Bengaluru faces a paradoxical situation: during the monsoons, roads frequently flood, while many lakes remain dry. This occurs because rainwater is unable to follow the paths it used for centuries.
For former army officer Captain Santosh Kumar, this contrast demanded an explanation. He questioned why, if the city receives enough rainfall to flood areas, that water does not reach the lakes. The answer lay in the forgotten network of Raja Kaluves—ancient canals buried beneath roads, buildings, and decades of urban expansion.
These old canals previously directed rainwater from one lake to another, preventing floods and replenishing the city's water reserves.
Captain Santosh, who retired from the Army in 2008 and returned to Mutanallur in the Anakal district, began his investigation. Initially, he discovered that water was being illegally drawn from lakes in Anakal for commercial fuel supply. However, this only explained part of the decline in the water bodies.
Between 2017 and 2019, he documented the lakes and stormwater drains across the district. A pattern emerged: the lakes were drying up because the canals feeding them had been encroached upon, built over, or buried under concrete.
For centuries, the Bengaluru lakes functioned as a single interconnected system. Over five hundred years ago, according to the Kempe Gowda town planning scheme, the Raja Kaluves channeled rainwater through the city's natural valleys. Water moved between lakes, slowing surface runoff, recharging groundwater, and reducing the risk of flooding. When these connections disappeared, rainwater began accumulating on streets and in residential areas.
Studying historical records, Captain Santosh found detailed British-era maps compiled in 1923. Following these maps, he traversed villages and neighborhoods, comparing old waterways with the modern landscape. He identified forgotten canals and documented sections blocked by construction and encroachment.
Examining the connection between Mutanallur Lake and Bidaraguppe Lake, he identified four historical Raja Kaluves. One of them had completely lost visible signs of its original purpose and had become an encroached piece of land. Captain Santosh collaborated with local residents to gather evidence and obtain permissions from the Department of Minor Irrigation and the Bengaluru Urban District Deputy Commissioner. Together, they restored nearly four kilometers of canal, connecting it to Battalakere Lake, which is a key link in this chain.
The next monsoon served as a test for the restoration work. Although neighboring areas flooded again, Mutanallur avoided inundation. The revived Raja Kaluve guided rainwater along its original route, directing it into connected lakes instead of roads and houses. This result reinforced Captain Santosh's belief that Bengaluru could restore a significant part of its resilience by reviving its inherited system.
He expanded this work to the entire Anakal district, helping to revive 14 ancient lakes. It is believed that many of these lakes are around 1000 years old, with some dating back to the reign of Rajaraja Chola I.
It is estimated that Bengaluru has 800 kilometers of stormwater drains, many of which have been altered due to rapid urbanization. Roads and buildings have spread over natural drainage paths, leaving rainwater with fewer safe routes to travel. In an interview with The Indian Express in 2022, Captain Santosh stated: 'Under natural conditions, rainwater either soaks into the soil or enters streams, lakes, and rivers. If we maintain these elements effectively, we will never face floods and disasters.'
Heavy rains and flooding have led to widespread destruction in the state of Assam. Currently, ten districts, including Jorhat, Tinsukia, and Dibrugarh, are affected by the flood.
As of now, over seven hundred thousand people have been forced to leave their homes. The flooding has submerged more than twenty-five thousand hectares of agricultural land, resulting in significant crop damage.
Mahatma Gandhi once observed: 'Nature provides enough to satisfy every man's needs, but not every man's greed.' These words are particularly relevant today along the rivers of India.
From Delhi to Mumbai, from Chennai to Hyderabad and Bangalore, the urban rivers of India exhibit similar problems. They have been narrowed, embanked, and then converted into channels for waste generated in rapidly growing cities. Rivers that once shaped settlements are now forced to exist by carrying sewage.
However, each river faces unique challenges. The Yamuna has lost a significant portion of its width due to floodplain encroachment and water diversion. A recent study showed that this river, which flows through northern and southern parts of the capital and is also known as the Kalindi, has shrunk by almost 68% over the last 220 years.
While the Yamuna struggles, the Sahibi River in the national capital has crossed a critical threshold and is in an ecologically degraded state, according to a report by the Central Water Committee of the Jal Shakti Ministry. Once an important seasonal river flowing through West Delhi, the Sahibi has gradually disappeared under the pressure of urban expansion. Today, most residents know it simply as the Najafgarh or Nala drain—a heavily polluted waterway carrying black sewage through the city.
Meanwhile, the Mithi River in Mumbai has turned into a stormwater drain overloaded by uncontrolled urban development. The Musi in Hyderabad and the Cooum in Chennai now carry far more sewage than fresh water, and the Vrishabhavathi in Bangalore has effectively become a municipal sewage channel.
Even the mighty Brahmaputra in the Northeast, which is relatively cleaner than most urban rivers, is steadily losing land due to constant erosion amid increasing climate change and urban pressure. Together, they reveal a common truth: Indian cities have grown at the expense of the space available to rivers.
No river illustrates this transformation as dramatically as the Yamuna. Researchers from Delhi University and the Indian Institute of Science Education and Research (IISER), Bhopal, found that the average width of the Yamuna in Delhi has shrunk by almost 68%: from approximately 658 meters in 1799 to about 210 meters today. Water flow has dropped by nearly 90%, mainly due to dams, canals, and water diversion projects.
Researchers also argue that the loss of floodplains has made Delhi more vulnerable to flooding. Embankments have restricted the river to an increasingly narrow channel, which helps explain why the capital experienced record floods in 2023 despite lower river flow than during the 1978 floods. The Yamuna has long held a central place in Delhi's political discourse. Every election brings new promises to clean the river, while opposition parties accuse each other of worsening its condition.
Despite repeated assurances, the river remains heavily polluted and is often described as being on the brink of biological death. Its condition cannot be ignored. Passing through Delhi, the Yamuna carries dark, contaminated water clogged with untreated waste. Downstream, it reaches Agra, where it flows near one of the world's greatest monuments—the Taj Mahal. The contrast between the immaculate marble monument and the foul-smelling river serves as an uncomfortable reminder of India's environmental problems.
For Mumbai, the floods of July 26, 2005, were a catastrophe, claiming over 500 lives and revealing that decades of urban expansion had reduced the Mithi River to 17.8 km. According to the Mumbai Metropolitan Region Development Authority (MMRDA), suburban development over the last 25 years has 'sharply deteriorated' the water quality in the river. Once an important natural channel for stormwater runoff, the Mithi now carries untreated sewage, industrial effluents, municipal waste, and silt.
Wetlands and floodplains have disappeared under roads, industrial zones, and the Bandra-Kurla complex. Construction has narrowed the river, reducing its capacity to handle monsoon floodwaters. Although the Municipal Corporation of Mumbai stated that expansion and retaining wall construction have doubled storage capacity and tripled throughput since 2005, officials admit that pollution remains the most serious problem. The Maharashtra Pollution Control Board identifies untreated sewage, industrial discharges, and solid waste as the main causes of the river's ongoing degradation.
The BMC and MMRDA have undertaken works to expand, deepen, remove silt, build retaining walls, and implement pollution control measures along the river. The country's largest municipal body, the BMC, reported that retaining wall construction is nearly complete, while the MMRDA is implementing a sewage interception project and a pilot odor control project aimed at improving dissolved oxygen and reducing pollution. Renewed efforts to remove silt and combat illegal land grabbing have also been reported following an alleged silt removal scandal.
The Musi perhaps tells the clearest story of a river losing its natural identity. The Telangana government's Musi Waterfront Development Corporation stated that the river now flows 'almost dry' through Hyderabad because upstream reservoirs, watershed degradation, and urban encroachment have drastically reduced natural flows. What remains is mostly sewage.
The Union Ministry of Environment classifies sections of the Musi among India's 'priority polluted river stretches,' and the Jal Shakti Ministry reported that four treatment plants with a total capacity of 593 million liters per day have been created under the National River Conservation Plan. Nevertheless, untreated sewage continues to enter the river through numerous nalas or drains as Hyderabad continues to expand and transform into a full-fledged metropolis. The state is now proposing a 55 km waterfront restoration project focused on complete sewage interception, ecological restoration, and flood management, acknowledging that beautification alone cannot revive a river whose main problem is pollution.
The story of the Cooum is no less alarming. The river, which is about 65 km long, once supported transport and recreation before being overwhelmed by Chennai's urban growth. Government data presented in parliamentary records indicates a Biochemical Oxygen Demand (BOD) level in the Cooum of 105 mg/liter—one of the highest for urban rivers in India. Healthy water bodies usually have a BOD below 3 mg/liter.
Under the National River Conservation Plan, projects worth ₹404.25 crore have created 264 million liters per day of treatment capacity through four sewage treatment plants, according to the Ministry of Environment. However, this project includes both the Cooum and the Adyar rivers. Nevertheless, untreated sewage from the Cooum continues to enter the river through numerous drains. An audit by the Comptroller and Auditor General noted that Tamil Nadu itself described the Cooum as an 'urban sewer collector due to the discharge of municipal and industrial waste.'
The Chennai River Restoration Trust has cleared encroached areas, relocated thousands of families, and restored areas near Island Grounds. But officials continue to acknowledge that preventing sewage inflow remains a key challenge.
If the Musi of Hyderabad resembles an open drain, the Vrishabhavathi of Bangalore has effectively become one. The Central Pollution Control Board describes the river as a 'drain for domestic and industrial sewage.' The river, before joining the Arkavathi after flowing into the Biramangala reservoir, carries a significant portion of Bangalore's treated and untreated sewage downstream.
The CPCB has repeatedly urged Karnataka authorities to strengthen sewage treatment, improve industrial effluent management, and protect floodplains. Heavy rains often wash garbage and plastic downstream. Residents near Bidadi complained that after every heavy rain, trucks carrying Bangalore waste accumulate around the bridges. The river illustrates how pollution generated in one city increasingly affects communities far beyond municipal boundaries.
The Brahmaputra also feeds some of the fastest-growing urban centers in the Northeast. From Dibrugarh to the bustling metropolis of Guwahati, cities have grown and continue to expand along the banks of the mighty river. Unlike India's urban rivers, the biggest problem with the Brahmaputra is not just sewage. It is erosion.
Every year, villages, agricultural lands, and public infrastructure disappear as one of the world's largest braided rivers changes its course. Recognizing the scale of the problem, the World Bank and the Asian Development Bank signed a $200 million agreement in 2024 to strengthen flood and erosion management along 650 km of the river in Assam. Assamese government documents describe erosion as one of the state's biggest development challenges. Protective works continue around vulnerable areas like Majuli, and future planning increasingly relies on satellite imagery, GIS mapping, and hydrological modeling.
Although pollution levels remain significantly lower than in India's megacities, officials warn that urbanization and untreated sewage around cities like Guwahati are becoming a growing concern. The Brahmaputra demonstrates that shrinking rivers are not always linked to pollution. Sometimes rivers lose land, and people lose homes. The relentless erosion and annual floods of the Brahmaputra continue to threaten millions in the Northeast. Fed by abundant monsoon rains, the river frequently overflows its banks, leaving large parts of the region flooded.
If the Ganges is India's most revered river, it is also one of the most stressed. Flowing through some of the country's fastest-growing cities, including Haridwar, Kanpur, Prayagraj, Varanasi, Patna, and Kolkata, the Ganges faces a different problem. Unlike the Yamuna, its main burden is industrial pollution, exacerbated by religious offerings, ritual waste, human remains, and huge crowds gathering during events like the Maha Kumbh.
Revered for centuries as 'Maa Ganga' and celebrated as a symbol of purity, the Ganges is now among the most polluted waterways in the world. The river is increasingly becoming a victim of urban expansion, pollution, and the reduction of natural floodplains. As cities grow, the Ganges' floodplains are steadily disappearing under roads, residential settlements, commercial properties, and embankment structures. These encroachments have narrowed the river's natural corridor, reducing its ability to flood during the monsoon, replenish groundwater, and sustain wetlands.
Pollution remains the river's biggest issue. Despite significant investments under the Namami Gange program, untreated sewage from expanding urban centers continues to enter the river through hundreds of drains. Industrial effluents, especially from tanneries, sugar mills, distilleries, and textile units, increase the pollution load, although regulatory enforcement has improved in recent years. During the dry season, reduced ecological flow due to dams and water diversion further limits the river's ability to dilute pollutants. Large-scale restoration efforts have expanded sewage treatment capacity, intercepted drains, and improved embankment infrastructure in several cities. Nevertheless, government assessments continue to emphasize that engineering projects alone are insufficient to revive the Ganges.
At the Tollygunge tram depot, among aging carriages that have witnessed the city's changes, carriage No. 201 draws particular attention. It is ready for service and instantly recognizable to film enthusiasts. In the classic 1966 Indian film 'Baharein Phir Bhi Aayengi,' the tram glides across Maidan Square during the song 'Suno Suno Miss Chatterjee,' becoming an integral part of the frame alongside the actors.
However, carriage No. 201 has another history. It was not originally built for Kolkata; it previously ran on the streets of Bombay. When the western metropolis dismantled its tram system in the 1960s, the Calcutta Tramways Company acquired several of its carriages, including No. 201. After six decades, it awaits a new chapter that may finally arrive.
For the first time in many years, hope has emerged in the city for the restoration of tram routes. One of the first transport declarations of the new Bengal government was the decision to revive the city's tram network. This represents a sharp departure from the policy of the previous administration, which systematically abolished routes, filled in tracks, and reduced the system to a few historical services.
The government has already engaged RITES (Rail India Technical and Economic Service) to develop a detailed plan for reviving the oldest operating tram system in the Asia-Pacific region. Transport Minister Arjun Singh emphasized that this plan is not merely symbolic. 'The restoration of the tram was promised by no one other than our Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Therefore, it is not just an obligation; it is one of our highest priorities,' stated Singh.
The plans go beyond preserving nostalgia. 'In addition to restoring historic trams, we are exploring the possibility of using battery-operated trams that can function without overhead electric wires. This will allow us to expand the tram network into new areas while maintaining the city's historical appearance,' he added.
Among the government's more ambitious proposals is the creation of a tram corridor connecting two major pilgrimage centers in Bengal—Kalighat and Dakshineswar—along the banks of the Ganges and Adi Ganga. If this project is realized, it could become one of India's most picturesque urban transport corridors.
Kolkata's history is inextricably linked to the history of its trams. Long before the metro changed city travel, trams shaped the geography, economy, and neighborhoods of the city. The first horse-drawn tram began running on February 24, 1873, covering only 3.9 km between Armenian Ghat and Sealdah. The goal was to connect the port city of Kolkata with the rapidly developing railway network. Armenian Ghat even had a ticket counter for trains to Howrah.
A real revolution occurred in 1902 when Kolkata introduced electric traction, replacing horsepower with electricity generated at its own power station in Nonapukur. This marked the beginning of one of the earliest urban electric transport systems in the world.
Another important milestone happened in 1943 when the new Howrah Bridge—later named Rabindra Setu—opened to traffic, and the first public transport vehicle allowed to cross it was the tram. By the 1950s, Kolkata's tram lines reached their peak. Nearly 470 trams transported about 410 million passengers annually, making the tram the backbone of the city's public transport system.
Tram historians argue that the decline was never inevitable. According to tram researcher Sagnik Gupta, successive planning decisions gradually separated the network from the areas generating the highest passenger traffic. The first serious obstacle arose in the 1970s when tram access to Sealdah was cut off during the construction of the Sealdah flyover.
The Howrah terminal closed in the early 1990s, with authorities claiming that heavy steel-bodied trams could negatively affect the bridge—an explanation that tram experts continue to dispute. The Ballygunge-Gariahat link disappeared, and several Howrah routes, including Bandhakat and Shibpur, were closed. Later, the Behala-Joka line was isolated after the construction of the Taratala flyover and eventually closed.
Mahadev Shi, a tram enthusiast and film director, noted: 'Every closure reduced passenger flow, which in turn was used as justification for further closures.' The last major investments were made in the 1980s when the World Bank supported modernization worth 46.2 crore rupees. Seventy-five new trams were built, 60 repaired, and over 100 modernized, but the momentum faded.
Despite decades of neglect, Kolkata's tram tracks possess something unique. Many of its wooden carriages are over a century old and remain operational—an engineering achievement unparalleled in the world. Debasis Bhattacharya, president of the Calcutta Tramways Users Association (CTUA), spent over three decades fighting to preserve this network.
He expressed joy: 'I am delighted that the government wants to revive the tram. At one point, we almost lost hope because the tracks were being covered with bitumen, despite court orders. Successive governments paralyzed the tram, restricted passenger access, and then declared it unviable.'
The turning point was the appeal by citizens, environmentalists, and tram lovers to the Calcutta High Court through numerous public lawsuits. The bench, presided over by T. S. Sivagnanam, halted the asphalt paving of the tram tracks and established an expert committee to prepare recommendations for revival. This legal step preserved the possibility of wide-scale restoration, according to Pradeep Kakkar of People United for Better Living in Calcutta (PUBLIC).
Proponents argue that bringing back the tram is not just about preserving a museum exhibit, but about creating a sustainable transport system for the future. Kolkata's experience can be useful outside of Bengal. As metro networks expand, Indian cities still require clean, high-capacity transport for short intra-city journeys. Modern trams can act as feeders, carrying more passengers than buses, and operating without local emissions. The revival of Kolkata can serve as an example for other Indian cities.
International experts agree with this view. Roberto D'Andrea, a former tram conductor from Melbourne who organized the Tramjatra cultural exchange festival between Melbourne and Kolkata since 1996, called this proposal 'the biggest transport news of 2026.' He believes that 'Kolkata should not just preserve its tram; it should expand it. The tram... can play an important role in combating climate change.'
Environmentalists hold a similar view. Vinay Jadhu from SwitchON Foundation believes that low-carbon public transport combined with infrastructure for bicycles and pedestrians offers cities one of the most effective responses to both climate change and urban pollution. Legal environmentalist Rittik Dutta from Legal Initiative for Forest and Environment (LIFE) cites London's experience as a warning. London abandoned its electric trams in 1952 in favor of diesel buses. Just a few months later, the city faced the catastrophic Great Smog—a disaster many historians believe was exacerbated by rising transport emissions.
Dutta argues: 'Scrapping the tram in Kolkata would be a very costly mistake.'
For decades, the Kolkata tram was a symbol of decline—a slow mode of transport displaced by faster roads, flyovers, and buses. However, history has an unusual way of returning. Cities around the world that once dismantled tram lines are now restoring them as eco-friendly mass transit systems. Modern tram networks have appeared in cities such as Paris, Sydney, Dubai, and Shenzhen.
Kolkata, notably, never completely lost its trams; it simply let them pass into the past. Now, as the world's oldest operating electric tram system at 153 years old, it may finally get the second chance it has long awaited.
If the government's plans are implemented, tram No. 201 may leave the Tollygunge depot again—no longer just a relic from a classic film, but a symbol of a city regaining one of its greatest gifts.
