Hasil-e-Kalam / T.M. Awan
Water flows—but the direction it takes is often determined by those whose conscience has already run dry.
Between Pakistan and India, not only borders but also rivers divide the land. Once symbols of life, these rivers have now become instruments of political tension.
The conflict is over water, but the thirst is not just of the land—it is also political. In South Asia, rivers do not merely carry water; they carry narratives—sometimes of cooperation, other times of confrontation.
Water has always been a sensitive issue in Indo-Pak relations. That sensitivity seems to be weaponized now. In April 2025, citing the Pahalgam incident, India announced a “suspension” of the Indus Waters Treaty. Yes, the same treaty that, since 1960, has been regarded globally as a model for water cooperation—even during wars between the two neighbors. Today, it has come under direct fire from the aggressive policies of the Modi government.
Brokered by the World Bank, the treaty allocated the three eastern rivers—Ravi, Beas, and Sutlej—to India, and the three western rivers—Indus, Jhelum, and Chenab—to Pakistan. India was allowed limited non-consumptive use of the western rivers under strict conditions. But over recent years, New Delhi has increasingly breached those limits. Now, plans are being discussed to divert even more water from Pakistan-bound rivers for internal Indian use.
This issue is not merely about Pakistan’s share of water. It is about a balance vital to the survival of South Asia. India’s actions amount not just to treaty violations but to hydrological aggression—actions that could devastate Pakistan’s agriculture, drinking water, and economy, while pushing the region toward conflict.
Ironically, India’s weaponization of water may backfire. Should it pursue this path, it would not just be launching an attack on Pakistan, but on regional peace? Pakistan already faces acute water scarcity. If its lands are rendered barren, the spillover effect could reach Indian borders—in the form of environmental displacement, food shortages, and heightened instability. Water is not merely about flow—it is about survival. A blocked river could return in another form: a flood, or a new wave of hostility.
And then there’s the silent player: China.
Many of the rivers that feed Pakistan rise in India—but many of India’s rivers originate in China. The Brahmaputra River, called YarlungTsangpo in China, begins in the Tibetan highlands, enters India via Arunachal Pradesh and Assam, and then flows into Bangladesh. There is no formal water treaty between China and India regarding this river. China has already constructed several dams on its stretch and is planning more.
Chinese international affairs expert Professor Victor Gao has warned Indian media on multiple occasions: if India breaches the Indus Waters Treaty and blocks water to Pakistan, China may respond by halting or diverting water flowing into India from Tibet. He emphasized that in a region as sensitive as South Asia, water can symbolize both friendship and revenge.
In this equation, China cannot be ignored. If provoked, it could curtail water flows to northeastern India, leaving regions like Delhi, Kolkata, Assam, and Manipur facing a serious humanitarian crisis. Indian strategists may not have fully calculated the consequences of their water brinkmanship.
A water war doesn’t begin with a gunshot—it begins with the silent shutting of a dam’s gates. Gates that, when closed, leave lands barren. Gates that, when opened, bring life.
The truth is, India has already released floodwaters toward Pakistan multiple times without prior warning—resulting in devastating flash floods. From the roaring Ravi to the swelling Chenab and the turbulent Jhelum, these unannounced water surges have acted as silent warnings. Now, the “suspension” of the treaty resembles an open declaration of water war.
Pakistan, on its part, must do more than lodge complaints. Water is not just a security issue—it’s a planning imperative. Building new reservoirs, investing in water conservation, modernizing agriculture, and raising public awareness are the everyday tools of survival. Before winning legal battles in international courts, we must first save our fields.
Most importantly, water must be seen as a vehicle for cooperation, not conflict. In South Asia, it can become the bond that transforms rivals into neighbors. The day we value water the way we value it during thirst—that may be the day we begin to value peace just as dearly.
If India believes it can bend Pakistan by cutting off its water, it may be forgetting one eternal truth: rivers can be dammed, but not forever. A suppressed river doesn’t die—it rages. And when it does, it takes not just the enemy, but the land it flows through.
Wisdom demands that India refrain from using water as a weapon of war. Otherwise, China may step in—and in that case, these rivers will not just carry water, but consequences.
[About the Author: T.M. Awan is an Islamabad-based senior media professional, researcher, and analyst of international affairs. He writes regularly on geopolitics, international relations, and foreign policy.]
