By Abdul Wahab Munshi
The journey from Jamshoro to Karachi has long offered travellers a familiar sight: the broad and powerful sweep of the Indus River, the waterway that shaped the history of Sindh and sustained its people for centuries. Today, however, that journey tells a different story. Large stretches of the riverbed appear exposed and lifeless, covered in sand rather than flowing water. What was once a symbol of abundance now presents an unsettling image of scarcity. It is a scene that raises difficult questions about water management, environmental stewardship and the future of one of Pakistan’s most important natural resources.
The Indus is far more than a river. It is the foundation upon which Sindh’s agriculture, economy, culture and identity have been built. Entire communities owe their existence to its waters. Ancient civilisations flourished along its banks, and modern towns and villages continue to depend on it for survival. For generations, the river has been regarded as a source of life and continuity. Yet the growing scarcity of water in its lower reaches suggests that this relationship is under severe strain.
Across Sindh, the consequences of declining water availability are becoming increasingly visible. Farmers who depend on irrigation face uncertainty with every planting season. Agricultural lands that once produced crops and sustained rural livelihoods now struggle under persistent shortages. The impact extends well beyond individual farmers. When agriculture suffers, local economies weaken, employment opportunities decline and food security comes under pressure. In a province where millions depend directly or indirectly on farming, the effects are profound.
At the centre of this debate stands the Indus River System Authority (IRSA), the institution responsible for ensuring equitable water distribution among the provinces. Established to uphold fairness and implement agreed water-sharing arrangements, IRSA occupies a critical position in Pakistan’s federal framework. Yet recurring disputes and persistent concerns from Sindh have fuelled perceptions that the existing system is not operating with sufficient transparency. Whether those concerns are fully justified or not, their persistence points to a growing deficit of trust that cannot be ignored.
The 1991 Water Accord was intended to provide a framework capable of balancing provincial interests and reducing conflict. More than three decades later, however, questions continue to emerge whenever water shortages intensify. Sindh’s concerns are not simply about figures on official charts; they are rooted in visible realities on the ground. When river flows diminish, crops fail and coastal lands disappear, communities naturally seek answers regarding how decisions are being made and whether agreed principles are being respected.
Climate change adds another layer of urgency to an already complex situation. Rising temperatures, shifting rainfall patterns and increasing weather extremes are placing unprecedented pressure on water resources across South Asia. Pakistan is among the countries most vulnerable to these changes. In such circumstances, disputes over water cannot be addressed through short-term measures alone. They require long-term planning, scientific management and genuine cooperation between provinces.
The Indus should never become a source of division. It is a shared national asset whose survival is tied to the future of the entire country. Protecting it demands transparency, accountability and a commitment to evidence-based decision-making. Water distribution must be conducted in a manner that inspires confidence among all stakeholders, while environmental requirements must be recognised as essential rather than optional.
The drying stretches of the Indus are more than a warning about water scarcity. They are a reminder that neglecting natural systems carries consequences that eventually reach every corner of society. If the river continues to weaken, the costs will not be borne by Sindh alone. They will be felt across Pakistan. The challenge before policymakers is therefore not simply to manage water, but to preserve the lifeline upon which generations have depended. History will judge institutions not by the explanations they offer, but by whether they acted in time to keep the Indus alive.
(The writer is a Hyderabad-based lawyer and has a keen interest to highlight political and administrative issues. He can be reached at editorial@metro-morning.com)
