The life of water

When we think of a water-starved city, the first thing that comes to mind is the unavailability of the natural resource. But there is much more at play. Who gets the water that is available? The taps do not run dry for the rich as often as they do for the poor. Access to resources like water is governed by multiple socio-economic factors that have been explained with great lucidity, narrative flair and humour in a short-film series titled Water Wars made by the 2019 Nobel laureate for economics Abhijit Banerjee (artistic concept, research and narration) and graphic novelist Sarnath Banerjee (drawings). The latest film of the three-part series—“Price of water”—was screened at India International Centre, Delhi, on August 7. Except the third film, the other are available for viewing on YouTube.

The series, created with support from MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology) Center for Art, Science and Technology, US, explores the complex layers of exploiting water sources to make profits that only benefit a certain section of the society, while depriving and even dispossessing the most vulnerable and marginalised. The poor in many of India’s urban areas pay more for water than the well-off because of policy gaps that neglect their needs and identity.

In the films, while Abhijit adds historical contexts to these environmental crises, Sarnath’s illustrations make the narrative compelling, helping the viewer visualise the space and elements of times gone by. Here’s a look at the films.

‘The land of good intentions’

Historically, West Bengal has been primarily a rice-growing area, while wheat and maize were the major crops in Punjab. In this film, Abhijit illustrates this by talking about how the two grains are culturally embedded in the two states. Take the case of Bengal, where anna means both “food” and “cooked rice”, he says in the film. Similarly, in Punjab, tongs (chimta) used in making rotis are integral to the social and cultural life, acting as the inspiration for the musical instrument chimta used in bhangra and in other musical traditions.

But the agricultural landscape of Punjab changed with the Green Revolution, with the area under water-guzzling rice crop growing to 70 per cent from 10 per cent between 1970 and 2015. The water tables were the obvious victims, falling at an unprecedented rate, since the northern state, having a semi-arid monsoon climate, receives very little rain and irrigation needs are largely met by groundwater.

This, Abhijit explains, with an economic concept called “general equilibrium”, in which a widespread, unexpected change occurs due to a targeted policy meant for a specific purpose. While the connect between agriculture and water is obvious, Abhijit also highlights the link between foodgrain cultivation and health, mentioning the spurt in the glycemic index in India over the years.

The film ends with a commentary on the proposed farm laws that saw massive protests led by Punjab’s farmers. Finally, all of them were rescinded, while related regulations that benefit corporate organisations were not, says Abhijit.

‘The eternal swamp’

The film revolves around Kolkata and how its construction sector has eaten into all the ponds and marshes that were crucial for drainage and groundwater recharge. The sector flourished because all other work opportunities in the city had dried up, a crisis that was their own doing. Abhijit explains this by delving into the business, trading and dalali (broker-age) history of the city, through the characters—from Dwarkanath Tagore, an industrialist (and later a bankrupt) of the 1800s to Mishtu Da, Abhijit’s neighbour in the 1970s and local goon-turned-real estate entrepreneur-turned politician—who had a role in turning Kolkata from a seat of modern industry to a land of property dalals (brokers).

This transition also systematically destroyed the city’s drainage systems. Abhijit illustrates this with an example: In 1978, a major storm brought 400 mm of rain that took five days to drain, while in 2006, almost half the quantity of rainfall took 10 days to clear.

‘Price of water’

The third and the latest film in the series depicts the contradictions in water distribution in Bengaluru. The earliest planners such as Kempe Gowda I, who founded the city in 1537, and successive rulers used the unique geography of the city—perched atop a ridge on the Deccan Plateau—and gravity to distribute the stored water across the area through cascading lakes or reservoirs.

But now, these waterbodies are either polluted or depleted, leaving parts of the city parched and reducing groundwater recharge. Water has to be pumped out of the Cauvery river and distributed to various localities in an energy-intensive process.

What this has also led to is the surreptitious rise of the tanker mafia that is thriving under the patronage of corrupt politicians. It deepens water insecurity for millions of residents and also widens the access inequality. While the poor ration every drop they use, the rich swim in private pools. This has also flared interstate tensions on river water sharing, but, as Abhijit puts it at the end of the film, “Luckily none of the states have an army.”

The film also brings out the unfair gender roles in the arduous work of water collection, with the narrator joking that the Bengali phrase joler dwar (price of water), which is used to describe something that is dirt cheap, must have been coined by a man, because in India, it is only the women who fetch water and they would know that it does not come easy.

This review was originally published in the November 1-15, 2025 print edition of Down To Earth