On World Water Day 2026, it is tempting to speak in statistics: of depleting aquifers, erratic monsoons, melting glaciers, and cities inching toward “Day Zero.” Yet, beyond the data lies a quieter, more unsettling truth—we are not facing a crisis of water alone, but a crisis of memory, of values, and of collective will.
More than a decade ago, during my tenure as Director of the Nehru Science Centre, we attempted to engage with this challenge in a manner that went beyond charts and policy briefs. There were two major events, one in the year 2013 when we organised a National Science Seminar 2013 for students on the topic Water Cooperation and another in the year 2015 under the title Water the Elixir of Life with support from JSW Foundation. In 2015, as the world marked the culmination of the UN International Decade for Action ‘Water for Life’ 2005–2015, we curated an exhibition titled “Water for Life.” It was not merely an exhibition—it was an effort to create a living dialogue between science, society, and culture.
Two richly illustrated publications of both events are available under the old publication section of the Nehru Science Centre website - for those who it may interest - for free download. I had the honour to write the genesis part of the publication in the two publications which we published.
The initiative drew inspiration from global voices, including messages from Ban Ki-moon and Irina Bokova, who reminded us that access to clean water is not a privilege but a fundamental human right. But what made the effort truly meaningful was its rootedness in India’s own civilisational wisdom and its engagement with ordinary citizens—students, artists, scientists, and community leaders.
The exhibition sought to tell a simple yet profound story: that water is not just a resource; it is the very fabric of life. It explored the “many faces of water”—as a biological necessity, a cultural symbol, a driver of economies, and, increasingly, a trigger for conflict. It reminded visitors that while over 70 percent of our planet is covered with water, less than a fraction of it is accessible freshwater. The paradox is stark: abundance in appearance, scarcity in reality.
What struck me most during those months was not the scale of the problem—we were already aware of that—but the scale of disconnect. Urban visitors, especially the young, were often surprised to learn how much water is embedded in their daily lives: in the food they eat, the clothes they wear, the energy they consume. The idea that “we are thirsty because we are hungry”—that every act of consumption is also an act of water consumption—was a revelation to many.
And yet, this is not a new insight. India’s civilisational journey offers profound lessons in water stewardship. From the sophisticated urban planning of the Indus Valley Civilisation to the intricate network of reservoirs at Dholavira, from the stepwells of Gujarat and Rajasthan to the ancient wisdom embedded in texts and traditions, water was never seen as a commodity. It was revered, conserved, and shared.
The legendary engineer Mokshagundam Visvesvaraya, whose birth anniversary we commemorate as Engineers’ Day, understood this deeply. His life’s work was a testament to the idea that engineering is not merely about infrastructure but about stewardship—of resources, of communities, and of the future.
In contrast, our contemporary relationship with water is marked by excess and inequity. Cities like Mumbai draw water from hundreds of kilometres away even as local water bodies are encroached upon or polluted. Groundwater is extracted faster than it can be replenished. Rivers are reduced to carriers of waste. The very systems that sustain us are being pushed to their limits.
Globally, the situation is no less alarming. Climate change has intensified the water cycle, making wet regions wetter and dry regions drier. Extreme weather events—floods and droughts—are becoming more frequent and more severe. Water is increasingly becoming a geopolitical issue, with transboundary rivers turning into flashpoints of tension rather than avenues of cooperation.
In this context, the lessons from initiatives like “Water for Life” assume renewed significance. One of the most powerful aspects of that effort was its multidisciplinary approach. Scientists spoke alongside social activists like Rajendra Singh, artists interpreted water through their canvases, theatre groups brought its stories to life, and students participated in debates, competitions, and pledges. It was an acknowledgement that the water crisis cannot be solved by technology or policy alone; it requires a shift in consciousness.
Today, as we stand in 2026, that insight feels more urgent than ever. We have made progress—millions have gained access to improved water sources and sanitation—but the gains are uneven and fragile. Rapid urbanisation, population growth, and changing consumption patterns are placing unprecedented pressure on finite resources. The gap between availability and access continues to widen.
What, then, must we do?
First, we must rediscover the ethic of conservation that once defined our relationship with water. This does not mean romanticising the past, but learning from it—integrating traditional knowledge systems with modern science to create sustainable solutions.
Second, we must democratise water governance. Water cannot remain the domain of experts and policymakers alone. Communities must be active participants in managing and conserving this vital resource. The success stories across India—from community-led watershed management to rainwater harvesting initiatives—demonstrate what is possible when people take ownership.
Third, we must recognise that water is a unifying force, not a divisive one. In a world increasingly marked by conflict, water offers an opportunity for cooperation—between nations, states, and communities. The alternative is a future where scarcity breeds tension and inequality deepens.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we must cultivate a culture of awareness and responsibility. Exhibitions, public engagements, and educational initiatives may seem modest in the face of a global crisis, but they play a crucial role in shaping mindsets. Policy can mandate change, but only awareness can sustain it.
As I reflect on the journey from the “Water for Life” exhibition of 2015 to World Water Day 2026, I am reminded that the challenge before us is as much moral as it is material. Water, after all, is not just about survival; it is about dignity, equity, and the kind of world we wish to leave behind.
The question is not whether we have enough water. The question is whether we have the wisdom to use it well.
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