Why a Kashmiri Cattle Rearer Still Depends on a Lake That Made Her Sick
- Umer Farooq Zargar & Ilhak Tantray
- 23 hours ago
- 6 min read
Updated: 3 hours ago
This story is produced by The Xylom and co-published by Scroll.in, India’s leading digital news organization.
Nestled in the valleys of Kashmir, Anchar Lake looks vast and picturesque. Frequently celebrated on tourism websites, its dark waters mirror rain-bearing clouds drifting over the mountains. But as we approach the banks, the pungent smell of sewage hangs in the air, the water is thick with sludge, and just beyond the shoreline rises Kashmir's largest dumping site — painting a completely different picture from the once-romanticised lake.
Every morning, 30-year-old cattle rearer Kulsuma Jan sits outside her home in Soura wearing an abaya and wraps a black scarf across her face, leaving only her striking blue eyes visible. The scarf does little to keep out the stench drifting from Anchar Lake as she leads her cow and calf to graze along its banks.
In 2024, after washing her clothes in the lake, Jan developed an itchy rash and stomach problems. “Doctors examined me and advised me not to come into contact with the lake water again,” she said. “I spent nearly two weeks on medication.”
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There are multiple causes behind Anchar's decline. Jan blames unchecked dumping of waste and construction along the banks.
“As a result, the lake is shrinking year after year,” Jan said. “At the same time, waste from nearby settlements flows into the water, and during hot weather, a terrible smell spreads across the area.”
Anchar Lake lies in the Kashmir Valley, tucked into the western Himalayas. The valley's capital, Srinagar, is built around an intricate network of lakes, wetlands, and rivers that have sustained its people for centuries. These bodies of water play a critical role in regulating floods, supporting biodiversity, and providing livelihoods for the community.
In the 1890s, Anchar Lake sat at around 20 square kilometers (7.7 square miles). In 2026, only around four square kilometers (1.5 square miles) of open water remain.
Death of an Ecosystem
The ecological decline is no longer only an environmental concern. Anchar and the nearby Dal Lake, in the heart of Srinagar, have been steadily shrinking under the pressure of unchecked encroachment, rapid urbanisation, untreated sewage and pollution. As these precious ecosystems disappear, the remaining polluted water has become a growing public health concern for communities that still depend on the lakes for washing, cleaning and livestock.
Contaminated water exposes communities to diseases such as cholera, typhoid and dysentery. Ajaz Nabi Kaul, a Srinagar-based physician, says he treats up to 20 patients with waterborne illnesses every month.
“Anchar Lake is the most polluted water body in Kashmir,” Kaul said. “Children bathe there, and women wash clothes and utensils along its banks, often unaware of the risk of infection.”
Unsafe water, sanitation, and hygiene services contributed to an estimated 1.4 million preventable deaths worldwide in 2019, according to the World Health Organization. According to the Sher-i-Kashmir Institute of Medical Sciences, almost 6,000 cases of waterborne diseases were recorded between June 2025 and June 2026 in Srinagar.
“There is barely any lake left,” Ghulam Mohammad, a 70-year-old resident of Anchar who has been fishing in the lake for nearly 40 years, said. “The water is shrinking, pollution is increasing, and the ecosystem is dying before our eyes.”
For generations, the lake has supported farmers, fishers, and livestock rearers. Jan has a piped water connection at home, but it is insufficient to bathe and water her livestock. The family owns a cow and a calf and earns around Rs 15,000 (about $170) a month by selling about 12 litres of milk each day.
Anchar is not the only water body facing this crisis. Dal Lake has also shrunk by 85%, with almost 60% of its area having been encroached upon by human activities. A 2018 evaluation deemed the remaining water unsafe for drinking. The contamination arose from coliform bacteria, originating from fecal pollution due to untreated sewage from nearby communities and settlements; although there is a filtration plant, the water remains heavily polluted.
“Officials tell us the water is safe, but the reality on the ground is different,” said Abdul Hameed Dar, a vegetable seller from Srinagar who lives on the bank of Dal Lake's floating market. “We are exposed to this water every day. We drink it, wash our clothes in it, and our children bathe in it. There is no escaping it.”
A Civilization Built Around Water
According to historian Zareef Ahmad Zareef, Kashmir’s history is inseparable from its bodies of water. During the pre-Islamic period, which spanned nearly four millennia, people gathered along the riverbanks for music, dance and poetry, and even presented their grievances before rulers from boats.
Before roads connected much of the valley, water bodies served as Kashmir's principal transport network, carrying people, goods and trade across the region.
The lake has also shaped unique fishing traditions. As documented in the G.B. Pant National Institute of Himalayan Environment's Newsletter, fishers in Anchar Lake use a traditional method known as Tchaai Gaad, or shadow fishing. The technique involves hiding beneath a heavy blanket in a wooden boat so that the boat's shadow attracts fish, which are then caught with a long, slender harpoon.
Over time, Kashmir's relationship with its lakes began to change. These water bodies were later converted into settlements and agricultural land.
“Today, when these areas experience waterlogging, we often describe it as flooding,” Mehraj-ud-Din Dar, a historian at the University of Kashmir, said. “In reality, water is simply returning to spaces that historically belonged to it.”
Changing rainfall patterns in several regions of Kashmir have also played a role in shrinking lakes and wetlands, as reduced and more erratic rainfall, combined with warmer temperatures, lowers water levels and slows circulation. When water circulation stalls, plant and animal matter accumulate, leading to water quality deterioration. Left like this, untreated sewage can further increase the risk of waterborne diseases.
Samiullah Bhat, a water science researcher at the University of Kashmir, explained that it is difficult to contextualize the exact extent to which Kashmir’s lakes are shrinking. The absence of clearly demarcated boundaries has long complicated efforts to assess water body loss in Kashmir. Even for major lakes such as Dal and Anchar, historical boundaries have not always been consistently defined, making management difficult.
Why Is Conservation Falling Short?
Local lake management authorities say they are carrying out manual and mechanised de-weeding, dredging, and lake-cleaning operations aimed at improving water quality and restoring open water areas.
However, according to Bhat, the challenge in improving water quality lies in enforcement rather than policy.
"We do not lack laws or management plans,” he said. “The real issue is implementation.” While conservation projects, dredging, weed removal, and lake restoration programs have been undertaken over the years, he said encroachment, untreated sewage, and unregulated urban expansion continue to undermine these efforts.
"Unless conservation measures are implemented consistently and backed by scientific monitoring, the ecological decline of Kashmir's water bodies will continue," he added.
Dar, the historian, stressed that conservation efforts must go beyond engineering solutions and include local community-led efforts to reduce pollution, as well as the revival of traditional Kashmiri water practices like sustainable fishing and water management systems.
While the crisis is unfolding in Kashmir, its implications extend far beyond the Himalayas. Across the world, wetlands are disappearing because of urbanisation, pollution, and climate-related pressures. The loss of these ecosystems is increasingly linked to declining water quality, reduced water security, and heightened public health risks. Kashmir’s experience demonstrates how environmental degradation can translate into everyday health challenges, offering a warning for climate-vulnerable regions seeking to protect both ecosystems and communities.
Two decades ago, Mohammed would catch five kilograms of fish in a single day from Anchar Lake. "The income was enough to support my family, pay my children's school fees, cover electricity bills and live with dignity," he said.
Today, he considers himself lucky if he catches even one kilogram, and the income is barely enough to provide two meals a day.
Jan still walks to the same lake every morning. Now she wears gloves, a mask, and a black scarf before touching the water — a routine born not of tradition, but of fear. Across Kashmir, tourists continue to admire the valley's mountains. But the lakes that once sustained its people are slowly disappearing from the public memory.
