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By:

Rajendra Pandharpure

15 April 2025 at 7:55:54 pm

Pune’s drought could dry up business

Water rationing threatens to hit the city’s wedding industry, construction sector, retail trade and livelihoods. Pune : Pune is beginning to feel the economic sting of drought. A 10 percent cut in the city’s water supply has already been implemented, and the municipal administration has indicated that the reduction could rise to 20 percent or more over the next two to three months. What appears at first to be a water-management crisis could soon become a wider economic problem, affecting...

Pune’s drought could dry up business

Water rationing threatens to hit the city’s wedding industry, construction sector, retail trade and livelihoods. Pune : Pune is beginning to feel the economic sting of drought. A 10 percent cut in the city’s water supply has already been implemented, and the municipal administration has indicated that the reduction could rise to 20 percent or more over the next two to three months. What appears at first to be a water-management crisis could soon become a wider economic problem, affecting businesses, construction activity, employment and household budgets. The Pune Municipal Corporation has begun shutting off the water supply every Thursday. Swimming pools and vehicle-washing centres have been closed, while the use of water for construction has been prohibited. The state government has directed the civic administration to ensure that the reserves in the Khadakwasla dam chain, which supplies Pune, last until August 2027. The challenge could become more acute in the months ahead. Meteorological experts have forecast a milder winter and significantly higher temperatures this year. If these predictions hold true, increased evaporation could place further pressure on the city's water reserves, potentially necessitating stricter rationing. For residents accustomed to a relatively abundant water supply, cuts of 20 percent or more would demand a substantial adjustment in daily life. Intense Pressure The economic consequences are beginning to emerge. The closure of vehicle-washing centres has deprived young people employed in low-skilled jobs of their livelihoods. Swimming-pool closures have similarly affected security guards and lifeguards. These may appear to be small, isolated losses, but they expose a larger problem: when water-intensive businesses are forced to shut down, the burden falls disproportionately on workers with few financial reserves and limited employment alternatives. The impact could spread to Pune’s lucrative wedding industry. The wedding season traditionally gathers momentum after Tulsi Vivah in the month of Kartik, generating business worth more than Rs. 200-250 crore. Pune has long attracted affluent families from outside the city who prefer its venues and facilities for wedding celebrations, partly because of its historically reliable water supply. Persistent restrictions could undermine that advantage. Wedding venues, caterers, hotels and other service providers depend on a dependable water supply to operate. If rationing becomes more severe, organisers may reconsider their choice of venue, while businesses could face higher operating costs and disruptions. An industry that generates substantial seasonal revenue also supports a network of workers and small enterprises, making the potential economic fallout wider than the immediate loss of bookings. Rural-Urban Connection Pune’s commercial fortunes are also linked to the health of the rural economy. A good agricultural harvest typically improves rural incomes, supporting spending on goods and services in urban markets. When farm earnings weaken, that spending tends to contract, affecting traders, retailers and other businesses. If rural incomes remain subdued, the city’s commercial sector could face an additional headwind at a time when water scarcity is already threatening business activity. The interaction between agricultural distress and urban water shortages could therefore deepen the economic slowdown. Construction presents another major vulnerability. Like many large cities, Pune depends heavily on real estate and infrastructure development to sustain economic activity and employment. Construction projects generate demand across a broad network of industries, from building-material suppliers and transport operators to contractors and daily-wage workers. A prolonged restriction on construction-related water use could delay projects, raise costs and disrupt work schedules. If projects stall, the effects will extend beyond developers to workers, suppliers and businesses that depend on the real estate sector. Rising Inflation For ordinary citizens, the prospect of tighter water rationing comes amid an already difficult cost-of-living situation. Food and restaurant prices have risen sharply. A cup of tea now costs more than Rs. 30, while a serving of idli-sambar can exceed Rs. 90. Even street food, traditionally an affordable option for working people, has become increasingly expensive. These prices illustrate the pressure on household budgets, particularly those of workers whose incomes have not kept pace with rising costs. If water shortages push up operating expenses for restaurants, caterers and other businesses, consumers could face further increases. The extent of any additional price rise will depend on how severe and prolonged the restrictions become. The working class is particularly exposed. Workers in vehicle-washing centres, swimming pools, construction and allied services may lose income precisely when everyday necessities are becoming more expensive. Unlike larger businesses, many such workers have little capacity to absorb a prolonged interruption in earnings. Pune’s immediate challenge is to conserve enough water to carry the city through the coming months. Yet the implications of the drought extend well beyond household taps and civic supply schedules. Trade, real estate, hospitality and seasonal businesses all depend, directly or indirectly, on the availability of water. The two sectors facing particular uncertainty are trade and real estate. The former could suffer from weaker consumer spending and disruptions to commercial activity; the latter could be affected by restrictions on construction and the risk of project delays. The consequences would be felt across employment and the wider urban economy. Pune’s residents and businesses have not had to contend with water cuts of 20 percent or more on a sustained basis. Adapting to such restrictions will be difficult, especially if temperatures rise and the drought persists.

A Fissure in Two Maps

Oct 4, 2025
3 min read

Pakistan-occupied Kashmir’s unrest is less an argument about lines on a map than a symptom of a state that has forgotten large parts of itself and an opportunity for a more competent, patient politics.


For 75 years Pakistan has been an uneasy project. Its politics are brittle, its institutions have often been subordinated to the barracks, and its economy has laboured under mismanagement and graft. Less remarked, but equally corrosive, is the persistent regional imbalance that has hollowed out the state’s claim to legitimacy. The Punjab and Sindh have benefited while the peripheries have bled. Balochistan, Gilgit, and the portion of Kashmir administered by Pakistan (Pakistan-occupied Kashmir, or PoK) have long complained that their rivers, minerals and men have been taxed but their towns, roads and hospitals have not been built.


Those grievances are not abstract. They have helped to fertilise insurgency and alienation. The Balochistan Liberation Army’s campaign, decades of low-level violence and the chronic anger of sidelined elites are reminders that territorial control is not the same as political integration. In PoK, recent internet shutdowns, protests and crackdowns have dramatized a fact that should be obvious to any state serious about survival: if citizens feel voiceless and deprived of elementary services, their attachment to the political centre frays fast.


It is tempting to reduce the present moment to a binary of rightful sovereignty: either India’s or Pakistan’s. That temptation, however, is an avoidance of politics. Borders are products of history and force. Loyalties are made, over time, by governance, dignity and opportunity.


For New Delhi the spectacle offers both a moral challenge and a strategic opportunity. The moral case is straightforward: populations who are denied basic rights and development deserve a better fate. The strategic case is more delicate. India’s conduct in Jammu & Kashmir since 2019 has been applauded by some and criticised by others. Any suggestion that PoK should simply be folded into India is neither realistic nor soon to be realised by force. The only sustainable path requires persuasion through governance and the quiet work of winning hearts by improving lives.


That requires a recalibration of priorities. First, India needs to resist triumphalism and the crude rhetoric that reduces complex identities to slogans. PoK’s people are not merely the objects of propaganda; they are neighbours with grievances, memories and aspirations. Second, India should expand people-to-people links where possible: humanitarian outreach, cultural and academic exchanges, and connectivity initiatives that demonstrate the tangible benefits of better governance. Third, diplomacy must be patient and strategic. Bluster will only harden resistance.


Pakistan, for its part, faces a simple but painful choice: either re-embrace genuine federalism and equitable development, or continue to haemorrhage legitimacy in its peripheries. The centralised allocation of resources and the political dominance of a few provinces have fuelled separatist narratives. Delivering security without rights is a short-term remedy; development that is inclusive and visible is the only durable vaccine against fragmentation. Islamabad’s proclivity for securitised responses — curfews, internet blackouts and military operations — may suppress dissent for a time. Over the long run it deepens the grievance and gives insurgents a recruiting story.


There are regional implications, too. A Pakistan that cannot govern its borderlands is a less reliable partner in diplomacy and trade. China, which pours money into Pakistan through the China–Pakistan Economic Corridor, already quarrels with Islamabad about leaks and insurgency in Balochistan. India’s ability to demonstrate a competing model of governance in the neighbourhood would be the most persuasive argument against militarised nationalism.


None of this is a call for imperialism cloaked in development. Any durable change in PoK’s status must be the result of choices made by its people. That means creating conditions in which those choices are possible: an open information environment, protection for political dissent, and the rule of law. If India hopes to attract loyalties across the Line of Control, it will have to show it can be a better custodian of rights and prosperity than the alternative.


History teaches an uncomfortable truth: territories do not re-attach themselves because politicians issue declarations; they re-integrate when governance, dignity and opportunity make the case for a different future. Pakistan’s failure to spread the fruits of development evenly across its terrain has made that argument harder at home and has opened a small window for its neighbour. New Delhi, however, should treat that window with prudence. Winning a place in people’s lives is slow work, but it is the only work that endures.


(The writer is a foreign affairs expert. Views personal)

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