About a mile away from Park Circus in Kolkata, Topsia lies in the intersection between the busy 7-point Crossing and Science City (a theme park) on the EM Bypass. Getting down at the bus stop, I walk towards the Topsia Pumping Station—a red-bricked colonial-era structure, with steep walls that hide the main building from view. I am to meet my guide (for a tour of the East Kolkata Wetlands) at the Topsia Irrigation Office (supposedly right by the Pumping Station) but none of the locals seems to be able to give me the right directions.
Two phone calls and some zooming on Google Maps finally makes me realize I was standing right beside the blue-and-white building all this while. As a resident of the city, I was quite ashamed to realize the limited knowledge I had of the wetlands that lay on the eastern flank of Kolkata.
Reading about the constant threats of encroachment to the Ramsar site and the drastic repercussions that await Kolkata in the event of the dwindling of these wetlands, the question that came to my mind was — what made this region so crucial for the survival of the city? Looking around, I try to understand why we were beginning the tour about 7 kms away from the wetland region, and as soon as I meet Dhruba Dasgupta, my guide for the day, I pose this question to her.
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A city needs two things for its survival – easy access to fresh drinking water, and a proper means of disposal for the huge quantities of wastewater that get discharged on a daily basis. Kolkata has been a lucky city – with the Hooghly river to its west, the city gets ample fresh water throughout the year, and to the east exists the fertile aquatic zone dubbed the East Kolkata Wetlands by Dhrubajyoti Ghosh, who himself had chanced upon the region upon questioning how sewage from the city just disappeared despite the lack of a sewage treatment plant in the vicinity.
Dasgupta, a former student of Ghosh, and the project director at SCOPE, an organization working at the grassroots in this ecologically fragile zone, tells me, “In order to understand the intricate system at work at the wetlands, you need to first see where it originates from”.
Across the Topsia Pumping Station flows a canal carrying what looks like wastewater. A lock gate constructed overhead helps to control the flow of the water at any point of time. On both sides of the canal are tightly cramped settlements, with a majority of locals working in the plastic waste recycling units located in close proximity.
What makes this area unique is that the ward – Number 66 – is declared to be the country’s first solar slum, inaugurated back in 2016 by the Kolkata Municipal Corporation (KMC). “We’re standing in front of one of the four drainage stations in Kolkata that receive wastewater from different parts of the city”, says Dasgupta.
As we walk by what is known as the Dry Weather Flow (DWF) channel, she points to the huge gush of water pouring into the canal. “This is coming from the Ballygunge area”, she says. She then shows me the location of the canal on a map of the East Kolkata Wetland Region and the route we would be following for the next few hours. But before we set off, she asks me to take particular notice of the direction of the flow and the height of the water on the scale jutting out of the canal.
The drainage system running through the city of Kolkata is more than a century old, and these were designed to carry both sewage and the excess stormwater that would collect within the city during monsoons every year.
The Town System, passing through the central portion of the city was laid down approximately 140 years ago, whereas the Suburban System, constructed to fit the needs of the growing city on the southern outskirts, is close to 100 years old. Flowing through different pumping stations like the one at Topsia, the sewers were laid down in an east-west direction, and the water was to flow from the west to the eastern side of the city, to be finally disposed off into the Kulti river that lay about 36 kms away from the city to the east.
The East Kolkata Wetlands – comprising of several saltwater marshes – acted as the intermediary zone. It would treat the wastewater it received in ample amounts throughout the year before its disposal into the Kulti river. Here, the water is redirected into the saltwater ponds (locally called bheris) and the farmlands, where it is then put to use for pisciculture or to grow paddy and vegetables.
Initially planned by the legendary engineer Dr BN Dey and his team, and preserved over the years by generations of native villagers who have a good understanding of the zone, this is the vital lifeline that serves the city. It is designed to receive both the excess stormwater and sewage flowing from different parts of the city and provides two contradictory services at the same time. Wastewater, referred to as black gold, is naturally treated through its passage from the city to the wetlands owing to the UV rays of the sun.
The nutrient-rich water then passes to the ponds, where algae thrive, which then becomes the food that the fish live upon. “It is a stunning example of the wonders that take place when man works with nature, rather than against it”, Dasgupta says of the region.
With no demarcations marking the beginning of the Ramsar site, it gets difficult to identify when one has entered the wetland region – except for the slow transition from concrete building developments to miles of farmlands on both sides.
However, with the realty boom along the Bypass, this line of concrete has only been widening with the years. On our journey, we take note of buildings under construction, a marble manufacturing unit right next to a cauliflower farm, and hoards of minivans carrying building material from one point to the other.
At the Dhapa Dumping Ground located inside the wetland region, we witness the growing mound of garbage and the disregard with which factories operating in and around the region dump their manufacturing waste. Lack of proper rules and on-the-ground surveillance empowers the growth of such illegal organizations that, in turn, pose a threat to the ecosystem of the wetlands.
In 2019, Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee inaugurated a leather complex at Bantala (located inside the wetland territory). It was poised to be the largest integrated leather complex in Asia, and there were hopes that this would generate employment, allowing Bengal to become a hub of leather goods.
Fertile vegetable gardens soon gave way to the development of leather processing units that not only emit toxic fumes into the air but also dump their waste without caution. Along with the illegal plastic recycling units also operating in this belt, there has been a rapid rise in the uncontrolled disposal of solid waste and sewage into the ecologically fragile wetlands.
The lack of treatment of the industrial effluents flowing into the water poses a threat to the water bodies and the aquatic life dependent on the nutrient-rich water. Also alarming is the steady rise in the urban sprawl inside the region. As more and more locals sell their lands, either due to monetary constraints or the lack of profitability from the farmlands, the responsibility for better management of the zone rests upon the government, which also heads the East Kolkata Wetlands Management Authority (EKWMA).
However, given the lethargy with which the protection and conservation of the region have proceeded, and by contrast the exponential rate at which developmental projects have come up, it is the non-governmental organizations, local communities, and like-minded individuals who have been leading the fight for the conservation of this vital zone.
Spending the day with Dasgupta and some of her colleagues at SCOPE, I witness first-hand the close watch they keep over the entire region and the details they note when it comes to the lawlessness in the area. Theirs is a mission to maintain this fragile zone the way it has been dwelling for generations. And given the increasing risks from climate change, they point to the urgency to bring in appropriate measures to tackle the threats to the wetlands. “Look at what’s happening every year in Chennai”, Dasgupta adds.
In November 2021, Chennai received close to 900 mm excess rainfall in the city. Life came to a standstill as rainwater flooded streets and left people stranded inside their homes. In 2015, Chennai made headlines when the city faced massive floods that led to a record loss of lives and damage to property. Ever since floods have been increasing in frequency in this coastal city.
While climate change is a significant cause for worry, experts have pointed to the loss of Chennai’s lakes and wetlands that had, for generations, played an integral role in the flood defense of the metropolitan. As urbanization increased, developmental projects were prioritized over conservation of the wetland ecosystem. Today, only a minuscule portion of the wetlands exist, and while there have been efforts to restore the ecosystem of the region, the task is an uphill battle and will only yield meagre results.
Reports on climate change predict the rise of the sea level in the coming years, and the threats it will pose to coastal cities like Mumbai, Chennai, and Kolkata. With the recent surge in extreme weather events in these cities, we are staring at risks of flooding every single year moving ahead. In Kolkata, this means increased local precipitation, along with a rise in the water level in the Hooghly. Coupled with the cyclonic storms rising in the Bay of Bengal, this spells catastrophe for the millions that call this city home.
While developmental projects are necessary for a city to grow, they shouldn’t come at the cost of robbing the city of its lifeline. To avoid following in the footsteps of Chennai, Kolkata needs to find a way to give due importance to the East Kolkata Wetlands. While the recent allotment of resources to the development of the zone are welcome, on-ground developments are awaited till now.