By Engineer Arshad H Abbasi

This op-ed explores the urgent need to safeguard the Chenab River’s fragile ecosystem, threatened by rampant hydropower expansion and accelerating climate change in the Himalayan region.

A serious oversight is unfolding in Pakistan. While the nation focuses solely on India’s activities concerning the Indus, Chenab, and Jhelum Rivers, a potentially more pressing issue goes unnoticed. The Ministry of Water and Power appears to limit its concern to Indian-occupied Kashmir, overlooking developments beyond that region. This narrow geographical focus raises concerns about the ministry’s understanding of the rivers it is responsible for safeguarding.

For those who remain oblivious, let this sink in: the Chenab River, poetically known as the Moon River, flows for 130 kilometers through Himachal Pradesh, a region that holds just a small fraction—7,500 square kilometers—of its total 61,000 square kilometers basin. Yet, in this relatively small region, Himachal Pradesh is ruthlessly constructing, implementing, and planning 49 hydroelectric projects on the Chenab. The tragic reality does not end here. Rivers like the Sutlej, Beas, and Ravi, along with their smaller tributaries, have already been dammed into submission. The Chenab, South Asia’s last relatively free-flowing and thriving river, is now under siege.

And what lies ahead? If these hydroelectric projects are completed as planned, the Chenab will be reduced to a lifeless trickle, less than 10% of its flow visible to the world. Dams are being built in relentless succession, one after the other, leaving no room for the river to breathe. Water from one hydro project no longer meets the river; instead, it pours into the reservoir of the next. What was once a vibrant, living river is being transformed into a series of stagnant puddles and barren stretches, bypassed entirely by tunnels.

The consequences of this brutal transformation are nothing short of catastrophic. Devastating impacts will be felt on the ecology, biodiversity, hydrology, and even the livelihoods and water availability of countless communities. This is not just the death of a river; it is the silencing of life itself in the region.

The Indus Water Treaty, once a beacon of hope, now seems a distant memory. The Chenab, classified as a ‘Western River,’ was meant to flow free and unencumbered. Yet, dams and hydroelectric projects have already choked its waters in the Indian Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir and Pakistan. Now, its last free-flowing stretch in Himachal Pradesh is under siege.

As the squabbles over water-sharing intensify, we forget the Chenab’s true essence. It is a river of love, a symbol of union and devotion. Its waters have brought together faiths, languages, and cultures, weaving a rich tapestry of life. Its origin is a sacred mandala in Buddhist texts, a meeting place of lovers in Hindu lore. Its fish sanctuaries protect the endangered, and its shrines welcome all.

The poet Mohan Singh once wrote, “Ganga makes Gods, Yamuna makes goddesses, but it takes the waters of Chenab to make a Lover.” Today, we stand at the crossroads, torn between progress and preservation. Shall we sacrifice the Chenab’s beauty and life at the altar of development, or shall we find a way to preserve its essence, its spirit, and its life-giving waters? The choice is ours, and the fate of the Chenab hangs in the balance.

Thanks to India’s environmentalists and climate change experts for unveiling crucial details about the region’s ecological challenges. They have exposed that as early as the 2011–2012 budget, India’s Ministry of Water Resources allocated funds to prepare a detailed design for linking the Chenab River with the Beas River through the Gyspa Dam. This ambitious plan includes the construction of a 23-kilometer-long concrete tunnel connecting the Chenab to Solong Nala. These experts have shown unwavering dedication to transforming Himachal Pradesh into a sustainable, eco-friendly state while safeguarding the Himalayas for future generations—a stark contrast to certain NGOs in Pakistan, who seem to trade their principles for minimal gain.

https://sdpi.org/revisiting-indus-water-treaty-can-help-pak-india/news_detail

I have raised the concern to the Government of Pakistan time and again: “This project will inflict a far greater blow to our water rights than prior violations such as the Baglihar, Kishanganga, and Ratle projects by India. If allowed to materialise, this will represent the most egregious act of water theft in history.” The tender for the Gyspa Dam’s detailed design, with its one million acre-feet live storage capacity on a river vital to Pakistan, was floated as early as October 2009.

https://www.thenews.com.pk/archive/print/632368-india-plans-to-grab-more-pak-water-as-rulers-look-on

Meanwhile, NGOs and retired diplomats who amplify India’s narrative under the guise of climate change fail to grasp the magnitude of the catastrophe. How do I make them understand that the glaciers feeding the Chenab’s headwaters are vanishing at an alarming rate? Like much of the Himalayas, these glaciers are succumbing to the relentless impacts of climate change. Over the past six decades, the region has warmed by over 1.14°C, and in just the last 25 years, the glacier-covered area of the Chenab basin has shrunk by 23 square kilometers. Indian scientists—not Pakistani ones—warn that by the end of this century, only 50–52% of the glaciers in the basin will remain.

It is now a scientific fact that Bara Shigri Glacier, Himachal Pradesh’s largest and a feeder of the River Chandra, is retreating rapidly, with more than 60 glacial lakes now spreading across its surface (Prakash et al.). Similarly, the Mulkila group of glaciers, essential for feeding the River Bhaga, has experienced significant reductions in area, with deglaciation rates accelerating sharply. The Ghepan Gath Glacier, perched above the River Chandra and close to the shrine of Ghyepan Devta—a syncretic symbol of protection for the Lahaul Valley—has developed a lake that has expanded by an astonishing 178% over the past 30 years. Numerous glacial lakes across the basin are now at high risk of triggering Glacial Lake Outburst Floods (GLOFs), threatening the valleys below.

Yet amidst these ecological calamities, the Pakistan-based NGO, the retired diplomat, and even the Indian government fail to acknowledge another harsh truth: the aggressive development of infrastructure by the Indian Road Development Organisation. This expansion—far from solely for public welfare—is intended to confront China. The proliferation of airstrips, garrisons, and roads along the Chinese border is undeniable, and its environmental toll is immense.

This unchecked development has already left a trail of devastation in Himachal Pradesh. Flash floods have become a grim recurrence, tearing away fertile valley soils, crops, roads, and bridges. Villages like Lindur are cracking and subsiding as the glaciers beneath them melt. Water supplies have grown erratic, shattering centuries-old reliance on glacial springs as the region grapples with the consequences of a changing climate.

The brutal reality is this: the Himalayas, the Chenab basin, and the communities that depend on these fragile ecosystems are standing on the edge of irreversible collapse. Glaciers are retreating, rivers are being strangled by dams, valleys are sinking, and traditional ways of life are crumbling under the weight of so-called progress. This is no longer just a battle over water—it is a fight for survival itself. If this trajectory continues unchecked, what legacy will we leave for future generations?

May I appeal to the global community to address the alarming changes in land use in Himachal Pradesh? Large-scale deforestation, reckless hill-cutting, illegal development for defence purposes, unregulated mining, poor waste management, declining groundwater levels, biodiversity loss, and soil degradation have become matters of grave concern for the residents of the state. The rapid pace of defence-driven urbanisation has only added to the mounting environmental challenges.

The construction of hydropower projects, along with other large-scale development activities, has posed serious threats to the forests and natural resources of Himachal Pradesh. These projects have not only become major environmental hazards but have also disrupted the fragile ecosystem that defines this region.

However, there is hope. Strong voices in Himachal Pradesh are now calling for an end to these expansive hydropower developments. They are advocating for the adoption of solar and wind energy, which are not only 60% cheaper but also require significantly less time to implement. This shift to sustainable energy could help protect the region’s delicate environment.

Let us come together to protect the Himalayas and the Chenab River. If we fail to act now, how will we justify our inaction when faced with the ultimate reckoning? Let us work to preserve the classical heritage of stories like Heer Ranjha, Sohni Mahiwal, and Mirza Sahiban, which found their home along the banks of the Chenab. The time to act is now, for the sake of our environment, culture, and future.

We find ourselves at a critical juncture, torn between the inevitability of loss and the opportunity for preservation. Will we stand by as the Chenab is sacrificed on the altar of relentless development, its spirit extinguished forever? Let us resolutely declare: no more hydropower projects on the Chenab River in Himachal Pradesh. The Chenab’s fate teeters on a fragile edge, and with it hangs the destiny of all who draw life, purpose, and refuge from its sacred waters.

By Engineer Arshad H Abbasi

The author can be contacted at ahabasi@gmail.com

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and reflect their personal opinions. They are not intended to represent the views of any organization or entity with which the author may be affiliated.