How coal and water mix in Thar to poison every aspect of life 

Part 1: Nor any drop to drink

She waves and gestures at an approaching car, raising the cup of her little hands to her mouth. A bowl seeking the sustenance of moisture. Behind the little girl is her herd of sheep, following her along the edge of this charcoal road cutting through the heart of the desert. On this October day, its grey macadam is molten, radiating pools of mirages like restless apparitions rising from a thirsty earth. Visions of moisture; evasive, elusive, evaporating as soon as one draws near. The road shimmers with the false promise of water before disappearing amidst dunes, far ahead into the desert.  

The car pulls over at the roadside; the little girl scurries to catch up. Behind her, the sheep raise their heads inquiringly at this momentary distraction caused by the little shepherdess. She raises the cup of her hands to her mouth. A thirsty Thar’s appeal to the world. Her gesture meant to overcome the language barrier between the village and city folk in the desert becomes an illustration of the struggle of desert communities to put their plea for its sustenance and survival across the din of national development narratives. 

The man behind the wheel places a water bottle in it before driving away.   

The girl and her sheep wander off into the eternity of the desert, following the road disappearing deep into the Tharparkar district – which derives its name partially from the Thar desert. Soon they too are reduced to a shimmer in the distance, under the late morning sun beating down hard on a grey-brown landscape – its air bleached with white summer sunlight; desiccated bushes along the road swaying in the strong desert wind.

The delusional road, its mirror surface unperturbed by human activity, goes back to its winking self, to its deceitful visions of moist mirages.

Like the mirage of water on the road, Thar is a land of hallucinations.  

Even after sunset, the vastness of the landscape, unhindered and unencumbered by tall structures – buildings, mountains etc – retains enough light to glow for quite some time, a hangover from a bright day. The hours approaching the dark are long, stretched by their slow transition. Between them, the real and the surreal blend – often with strange effects. Humans look like apparitions, and dunes and plants turn into their outlines, spherical or skeletal.

The dusky twilight that envelopes another road elsewhere in the desert, she emerges, ghostlike, to walk amidst hushed whispers. She walks along the road, carrying a child in her arms, this woman of Thar. Oblivious to the passing vehicles, to the glances that follow her, she walks alone, her manner registering or acknowledging nothing. She does not talk, only smiles vaguely in response to every question. 

“She was raped,” says a man standing at the roadside. “That made her leave her home”. 

It is difficult to make out her dress and features through the evening’s blue curtain that gives her an air of ambiguity. It is tempting to interpret her as a half-understood symbol of a land being molested and abused but uncertain about the causes and effects of all this. 

Tharparkar circa 2013: Yellow dumpers and dozers with sharp iron blades converge over the land, scraping away entire layers of Thar’s sand to lay bare innards full of lignite coal that can be burnt to keep the lights on and make the wheels of industry whirr. Many locals see this excavation as a rape of their land at the hands of modernity’s greed for resources. Others are not so sure. 

They smile vaguely not knowing what to say – just like the mad-looking mother walking the road.

In a guest house not far on the outskirts of Mithi, eight men sit in a circle on the tiled floor in late September 2023, discussing an issue that generations of Thar’s thirsty populace have grappled with over the ages. 

They speak in voices alternating between hushed tones and loud, edgy tenors about how that age-old problem has been aggravated by the compulsion of modernity – Thar’s water resources, scarce to begin with due to its arid topography, are depleting fast due to the mining of coal for generation of power in the desert-district.

Taking turns, they sip water from a single 1.5-litre plastic bottle, careful to make it last for the two hours of their long discussion. Even though the late summer heat and the dry desert instantly make one’s mouth run dry, they make sure that the next speaker still has some water to drink after he finishes speaking. 

The guest house, a two-floor concrete structure with a red-tiled sloping roof – more suitable for a snowy mountainous settlement – looks incongruent in this dusty landscape that received only three brief spells of rain throughout the year. That is if it rains at all; this eventuality of a year long drought is the Tharis’ worst nightmare. It towers vertically along a dune – like an alien ship has crashed along an accursed region of Earth. 

Desert life, in all its spare, immutable ancient shades of the dune, carries on enthralled by the dust. A few scraggy, low trees with small leaves and scattered branches, latte under the powdery layer of dust; a couple of chaunras (or thatched roofed hutments) and domesticated animals. As the day approaches dusk, the air turning cool, the entire dune comes alive at twilight with sounds that have filled Tharparkar’s landscape for centuries: Cows mow, goats bleat, a crow caws from its perch on a scrawny bush, a peacock crows from a neighbouring courtyard and beetles, grasshoppers and crickets creak and hum as they crawl on the sand.

Thar is a land of contrasts – made sharp by the advent of coal mining and coal-based power generation. Modern amenities such as roads running through an empty landscape dotted with sheep and shepherds; tilted-roof buildings with wood-flooring rising high above lowly chaunras of the poor. 

And a perennially parched population relying on expensive bottled water that it can hardly afford.

Here, the eight men take turns on the water bottle to make it last for two hours as they discuss exactly that, the dwindling of water resources that threatens their very existence, sip by precious sip.     

Part 2: Water, water everywhere

It is 2023 and ten years since coal development and exploration formally began in Thar. A visit to Gorano, a village where the government built a reservoir for water from the coal plant, reveals some contrasting images about life in the village, before and after the coal development formally began. Lakshman is one of the many residents who still believe that they are being betrayed in the name of development that excludes Tharis. There is more than a grain of truth to what he says. 

On entering Gorano, there is a water well covered with thorny bush for protection, to keep children from playing around and falling into it. 

“See for yourself, the water level in the well has risen and it’s all because of the reservoir,” he says as he removes the bushes for a clearer view. And that may have been a good thing in a desert that gets little rain to replenish groundwater. But the local wells, a source of water that has sustained their lives for long, have now become a source of trouble for them. “Instead of our sweet water wells”, he says, “an RO [reverse osmosis] plant was installed. The wastewater being dumped in Gorano reservoir has seeped into many of our wells.” 

Land degradation due to seepage from Gorano Reservoir has already started to occur in Gorano and neighbouring villages.

People’s Map of Global China

The reservoir, situated some 30 kilometres away from Islamkot town, a taluka headquarters in Tharparkar district, was built for the collection of saline water from Thar Coalfield Blocks. It is part of coal mining and coal-powered energy generation, a project carried out under the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC). One of the largest coal-based power generation projects in Pakistan, it has caused displacement, migration, land speculation and encroachment of common grazing lands in dozens of settlements in Tharparkar. It has also caused many conflicts within these communities. “The conflicts in the area are two-folds,” says a paper ‘Thar Coal: The Oppression of Hindu Community’ published in Ecologia Politica, an international biannual journal reflecting current debates on various ecological topics. On the one hand, the paper states, there are “conflicts between the community, the state and Sindh Engro Coal Mining Company (SECMC) officials.” On the other hand, it says, local tussles over natural resources, “have become religious conflicts between Muslims and Hindus, though the underlying causes of these conflicts are environmental”. 

The People’s Map of Global China, a website that tracks China’s international activities, similarly, warns of the land degradation that this project may cause. “Land degradation due to seepage from Gorano Reservoir has already started to occur in Gorano and neighbouring villages. This will destroy the local ecology and result in the loss of forest and grazing lands,” it states. 

While the issues the project has triggered have brought the local, predominantly Hindu, communities face to face with the grave prospect of their extinction, the one most immediate is of water, on which depends the daily sustenance of a people inhabiting a thirsty land. In 2017, a protest against the “poisoning of the water and land” that started at the Gorano had the local people resisting for months the Sindh government plans to build the wastewater reservoir over 1500 acres of land, most of which was communal grazing land.      

Lakshman was one of the few people who saw it coming long before others did. He and many others took part in the 636-day-long protest outside the Islamkot Press Club to oppose the construction of the reservoir in Gorano village. They contended the project would kill biodiversity in the area besides snatching their livelihoods. One of the few who refuse to give up on their demands for a more inclusive development model, Lakshman believes it is still possible to get their message across to a larger audience and garner support if they continue raising their voices.

Gorano is situated in what is called a freshwater zone, the Vat.

Once it had 50 sweet water wells. Now they are, what the community calls, ‘wells of poison’. The land, too, once used for farming, has become unsafe due to seepage of highly toxic wastewater from the reservoir. 

All that for one hundred thousand rupees, which the mining company promised in 2016 to give as annual compensation to the locals for ‘destroying’ their fields where they ‘used to grow our crops’.

The government also installed a reverse osmosis (RO) plant in 2016 to supply between 1,500 and 3,000 litres of water daily to a water tank in Lakshman’s village. At his autaq in Gorano village, a small room just a few yards away from the road, he sits to speak of the ordeal the Gorano village, the folks living in and around it, face. “The provision of water is based on a formula which allocates just two litres of water daily for each person. Now, either you can drink it or prepare tea and food with it. Not to mention the water needed for washing clothes and personal hygiene. In the beginning, they promised to fill the tank which has a capacity of 5,000 litres of water daily but it receives only up to 2,500 litres,” he says. 

The Meghwar community that Lakshman belongs to has 146 households here. There are two tanks for them all. Some families and children make up around 1,000 people in total. “Now, you tell how a thousand persons could survive on 5,000 litres of water. How can one person survive on five litres of water a day,” he asks, indignant as he questioned the quality of the little water provided to them from the RO plant.

“Yesterday, the generator broke down and today, since it is Sunday it means no water because it is an off-day for the RO plant operator”, he says, shaking his head at the notion of progress and development being followed by the Sindh government and the coal companies. “Where shall we and our children go and find water for ourselves, for washing clothes, for cooking food? Coal is being mined here but it is Punjab which is progressing. Have you heard of any village of Thar being provided electricity from the coal power plants?”

The first instalment of compensation money, 100,000 rupees for each family, was disbursed in 2021. “But then what value does that amount have, if any? We still say that we don’t need your compensation money, vacate our fields and we are better off without you,” says Lakshman. 

The villagers had asked the company people to relocate them somewhere else but “their reply was that everything would be fine and there would be no inconvenience for them and that they needed not to go anywhere.”

Within the next couple of years, Lakshman fears, the toxic water from the wells will overflow into homes. “We won’t be able to sit here. You can see for yourself, the well over there in which seepage water has risen. It takes the reservoir just a year to pollute the groundwater of at least three villages around it. The Gorano village has around one thousand households, half of them Muslims and the other half belonging to the Hindu community. What we all need is a strong voice to speak up about the rights of the whole village and the whole of Thar.”

Part 3: Death by water 

Gorrano is not the only village adversely impacted by the wastewater dumping disaster. These are in dozens, maybe more. The number, locals fear, is likely to increase if measures are not taken well in time. 

Deedar Sarangram, a 29-year-old nutritionist at the Peoples Primary Healthcare Institute (PPHI), lives in Meehari, a village sandwiched between two wastewater dumping sites. His account of water-borne diseases in his and the surrounding villages speaks volumes of the danger these wastewater-dumping sites pose to the lives of the residents. 

However, the government and the coal mining companies remain indifferent to the damage they are inflicting on them. All the villagers of Meehari have decided to hold a protest demonstration to highlight the problems they are facing because of what they call irresponsible dumping. 

Deedar is not so sure about the effectiveness of the agitation but is still actively taking part in organizing protests and hopes that they will be able to rally around 400 persons outside the Islamkot Press Club on December 24, 2024. In the event, the protest rally could attract a few dozen people. 

He says that the water in his village is yet not as spoiled as it is in Gorano but it is fast becoming undrinkable. The number of malaria patients has increased. The number of eye infections has increased. Some people complain about various skin diseases and pain in their joints, especially knee pain. It causes redness when children wash their faces with it.

“This all is happening because of this water,” he says.   

The story of groundwater contamination in Thar can go anywhere from here: More lives, more villages, more flora and fauna.  Unless, of course, the coal mining companies own up to the damage, take responsibility and correct their course.

The fact that the Gorano village is situated in a freshwater zone called Vat, one of the only two zones with sweet water underneath the dunes, makes it even more important. 

A study titled ‘Project Brief on Coal Power Projects: Poisoning Water in Thar’, conducted by Azhar Lashari for the Policy Research Institute for Equitable Development (PRIED), confirms the fears of residents of Gorano. It identifies more wastewater dumping sites, two of them at designated places and the remaining at undesignated places. Dukar Chau, the only designated place alongside Gorano, is situated around 10 kilometres south of here. 

Like Lakshman in Gorano, others have been out – protesting. “An additional reservoir has been recently built in Dukar Chau. At the beginning of year 2022, the residents of Dukar Chau and some other villages, including Meehari, Ganjri, Harimar, and Gawaran, started to hold protest demonstrations in front of Press Club, Islamkot,” says the PRIED study. “They have been protesting against the coal companies for dumping wastewater into their villages and forcibly acquiring their land.”

The study underlines some of the immediate consequences of dumping the effluents in an unplanned way: “With the increasing volume of effluent water in Thar coalfield, the companies have been dumping wastewater in an arbitrary, irresponsible and dangerous manner. Tilwaiyo, Warwai (TCB-I), Jaman Samoon and Bitra (TCB-II) are the most affected villages. For the last several months, several livestock herds – camels, cows, sheep and goats – have died after drinking wastewater released in these villages.”

Published in 2021, a Sindhi book, Thar Jay Koaylay Jo Abhyas [The Study of Thar Coal], written by Ata Muhammad Rind, a Chachro-based geologist, discusses the impact of coal mining on local water resources. It states that 27 pumps around the coalmine and five others inside it together pump out 85,000 cubic litres of water every day.  Out of this, 59,500 cubic litres go to the power plant where 42,500 of them are treated and used and the rest are re-injected into the land near Meghay Jo Tarr village, it adds. 

Ghulam Mustafa Bajeer, Deputy Director of Sindh Coal Authority, also confirms the negative impacts of coal mining on water resources – at least as far as Gorano reservoir is concerned. “The seepage from the reservoir indeed is polluting fresh water sources within the radius of two to three kilometres at least,” he says. 

To understand what sweet water wells mean to the Tharis and the damage done by arbitrary wastewater dumping, consider: For more than 82 per cent of the people of Tharparkar, according to the Pakistan Social and Living Standards Measurement (PSLM) Survey 2019-20, dug-wells are the only source of water.

Comparing the above data about water availability with another study – done by an academician, Nayyer Alam Zaigham – on how much of it is fit for human consumption yields interesting insights into sweet water zones in Thar. Titled ‘Strategic Suitable Development of Groundwater in Thar Desert of Pakistan’ and published in a journal, Water Resources in the South: Present Scenario and Future Prospects, November 2003, the study states only 48 percent of these dug-wells have water that can be considered fit for human consumption.  

This, then, raises the question: How is the demand for clean drinking water being met? Or does it remain unmet? 

There is one water supply line from Naukot (a historic town on the western edge of Tharparkar) to Mithi which provides drinking water to the people of Thar. Reportedly, it initially supplied water every week; now it does once a month — and only to the residents of the city of Mithi. The daily volume of water being supplied through this line remains unknown: Repeated requests made to the District Commissioner of Thar, Abdul Haleem Jagirani, to assess the local water need and supply went unanswered.

According to the World Health Organization (WHO) standards, however, every person needs 50 to 100 litres of water to meet basic daily needs. Now, if the lower value (50 litres per person per day) is taken as a base value then the total daily volume of water needed for the entire human population of Tharparkar stands at 82 million litres. Add another 82 million if the base value is taken as 100 litres. 

While official information about water needs and supply for the people of Tharparkar remains shrouded in mystery, a few independent studies have assessed the water needs of coal-based power plants. In one such study titled ‘Thar Coalfield Water Impacts: Financial and Social Risks’ written by Paul Winn and published by an American think tank, Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis (IEEFA), in August 2020, there is a whole section dedicated to water needs for various stages of coal-based power generation in Thar. 

Winn’s report makes an important observation: Groundwater usage for coal mining and coal-based power generation is likely to affect the water supplies of many of the 1.65 million Tharis, leaving them reliant on treated water supplied by mining and power companies. 

One of these water supply schemes called Makhi Farsh Link Canal has recently been built. It takes water from the tail-end of the Nara Canal in Umerkot district and supplies it from Nabisar to Vejihar to Thar Coal Block 2 in Tharparkar district. The water it takes from the Makhi Farsh regulator is allocated for irrigation purposes. This creates another crisis for the people living at the tail-end of the Nara Canal system as they see their supplies being cut down.

Another PRIED study titled ‘Impacts of Makhi-Farsh Link Canal on the hydrology and drainage of Thar – a community perspective’ takes a look at water withdrawal from the Makhi Farash Link Canal and its negative impact on various distributaries. “There are already seven water canals/minors/distributary canals namely; Thar Wah, Dhoronaro Shaakh, Sufi Shaakh, Sirari Shaakh, Heeral Shaakh, Disti, and Dhoro Puran. These get water from Makhi Farash Division and hardly any of them provide water to the tail-end growers of this area and if a new canal is taken out from this water division it will make the rest of the canals of the region without water which will severely hit agricultural lands of poor farmers of the region.”

It also lists some of the negative impacts this Link Canal could have on various villages in surrounding areas. In the Umerkot district, for example, agricultural lands will be destroyed due to seepage, and water for agricultural purposes will decrease. Some villages can be affected severely if flooding occurs in the Dhoro Puran water channel. Fish farming will be adversely affected.

In certain villages of the Tharparkar district, as a consequence of the water withdrawal for the Makhi Farash Link Canal, grazing fields for livestock will be occupied. Locals will no longer be able to carry out rain-fed harvesting in the surrounding villages. Flooding in water reservoirs can bring devastation in the villages and resulting in physical displacement.

At the meeting of climate activists in the guest house in Mithi, the gravity of the situation was evident from the heated discussion that ensued that evening, extending well into the night. The stories they shared were mainly about the sources of sweet water – dug wells – becoming brackish to saline to highly toxic due to the wastewater being dumped by coal mining companies at various designated and undesignated places. This is becoming a rallying cry for a thousand protesters across Thar.

Most Tharis think that the two dominant versions of Thar are at war with each other: One which tends to see Thar as a place with huge coal reserves; the other version of Thar is that of a home which is widely held and believed by the people. Many people think that the current state of Thar is that of a battle between water and fire. 

In this battle of significance, the sea wind and the grey sand seem to be the only witnesses along with the people of Thar. The stakes are high for all those involved. Water is a scarce course and Thar’s coal at this moment in time seems vast and unending. Those who like to see Thar only as a vast coalfield to be mined ignore the fact that some do not reduce Thar down to its coal reserves only. They perhaps value it more because they consider it as their home. They consider it a place that sustains their lives in all possible ways. Who wins in this battle matters a lot for the people of Thar.

As one talks with more and more people, Thar appears to have many versions, many personalities. It has many images to offer in support of as many versions it might have. One of the most common and unavoidable images of Thar is that of a thirsty place. This might largely be true but the fact is that despite its essentially meagre water resource base, Thar defies that image too as it still has enough left to offer as a host and sustain those who call it their home.

A home to 1.65 million people following different faith systems. A home where fairs and festivals are held throughout the year. For each season there is a festival. Seasons change as periods of drought are succeeded by times of prosperity brought about by rains and so it goes on. A home that, like all other homes, dreads despair and hatches hopes.

Bheem Raj, one of the men behind the long protest held against the construction of the Gorano reservoir, believes like many of his companions that they can still turn the tide in their favour by raising their voice a little louder. “But there is a limit to that too. It is not very effective beyond a certain point,” he says candidly referring to his own experience as an organiser of the protest demonstration that despite being one of the longest in the country’s history could not stop the coal company from forcing its will and then getting away with it. “And now they have branded this project as Thar Badlendo Pakistan (Thar will change Pakistan)”, he remarked, tongue in cheek. 

How coal mining in Thar changes the country is yet to be seen but how it has changed a place that is home to the beleaguered Tharis is already evident.