- The suspension of The Indus Waters Treaty, once a symbol of cooperation between India and Pakistan has devastating consequences for the endangered Indus river dolphin.
- Joint ecological corridors and bilateral monitoring could enable both nations to safeguard critical dolphin habitats without compromising security concerns.
- Urgent transboundary conservation and community actions are needed to protect the dolphin and the river’s future.
- The views in the commentary are that of the author.
They say war consumes men, grain, and soil. It scorches fields, topples homes, and swells markets with fear and silence. In South Asia’s latest reckoning — born of long-standing tensions and grievous provocations between two neighbouring nations with a shared and fraught history — treaties have begun to fray. Among the most significant ruptures is the suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT), long upheld as a rare symbol of cooperation between India and Pakistan.
This may signal a shift in how nations assert control over water. But the consequences flow downstream — literally. And there is an unlikely victim who will bear the cost: the Indus river dolphin, a near-blind, endangered creature that can barely breathe beneath the surface.
This kind of fallout often slips by unnoticed. Diplomacy and defence dominate the headlines, while rivers and their quiet dependents are reduced to footnotes — if they’re mentioned at all. But with every step we take towards severing the lifelines between nations, we also sever connections between ecosystems; between species that rely on rhythms older than any border.
The Indus Waters Treaty was not just a technical document; it was a pact that enabled the shared use of a river indifferent to borders. Its sudden weakening doesn’t just threaten crops or power production, it could silence a species already on the edge.
Navigating changes
In the local Saraiki dialect, the Indus river dolphin (Platanista gangetica minor) is known as Bhulan — an old name, almost mythical in the regions where it once thrived. Some say it was named for the way it curved through the water like a crescent moon. Along the riverbanks, farmers still recall tales of the Bhulan leaping at twilight, surfacing just before the monsoon, like a river spirit heralding the turn of the seasons.
Sadly, the Bhulan is no longer a familiar sight. It moves like a ghost through muddy currents — elusive, half-forgotten, unsure of its place in a changed world. Most who live along the Beas or lower Indus have never seen one, nor known that the river they wash their feet in still cradles one of the rarest mammals on the planet.
The Indus dolphin now survives mainly in Pakistan’s Indus river, with three primary subpopulations between the Chashma, Taunsa, Guddu, and Sukkur barrages. Two smaller, more fragile groups persist — one south of Sukkur, the other in India’s Beas river. In the 19th century, Bhulan ranged freely across the entire river system — from the delta in the south to Kalabagh near the Himalayan foothills, spanning all major tributaries. That range is now a memory. Between the Jinnah and Chashma barrages, the species has vanished, reportedly disappearing after 2001.
As barrages multiplied and rivers were harnessed, the Bhulan’s range got fragmented, accelerating its decline exponentially. Where it once swam freely, there are now dry fields, irrigation canals, or encroaching cities. A generation that grew up with the dolphin in their backyard has passed, and the next may never know it ever existed.
Despite its remarkable physiology — pinpoint eyes, a beak lined with sensory hairs, and an uncanny ability to echolocate through muddy waters — the Indus dolphin cannot survive what humans have turned the river into. Evolution equipped it for a wild, unpredictable current, not for concrete walls, diverted flows, or treaties turned cold.
Its survival depends on a specific kind of river, one that moves steadily, without sudden drops or dead ends. A river that is both generous and predictable. And such rivers, today, are rare to find.
A fragile existence
The Indus river dolphin is the second most endangered freshwater dolphin in the world. Endemic to the Indus river system, it once thrived across the 3,400 kilometres of riverine habitat. Today, it clings to survival in just 690 fragmented kilometres in Pakistan — and in India, within a single stretch of the Beas.
For decades, the Indian population was believed extinct, until a few surfaced near Harike in 2007. A 2023 survey by the Punjab Forest Department counted fewer than 10 individuals. In Pakistan, the Sindh Wildlife Department estimates a larger, yet still vulnerable, population of around 2,100.
Its fragile presence depends entirely on consistency of water levels and its flow as well as its quietness. Even the slightest disruption to these rhythms can tip the balance. Protections exist on paper. The dolphin is listed as “endangered” by the IUCN, placed under Schedule I of India’s Wildlife Protection Act, and recognised by nearly every major conservation treaty — CITES, CMS, the ESA. Yet no legal safeguard, however strong, can revive a river that has ceased to flow.
The recent suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty marks another shift in the delicate balance this ecosystem depends on — deliberate, and deeply consequential. It marks a geopolitical inflection point, a strategic recalibration in response to longstanding provocations. But the river does not interpret intentions. It knows only release or restraint. And the consequences of tightening its flow reach far beyond the language of policy or power.
The water will not vanish overnight. There will be no dramatic drought. Instead, the decline will be quiet — flows incrementally adjusted, reduced, redirected. What eventually reaches the delta may no longer be enough. Salinity will creep in. Pollutants will settle longer in sluggish currents. Seasonal volumes will drop. And as habitat shrinks, dolphin pods, already isolated, will struggle to find each other. Breeding will slow. The river’s pulse will weaken. These dolphins do not migrate. They will not leave a dry barrage behind for fuller waters. They will wait. And wait. And die there.
So, while the suspension of the Treaty signals a new posture, an assertion of sovereignty, it also marks a reckoning for the river itself. And in that reckoning, the dolphin becomes collateral. The death of a single dolphin may not echo through diplomatic halls, but it will be felt by the river.
How can we help the Bhulan
Already, stretches of the Beas run shallow for weeks each year. Climate change has altered seasonal rhythms, while pollution from agriculture and industry continues to degrade water quality. But these are slow knives. The suspension of the Treaty is sharper — it formalises the risk.
Without coordinated transboundary flow, sudden water diversions could shift from rare exceptions to routine policy. Barrages will remain closed longer. Upstream needs will be unilaterally prioritised. And downstream ecosystems — like the Bhulan’s — will become statistical sacrifices.
More alarmingly, the suspension could unravel joint research and monitoring efforts. Shared ecological data, basin-wide dolphin counts, and cross-border rescue missions — already rare — may vanish altogether. Without collaboration, the true scale of decline will remain hidden. And what goes unseen is all too easy to ignore.
India has every reason to be cautious with its waters. No nation can be expected to share vital resources with a neighbour that foments hostility. But safeguarding sovereignty need not come at the cost of abandoning critical biodiversity. National interest, after all, includes not just our borders, but the rivers that flow within them, and what still breathes beneath their surface.
First, we must stop thinking of the Indus as a border and start recognising it as a living, indivisible entity. Conservation does not end at the last dam on our side; it demands co-managed water regimes, guaranteed environmental flows, and an understanding of ecological continuity. The dolphin cannot petition ministries or dispatch envoys. But science and advocacy can and must speak on its behalf.
Both India and Pakistan are signatories to the Convention on Migratory Species. Dolphins may not migrate like birds, but their habitat overlaps require transboundary thinking. Even symbolic measures — coordinated census efforts, or co-funded sanctuaries — could keep some level of shared commitment alive.
Secondly, urgency must return to the community level. Local awareness of the Bhulan — or Susu, as it’s known in Sindh — is inadequate. Conservation groups must equip riverside communities with reporting tools, rescue training, and, above all, the knowledge that their river holds a living heritage worth protecting. These dolphins are not just biodiversity markers; they are part of the shared cultural and ecological memory of the subcontinent.
Lastly, with the Treaty now suspended, we must ask: what next?
If future agreements are to emerge, India can anchor them in ecological thresholds — not as acts of goodwill, but as expressions of clarity and principle. Minimum environmental flows for species like the Indus dolphin must be non-negotiable — not concessions, but statements of what we choose to stand for.
Within our own borders, action can begin immediately. The Beas is still home to a few dolphins. India could establish a conservation corridor protected by its political will. Pollution control, sand mining regulation, and seasonal flow assurance could offer the species something it has not had in decades—a chance to breathe again.
The author is a marine conservationist and an ocean-climate communicator. A fellow with The Asia Foundation, he’s the founder of Generation Artivism and President of ThinkOcean Society, leading ocean restoration, literacy, and policy advocacy efforts across six countries. Ajay’s work spans artivism, High Seas (BBNJ) advocacy, MPAs and ocean education.
Citation:
Qureshi, Q., Kolipakam, V., Wakid, A., Deori, S., Gayathri, A., Jacob, M., Singh, G., Bettaswamy, A., Roy, K., Das, S., Sharma, S., Dutta, A., Singh, V., Sarma, H., Negi, R., Roy, G., Ray, S., Choudhary, S. K., Choudhury, B. C., & Hussain, S. A. (2021). Monitoring Ganges and Indus River Dolphins, associated aquatic fauna and habitat: Field guide 2021–22. Wildlife Institute of India.
World Wildlife Fund. (n.d.). Indus River dolphin. https://www.worldwildlife.org/species/indus-river-dolphin
WWF India. (n.d.). Dolphin mitras: Saviours of iconic river dolphins. https://www.wwfindia.org/news_facts/feature_stories/dolphin_mitras_saviours_of_iconic_river_dolphins/
NOAA Fisheries. (n.d.). Indus River dolphin: Conservation & management. https://www.fisheries.noaa.gov/species/indus-river-dolphin/conservation-management
National Marine Mammal Foundation. (n.d.). South Asian river dolphin. https://nmmf.org/marine-mammal/south-asian-river-dolphin
Al Jazeera. (2024, January 7). Can Pakistan’s Indus River dolphins be saved? https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2024/1/7/can-pakistans-indus-river-dolphins-be-saved
Banner image: An Indus river dolphin in Pakistan. Image © WWF Pakistan.
