Kashmir’s Community Canals Now Struggle to Flow Alone

By Khursheed Ahmad Shah

Kupwara, Jammu and Kashmir: Adnan Rasheed Dar (25) of Khuroo village in Jammu and Kashmir’s Kupwara district remembers the announcement from the mosque loudspeaker this April clearly.

“It wasn’t time for the adhan (call to prayer), so I feared it was bad news,” he told 101Reporters. “We usually use the loudspeaker to announce someone’s death or share urgent information with the community. But this time, it was a call for kuel wann. The community canal-cleaning day.”

Kuel wann is a tradition where an individual, a family, or sometimes even a government worker cleans a canal on their own. 

It is usually a small, personal effort, done out of care, habit, or responsibility,  to keep the water flowing. 

It was the first such announcement for kuel wann that year, but only a few people showed up. 

Most of them were big landlords, carrying tools like belcha (spade), khein (iron spade), and beil (shovel) to clean the canal that runs through the paddy fields of Khuroo village in Langate. They managed to clean only a few kilometres before giving up.

Water and life

The kuls of Kashmir once flowed not just through the fields but through the very heart of village life. From irrigating crops to connecting communities, these water channels shaped daily routines.

In the early mornings, long before the day’s bustle began, women would walk to the yarbals, familiar spots along the canals,  to fetch water. “They would talk and laugh together as they began their day,” said Shah Saniya (22) from Zachaldara village.

Kashmiri poet Habba Khatoon captured this world in a popular folk song often sung by rural women while drawing water or working in paddy fields. The song describes a woman’s daily life at her in-laws:

Gari drayas aabe natis nout mea futmo maalineo,

Ya dei toom nati nota nat nati chei haare maalineo ho

Translation:

A pitcher slipped from my hands as I went out to fetch water.

O, my mother’s home! Give me pitcher after pitcher,

No matter the cost, O my mother’s home!

Her words describe her sense of longing for her home and her familiar routine. 

“That world is quietly fading now,” said Shaista Masoodi (36) from Handwara. “The kuls are drying, and the lively sounds once heard at the yarbels are gone. What used to be full of life is now abandoned.”

She remembers a time when the water was so clean to wash utensils using grass, clay, and ash. “Today, it’s just foul water and drainage waste. Women cannot even go there alone anymore. With stray dogs roaming around, these places do not feel safe like they used to.”

The community’s lost festival

Earlier, kuel wann was a community event, almost like a festival.

“I remember when kuel wann was led by the mudgam or village head,” recalled Altaf Zargar, a writer from Handwara. “The doel wala (drum beater) would go around, calling on everyone to join. It brought the whole village together.”

That changed after the Jammu & Kashmir Irrigation Act of 1978 brought traditional, farmer-managed zamindari kuls under government control. The Act defined these channels under Section 2(cc) as "irrigation channel which was maintained by the beneficiaries themselves but taken over by the Government for the purpose of remodelling, repair or maintenance”. 

With this shift, local communities gradually stepped back. 

“People assumed it was now the government’s job,” Zargar said. “That shift in mindset became one of the main reasons for the decline of these traditional water systems.”

Today, many kuls have become dumping grounds, choked with waste, diapers, and plastic bags. “Losing these kuls means losing a critical support system for our local economy, especially agriculture and horticulture,” he added.

Disconnect and decline

Farooq Ahmad Dar, president of the Dah Gam Kul Association, a local union of farmers, also spoke of the significance of loss. “The kul in our area is called Dah Gam Kul, the ten-village canal. It starts at Pohru Check and flows from Bangus to lower Qaziabad, ending at Ganapora,” he said. “A few years ago, the entire stretch was cleaned by locals. Now, it’s at the mercy of God.”

The disinterest, he said, stems from the maali levy tax. “Farmers pay Rs 30 per kanal (0.05 hectares) for kul water and Rs 150 if they use pump water. They feel that since they are paying, they shouldn’t have to maintain it.”

Kul water flows naturally along the surface, guided by gravity without external force or machinery. Pump water, in contrast, is drawn from rivers or streams and transported with high-powered motors and heavy equipment. This lifted water is channelled into irrigation streams to maintain a steady supply, especially during the paddy season when the natural flow is insufficient or disrupted.

Dar, who has led the association since 2007, said they once organised several volunteer-led cleaning drives. “But people’s thinking has changed. They no longer see this as their duty.”

The irrigation department, meanwhile, is severely understaffed. “On each kul, there are only two to five employees, most of them daily wagers. How much can they do?” Dar said.

Junior Engineer Shabeer Hussain Alamgir explained that the work now largely falls under the Rural Development Department and is executed through the Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act (MGNREGA) scheme. “We don’t have the resources to clean canals regularly ourselves. We don’t have much involvement in it anymore. We just pass on the requirements and the rest is handled through the Net NREGA portal,” he said.

Reviving a dying tradition

Alamgir explained that most canals do not have perennial water sources. “We rely on pumping stations. Lal Kul in Kupwara, for example, is maintained by a dedicated pump. Most of these canals in Pohru check are connected to Nallah-e-Mawer near Khan Tulwari in Langate.”

But restoring them is not just a technical issue. “For years, this water was used not only for farming but also for drinking. Sadly, that’s no longer the case,” said Noor-ul-Shahbaz, lecturer in law and former acting principal based in Porupeth village. “It is not just the government's responsibility. It’s ours too.”

He also talked about the disappearance of Halsheri, the tradition of voluntary community desilting of canals. 

Halsheri is a step above kuell wann. It is when the whole village comes together to clean the canal as one. No one asks for money. People join in willingly led by local elders, mohallah committees, or the sarpanch. It is not just about cleaning, it is about the community working together for a common good. 

“In many places, the irrigation department can’t even intervene because canals are too narrow or there’s no community support. That puts immense pressure on major kuls like Dah Gam Kul, which serves over ten villages,” Dar explained. 

The department can only carry out desilting or repair work if there is proper road connectivity or access to the site. 

For example, an excavator needs at least an 8 to 10-foot-wide path to operate, but in many places, the tracks alongside the kuls are barely 1 to 2 feet wide. The terrain can be steep and uneven, and dense vegetation often blocks entry altogether. Without community-led kuell wan to take care of these smaller, hard-to-reach stretches, and the larger canals end up bearing the burden of supplying water to multiple villages.

He added that civil society must step up. “NGOs, private groups, or local organisations should work with the government to maintain these water bodies. These kuls are part of our heritage, some even 200 to 500 years old. These canals have been the lifelines of our communities,” he said.

Administration response and the way forward

Azad Ahmad Bhat, former sarpanch of Yaroo Panchayat, told 101Reporters the consequences of an uncleaned canal. “If the kuls aren’t cleaned in time, weeds and silt pile up. The flow stops, and fields dry out.”

“Last year in Yaroo, paddy suffered the most because it needs water all the time. We do not want to see it happen again,” Bhat said.  

An official from the Irrigation Department acknowledged the scale of the problem. “We do carry out desilting work across districts, but urbanisation has created new challenges. We don’t have enough machinery, and there are no proper dumping sites for the silt,” he said.

He explained that the responsibility for this work has now shifted to the Rural Development Department (RDD) under the Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Scheme MGNREGS.  “We’ve shared all the required details with them,” he added.

“However, in May, the entire process was disrupted when most government websites, including the MGNREGA portal, went down amid a war-like situation, bringing all related work to a sudden halt”

Each block has only about 10 staffers, expected to serve over 20 villages. Some kuls stretch over 50 kilometres in a single village. “It’s impossible to manage without community support,” the official said.

Even when cleaned, canals quickly fill again with waste. “We clean Dahgam Kul every day. By the next morning, there are polythene bags, diapers, and garbage in it again. It’s not just disheartening. It’s frustrating,” he said. [101Reporters/VS]

This article is republished from 101 Reporters under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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