. This was also the era of child labour, forced labour and unsafe workplaces, and no workers’ rights. The second industrial revolution with greater use of electricity and mass production saw the beginnings of organized labour and trade unions across the world with workers’ rights being recognized, if not implemented everywhere. Labour laws which recognized workers’ rights, provided at least a way for trade unions to collectively bargain. The third industrial revolution with increased automation and the use of robots that changed the factory floor in a very visible manner. This phase also saw the beginnings of supply chains and weakening of workers’ rights. Trade unions were actively opposing the introduction of computers, but without much success. With the change in technology, the nature as well as number of jobs changed. In Industry 4.0 or the fourth industrial revolution which involves digitization and the deployment of cyber physical systems, the transition is in conjunction with greater automation. More sophisticated robots that require little to no human interaction are already in use in automotive factories. The automotive sector exemplifies this double disruption. The transition from internal combustion engines to electric vehicles is decarbonisation-driven. But it also coincides with automation, robotics, and digitalisation. Workers are losing jobs, the remaining jobs are changing¹¹ and companies want to rescind from their collective bargaining agreements, as in the case of Volkswagen in Europe.¹² Trade unions in Bosch in India report that new ‘high-tech’ units are being set up without consulting existing unions, employing qualified engineers and changing the nature of the job from blue collar to white collar¹³. Just Transition The Just Transition Guidelines of the ILO have as far back as 2015 articulated that sustainability and justice can and should go together. ILO’s Just Transition Guidelines identified the importance of social dialogue, social protection, fundamental principles of rights at work and gender specific policies for achieving just transition. An understanding of Just Transition and its principles is thus key to understanding that the binary of jobs versus environment is a false one. An effective implementation of the fundamental principles of rights at work particularly, freedom of association and the right to collective bargaining will ensure the full participation of workers and their unions, taking into account their priorities. This would require employers/ companies to discuss with unions what changes are coming and how it would affect the workforce. It may mean that workers’ would need to be reskilled (to do a different job) or upskilled (e.g., acquiring new skills) as needed. Unions should be able to negotiate and collectively bargain work re-organisation. This underlines the importance of both collective bargaining and social dialogue, with a focus on unions being provided information by employers and governments about the impending and planned changes of work and work organisation in the workplace. The role of governments in ensuring that the ILO’s fundamental principles of rights at work¹⁴ becomes crucial. 11. The future of work in the automotive industry, Technical meeting on the future of work in the automotive industry (Geneva, 15–19 February 2021), Note on the proceedings, International Labour Office, Sectoral Policies Department, Geneva, ILO, 2021. 12. https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cje9kv3q94po - Previously agreed wage increases were cancelled. An agreement between the company and the union was made for ‘cutting’ 35000 jobs by 2030. 13. Discussions with Bosch India unions in Pune and Bangalore (October – November 2022). 14. The ILO’s fundamental principles of rights at work do not require ratification of specific conventions. All countries are bound by the fundamental principles by virtue of their membership in the ILO. Making transitions ‘Just’ Trade unions are learning to deal with these challenges and are putting forward demands in order to protect workers from effects of climate change as well as digitalization. We are beginning to see examples of unions negotiating effects of climate change. The ‘Heat Agreements’ in garment factories in Cambodia¹⁵ is one such example. According to these agreements, which have been negotiated between unions and employers, if the temperature inside the factory rises above 35 C, cooling systems need to be turned on, and workers can take 5-10 minutes break. This is a very concrete example of collective bargaining being used to adapt to climate change. Another inspiring example is the successful campaign in Maine, USA where an offshore wind energy farm was built further away from the shore so that the livelihoods of the local fishing community could be protected¹⁶. This is a situation which could easily have been posited as workers vs. environmental groups vs. local communities. However, the importance of climate mitigation as well as the need to protect livelihoods were both prioritized and the wind farm was commissioned further away from the shore, while including collectively bargained wages for the workers employed on the wind farm. The importance of collective bargaining in protecting workers from the effects of climate change as well as the adaptation/ mitigation measures that governments are undertaking cannot be overstated. However, these examples are too few, with concrete clauses protecting workers’ rights, not very prevalent. The recent ILO Working paper on the role of collective bargaining on promoting just transitions¹⁷ (Schmidt and Braga, 2025) analyses 512 collective bargaining agreements (CBAs) to understand the presence and scope of clauses on Just Transition. While 58 of the agreements had clauses on just transition, most of them were declarative clauses and only 12 were more of a transformative nature. Topics in the agreements included hybrid work (aimed at reducing carbon footprint), working time organisation for extreme heat and upskilling of workers and managers. In addition, the Working Paper looked at six case studies in detail, outside of the 512 CBAs, and identified that the key topics were workers’ representation, planning for job changes and skill development, education and environmental management. These issues, particularly workers’ representation, planning for job changes and skill development are very much part of the Just Transition Guidelines. The ILO’s Just Transition guidelines are clear: climate adaptation and mitigation measures must go hand-in-hand with decent work, social dialogue, gender equality, and social protection. Just transition would mean promoting environmentally sustainable economies in a way that is fair and inclusive to everyone concerned – workers, enterprises and communities – by creating decent work opportunities and leaving no one behind. Done right, it’s a roadmap. There needs to be a renewed commitment to the ILO’s Just Transition Principles, particularly from employers and governments. Collective bargaining and social dialogue must be institutionalized with trade unions and affected communities being part of the drafting of climate strategies and plans. A robust social protection policy including health insurance, income support and retraining for workers is needed with the government playing a strong role, making sure that employers contribute their share. Just Transition would also mean that all workers are considered equal, for nothing can be ‘just’ without the element of gender justice. Women workers, who are typically not considered qualified for jobs that involve ‘high technology’ would need to be active participants. This requires a policy framework that includes work in the informal sectors, as well as low-waged manufacturing and services sectors where women are disproportionately concentrated. A Just Transition must dismantle these barriers, ensuring women access training and employment in green and digitalised economies. Without gender equity, no transition can be truly just. In addition, digital – driven technology requires extensive mining of minerals. This too needs to be approached within a framework of Just Transition, embedding workers’ rights and rights of communities into all policy decisions. 15. Heat Agreements in Cambodia: An interview with Somalay So and Joe Buckley, The Global Labour Rights Reporter, Vol. IV, Issue 1, 2025, p. 17-21. 16. Deedee Fitzpatrick and Hannah Sachs, “Labour leading on climate: advancing high-quality unions jobs in the emerging U.S. clean energy sector” in A Just Transition Law for Climate Justice, The Global Labour Rights Reporter, Vol. IV, Issue 1, 2025, pp 58-66. 17. Schmidt, V., Braga, C. The role of collective bargaining in promoting just transitions. ILO Working Paper 145. Geneva: International Labour International Labour Office, 2025. Conclusion How technology is applied and who benefits from it will determine whether the changes in the world of work is a Just Transition or only a green transition. The tools for a fairer future already exist in unions and in collective agreements. Integrating environmental and labour governance will materialise the idea that justice and sustainability can, and must, go hand in hand. References Flouris, A., Azzi, M., Graczyk, H., Nafradi, B., and Scott, N., eds. 2024. Heat at Work: Implications for Safety and Health. A Global Review of the Science, Policy and Practice. International Labour Office, Geneva, 2024.ILO, The Heat is On: How heat stress impacts the apparel industry, jobs, and worker health, Geneva: International Labour Office, 2025.Deedee Fitzpatrick and Hannah Sachs, “Labour leading on climate: advancing high-quality unions jobs in the emerging U.S. clean energy sector” in A Just Transition Law for Climate Justice, The Global Labour Rights Reporter, Vol. IV, Issue 1, 2025 available here: The Global Labour Rights Reporter - ILAW Network.Schmidt, V., Braga, C. The role of collective bargaining in promoting just transitions. ILO Working Paper 145. Geneva: ILO Working Paper 145. Geneva: International Labour Office, 2025.  ABOUT AUTHOR   Apoorva Kaiwar is a women’s and workers’ rights activist ...Read more

07 Sep 2026

Why volunteering — for nature, for the hungry, for the sick — is not capitalism's alibi but the slow architecture of the world after it A recent critique argued that volunteering doesn't save the world — it saves capitalism, laundering unpaid labour into résumé lines while the state quietly disappears. The charge is largely true. But the verdict is premature. In an age of total surveillance, monopolised violence and algorithmic war, the old grammar of revolution — barricades, arms, the seizure of the state in a single dramatic rupture — has been rendered nearly unusable. What remains is the slower, less cinematic work of building, person by person and meal by meal, the institutions of a different world inside the shell of this one. This essay accepts the critique in full and then asks the harder question it declines to ask: if not volunteering, what?AT A GLANCE▸  Bhabani Shankar Nayak's recent critique in Counterview.net — that institutionalised volunteering has become a subsidy to capital, laundering unpaid labour as “employability” — is correct as a diagnosis of the NGO-industrial complex and the résumé-internship economy.▸  But the critique conflates two different things: volunteering-as-labour-arbitrage (CSR days, unpaid internships, service-learning credit) and volunteering-as-mutual-aid (feeding, teaching, healing, restoring land in solidarity, without a market intermediary).▸  Classical revolutionary rupture — armed seizure of state power — is not a live option for most movements today. States hold overwhelming and increasingly automated coercive capacity: mass surveillance, predictive policing, drones, and information-warfare infrastructures that can pre-empt, infiltrate or discredit any organised threat before it matures.▸  Under these conditions, a Gramscian “war of position” — the patient construction of counter-institutions, counter-culture and counter-common-sense — is not a consolation prize for the defeated Left. It is the only strategy structurally available.▸  Mutual-aid volunteering in nature restoration, food and education access, and care for the sick is precisely this kind of counter-institution-building — provided it is organised on solidarity rather than charity logic, is politically self-aware, and refuses NGO-isation and capture.▸  The article proposes four conditions that separate insurgent volunteering from the captured variety Nayak rightly condemns, and argues for a 10X scaling of solidarity infrastructure as the realistic evolutionary path to a post-capitalist order.This essay is written in direct response to, and in substantial agreement with, Bhabani Shankar Nayak's critique “Why volunteering won't save the world, it will save capitalism” (Counterview, September 2026), which is quoted and characterised, not reproduced, throughout.  01  THE CHARGE SHEET, AND WHY IT STICKS Start by conceding the case, because it deserves to be conceded. When a food bank is staffed by unpaid graduates instead of paid workers, when a university calls an internship a “learning opportunity” to avoid paying minimum wage, when a bank sends five hundred employees to paint a school for one afternoon and issues a press release about “giving back” while lobbying against the taxes that would have funded that school properly — this is not solidarity. It is what the critique names it: a hidden ledger, in which goodwill is logged as free labour and the state's retreat from public provision is disguised as civic virtue. The mechanism is not subtle once you see it. Governments cut welfare, education and health budgets under fiscal-discipline doctrines. The resulting gaps are real, visible, and morally urgent — hungry children, unlettered adolescents, the uninsured sick. Into that gap steps the third sector: NGOs, charities, university “service learning” offices, corporate CSR departments — each chronically underfunded, each therefore structurally dependent on a rotating supply of free or underpaid labour. The worker who might otherwise have organised for better wages instead donates evenings to patch the hole the state was supposed to fill. Capitalism gets a twofer: the crisis it produces is contained just enough to prevent political combustion, and the very people most likely to be angry about it are kept exhausted, credentialed, and grateful. This is an old trick with a new interface. Empires have always known how to convert the instinct to help into a supply of foot soldiers — for war, for missions, for “development.” What is new is the scale and the software: LinkedIn endorsements, gamified volunteer-hour trackers, university dashboards that convert compassion into a line on a CV. The critique is right that this is, in the most literal economic sense, a subsidy — free labour transferred from citizens to institutions that could, in nearly every case, afford to pay for it. None of what follows disputes any of this. What follows disputes the conclusion drawn from it. 02  THE CONFLATION AT THE HEART OF THE ARGUMENT The critique's fatal move is a quiet one: it treats “volunteering” as a single, uniform category, and then diagnoses the whole category by its worst instance. But a corporate CSR day and a community health worker walking eight kilometres to check on a diabetic neighbour are not the same act wearing different clothes. They are opposite acts that happen to share a word. Call the first kind extractive volunteering: unpaid labour performed for an institution, under that institution's control, producing value the institution captures — a cleaner riverbank the municipality didn't have to pay to clean, a tutored child whose school didn't have to hire a teacher, a “portfolio” the intern built for a company that never intended to hire them. Extractive volunteering has an employer, even when it pretends not to. It has a hierarchy, a beneficiary that is not the volunteer, and an exit that leaves the underlying system exactly as it was — indeed, reinforced, because the pressure that might have forced structural reform has been vented. Call the second kind insurgent mutual aid: reciprocal, horizontally organised solidarity performed by people with each other, not for an institution — the tradition Kropotkin described a century before the term “volunteering” existed, the one that fed New Orleans after Katrina when the state failed to, that vaccinated Sundarbans hamlets when no ambulance would cross the river, that has, in Rojava and in the Zapatista caracoles, built entire education and health systems outside the state and the market simultaneously. Insurgent mutual aid has no employer. Its beneficiary and its performer are the same class of people, sometimes literally the same people on different days. It does not vent pressure for reform — it builds, in miniature, the alternative that the reform was supposed to deliver and never did. These two things can look identical from a satellite photograph: people showing up to feed other people. They are not identical in political function. One reproduces the system it patches. The other rehearses the system that will replace it. The critique is entirely correct about the first. It has almost nothing to say about the second — and the second is where the real argument for volunteering has always lived. 03  WHY THE BARRICADES ARE CLOSED It is worth stating plainly why this distinction matters more now than at any point in the last century. For most of modern history, the theory of change available to anyone serious about transforming an unjust order ran, in the end, through rupture — the strike that becomes an uprising, the uprising that seizes the arsenal, the arsenal that makes the old state ungovernable until it falls or negotiates. That theory was never comfortable, and it was rarely bloodless, but it was at least structurally available: the state's monopoly on violence was real but not absolute, information moved slowly enough that organisation could outrun suppression, and a determined mass could, in the right conditions, out-manoeuvre the guns. That structural availability has been quietly withdrawn. Contemporary states — and the corporations increasingly indistinguishable from them in surveillance capacity — hold instruments no nineteenth- or twentieth-century revolutionary faced. Predictive policing flags organisers before they finish organising. Facial recognition and telecom metadata make anonymous assembly nearly extinct. Drones and precision weapons have widened the asymmetry between state violence and any conceivable popular counter-force to a gap that cannot be closed by courage alone. And information warfare — troll farms, deepfakes, algorithmically amplified disinformation — can discredit, divide or simply drown out a movement before it reaches the size at which rupture becomes even theoretically conceivable. This is not a counsel of despair; it is a description of terrain. A general who tells her army to charge a machine-gun nest because charging worked at Agincourt is not being brave, she is being obsolete. The insistence on rupture as the only serious politics, in 2026, in a world of biometric ID and networked drones, is that same obsolescence dressed as radicalism. It is precisely because the war of manoeuvre is closed that the war of position — Antonio Gramsci's phrase for the slow contest over institutions, culture and common sense that precedes and enables any real transfer of power — stops being the fallback for the defeated and becomes the only strategy left standing. The war of position is not merely propaganda or “awareness.” Gramsci meant something closer to what the Right, in fact, understood and executed with terrifying patience over the last forty years: build the schools, the media, the think-tanks, the churches and the community organisations that produce a population which finds your worldview simply obvious before a single vote is cast or a single law is changed. The Left's equivalent has no reason to look like pamphlets and everything to do with clinics, food networks, seed banks, tutoring circles and cooperative workshops that produce, generation by generation, a population that has already experienced — not merely imagined — a different way of meeting human need. 04  FEEDING THE POOREST IS NOT CHARITY — IT IS PREFIGURATION Consider what it actually means, politically, for a community kitchen to feed a hundred families a week using donated, gleaned or collectively grown food, distributed without means-testing, run by a rotating roster of neighbours rather than paid staff answerable to a donor. Nayak's critique would ask: does this let the state off the hook for its failure to guarantee food security? In the short run, marginally, yes — exactly as it would for a corporate soup kitchen. But the resemblance ends at the ladle. A corporate or NGO feeding programme is designed to be efficient, scalable and fundable — which means it is designed to be legible to donors and unthreatening to the order that produced the hunger. A mutual-aid kitchen, organised by and answerable to the people who eat there, is designed to be replicable by anyone with a stove and a network — which means it is a working demonstration that food security does not require a market, a means test, or a state that has to be lobbied into caring. Every family that eats there for a year has lived, concretely, one year inside a small post-scarcity economy. That is not a subsidy to capitalism. That is muscle memory for what comes after it. The same logic runs through informal education. A free evening tuition circle for children whose government school has forty students to a teacher is, on Nayak's terms, patching a hole the state cut. It is also, simultaneously, something the state audit will never capture: a demonstration, repeated thousands of times across thousands of neighbourhoods, that knowledge does not require a fee, a rank or a market credential to be transmitted — that teaching is a thing neighbours can simply do for each other. Kerala's mass literacy campaigns of the 1980s were volunteer-run, politically organised, and explicitly framed by their organisers not as charity but as a rehearsal for a more democratic distribution of knowledge; they are widely credited with reshaping the state's own subsequent commitments. The volunteering did not let the state off the hook. It changed what citizens believed the state — and themselves — were capable of, which is a precondition for the hook ever being applied. 05  NATURE, RESTORED IN COMMON, IS A REHEARSAL FOR PROPERTY UNDONE Environmental volunteering draws a particularly sharp version of Nayak's charge: the corporate “tree-plantation day,” timed for the annual sustainability report, is almost a parody of extractive volunteering — a fossil-fuel-adjacent company photographing its interns beside saplings that a monitoring report six months later will quietly note as mostly dead. This is worth naming with contempt, not softened language. It is greenwashing with a spade. But set beside it a different practice: a Sundarbans village collectively restoring a mangrove belt that a shrimp-farming lease had stripped, using traditional knowledge of which species hold a riverbank against a cyclone, governing the replanted commons through a village council rather than a forest department, and defending it, later, against the next lease application. This is not volunteering in Nayak's sense at all — there is no employer, no CSR budget, no résumé line. It is commoning: the direct, collective re-assertion that a resource belongs to the community that depends on it and not to whoever holds the paper title. Every hectare restored this way is simultaneously an ecological repair and a small, concrete defeat for the enclosure logic that produced the degradation in the first place — a logic that is, at bottom, the same logic Nayak is indicting. This is the pattern across the domain: river-cleaning volunteering organised by and for a fishing community that depends on the river is not the same act, dressed differently, as a bank's staff photographed picking up plastic for an afternoon. The first builds a durable local capacity for self-governance of a shared resource — the precise capacity that a genuinely post-capitalist ecology would require everywhere, at scale. The second builds a slide for an annual report. Confusing them, in either direction, empties the word “volunteering” of the only meaning worth arguing about. 06  CARING FOR THE SICK: DECOMMODIFYING THE BODY Nowhere is the market's colonisation of human need more complete than in health, and nowhere, correspondingly, is solidarity-based volunteering more politically charged. A community health worker network — trained volunteers who monitor pregnant women, manage basic chronic-disease follow-up, and connect the acutely ill to formal care across the last mile that ambulances and clinics cannot reach — does not simply fill a staffing gap, though it does that too. It re-establishes, in practice, the proposition that a person's survival should not depend on their capacity to pay: the single proposition the market in health care exists to deny. Every hour spent this way is doubly subversive. It denies the insurance industry, the private hospital chain and the pharmaceutical distributor a transaction that would otherwise have occurred, or would otherwise have gone unmet and become a statistic. And it demonstrates — to the volunteer, to the patient, to everyone watching — that care is a thing human beings are simply able to give each other directly, without a bill. This is precisely the demonstration that a market order most needs suppressed, because markets survive on the manufactured belief that need can only be met through exchange. Every unpaid hour of nursing a neighbour is a small, stubborn refutation of that belief, repeated until it becomes, again, common sense. This is not to romanticise the exhaustion of volunteer caregivers, disproportionately women, who are too often expected to absorb infinite unpaid emotional and physical labour precisely because it is naturalised as “what women do.” That exploitation is real, and any serious politics of care volunteering must name and resist it as sharply as it resists corporate CSR — through rotation, through collective rather than individual burden, through refusing the guilt-trip that keeps any one person's labour infinite. Insurgent mutual aid that reproduces gendered exploitation is not insurgent. It is merely extraction with a different manager. 07  FOUR CONDITIONS THAT SEPARATE INSURGENCY FROM CAPTURE If the same physical act — feeding, teaching, healing, restoring — can be either a subsidy to capital or a rehearsal for its supersession, the difference cannot be found in the act itself. It has to be found in how the act is organised. Four conditions, drawn from the movements that have actually managed to hold this line — the Zapatista health promoters, Cooperation Jackson's solidarity economy in Mississippi, the Rojava communes, Kerala's literacy volunteers, India's own community-forest movements — mark the border. First, horizontal governance. The people served must also govern the effort — deciding what is needed, how it is run, who is accountable — rather than receiving a service designed elsewhere by a donor, a board or a corporate CSR committee. The moment a funder's priorities override a community's own, the effort has re-entered extractive territory regardless of anyone's intentions. Second, refusal of NGO-isation. This is the hardest and most counter-intuitive condition, because NGO status brings real resources. But registered-charity dependence on donor cycles reliably re-imposes donor priorities, donor timelines and donor-legible metrics — the precise machinery Nayak's critique is describing — onto what began as autonomous solidarity. Movements that have held their edge longest are the ones that diversified funding away from any single institutional donor, kept a base of dues-paying or barter-contributing members, or simply stayed small and federated rather than scaling into a single fundable organisation. Third, explicit politicisation. A feeding programme that never discusses why people are hungry will, almost by default, drift into the charity logic the critique condemns — because charity, unlike solidarity, does not require an analysis of causes, only of symptoms. The mutual-aid tradition that has actually built power has always paired the material act with political education: the Black Panther Party's free breakfast programme was never separable from the political meetings that surrounded it; Kerala's literacy volunteers were, to a person, also cadre of a mass political movement. Depoliticised service is charity in solidarity's clothing. Fourth, federation over scale. Extractive volunteering wants to scale — bigger NGOs, bigger CSR budgets, more standardised metrics — because scale is what makes it fundable and fundability is what makes it controllable from above. Insurgent mutual aid should not try to become one large organisation; it should try to become ten thousand small, similar, loosely federated ones, sharing method and solidarity but retaining local governance. A single large structure can be captured, regulated, or defunded in one stroke. Ten thousand small ones, linked by shared practice rather than shared hierarchy, cannot. 08  THE HONEST OBJECTIONS, ANSWERED RATHER THAN BURIED Three objections deserve to be met head-on rather than waved away. The first: doesn't even insurgent mutual aid still let the state avoid its obligations, whatever its internal politics? Partially, yes — any unmet need that gets met by anyone, anywhere, marginally reduces the immediate political pressure for state provision. But the alternative is not a choice between mutual aid and state provision; in the world as it actually exists, for the hundreds of millions the state has already abandoned, the choice is between mutual aid and nothing. Refusing to feed a hungry child today because feeding her might theoretically delay a parliamentary reform is not solidarity. It is a wager placed with someone else's hunger. The second: is “war of position” simply a comforting story that lets the Left avoid ever confronting power directly? It can become that, and often has — this is a real risk, not a straw man. The safeguard is not to abandon institution-building but to insist, as a matter of discipline, on the fourth condition above: politicisation. Mutual aid that never names the system it is compensating for, never links its members into wider movements, and never uses its accumulated trust and organisation to support strikes, land defence, or electoral and legal fights when those openings appear, has indeed gone soft. The war of position is not pacifism; it is patience with a purpose — the purpose being to arrive, eventually, at moments of genuine confrontation with a base that is organised, fed, educated and healthy enough to hold the line, rather than exhausted, isolated and dependent. The third, and the sharpest: can this really add up to “all-out social change,” or is it destined to remain a thousand admirable local projects that never dent the aggregate structure of capital? Here the honest answer is that scale and time are doing real work in the argument, and the case would be dishonest to pretend otherwise. No single feeding programme or river-restoration project transforms a national economy. But counter-hegemony has never worked by single projects; it works by density and duration — enough parallel institutions, sustained over enough decades, that they begin to constitute a genuine alternative infrastructure that people can step into, exactly as neoliberalism itself did not win in a single election but through fifty years of capturing universities, courts, media and common sense before it ever captured a parliament. There is no guarantee this works faster, or works at all. There is only the observation that it is, at present, the only lever within reach that is not already broken in our hands. 09  THE 10X ASK: FROM SCATTERED KINDNESS TO PARALLEL INFRASTRUCTURE What would it mean to take this seriously at ten times the current scale, rather than as a scattering of admirable local exceptions? It would mean treating solidarity infrastructure — food networks, tutoring circles, community health worker corps, commons-restoration collectives — not as a supplement to political organising but as its foundation and its training ground: the place where a movement's actual base is built, tested and trusted, long before any ballot, strike or negotiation. It would mean federating these efforts deliberately across regions and issues, so that a mangrove-restoration collective in the Sundarbans and a free-tutoring circle in a northern industrial town and a community health-worker network in a drought belt understand themselves as nodes of a single, if loosely joined, project — sharing method, mutual reinforcement and, when the moment calls for it, coordinated action — rather than as unconnected acts of individual virtue. It would mean measuring success not by the donor-legible metrics that extractive volunteering optimises for — beneficiaries served, hours logged, photographs taken — but by the metrics that matter to the war of position: how many people have directly experienced provisioning without a market, how many local leaders have been trained who owe nothing to any funder, how resilient the network proves the next time a state or corporate actor tries to co-opt, license or shut it down. And it would mean an unsentimental honesty about the difference this essay has tried to hold onto throughout: that showing up is not, by itself, virtuous, that the same gesture can subsidise the machine or undermine it depending entirely on who governs it and why, and that the volunteer who wants to matter has to ask not only “am I helping?” but the harder question Nayak's critique forces into the open — “helping whom, on whose terms, and toward what world?front” Capitalism, as the original critique rightly says, is extremely good at monetising even our best impulses. But it is good at that only when those impulses remain individual, depoliticised and institutionally captured. Organised differently — horizontally, politically, federally, at scale, over time — the same impulse to feed a stranger, teach a child, nurse the sick and restore a river becomes something capitalism has never yet learned to buy back: a population that has already, in practice, unlearned its dependence on capitalism to meet the most basic facts of a human life. That unlearning, repeated across enough kitchens, classrooms, clinics and riverbanks for long enough, is not a substitute for revolution. In an age when the old revolution's tools have been taken out of our hands, it may be the only version of one still standing.HASHTAGS #Volunteering  #MutualAid  #SocialChange  #Capitalism  #Solidarity  #WarOfPosition  #Commons  #CivilSociety  #DualPower  #Gramsci  #ClimateAction  #FoodJustice  #CommunityHealth  #EnvironmentalRestoration  #EvolutionarySocialChange ...Read more