Some months back, I visited a village in Badin, Sindh, and there I met Ghulam Rasool, an old farmer. Sitting in the shade of a neem tree, he looked at his empty fields, his wrinkled face marked with hopelessness. “There was a time when this land was fertile with wheat and sugarcane,” he told me. “Now, the water has dried up, and we are left at the mercy of nature.”
His tale is not exceptional. Throughout Sindh, thousands of farmers are confronted with the same dire situation— once prosperous fields turned into parched, barren land. The Indus River, Pakistan’s agricultural backbone, no longer reaches them as it used to. Water shortages have become an existential threat, driven by upstream canals siphoning off Sindh’s rightful share.
The Indus has supported Pakistan’s agriculture for centuries, and it supplies almost 90 pervent of the nation’s food. But its distribution, especially between Punjab and Sindh, has been a point of contention for centuries. Those who support canal construction say that these projects are necessary for irrigation and food supply. But for Sindh, these projects have come at a catastrophic price, and farmers find themselves unable to produce even the simplest crops.
The war over water reaches back to ancient canal systems but increased after India and Pakistan agreed to the Indus Waters Treaty (1960) and provinces signed the Water Apportionment Accord (1991), both of which were intended for equitable distribution, but Sindh has consistently protested that Punjab overshoots. The Chashma-Jhelum Link Canal and Greater Thal Canal are significant diversions that have effectively cut Sindh’s water down. According to Sindh’s Irrigation Department, Punjab extracts up to 6,000 cusecs of water during low-flow periods— water Sindh’s farmers desperately need.
The implications are severe. Sindh is threatened with as much as a 35 percent shortage of water in the Kharif season (April–September), paralyzing agricultural production. The Sindh Abadgar Board warns wheat production alone may decline by 40 percent if the situation persists. Once-productive fields now stand cracked and empty, while thousands of farming families, who have worked this land for generations, are being driven into poverty.
The moment to act is now— before the tensions between provinces worsen, before still more land is desiccated, before the backbone of Pakistan’s agricultural economy breaks beyond restoration. An equitable and sustainable water policy is not only required but is the only course open to us.
In addition to human misery, the environmental cost is staggering. Pakistan’s most vital ecosystem, the Indus Delta, is fast crumbling as a result of unregulated water diversion. Increased salinity, erosion, and desertification have converted what were once fertile wetlands into wastelands. According to a World Wildlife Fund report, at least 10 million acre-feet of water needs to be let into the delta in order to halt further collapse. Mangrove forest loss and fishery decline have already compelled most coastal communities to relinquish traditional ancestral fishing practices.
This is not merely a national crisis— it is an international water law violation, which respects the rights of lower riparian states. Punjab’s over-draw has put Sindh in a progressively weakened position, especially during the Rabi season (October–March) when river flows are lowest. A 2022 report by the Indus River System Authority verified Punjab drew more than its share, further emphasizing the need for more stringent regulation.
The answer is not additional canals but water management in a sustainable way. Rather than additional diversions, Pakistan needs to invest in new irrigation methods like drip irrigation and laser land leveling, which have been able to change the face of agriculture in water-short nations. IRSA needs to implement real-time monitoring and satellite tracking to prevent illegal diversions. Above all, the Council of Common Interests needs to ensure honest, open discussion between provinces so that water can be distributed in a fair manner.
As I departed Ghulam Rasool’s village that afternoon, I couldn’t help but remember his empty fields— land that had supported generations now nothing but dust. If Pakistan doesn’t act, many more farmers will suffer his fate. This is not a policy discussion; it is a struggle for survival. Sindh’s farmers are not seeking handouts; they are insisting on their fair share of the river that has supported them for centuries.
The moment to act is now— before the tensions between provinces worsen, before still more land is desiccated, before the backbone of Pakistan’s agricultural economy breaks beyond restoration. An equitable and sustainable water policy is not only required but is the only course open to us.
