Talk to anyone familiar with Bengaluru, and they will likely mention that the city was once called ‘The City of Lakes’, a reference to the numerous water bodies across the urban landscape. These lakes gained the attention of the city’s residents and the international community in 2017, when foam created by phosphate-based detergent in Bellandur Lake, in southeast Bengaluru caught on fire. The dystopian, seemingly impossible image of burning lakes generated much outrage and calls for action. NGOs and Resident Welfare Associations have subsequently undertaken projects across the city to rejuvenate and revitalize some of the lakes across the city.
But Bengaluru has never been a city of ‘lakes’, not really. A more appropriate moniker would be city of ‘tanks’: interconnected man-made water bodies that have for centuries provided a means to store rainwater, and therefore a water supply. Bengaluru sits some 1800 feet above sea level, meaning that storing water has always been essential for the city’s viability. Tanks have played an important historic role in South India, especially the state of Karnataka, in which Bengaluru is situated. Rather than relics of a foregone pastoral idyll, these tanks emerged alongside the city, growing with it over time. The earliest tanks in the city date to the 11th century and for centuries were managed by local communities as a kind of commons.
degradation
Under British rule, however, tanks fell out of favor as dams offered a way to both generate energy and ensure water supply. At the same time, residents transitioned from using tanks and switched to private individual wells. These in turn compromised the tanks by depleting groundwater. Because of these two shifts, tanks that once operated like commons and were maintained by the local community came to be neglected. Coupled with rapid urbanization that outpaced the ability of the city to supply networked waste systems and sewage treatment plans, the tanks were slowly polluted by the city’s accumulating waste. The tanks are connected, meaning that water from one flows into others. Perhaps paying the highest price are the tanks at the end of these ‘series’, such as Varthur Lake. Residents not much older than thirty today can remember throwing coins in the water as a child, and diving down through clear waters to retrieve them. But today the lake’s waters are opaque and toxic. In recent years, the lake experienced a major fish death, and some residents and environmentalists consider it ‘dead’.
Thank you to Sachin Rathod and Rohan D’Souza for sharing their insights and city with me.