On a humid June morning in Amroha, Utttar Pradesh, the sludge drying beds at the faecal sludge treatment plant (FSTP) look like cracked earth after a long drought — except the fissured surface is not soil but dried faecal matter, or biosolids. The beds are full. Operators have quietly begun shifting heaps of biosolids to the edges of the compound wall. “There is no space,” one of them says, pointing to a corner where gunny sacks are stacked one atop another. The bags bear no labels—no nutrient details, no safety warnings, not even a date. They sit there waiting, though no one is sure who will take them, or when.
This scene is repeated across dozens of towns in Uttar Pradesh. Behind the state’s expanding sanitation infrastructure—its faecal sludge treatment plants (FSTPs) and co-treatment facilities—a parallel story is unfolding: one of high investment but low utilisation, of resource generation with almost no recovery, and of growing stockpiles of a material that is simultaneously feared, neglected and deeply misunderstood.
A new study by Delhi-based think tank Centre for Science and Environment (CSE) attempts to make sense of this gap. It documents how Uttar Pradesh, despite being one of India’s early adopters of faecal sludge and septage management (FSSM), has yet to unlock the enormous potential of biosolids and treated wastewater. What emerges from the field is a narrative that mirrors the broader contradictions of India’s sanitation sector: while the country has made remarkable progress in containment, collection and treatment, the crucial final step—reuse—remains the missing link.
Uttar Pradesh has constructed 59 faecal sludge and septage treatment projects across 56 cities. These represent a massive public investment under Atal Mission for Rejuvenation and Urban Transformation (AMRUT) and the Namami Gange Mission. The plants were designed not merely to treat faecal waste but to convert it into resources — solid and liquid — that could support soil health, urban greening, water conservation and agricultural resilience.
Yet the CSE study finds that between May and July 2025, the state’s FSSM facilities operated at just 40 per cent capacity. Even at this limited utilisation, they generated around 71,000 quintals of biosolids annually and nearly 200 million litres of treated wastewater. At full capacity, biosolid generation could rise to 1.9 lakh quintals a year, with treated wastewater reaching 580 million litres.
These are not trivial numbers. They represent real resources—nutrient-rich solids and non-potable water—that could be reused on farms, in public parks, construction, nurseries, industrial processes and roadside landscaping. Yet the overwhelming majority of these resources remains unused.
The study’s most striking finding is that nearly 60 per cent of cities do not reuse a single kilogram of biosolids. Sludge that is carefully collected and treated ends up lying idle. Operators admit they remove it only when drying beds overflow. Some cities pile biosolids along boundary walls, others shift it out of sight in trolleys, while some store it in bags in rooms never intended for long-term storage.
Amid this widespread inaction, a few examples stand out. Moradabad has adopted a proactive approach to treated wastewater reuse, using a dedicated tanker to irrigate road medians, clean streets and maintain public landscapes—one of the few examples of circular water reuse in the state.
Bulandshahr has taken a more industrial route, planning to supply treated wastewater to NTPC for cooling operations. The move saves freshwater while establishing a potentially replicable industrial-use model.
Jhansi, home to one of the oldest FSTPs in the state, routinely uses its biosolids to maintain public parks. With consistently high inflows, it is among the few cities where biosolid reuse is regular rather than accidental.
In cities such as Amroha, Bijnor, Khurja and Hapur, farmers have also begun taking biosolids—sometimes free, sometimes at token rates. Operators recount farmers arriving unannounced at plant gates, seeking material for sugarcane fields, vegetable plots and horticulture. In most cases, however, the biosolids were handed over simply because the drying beds were full and space had run out.
This is the paradox: even without formal guidelines or certification, farmers are willing to experiment. Yet the state has not positioned itself to harness this demand safely or systematically.
A closer look suggests that the problem is not unwillingness but uncertainty. Municipalities are unsure how to classify biosolids, who should receive them, how they should be tested, or how safe use can be ensured. This uncertainty stems from several systemic gaps:
No clear biosolid standards: There are no national or state-level standards defining what constitutes safe biosolids or how they should be used. In the absence of guidance, officials default to caution, often avoiding reuse altogether.
Limited testing infrastructure: Few cities have access to laboratories capable of analysing pathogens, heavy metals or nutrient content. Without data, biosolids remain an “unknown material”—safe in some cases, potentially risky in others.
Inadequate handling and distribution systems: Most plants lack basic infrastructure such as weighbridges, covered storage bays or calibrated bagging stations. Without these, biosolids cannot be measured, stored or marketed effectively.
Inconsistent plant inflows: The absence of scheduled desludging means inflows remain erratic. Without predictable volumes, planning for reuse becomes difficult.
Poor record-keeping: Cities track biosolids in terms of “trolleys” or “bags”, not kilograms or quintals. This prevents long-term planning and obscures the true scale of the resource.
Together, these gaps create a web of operational, regulatory and technical constraints that lock cities into a cycle of treatment without reuse.
One of the most encouraging insights from the field is that demand for biosolids already exists. Farmers who accessed biosolids informally reported improvements in soil structure, particularly in coarse or sandy soils. Many found it useful as a soil conditioner when applied alongside compost or farmyard manure.
At the same time, these farmers expressed clear concerns about safety. They wanted information on pathogen loads and heavy metals, guidance on crop suitability, and—above all—consistency in quality and supply. Without systems capable of responding to these needs, uptake cannot move beyond occasional, informal transactions.
The challenge, then, is not persuasion. It is building the institutional confidence required to turn informal interest into a reliable, scaled-up and safe reuse system.
While cities sit on biosolids, the state’s soils continue to degrade. Uttar Pradesh, located in the heart of the Gangetic plains, is witnessing a steady decline in organic matter alongside a growing dependence on chemical fertilisers. This trend undermines agricultural resilience, particularly in the face of erratic rainfall and increasing heat stress.
At the same time, urban freshwater demand is rising. Cities are extracting more groundwater for cleaning, construction, landscaping and cooling—functions that could easily be supported by treated wastewater. By failing to reuse this water, municipalities are deepening their reliance on already stressed aquifers.
The cost of not reusing biosolids and treated wastewater, therefore, extends far beyond waste management. It results in lost nutrients and revenue, increased pressure on freshwater resources, and heightened environmental risk.
The study offers a clear roadmap to transform the current situation. The first step is to establish robust standards for biosolids and treated effluent. These should include classification, safety thresholds, crop advisories and defined reuse categories. Many countries have implemented such frameworks, enabling widespread agricultural and non-agricultural use. India now needs its own version, tailored to local conditions.
The second step is to build testing and certification systems. Regional laboratories, mobile testing vans and simple field kits can enable regular quality checks. A “biosolid passport”—a colour-coded label displaying key test results—could help build trust among farmers and other end users.
Cities must also invest in basic handling infrastructure. Even low-cost interventions such as bagging stations, small storage sheds or weighing scales can create a more organised flow from drying beds to end users.
Capacity building is equally critical. Plant operators and urban local body (ULB) officials need training not only in treatment processes but in resource management—understanding how biosolids behave, how they can be marketed, and how to communicate with farmers. Uttar Pradesh has already adopted standard operating procedures (SOPs) for treatment; the logical next step is to develop SOPs for reuse.
Pilot projects can act as powerful accelerators. Demonstration farms, nursery partnerships, public-park greening programmes, co-composting units and industrial supply models can show what is possible. Once a few successful examples are established, replication becomes far easier.
Finally, the state must create transparent systems to track and monitor resource recovery. A GIS-based dashboard, linked to monthly city-level reporting, could help identify high-performing ULBs, flag gaps and institutionalise learning. An annual “resource recovery scorecard” could also foster healthy competition among municipalities.
The sanitation revolution India embarked upon a decade ago was never meant to stop at building toilets or treatment plants. Its promise was to close the loop, to ensure that what flows out of the system returns safely to the environment, enriching it rather than burdening it. With its extensive network of FSSM plants, Uttar Pradesh is uniquely placed to demonstrate what this circular vision can look like at scale.
But the window for action is narrow. As urban populations grow, waste streams expand and environmental conditions become more unpredictable, the pressure on both sanitation systems and ecosystems will only intensify. The question before Uttar Pradesh is urgent and clear: will biosolids remain an inconvenient afterthought, or will they be embraced as a resource capable of restoring soils, supporting agriculture and easing freshwater stress?
The answer demands leadership, coordination and a shift in mindset—from viewing biosolids as waste to recognising them as wealth. The infrastructure already exists. The groundwork has been laid. What remains is the political, institutional and operational will to complete the sanitation story the state has begun so strongly.