Between the banks: Reimagining the Ganga Water Treaty in an era of strained India-Bangladesh waters Today World News

“The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.” — Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali

Rivers do not respect borders, and yet they define them. For India and Bangladesh – bound by history, geography, and an intimate fluvial geography – the rivers that course between them have long served both as lifelines and fault lines. At the heart of their complex hydrological entanglement lies the Ganga, or Padma as it is known in Bangladesh, the sacred and strategic river whose waters have carried more than sediment: they have carried contest, compromise, and, occasionally, concord.

As the 30-year Ganga Water Sharing Treaty of 1996 approaches its scheduled review in 2026, this long-standing agreement stands at a crossroads. Once hailed as a diplomatic breakthrough, the Treaty now faces mounting pressures – hydrological, ecological, political, and geopolitical. The present downturn in India-Bangladesh relations that has been shaped by the continuing anti-India sentiment (during and after the ouster of the Sheikh Hasina’s Awami League government in August 2024), stalled negotiations over the Teesta water sharing treaty, rising Chinese influence in Dhaka, and India’s growing unease with the Muhammad Yunus-led government and its growing proximity to both Islamabad and Beijing, only adds to the urgency. In this moment of flux, the Ganga Treaty is not merely a technical document to be reviewed, but a symbol of the region’s capacity – or incapacity – to share water, power, and trust in equal measure.

From Farakka to friendship: a brief history of a dispute

The origins of India-Bangladesh water disputes predate Bangladesh’s birth in 1971. As early as the 1950s, India had conceived the Farakka Barrage, a massive diversion project on the Ganga, barely 18 km from what would become the international border, to flush silt from the Kolkata Port. Construction began in 1961 and continued through the decade, raising alarm in East Pakistan (and later independent Bangladesh) over downstream flow reduction and ecological damage.

The situation escalated in 1975, when India commissioned the barrage, even as Sheikh Mujibur Rahman struggled to stabilise a nascent Bangladesh. The result was immediate backlash: in 1976, Maulana Bhashani led the Farakka Long March, a mass mobilisation against Indian water policies. A series of ad hoc agreements followed – 1977, 1982, 1985 – but none provided durable solutions. Negotiations oscillated between technical wrangling and political breakdown.

It was only in 1996, under the leadership of Prime Ministers H.D. Deve Gowda and Sheikh Hasina, that a 30-year framework was agreed upon. The Ganga Water Sharing Treaty institutionalised a flow-sharing mechanism for the critical dry season

(January to May) and laid the foundation for a Joint Committee to monitor and implement the agreement.

At the time, the Treaty was widely celebrated as a milestone in bilateral diplomacy. Yet, like many river treaties forged in optimism, it was rooted in a hydrological status quo that no longer exists.

How the treaty works – and where it falters

The 1996 Treaty established a tiered allocation formula based on the average daily flow at Farakka. If flows fell below 70,000 cusecs, water would be shared equally. At 70,000–75,000 cusecs, Bangladesh would receive 35,000, and above 75,000, India would draw a minimum of 40,000. A provision was included for emergency consultations if flows dipped perilously low for 10 consecutive days.

However, the Treaty contains no independent dispute resolution mechanism, no climate-adaptive clauses, and no explicit environmental flow mandates. It assumes static hydrological baselines drawn from the 1949–1988 averages, even as climate change, glacier retreat, and monsoon unpredictability alter the river’s rhythms.

Some studies have argued that Bangladesh did not receive its fair share of flows in nearly 60–65% of dry season periods post-1996, particularly in March and April when water is most needed for irrigation. This has generated a perception in Bangladesh that the Ganga’s reduced flow has accelerated salinity intrusion, collapsed fisheries, and deepened poverty in the southwest delta. Thus, the Treaty, it is now clear, was an important diplomatic gesture but a fragile hydrological instrument.

The broader landscape: over 50 shared rivers, one major treaty

While the Ganga gets the headlines, it is only one of the 54 transboundary rivers that link the two nations. These include the Brahmaputra, Teesta, Manu, Feni, and Barak, among others. Yet, apart from a modest 2019 agreement on the Feni River, which allows India to draw drinking water for Tripura, no other shared river has a binding treaty.

The most contentious remains the Teesta, a vital source of dry-season irrigation for Bangladesh’s north-west. A draft Teesta accord – allocating 42.5% to India and 37.5% to Bangladesh – was negotiated in 2011 under Prime Minister Manmohan Singh. However, opposition from West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee torpedoed the deal. The deadlock persists, despite repeated attempts at arriving at a breakthrough.

This asymmetric landscape – one treaty, many rivers, little trust – has compounded Bangladesh’s sense of vulnerability and India’s perception of strategic constraint. The Ganga Treaty, in effect, must now carry the burdens of every unmade river agreement.

The downturn: from natural neighbours to strategic distance

In the past year, India–Bangladesh relations reached a new low with the ouster of the Awami League government. Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s government had gone to great lengths to accommodate Indian concerns: cracking down on

northeastern insurgents, settling the long-pending Land Boundary Agreement in 2015, and granting port access to India’s northeast.

In return, however, Dhaka perceived a lack of Indian reciprocity — particularly on the Teesta and other water issues. The passage of the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) in 2019 and references to Bangladeshi “infiltrators” in India’s domestic political discourse have also caused disquiet.

Into this space has stepped in China, offering infrastructure, defence cooperation, and diplomatic courtship. Beijing’s role in developing the Teesta River Management Project has added new dimensions to what was once a bilateral concern. In addition, the increased visible presence of Pakistan, including the ISI, and the rising support for “extremist” parties risk derailing bilateral relations.

The 2026 review: what is at stake?

The 1996 Treaty was signed with a 30-year lifespan. While it does not automatically expire, Article XII provides for review, modification, or renewal by mutual consent. Both sides have signalled interest in revisiting its terms, but from very different perspectives.

India’s concerns centre on:

Reduced flows in the Ganga due to climate change and upstream abstraction.

The growing water–energy–food security nexus, particularly in the Gangetic belt.

The need for more flexibility in allocations, particularly during drought years.

Bangladesh’s priorities include:

Legal guarantees for minimum flows during the lean season.

Ecological considerations, especially for fisheries and salinity control.

Data transparency and third-party verification of flow measurements.

Inclusion of other rivers, particularly the Teesta, in a basin-wide framework.

Without a creative and cooperative spirit, these divergent priorities could harden into zero-sum bargaining. Yet, if approached with vision, the review could inaugurate a new era of integrated, climate-resilient, and equitable river governance.

Beyond the Ganga: towards a basin-wide imagination

India and Bangladesh need to move beyond the outdated, barrage-centric, volumetric models of the 20th century. The future lies in:

Ecological flows, not just engineered flows.

Real-time hydrological data sharing, using satellite and sensor technologies.

Joint river basin organisations with dispute resolution mandates.

Adaptive frameworks that account for climate variability and glacial melt.

Integrated management that links river water to groundwater, biodiversity, disaster resilience, and livelihoods.

Globally, such cooperative regimes have emerged on the Mekong, Danube, and even the Indus (before the recent downturn in India–Pakistan tensions). There is no reason why the Ganga — and by extension, the India-Bangladesh river network — cannot become such a model.

A moment of reckoning — and opportunity

As the waters of the Ganga grow shallower and the politics around them deeper, 2026 will be a moment of reckoning. The choice before New Delhi and Dhaka is stark: revert to suspicion and scarcity, or reimagine cooperation and co-ownership.

India, as the upper riparian and the regional power, must take the initiative —as a responsible steward of shared waters.

Bangladesh, for its part, must pursue a strategy that balances its rights while understanding India’s concerns — insisting on its rights, but not undermining the relationship’s foundations through overreliance on China or international forums.

If handled wisely, the Ganga Treaty review could set a precedent for the rest of South Asia, a region where nearly every major river crosses borders, and nearly every border is fraught.

The Ganga is not merely a river. It is a civilisational current. It has flowed through epics and empires, bearing witness to the rise and fall of dynasties, the migrations of peoples, and the evolution of societies. In the 21st century, it asks something more: that we learn not just to take from it, but to share it — wisely, equitably, and sustainably.

As India and Bangladesh enter the review of the 1996 Treaty, they have a rare opportunity to craft a riverine diplomacy for the Anthropocene. Not just a clause here and a percentage there, but a framework that anticipates the challenges of a warming planet, a growing population, and shifting geopolitics.

The Ganga cannot negotiate. But she can guide. And she is watching.

Beyond the Ganga: a riverine archipelago of shared challenges

Although the Ganga commands symbolic and strategic prominence, it is only one thread in a far more intricate hydrological tapestry. India and Bangladesh share 54 transboundary rivers, making this one of the densest fluvial interfaces between any two countries on the planet. Yet, remarkably, only the Ganga is governed by a formal water-sharing treaty. The others remain in legal limbo — negotiated through ad hoc memoranda, political goodwill, or not at all.

Among these rivers, the Teesta stands out not just for its hydro-political salience, but for its embodiment of the contradictions that continue to bedevil water diplomacy in South Asia. Originating in the eastern Himalayas in Sikkim, the Teesta travels

through West Bengal before entering northwestern Bangladesh, sustaining millions of farmers and ecosystems along the way. During the dry season, the river’s flow can dip below 1,000 cusecs, making equitable distribution essential — and intensely contested.

A landmark agreement on the Teesta was drafted in 2011, promising 42.5% of dry-season flow to India and 37.5% to Bangladesh. But political resistance from West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee, who feared adverse effects on her State’s farmers, led to the deal’s indefinite suspension.

The impasse over the Teesta has rippled across other river negotiations. Bangladesh now demands that the Teesta be treated as a litmus test for India’s sincerity before it entertains any revisions to the Ganga Treaty. India, meanwhile, struggles with internal federal dynamics where water is a politically sensitive domestic subject, yet must be negotiated at the international level by the central government.

Other rivers, while less politically charged, offer their own challenges and opportunities. The Brahmaputra, which flows through Tibet, Arunachal Pradesh, Assam, and into Bangladesh as the Jamuna, is ecologically fragile and strategically significant. India’s hydropower ambitions in Arunachal Pradesh and China’s upstream dam-building in Tibet are viewed with suspicion in Dhaka, where downstream flow stability is essential to floodplain agriculture.

The Feni River, though modest in scale, was the subject of a 2019 agreement that allowed India to draw drinking water for Tripura from a shared source. While heralded as a model of cooperation, the deal also sparked public protests in Bangladesh, where critics alleged it reflected asymmetry and Dhaka’s over-accommodation.

In the flood-prone northeastern region of Bangladesh, rivers such as the Manu, Khowai, and Gumti bring annual devastation. Joint basin planning, embankment management, and early warning systems are urgently needed. Yet, in the absence of a binding legal framework, these rivers remain footnotes to a Ganga-dominated discourse.

In short, South Asia’s water diplomacy suffers from treaty myopia. The obsession with one river — however significant — has precluded a basin-wide, multi-river framework rooted in modern principles of integrated water resource management, ecological flow guarantees, and transboundary equity.

Towards a new riparian compact: principles and proposals

As the 2026 review of the Ganga Treaty approaches, the time is ripe for a paradigm shift — from piecemeal, bilateral negotiations to a comprehensive, basin-wide riparian compact grounded in shared values, mutual respect, and ecological realism. The Ganga, Teesta, Brahmaputra, Feni, and dozens of lesser-known rivers must be treated not as separate transactions but as elements of a single, interconnected system.

A twenty-first-century water-sharing architecture must embrace five core principles:

First, hydrological interdependence must replace sovereign insularity. The upper and lower riparians are parts of a single system. Changes upstream — whether due to climate, dams, or land use — inevitably cascade downstream. This recognition must inform all future legal and technical arrangements.

Second, equity over equality must guide allocations. Not all needs are the same. A fair treaty recognises differential needs and adjusts accordingly, much as international water law enshrines the principle of equitable and reasonable utilisation.

Third, ecological sustainability must be integrated into all sharing formulas. The era of extractive hydrology — treating rivers as pipelines — must yield to the logic of environmental flows. The health of riverine ecosystems, biodiversity, sediment transport, and fisheries must be built into flow regimes and infrastructure design.

Fourth, institutional innovation is essential. The Joint Rivers Commission, though symbolically valuable, lacks teeth. A modern India-Bangladesh Water Commission must have independent scientific capacity, public reporting mandates, and third-party mediation options in case of dispute.

Fifth, future-proofing is vital. Treaties must no longer be static PDFs but living documents. Climate science, demographic pressures, and new technologies demand adaptive, revisable agreements with built-in feedback mechanisms.

From these principles flow practical proposals. The Ganga Treaty should be expanded to cover the Teesta and other major rivers through an umbrella framework. Data sharing must be digitised and made real-time. Pilot projects on sediment management, embankment integrity, and flood forecasting can be jointly funded. Civil society and local governments should have a voice in treaty oversight.

None of these will be easy. River politics in South Asia is deeply entangled with emotion, memory, and domestic political calculus. But the alternative is a slow descent into hydro-nationalism — where every cubic metre becomes a contest, every tributary a trigger.

It is fitting that the Ganga, revered as a goddess in India and as a lifeline in Bangladesh, becomes the crucible for a new imagination; one in which the river is not a boundary but a bond — not a source of conflict, but of cohesion. The Ganga has always flowed forward. It is now time for policy to do the same.

Amitabh Matto is Dean & Professor, School of International Studies, JNU