A look at arsenic contamination in eastern Uttar Pradesh, its impact on rural communities, groundwater safety and the role of documentary journalism in exposing the public health crisis.
A documentary about arsenic poisoning in Uttar Pradesh cannot begin with a policy failure. It has to begin with a hand. A hand showing the characteristic pale patches, the thickening of skin on the palm, the texture doctors call keratosis and villagers in Ballia district call bimari (sickness). The camera holds on that hand. It does not cut away. That decision to stay with the body rather than moving to an expert in a studio is the difference between documentation and witnessing. The best visual journalism on the arsenic crisis in eastern UP has understood that difference. The worst has not.
The Crisis the lens is trying to hold
A 2022 study found that 2.34 crore people in rural Uttar Pradesh are exposed to high arsenic
levels in groundwater. The naturally occurring arsenic is leaching into shallow aquifers of the
Gangetic plain and is directly feeding the hand pumps of the villages of UP. Forty districts are affected. The worst are Ballia, Varanasi, Ghazipur, Gorakhpur, Faizabad and Deoria. In Ballia’s Tiwaritola village, a single family’s medical record tells the story the government does not keep: Dinanath died of arsenicosis after his case surfaced in 2004. His son Ashok has skin cancer. The hand-pump his family used drew water with arsenic levels that later research
found reached 1,805mg/ltr, which is 180 times the WHO permissible limit.
What a documentary owes this story
A documentary on this crisis has several obligations. It must make the science legible without reducing people to their pathology. It must make government failure visible without letting that critique consume the human story beneath it. It must hold the fact that most of the affected population did not know they were being poisoned. Researchers who surveyed 11 affected villages in Ballia found that before their study, villagers had no idea water was the cause. Meanwhile, they also noted that the hand-pumps remained operational and water alternatives were never reliably installed. Out of 989 villagers screened in one detailed study, 19.8% of adults and 5.7% of children showed typical arsenical skin lesions. These are not rare cases. This is a geography.
Missing details in the formal record
The documentary record on eastern UP’s arsenic crisis is thinner than it deserves to be. The arsenic story in West Bengal and Bangladesh has attracted considerably more international visual journalism. This is partly because those geographies were connected earlier to global NGO networks, and partly because English-language international media finds the Bengal delta more legible. Eastern UP’s crisis remains, for most audiences, a Caravan Magazine long-read and a journal paper: essential, accurate, unread in the villages that need urgent action. A film about Ballia should do three things that writing cannot replicate. It should show what arsenicosis looks like in a person still alive and working. It should film the hand-pump still in use and hold the frame long enough for the viewer to understand that continued use is not ignorance. And it should find the official responsible for testing and water supply in that block, sit across from them, and let the silence after a question do its work.
The Way Forward
Art about water in India is a political act. A documentary that takes the arsenic crisis in eastern UP seriously should film how the public health infrastructure treats 2.34 crore people as an acceptable risk. India’s NFDC, state film development councils, and public university documentary cells should treat this story as the national emergency it is, not a regional interest subject. The WHO guideline is 10 micrograms/litre. The water in these handpumps has reached 1,805. That gap has existed for over 2 decades. A camera held steady in Tiwaritola
for long enough will find the policy question all by itself. The hand on screen is the first argument. What the government does after it is shown is the second.
RIVERS OF RESILIENCE
Tarun Bharat Sangh’s water conservation journey shows how traditional wisdom, collective action and community-led governance can revive rivers, strengthen livelihoods, reduce migration and restore dignity across water-stressed communities.
RIVERS OF RESILIENCE
Tarun Bharat Sangh’s water conservation journey shows how traditional wisdom, collective action and community-led governance can revive rivers, strengthen livelihoods, reduce migration and restore dignity across water-stressed communities.
In the mid-1980s, when Rajendra Singh first set foot in the parched villages of Alwar district,
Rajasthan, he carried with him a doctor’s bag and the earnest intention of serving as a healer. But what he encountered was not merely illness—it was thirst. Villagers told him that no medicine could cure the deeper malaise: The absence of water. Wells had dried, rivers had vanished, and migration had hollowed out communities. Singh realized that the true prescription for life here was not pills, but water.
Thus began the journey of Tarun Bharat Sangh (TBS), a grassroots organization that would go on to revive rivers, restore ecosystems, and reimagine governance in one of India’s most water-stressed regions. Over four decades, TBS has transformed scarcity into abundance, despair into resilience, and forgotten traditions into living practices. Today, its work stands as a beacon of ecological justice and community empowerment, earning global recognition while remaining deeply rooted in village soil.
The First Johad: A Spark of Hope
The turning point came in Gopalpura village, where Singh and his colleagues, guided by elders, rebuilt a johad—a traditional earthen dam that captures rainwater and recharges groundwater. When the monsoon arrived, the johad filled, and within months, wells downstream began to revive. Crops sprouted, cattle thrived, and the community
rediscovered its agency. Word spread quickly: water could return if people worked together.
From that single johad, a movement was born. Villagers across Alwar began to rebuild their own structures, often through Shramdaan (voluntary labor). TBS became the facilitator, providing technical guidance, mobilizing communities, and linking traditional wisdom with modern ecological science. Over time, the organization helped construct more than 11,800 water harvesting structures, reviving 11 rivers including the Arvari, Ruparel, Sarsa, and jahajwali.
Philosophy of Gram Swaraj
At the heart of TBS’s work lies the Gandhian principle of Gram Swaraj—village self-rule. For Singh, water is not merely a resource but the foundation of democracy. When communities control their water, they control their destiny. This philosophy challenges top-down development models that prioritize infrastructure over participation. Instead, TBS insists that local governance, collective decision-making, and ecological stewardship must guide water management. The site and the type of the water harvesting structures are based on the local knowledge of the communities themselves. This approach has profound implications. The trust
between the communities and the organisations builds up. The communities begin to have confidence in themselves and their knowledge systems, they believe that positive change can happen, and that they can live decent lives with dignified livelihoods. The women experience freedom from the daily stress of meeting domestic water demands and food and nutrition needs. Children pursue schooling and higher education. Clouds of uncertainty, the pain
of distress migration and split families disappear. It strengthens village institutions, enabling them to resist exploitative industries. And it reframes water not as a commodity but as a commons, belonging to all and managed by all.
Water and Livelihoods in Fragile Districts
In Karauli, a district marked by rocky terrain and fragile agriculture, TBS has focused on reviving small ponds, check dams, and johads to stabilize farming communities. Here, water scarcity often forced families into debt, migration or becoming bandits. By restoring traditional harvesting structures, TBS enabled farmers to cultivate wheat, mustard, and bajra (pearl millet), reducing dependence on erratic rainfall. With water security, agriculture became viable
again, slowing migration and strengthening village economies. Villagers were able to live crime-free with their head held high.
Desert Wisdom and Cultural Identity
In Jaisalmer, the Thar desert’s harsh climate posed unique challenges. TBS’s work here is not
only technical but deeply cultural and steeped in indigenous traditional water harvesting systems aligned to the terrain and the climate. Reviving traditional desert systems like khadeens (earthen catchments that collect surface water for agricultural use), sarovars (ponds) and taankas (water storage tanks for livelihood)) has restored water availability for both agriculture and daily life. Restoration of beris (shallow percolation wells that store water) cater to drinking water demands. TBS has documented how water conservation is intertwined with rituals, oral traditions, and community identity, ensuring that ecological revival also preserves cultural heritage. Revived ponds, taankas and beris have reduced women’s burden of fetching water, improved livestock survival, and strengthened resilience against desertification.
Gendered Perspectives: Water as Life
One of TBS’s most striking insights comes from listening to how men and women define pani ki vyavastha (water arrangement). Men often emphasize infrastructure and access—tankas, borewells, water ATMs, and pipelines. Women, however, stress quality and safety—clean supply, repaired pipelines, filters to remove harmful elements, and the health impacts of contamination. By integrating these perspectives, TBS has broadened the governance debate.
It is not enough to expand supply; water must also be safe, equitable, and sustainable. In Mewat region, the women struggled to meet domestic water needs. The cement storage tanks at family level built in partnership with the community provided 24/7 doemstic water access to the women, bringing about dramatic shifts in their way of life, and eased their stress.
Governance Battles: Rivers vs. Mining
TBS’s journey has not been without conflict. In the 1990s, as rivers began to flow again, mining companies moved in, seeking to exploit the rejuvenated aquifers. Illegal mining threatened to undo decades of community effort. Villagers, supported by TBS, resisted fiercely. They rganized protests, filed petitions, and demanded enforcement of environmental laws. In some cases, they faced violence and intimidation. Yet persistence paid off. Courts ordered bans on destructive mining, and communities asserted their right to protect their commons. These battles underscored a larger truth: ecological justice requires political courage. TBS’s advocacy has since expanded to national forums, where it champions river rights, commons governance, and climate resilience.
Cultural Revival: Water as Identity
Beyond infrastructure and governance, TBS has rekindled cultural connections to water. Festivals, rituals, and songs once centered on rivers and rain have been revived. Shramdaan itself has become a ritual of solidarity, where villagers gather to dig, build, and celebrate. In these moments, water conservation is not just technical—it is spiritual, cultural, and communal.
This cultural revival strengthens resilience. When people see water as part of their identity, they protect it with greater commitment. Rivers become more than channels of flow; they become symbols of life, continuity, and belonging.
Impact Across Sectors
The ripple effects of TBS’s work extend far beyond water:
- Agriculture: Revived irrigation has restored millet, wheat, and mustard cultivation,
reducing dependence on external markets. - Migration: With livelihoods secured, families stay in villages instead of migrating to cities.
- Education: Girls, freed from the burden of fetching water, return to school, reshaping gender dynamics.
- Health: Clean water reduces disease, improving overall well-being.
- Climate Resilience: Traditional methods buffer against erratic monsoons,
desertification, and climate shocks.
So far, TBS has helped communities make 15,500 plus water harvesting structures such as johds, anicuts, bunds, khadeens, taankas, etc, impacting 1 million plus lives. Water conserved every year exceeds 30 billion . As a result of the water conservatgion work, 13 rivers have been revived.
Recognition and Global Influence
- In 2001, Rajendra Singh was honored with the Ramon Magsaysay Award for Community
Leadership, Asia’s most prestigious award, often called the “Asian Nobel Prize.” The
citation praised his ability to mobilize villagers to revive traditional water systems and restore ecological balance. - In 2004, TBS received the Indira Gandhi Paryavaran Puraskar, India’s highest environmental award, recognizing its pioneering role in water conservation and community-led ecological governance.
- Later in 2015, Rajendra Singh received the Stockholm Water Prize, often called the
“Nobel Prize for Water.” The award recognized not just technical achievements but the
philosophy of community-led conservation. Singh has since become a global voice,
advocating for participatory water governance, river rights, and ecological justice. - Yet TBS remains firmly rooted in Rajasthan. Its strength lies in its ability to scale without
losing intimacy, each johad is built by villagers, each river revived by collective effort. This balance of local action and global vision makes TBS unique.
Future Directions: Rivers as Living Entities
- Looking ahead, TBS envisions a future where rivers are legally recognized as living
entities, with rights to flow, regenerate, and be protected. It seeks to expand water
literacy programs, teaching communities across India to manage their resources
sustainably. It also advocates linking local governance to national climate policy,
ensuring that grassroots voices shape global debates. - Perhaps most importantly, TBS aims to build networks of water stewards, connecting villages, NGOs, and governments in
a shared mission. In Singh’s words: “Reviving rivers revives communities. When water flows, life flows.”
Tarun Bharat Sangh’s story is not just about water—it is about democracy, justice, and resilience. It shows that even in the harshest landscapes, most marginalised communities
can reclaim their future through collective action. It reminds us that ecological repair is inseparable from cultural renewal. And it proves that one johad, built with faith and solidarity,
can spark a revolution. As India grapples with climate change, urbanization, and ecological
stress, TBS offers a model of hope. Its rivers are not just streams of water; they are streams
of possibility. They tell us that the desert can awaken, that communities can thrive, and that
the future can be shaped by those who dare to believe in the power of water.
About the Organisation
Tarun Bharat Sangh (TBS), founded in 1975 and famously led by the “Waterman of
India” Rajendra Singh, is a renowned NGO that rejuvenates dry rivers and combats
drought through community-driven rainwater harvesting.
Clear Cut Health Desk
New Delhi, UPDATED: November 06, 2026 16:00 IST
Written By: Tanmay J. Urs
