Thirst Aid

When the rains arrive, India celebrates abundance instead of questioning why it remains perpetually water-stressed
Women and children wait in a long queue to collect water in a parched region
Women and children wait in a long queue to collect water in a parched region
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11 min read

India’s water crisis is a paradox of abundance: the country receives roughly 4,000 billion cubic metres of rainfall annually, yet captures barely eight per cent of it. Mumbai can flood in July and face water rationing by October, while Bengaluru gets around 970 mm of rain a year, and yet has a groundwater deficit of nearly 500 million litres a day. The waste extends to greywater, which makes up 50-60 per cent of household wastewater; a family of four generates around 360 litres daily, amounting to more than 31 billion litres nationwide each day. Yet India treats only 28 per cent of its wastewater, leaving 72 per cent to pollute rivers, lakes and groundwater. Major cities face daily shortfalls: 250-300 million litres in Mumbai, 1,300 million litres in Delhi, 680 million litres in Hyderabad, and 200-250 million litres in Chennai. Chennai perhaps best captures the contradiction: after catastrophic floods in 2015, its four main reservoirs—Poondi, Cholavaram, Puzhal and Chembarambakkam—were nearly dry three years later following a deficient monsoon, pushing the city towards “Day Zero”. The problem, then, is less a lack of water than more a failure of design. Solutions already exist—proven, practical and often remarkably simple—but many remain forgotten, overlooked or waiting to be scaled.

While governments flounder, funds are either pilfered or left unused, and politicians make pretty speeches, a massive but largely unnoticed movement in water conservation is already under way. Across the country, individuals, communities, institutions and innovators are quietly demonstrating that the water crisis need not be inevitable. They are harvesting rain, recycling wastewater, restoring lakes, reviving traditional systems and finding ways to make every drop go further.

The Revivalist: Rajendra Singh—the “Waterman of India”—revived the johad, a simple earthen check dam, in Rajasthan’s Alwar district in the mid-1980s
The Revivalist: Rajendra Singh—the “Waterman of India”—revived the johad, a simple earthen check dam, in Rajasthan’s Alwar district in the mid-1980s

Pune-based Jalconserve Technologies, for instance, designs compact greywater-recycling systems for homes, apartment complexes, schools and institutions. Its modular units treat wastewater from showers, wash basins and laundry so it can be reused for gardening, toilet flushing and landscaping. This reduces dependence on freshwater supplies while easing the burden on municipal sewage networks.

More than governments and large departments, it is often individuals who find solutions in a crisis. Take Aadya Kanchan, who grew up in a condominium in Bengaluru. Every summer, as the taps ran dry, she watched endless queues of water tankers arrive at her complex. At just 16, she developed NIRI, a compact device that tracks household water consumption in real time and alerts users to overuse and leaks.

What makes the innovation remarkable is that it puts sophisticated water-management technology—something typically associated with engineers and large utilities—within the reach of an ordinary household. Its concept is almost disarmingly simple: make water visible. Kanchan reasoned that what cannot be measured is rarely valued, and that real-time information about consumption could nudge people to change their behaviour. It did.

Air Harvester: Swapnil Shrivastava’s Uravu Labs extracts drinking water directly from the atmosphere
Air Harvester: Swapnil Shrivastava’s Uravu Labs extracts drinking water directly from the atmosphere

By turning invisible consumption into measurable data, NIRI allows households to identify waste and act before scarcity becomes a crisis.

WeGoT Utility Solutions in Chennai is replicating that idea on a much larger scale. The company installs ultrasonic sensors in apartment complexes, office parks and industrial campuses, enabling residents and facility managers to monitor water consumption in real time, detect leaks and identify unusual usage patterns before they result in significant losses.

“Once you have data, you can understand where water is being used, where it is being wasted and where intervention is needed,” says Sirisha Sumanth, co-founder of WeGoT Utility Solutions.

Communities using the software typically reduce their water consumption by 20-30 per cent, while commercial and industrial campuses report savings of up to 30-40 per cent. Much of this comes from plugging leaks and changing consumption behaviour rather than restricting use.

“Think of electricity. Everybody pays for what they consume. Water is traditionally not treated the same way. Once people can see how much they are using and paying for what they use, their behaviour begins to change,” she adds.

Boson Whitewater, co-founded by Vikas Brahmavar and Gowthaman Desingh, treats sewage-treatment-plant (STP) wastewater to potable standards using advanced filtration, disinfection and AI-powered monitoring. The water is recovered from apartment complexes, IT parks and commercial campuses, where it would otherwise be used for flushing or gardening. “The biggest hurdle is public perception,” says Desingh. “Apartments don’t use treated water for drinking because of perception, not safety.”

That logic extends to the way buildings themselves are designed. Architect Sanjay Jain, renowned for climate-adapted architectural design, puts it plainly: “Water conservation isn’t a bolt-on solution. It requires planning the entire infrastructure at the design stage.” Dikshu Kukreja of CP Kukreja Architects echoes the harder truth: “Sustainability is still treated as an add-on rather than a design requirement from the beginning.”

Former marine chief engineer Anjan Mukherjee takes the principle of working with existing infrastructure even further. His Maji Reactor, a palm-sized device that fits into standard hand pumps, purifies groundwater at its source using cavitation—millions of microscopic bubbles that collapse with enough force to destroy disease-causing microbes. Requiring no electricity, chemicals or consumables, the technology has eliminated more than 99 per cent of harmful microbes across several states. “It is not a filter,” Mukherjee explains, “but a technology that puts science to good use.”

Rain Catcher: Scientist AR Shivakumar’s house runs on rainwater collected and stored in 45,000-litre tanks
Rain Catcher: Scientist AR Shivakumar’s house runs on rainwater collected and stored in 45,000-litre tanks

The elegance of the Maji Reactor lies in its modesty: rather than replacing existing infrastructure, it makes it work better. That philosophy of integration, rather than replacement, distinguishes much of the current wave of water innovation. The most effective solutions are not necessarily those that demand entirely new systems, but those that can slip into the ones already in place—and make them smarter, more efficient and more resilient.

If technology solves half the problem, culture and design can solve the other. Urban designer Manushi Ashok Jain, co-founder of Sponge Collaborative, traces the crisis to the way cities are engineered. “We have engineered cities to expel rainwater as quickly as possible. What if we designed them to hold and absorb water instead?”

Chennai’s first sponge park puts this idea into practice. Inspired by China’s Sponge City programme, they function as artificial wetlands, slowing, storing and filtering stormwater instead of channelling it into drains. At the MS Swaminathan Eco Park, an asphalt lot has been transformed into wetlands, shallow ponds and permeable landscapes designed to manage 90 per cent of incoming stormwater while storing millions of litres underground. “Cities don’t have to choose between flooding and running out of water,” says Jain.

In Bengaluru, scientist AR Shivakumar has not paid a municipal water bill since 1995. His house runs on rainwater collected and stored in 45,000-litre tanks. His calculation is simple: every millimetre of rain falling on a square metre produces roughly a litre of water. A two-by-three-metre balcony can therefore collect about 120 litres during a 20 mm shower. With a food-grade drum, mesh, tap and stand, a basic system costs just `1,200-2,000.

Individually, such interventions may seem modest, but multiplied across thousands of homes, they could reshape the city’s water equation.

Rainwater harvesting has been mandatory in Bengaluru since 2009, though compliance remains uneven. For tenants with little control over building infrastructure, balcony collection offers a simple way to participate.

In Bundelkhand, women’s self-help groups are reviving traditional ponds and managing community water resources, reducing the distance women travel for water. In tribal villages across Odisha and Jharkhand, communities are restoring springs and protecting catchment forests, recognising that water security depends on healthy ecosystems.

Alongside grassroots efforts, innovators are developing technologies that complement community action. Start-ups are using IoT sensors to detect leaks in municipal pipelines, decentralised systems to recycle wastewater, AI to monitor groundwater and smart rainwater-harvesting systems to maximise rainfall. Others are producing drinking water from atmospheric moisture, offering new solutions for water-scarce regions.

Together, these efforts reflect a shift towards smaller, cheaper and decentralised water solutions tailored to local needs. At home, Pradeep Krishnamurti has put this principle into practice: greywater passes through a planted filtration tank of sand, gravel and canna lilies before being reused, saving more than 500 litres a day. Despite living in one of India’s most water-stressed cities, his family has faced no water shortage in a decade. The lesson, he says, is that water infrastructure—from collection and treatment to reuse—must be integrated at the design stage, not retrofitted later. Across India, such innovations are moving water management beyond dams and pipelines into homes, neighbourhoods and city landscapes.

- Coimbatore’s Ecobloc has replaced 5,000 conventional concrete drains with underground honeycomb modules made of recyclable plastic that filter rainwater before storing it. These systems have conserved over 50 million litres of water—small enough to decentralise, durable enough to last decades, scalable enough to compound impact.

- Hyderabad-based Priora Water Solutions revives nature-based wastewater treatment using earthworms, beneficial microbes and aquatic plants to break down organic waste—suitable for campuses, residential communities, factories and rural-urban settlements. The approach cuts electricity use and produces treated water safe for non-potable reuse.

- At Emerald School in Bengaluru, Riteways deployed RejuWater, a nature-based system that mimics wetlands. Wastewater filters through soil, microbes, and canna lilies. Microbes break down organic matter into nutrients absorbed by plants; soil and gravel remove impurities. Since installation, the system has recycled over 27.3 million litres of greywater. “Reju turns sewage into water clean enough to support aquatic life,” says co-founder Neeraj Shrivastava.

- Waterlab Solutions use portable sonar-based instruments to measure borewell levels accurately, allowing industries and housing societies to monitor aquifer health and detect declining tables before the ground runs dry.

- While others go deep, Uravu Labs works above ground. Founded by Swapnil Shrivastava in Bengaluru, the company extracts drinking water from the atmosphere using a moisture-absorbing liquid that requires minimal energy and works even at 20-30 per cent humidity—conditions that render conventional atmospheric water generators ineffective. “We source water from air using solar energy,” says Shrivastava. Originally developed to reduce Kochi’s dependence on groundwater, the technology is now being used by AI data centres, where it manages the server waste heat. The water can also be supplied to neighbouring communities. “What is lacking in most cities is good water infrastructure,” says Shrivastava.

At Chennai’s MS Swaminathan Eco Park, an asphalt lot has been transformed into wetlands, shallow ponds, and permeable landscapes designed to manage 90 per cent of incoming stormwater while storing millions of litres underground
At Chennai’s MS Swaminathan Eco Park, an asphalt lot has been transformed into wetlands, shallow ponds, and permeable landscapes designed to manage 90 per cent of incoming stormwater while storing millions of litres underground

Private players may get most of the credit for innovation, but some government-led efforts show that preventing a water crisis is better than reacting to one. In drought-prone Gadchiroli, Maharashtra, District Collector Avishyant Panda oversaw the construction of thousands of farm ponds, check dams and recharge structures, alongside tank desilting and stream restoration across hundreds of villages. The effort has benefited more than a million people, showing the value of acting before reservoirs run dry.

A similar approach under the Atal Bhujal Yojana is helping communities in seven states use aquifer mapping and village water-security plans to regulate groundwater extraction, shifting the focus from deeper borewells to recharge, crop planning and collective action. In Bengaluru, Biome Environmental Trust’s Million Recharge Wells campaign is reviving shallow aquifers with the help of the Bhovi community of traditional well diggers, bringing back knowledge that urbanisation had nearly erased.

In Uttarakhand, the Spring and River Rejuvenation Authority (SARRA), established in 2023, is reviving natural water sources through recharge pits, contour trenches and check dams. In Sirkot, conservationist Jagdish Kuniyal spent nearly eight years planting native trees and building recharge pits to revive the Sim Gadhera stream, which now flows year-round.

Together, these efforts point to a simple lesson: water security is not always about finding new sources, but restoring the systems that have sustained communities for generations. Yet some of the most transformative interventions are not new at all. Long before dams and borewells, communities harvested rain and recharged groundwater through settlement designs that respected local landscapes. The Rainwater Project in Telangana, founded by Kalpana Ramesh, has revived historic stepwells, including the 17th-century Bansilalpet Stepwell, which lay in ruins for more than four decades and now holds nearly nine metres of water through successive summers. In Jodhpur, conservationist Caron Rawnsley has spent five years restoring historic bawaris, jhalaras and lakes, removing layers of silt and sewage.

The lesson for urban planners is an old one: water infrastructure was once embedded in architecture and town planning. Stepwells such as Chand Baori captured monsoon rain and provided water through the year. Kerala’s temple ponds harvested rainwater and recharged aquifers, while Tamil Nadu’s eris and Rajasthan’s johads performed similar functions. These were not standalone structures but interconnected water systems woven into the fabric of settlements.

Wetland Pioneer: Manushi Ashok Jain’s Sponge Collaborative functions as artificial wetlands, slowing, storing, and filtering stormwater instead of channelling it into drains
Wetland Pioneer: Manushi Ashok Jain’s Sponge Collaborative functions as artificial wetlands, slowing, storing, and filtering stormwater instead of channelling it into drains

The need for such decentralised solutions is particularly urgent when nearly 40 per cent of India’s drinking water comes from groundwater, much of it contaminated with harmful microbes. Conventional treatment plants can be expensive and often difficult to sustain in rural India. Across the country, a pattern is emerging: India’s water security will increasingly depend on solutions that are local, decentralised and designed around the needs of communities.

JanaJal, for instance, has deployed IoT-enabled Water ATMs and mobile “Water on Wheels” units at railway stations, in urban settlements and poor neighbourhoods, purifying and delivering water at the point of need at affordable prices through UPI. The model brings safe drinking water closer to the communities that need it most.

Yet adoption remains slower than the urgency of the crisis demands. “Water as a market is not easy to crack,” says Dr Ananth S Kodavasal, founder of Ecotech Engineering. “Water is a shared resource, so finding sustainable solutions requires shared responsibility. It cannot be driven by one entity alone. We need collective action that considers all stakeholders and the entire system,” says Rijit Sengupta, CEO of the Centre for Responsible Business. His observation points to an uncomfortable truth: despite the abundance of innovation, India’s ecosystem for scaling water solutions remains fragile. The stakes, meanwhile, are rising. NITI Aayog and the Central Ground Water Board have warned that by 2030, demand could outstrip supply. More than 600 million Indians already live under high to extreme water stress, while 26 per cent of groundwater blocks are classified as over-exploited or critical. The challenge, therefore, is no longer a lack of solutions. It is whether India can recognise, finance, and scale the ones that already exist.

Greywater Champion: At Pradeep Krishnamurti’s home, greywater passes through a planted filtration tank containing sand, gravel and canna lilies before being reused
Greywater Champion: At Pradeep Krishnamurti’s home, greywater passes through a planted filtration tank containing sand, gravel and canna lilies before being reused

The pioneers emerged long before the startups. Rajendra Singh—the “Waterman of India”—revived the johad, a simple earthen check dam, in Rajasthan’s Alwar district in the mid-1980s. The lesson was simple: traditional knowledge, collective action and little more than shovels could address a water crisis without sophisticated technology.

Similar transformations followed elsewhere. Popatrao Pawar, sarpanch of Hiware Bazar in Maharashtra’s Ahilyanagar district, used watershed development, contour trenches, check dams and water budgeting to turn his village into a celebrated model of climate resilience. Groundwater levels recovered, incomes rose and farmers changed their crop choices to suit local water availability.

In cities, too, community-led interventions have shown what is possible. Volunteer-driven restoration of Bengaluru’s Kaikondrahalli and Jakkur lakes improved biodiversity while helping recharge groundwater. In Chennai, thousands of homeowners adopted rooftop rainwater harvesting after the devastating 2015 floods, reducing dependence on external water sources. When the city subsequently mandated rainwater harvesting, the cumulative effect of these small interventions demonstrated how significantly they could influence groundwater levels.

The solutions are neither untested nor elusive; they already exist. What is needed now is the scale, political will and collective action to make them the norm rather than the exception.

The High Altitude Lesson

An Ice Stupa built at Phyang in 2015 grew about 19 metres by late March, storing enough water to irrigate the barren land
An Ice Stupa built at Phyang in 2015 grew about 19 metres by late March, storing enough water to irrigate the barren land

Then there is a water problem whose causes lie far from the plains. In Ladakh’s high-altitude cold deserts, where rainfall is scarce and farming depends on snow and glacial melt, the challenge is not simply water scarcity but timing. Glaciers melt in summer, yet farmers need water in early spring, when crops are sown.

The Ladakhi answer is the Ice Stupa—towering cones of ice modelled on the Buddhist monuments scattered across the region. The idea is remarkably simple and requires little infrastructure. In winter, water from streams or springs is diverted through pipes laid downhill, using the natural gradient to generate pressure without pumps. The water sprays into the freezing air, turning into ice droplets that accumulate around the outlet. As the structure grows, its conical form minimises the surface area exposed to sunlight, allowing the ice to survive into spring.

When temperatures rise, the stupa melts slowly, releasing water precisely when fields need it most. An Ice Stupa built at Phyang in 2015 grew about 19 metres by late March, storing enough water to irrigate otherwise barren land.

No large dams, electric pumps or energy-intensive refrigeration are required. In a landscape where conventional infrastructure is costly and difficult to build, the environment itself becomes part of the engineering. It is a powerful principle at the heart of India’s water revolution: sometimes the smartest technology is the one that works with nature rather than against it.

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The New Indian Express
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