By Engineer Arshad H. Abbasi India's canal expansion plan sparks water war fears as Pakistan warns of treaty violation and agricultural collapse. On May 16th, five Reuters journalists revealed a grim and deeply troubling report: India is allegedly considering a drastic measure to curtail Pakistan’s water supply by expanding the Indus River infrastructure. At the heart of this alarming development is a proposal to double the length of the Ranbir Canal on the River Chenab—from its current 60 kilometers to a staggering 120 kilometers. This move appears to be a calculated strategy to choke the vital flow of water from the Indus Basin to Pakistan, a lifeline for millions downstream. Is India’s action essentially an open declaration of its intent to unilaterally revoke the Indus Waters Treaty? With plans to increase the canal’s water-carrying capacity from 40 cubic meters per second (1,400 cusecs) to 150 cubic meters per second (5,300 cusecs), this initiative could deal a devastating blow to Pakistan’s water reserves. Simple calculations underscore the scale of the potential loss: the average flow in the Chenab River where the canal originates is approximately 28,000 cusecs. By diverting such a significant volume, Pakistan’s water supply from the Chenab could plummet by nearly 20%. Quantitatively, this translates to an annual loss exceeding 5 million acre-feet (MAF) of water—valued at an estimated $10 billion on the global market. Such a reduction would not only deplete Pakistan’s already-stressed water resources but also devastate Punjab province, the nation’s agricultural heartland. Punjab, which contributes 68% of Pakistan’s annual food grain production, stands on the precipice of an agricultural and economic disaster. While India has long utilized the Ranbir Canal—a 19th-century irrigation channel predating the 1960 Indus Waters Treaty (IWT)—such a significant expansion raises serious questions about compliance with the treaty’s limitations. Annexure C of the IWT...

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...

CRSS is dedicated to delivering the finest unbiased, professional technical and legal analysis regarding the suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty. Our mission is not only to offer opinions but also to provide historical context and reports aimed at reinstating this landmark treaty, which once symbolized peace between two hostile nuclear powers. Our center will be glad to address all your queries. The announcement came like a knell, a cold and calculated stroke that severed the lifeline of hope. India declared the immediate suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty, a cornerstone of fragile peace between the two nations entangled in history’s barbed wire. The pronouncement, delivered by the steely voice of the Minister of Water Resources, C.R. Patil, left no room for ambiguity: “We will ensure that not even a drop of water from the Indus Rivers System goes to Pakistan.” For those who had clung to the faint possibility of reconciliation, it was more than a statement; it was the collapse of reason itself. It reduced decades of negotiations, treaties, and hopes to rubble. Among the broken aspirations was the vision of one solitary figure who had spent over a decade striving to turn the Siachen Glacier into a Peace Park, a sanctuary where hostility might thaw alongside the ice. Yet, even this glacier, occupied and melting at an unforgiving pace since 1982, now mirrors the unyielding stubbornness of human conflict. What could have been a beacon of reconciliation now lies as barren and battered as the treaty that has been discarded. The implications of this grim promise are staggering. The Indus River Basin, a lifeline for millions in Pakistan, will face catastrophic consequences if India follows through. This basin, with its annual flow of 122 to 150 million acre-feet, tells a bitter truth: 35% of the Indus’s waters, 55% of the Jhelum’s, and nearly all of the Chenab’s originate from Indian-controlled catchments. These rivers, vital to agriculture, energy, and livelihoods,...

By Shahana Naseer Pakistan has been a major refuge for Afghan refugees, hosting millions over the years. The influx began with over a million Afghans fleeing to Pakistan after the 1979 Soviet invasion, followed by subsequent waves of refugees. Recently, the Taliban's takeover in 2021 led to another wave of migration, with many Afghans seeking refuge in Pakistan due to the Taliban's policies. Pakistan's approach to Afghan refugees evolved from initial hospitality to increasing hostility, fueled by security concerns and geopolitical tensions, especially after the TTP’s attack in Chitral in September 2023. The Pakistani government has intensified its operations to deport foreign nationals residing illegally in the country, with a particular focus on Afghan residents. Afghan migrant deportations occurred in two phases: first, forced deportations of unregistered migrants in 2023, followed by a phase targeting Citizen Card holders, who were required to leave Pakistan by April 1, 2025. International Organization of Migration (IOM) data reveals that, from September 15 2023 to April 2025, 861763 Afghans have returned to Afghanistan. While Pakistan's efforts to document foreigners, including Afghan refugees, are legitimate given its social, economic, and security concerns. However, the current approach also sparks humanitarian crises, with reports of injustice and limited access to fundamental rights. Amid the ongoing deportation drive, concerns have emerged over the separation of family members. In some cases, one family member remains in Pakistan while others are detained or deported. According to a report by Dawn, the son-in-law of a man named Zaeenuddin has been placed in a detention center in Karachi, while his daughter remains outside. Zaeenuddin has appealed to authorities, requesting either the release of his son-in-law or the inclusion of his daughter in the deportation process, so the couple can return to Afghanistan together. Ghulam Hazrat, a 40-year-old Karachi...

By Arshad H Abbasi Is Pakistan’s relentless quest for nuclear capability the unifying thread binding its four provinces and three territories? Perhaps. Yet, as history and human experience whisper through the corridors of time, the truest and most enduring bond lies not in power, but in water. When shared with justice and wisdom, water emerges as a timeless force, weaving together the fabric of a nation with unmatched grace. Nature has generously bestowed upon Pakistan a symphony of interconnected rivers, a gift that transcends the divides of geography. The two main rivers of Balochistan, the Zhob and Kundar, carve their origins from its rugged heart, journeying onward to embrace the Gomal River in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KPK). Together, they flow toward the mighty Indus, a lifeline threading through Punjab and finally Sindh, where it breathes life into fields and communities. In the intricate choreography of rivers and canals, there lies a profound truth: nature, when nurtured and shared with equity, holds the power to bind the hearts of a nation. In these flowing waters, the spirit of unity finds its most enduring roots. The bond between provinces was further fortified in 1969, with the completion of the Pat Feeder Canal for Balochistan, a triumph that drew life from the Indus at the Guddu Barrage. As the largest irrigation project in Balochistan, the canal transformed the arid lands of Nasirabad and Jafarabad districts. Pakistan's irrigation history shines with this success story, which sparked agricultural prosperity and bridged Baluchistan’s socio-economic gap with the rest of the country, fostering shared growth. Buoyed by this success, the vision of the Kachhi Canal Project was born in 2002—a bold endeavor stretching over 500 kilometers, drawing water from the Taunsa Barrage on the Indus and channeling it deep into Balochistan. Designed to irrigate 720,000 acres of land, nearly triple the reach of the Pat Feeder Canal, this project held the promise of...

By Engineer Arshad H Abbasi The Indus River, ancient and indomitable, courses through the veins of a region steeped in millennia of history and myth, binding what is now Pakistan with a force far greater than any political alliance or nuclear arsenal. It is the sublime river of time, shaping civilizations and eroding the conceits of transient powers. From its formation 50 million years ago to the rise of Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro, the Indus has been the silent witness to humanity’s shared destiny, its waters a mirror reflecting the continuity of cultural and linguistic heritage. In Sindh, protests now erupt—leaders of nationalist movements, lawyers, poets, and students join their voices in lamentation over the proposed canals that threaten to distort this primordial lifeline. The Indus is not merely a river; it is the elemental force that connects provinces and peoples, shaping their history as inexorably as it carved its banks. The Water Apportionment Accord of March 21, 1991, an achievement unparalleled since the Indus Waters Treaty, sought to give form and fairness to this divine inheritance. With Punjab accorded 47%, Sindh 42%, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa 8%, and Baluchistan 3%, the Accord distilled the essence of historical precedent into pragmatic legislation. It remains a perfect artifact of human intention, unchallenged by any province. Yet, perfection on paper falters in practice, where IRSA—the regulator born to embody the Accord’s spirit—has become the very source of dissonance. The discord lies not in the Accord’s percentages but in the mechanics of its implementation: an arithmetic of error, compiled by a bureaucratic machinery ill-suited to its monumental task. It is here, in the gap between the vision and its execution, that the tragedy unfolds. This is no mere administrative squabble; it is a fracturing of unity, a challenge to the shared identity forged by the Indus over centuries. The Indus flows as it always has, indifferent to the squabbles of those who...