By: Umer Inam New York
He shares posts on X as @UmerinamPk
More and more, India’s neighbors see water as a way for India to control them. New Delhi’s stance in treaty forums and its control over upstream infrastructure have made managing rivers a matter of high politics, from Pakistan’s Indus basin to Bangladesh’s coast. The result is a dangerous mix of legal problems, variable weather, and real human consequences downstream.
Start with the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT), which was a deal made by the World Bank in 1960 that split the basin. India got the “Eastern Rivers” (Ravi, Beas, Sutlej) while Pakistan got the “Western Rivers” (Indus, Jhelum, Chenab). India was only allowed to utilize Pakistan’s part of the rivers in a restricted and highly controlled way. For decades, the IWT was an extraordinary constant amid wars and diplomatic breaks. That steadiness is no longer there. In July 2023, a Court of Arbitration in The Hague ruled that it has the right to consider Pakistan’s complaints to the design of India’s Kishenganga and Ratle hydropower initiatives. India said it wouldn’t take part because it thought the tribunal was “illegally constituted.” It also said that the only treaty-compliant venue was a separate “Neutral Expert” track.
The standoff escalated in 2025. On June 27, the Court issued a supplemental award on competence; India’s Ministry of External Affairs immediately rejected it as void and without legal effect. The Court has since moved into a first merits phase focused on how Article III (Western Rivers) and Annexure D (run-of-river projects) should be interpreted—questions with direct bearing on dam design. India’s refusal to accept the Court’s authority, even as proceedings continue, signals a willingness to sideline a core IWT dispute-settlement pathway. Pakistan calls that a violation of the bargain that kept the basin stable for six decades.
This posture feeds a broader perception—particularly in Pakistan—that India treats water as a strategic instrument. Analysts have long described New Delhi as a “hydro-hegemon” in South Asia: the militarily and economically dominant upstream actor able to shape outcomes through infrastructure, law, and diplomacy. Whether one accepts that label or not, there is no denying the leverage conferred by control over headwaters and dams.
Beyond the legal and diplomatic disputes, Pakistan is also confronting a rapidly worsening domestic water crisis. The country is facing increasing water shortages across multiple regions, with Sindh experiencing severe pressure on its water resources. Areas such as Dadu have faced acute canal water shortages, while large parts of Sindh continue to struggle with drought conditions that threaten agriculture and rural livelihoods. Karachi, Pakistan’s largest city and economic hub, has for years faced chronic water shortages, exposing millions of residents to unreliable supply. Similar concerns are emerging in other provinces, where population growth, inefficient water management, and declining availability are placing additional stress on already limited resources.
Pakistan’s water challenge is being intensified by climate change, rising temperatures, unpredictable rainfall patterns, population growth, and increasing demand from agriculture, industry, and urban centers. Reduced glacial stability in the Himalaya-Karakoram region, changing monsoon behavior, and more frequent extreme weather events are creating uncertainty for a country whose economy and food security depend heavily on the Indus Basin. The combination of climate pressure and regional water disputes has made water security one of Pakistan’s most serious national challenges.
The continuing deadlock over the Indus Waters Treaty has added another layer of uncertainty. Pakistan argues that prolonged disputes over upstream projects and the disagreement over dispute-resolution mechanisms are undermining the spirit of a treaty that was designed to provide stability and predictability. Islamabad maintains that the international community should play a more active role in ensuring that existing agreements are respected and that weaker downstream states are not left vulnerable. Some Pakistani voices have called for stronger international pressure on India, including possible sanctions or diplomatic consequences, while urging countries such as the United States to take a more active role rather than remain disengaged from a dispute with significant humanitarian and regional-security implications.
The dynamics are even more intimate in Bangladesh, just downstream. Dhaka’s lifelines—the Ganges-Padma, Brahmaputra-Jamuna, Meghna, and their tributaries—run through from India at a multitude of locations. Bangladeshis cite a series of Indian structures, including the envisioned Tipaimukh Dam on the Barak, the Manu and Khowai barrages in Tripura, the Mahananda works, and the controversial Farakka Barrage on the Ganges, as proof of upstream unilateralism. This unilateralism starves rivers during the dry season and exacerbates floods during the monsoon. For instance, peer-reviewed studies of Farakka link it with diminished dry-season outflows and higher monsoon release downstream—exactly the volatility that Bangladesh decries.
The 2024 “Feni flood” was the most recent flash event in the past century. Bangladeshi authorities and analysts criticized India for releasing dam gates upstream—especially at Tripura’s Dumbur project—without warning, resulting in an influx into Feni and adjacent districts—as torrential rainfall pummeled India’s Northeast and Bangladesh’s southeast.. India flatly denied the allegation, saying the deluge was driven by record rainfall and that flood-data communication briefly faltered due to power outages. The episode stoked anti-India sentiment in Bangladesh and exposed how fragile confidence is when disaster strikes across a shared watershed.
The pattern has repeated on the Teesta. New Age Bangladesh reported in July 2025 that India opened 32 gates at the Gajoldoba barrage after extreme rain, inundating downstream chars and farmlands; Bangladeshi outlets and local authorities have complained of releases “without prior notice” in past events as well. India, for its part, generally attributes sudden surges to heavy precipitation and safety protocols at upstream structures. The truth is often hydrologically messy—and politically charged.
Is this the same as “weaponizing” water? The rhetoric does not match the nuance of the legal record. The IWT continues to restrict Indian storage on Pakistan’s Western Rivers, and India is
not accused of violating the Farakka-era Ganges pact with Bangladesh. However, two realities are indisputable. The timing of storage, overflowing, and drawing down at Indian dams and barrages may have a big effect on how scarce water is during the dry season and how high flood crests are in the area downstream. Second, India’s dominance of the legal and administrative environment (such as the refusal to acknowledge one IWT legally binding course and the licensing and project timing) supports the idea that neighbors have to either accept the realities as they are or fight in court for years.
What might a system that is less dominant and more stable look like?
Automatic, transparent flood protocols: Real-time telemetry and spill-notification procedures that are checked by independent experts and publicized in both nations’ languages would make people less suspicious when gates need to open swiftly for safety. The 2024 Feni storm showed that data gaps become political vacuums.
Dry-season equity: Scientific reviews already document Farakka’s dry-season impacts; similar basin-wide environmental-flow standards for the Teesta, Mahananda, Manu and Khowai would align operations with downstream ecology and livelihoods, not just upstream irrigation or hydropower targets.
Treaty-consistent dispute settlement: On the Indus, India and Pakistan should converge on one lawful track and stick with it—either Neutral Expert or Court of Arbitration—rather than run parallel processes or disavow outcomes. The World Bank’s role exists precisely to prevent escalation when engineers disagree about “run-of-river” design.
South Asia’s water future is arriving faster than its politics can manage: glacial retreat, erratic monsoons, cloudbursts that test old spillways. In that world, upstream power magnifies responsibility. India’s neighbors will keep calling out “water hegemony.” New Delhi can answer—with transparent operations, credible legal engagement, and basin rules that treat downstream lives as something more than after-the-fact variables.
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