The Great Kashmir Sand Heist
One October morning last year, a yellow L&T excavator rolled into Kralwari village in central Kashmir’s Budgam district and started tearing into the Doodh Ganga.
The machine worked with industrial efficiency, scooping out sand, gravel, and boulders, loading truck after truck.
Village residents watched in silence. They had seen this before. The Doodh Ganga, a trout-bearing stream that supplies drinking water to seven hundred thousand people in Srinagar, was being hollowed out again.
I happened to be in the area that day.
The District Mineral Officer had issued a short-term permit to a contractor, allowing this work to proceed. The officer either missed or ignored a Supreme Court judgment delivered seven months earlier that banned exactly this type of activity without prior Environmental Clearance.
He also seemed unaware that the National Green Tribunal had already prohibited mining in this specific stream and imposed a penalty of roughly sixteen lakh rupees on contractors operating there.
This single incident captures a much larger failure.
Kashmir’s rivers and streams have faced systematic looting by mining operations using heavy machinery for years. The damage extends far beyond environmental harm. It represents economic theft on a massive scale, administrative collapse, and the erosion of public trust in institutions meant to protect common resources.
I have spent five years documenting this crisis. Through the J&K Climate Action Group, I have filed multiple petitions before the National Green Tribunal. The response has been significant, though the struggle continues.
Three major streams, including Doodh Ganga, Shali Ganga, and Sukhnag, now operate under judicial protection, with mining bans enforced by court order rather than government initiative.
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The Doodh Ganga case illustrates both the problem and the remedy.
I grew up swimming in this stream. It originates from the Pir Panjal glaciers and flows through my village. Five years ago, I watched heavy machinery convert this living waterway into a commercial quarry.
The streambed was gouged to dangerous depths, embankments crumbled, and trout populations collapsed.
Local labourers who once earned sustainable livelihoods through manual extraction found themselves displaced by mechanized operations that employed few locals and paid minimal royalties.
The National Green Tribunal intervened in 2024, banning mechanized mining and directing the government to install sewage treatment plants.
Chief Minister Omar Abdullah recently laid foundation stones for these facilities, representing a Rs 140 crore investment in the stream’s recovery.
Mining has largely stopped, though occasional night-time violations persist. The court orders provided the leverage that administrative requests could not.
The Shali Ganga case followed a similar trajectory.
A major construction company appealed an NGT ban all the way to the Supreme Court, spending two and a half years fighting to resume operations.
In August 2025, Justices P.S. Narasimha and Atul S. Chandurkar dismissed the appeal, upholding the tribunal’s order. The Supreme Court specifically criticized J&K’s environmental authorities for granting clearances without scientific replenishment studies, calling their approach “half-hearted” and illustrative of “regulatory failure.”
The state now faces a Rs 3.10 crore environmental compensation claim against the company.
Sukhnag stream received protection most recently. Following a site inspection by a central government team in December 2024, the NGT imposed a complete ban on January 15, 2025. A district-level committee confirmed extensive ecological damage.
A scientific team from the G.B. Pant National Institute of Himalayan Environment submitted its findings last month. The tribunal is expected to impose substantial penalties on both the construction company and government officials who facilitated the illegal extraction.
These victories matter, but they reveal a troubling pattern.
Court intervention proved necessary because administrative mechanisms failed completely. In Sukhnag alone, material worth an estimated Rs 200 to 300 crore was extracted over three years, while government records show only Rs 1.30 crore in royalty payments.
This ratio, less than one percent captured by the public treasury, suggests organized plunder rather than regulated resource use.
The human costs compound the financial losses. Fishermen have watched their catch disappear as spawning grounds are destroyed. Farm labourers who depended on manual sand extraction have lost their traditional livelihoods to machines. Borewells and springs near mined riverbanks have dried up as water tables dropped.
Last year’s floods caused worse damage than necessary because degraded embankments failed to contain rising waters.
The Supreme Court’s 2024 judgment in Noble M. Paikada vs. Union of India established clear standards: no mining without Environmental Clearance, no short-term permits as workarounds, no heavy machinery where manual labour is specified.
These rules are now settled law, but implementation remains the challenge.
Kashmir needs manufactured sand alternatives to reduce pressure on river systems. The geology and mining department must build genuine enforcement capacity rather than relying on judicial oversight to catch violations. District officials who issued illegal permits should face accountability, not just the contractors who carried out the work.
Five years of advocacy have taught me that legal channels work, but slowly.
The rivers cannot wait for another round of petitions. The courts have done their part. The question now is whether Kashmir administration will step up, or whether the excavators will return the moment judicial attention shifts elsewhere.
