In the sweltering heat of a midsummer afternoon, a woman in a village near Bahawalpur walks nearly two kilometres to reach a hand pump that yields barely a trickle.

In Karachi, throngs of residents jostle around water tankers for a few buckets of water. Meanwhile, in middle-class homes in Rawalpindi, taps run dry for days, while in leafy suburban colonies, lush green lawns are watered twice a day. These scenes, drawn from across the country, paint a sobering picture of Pakistan’s deepening water crisis — one that threatens to become a full-blown catastrophe if urgent and coordinated action is not taken.

Once blessed with abundant rivers and one of the world’s largest canal irrigation systems, Pakistan is now officially a water-scarce nation. According to the 2023 report by the Pakistan Council of Research in Water Resources (PCRWR), per capita water availability in the country has plunged from 5,260 cubic metres in 1951 to just 1,000 cubic metres today. By the end of this decade, Pakistan’s population is expected to surpass 274 million, placing unprecedented stress on its already strained water resources.

But Pakistan’s water crisis is not only about the dwindling quantity of water — it is also a crisis of chronic mismanagement, unchecked wastage, and public indifference. Agriculture consumes nearly 90 per cent of the country’s freshwater, yet outdated flood irrigation techniques result in nearly half of it being wasted. More efficient systems such as drip and sprinkler irrigation — widely adopted in other countries — remain rare, used by fewer than five per cent of Pakistani farmers. This inefficiency is not just technical; it is a national failure to prioritise long-term sustainability over short-term convenience.

The human toll of this neglect is staggering. At least 30 million Pakistanis still lack access to safe drinking water. According to UNICEF, contaminated water claims the lives of around 250,000 children each year due to preventable diseases such as diarrhoea and cholera. Meanwhile, underground aquifers — the hidden reserves sustaining much of the country’s life and economy — are being depleted at alarming rates. Groundwater supports over 60pc of irrigation, 93pc of drinking water needs, and nearly all industrial activity. Yet a recent study found that 88pc of aquifers in Punjab are already overexploited, and many are beyond natural replenishment.

Successive governments have promised grand water projects — dams, barrages, canal rehabilitations — but their reach is limited by corruption, bureaucratic inertia, and interprovincial conflicts. Building more infrastructure may be necessary, but it is not sufficient. The real change must begin where water is consumed most — in homes, on farms, in factories, and in cities. It must begin with the people.

Fixing the problem starts with fixing our habits. A single leaking tap can waste over 5,000 litres of water in a year. Multiply that by millions of households, and the numbers run into billions. Replacing traditional showerheads with low-flow alternatives can reduce household water usage by up to 40pc. Simple acts — like turning off the tap while brushing teeth — can save six litres every minute. These are not grand gestures; they are practical habits that every citizen can adopt.

Pakistan’s cities experience heavy monsoons, yet most of this rainwater is allowed to run off into drains and disappear. The revival of rainwater harvesting, practised by generations before us, offers a solution. A basic rooftop system can collect thousands of litres each year. In Tharparkar, communities have brought back the traditional tanka system — underground tanks that store rainwater for months. These successes beg the question: if arid villages can manage this, why can’t urban Pakistan?

The agricultural sector, which gulps down the most water, also holds the greatest potential for reform. Drip irrigation reduces water use by up to 60pc, and the government offers subsidies to support farmers willing to transition. Consumers, too, can play a role by supporting markets and producers that adopt water-efficient practices. Water stewardship must extend from the fields to the shelves of our grocery stores.

The abuse of Pakistan’s natural water sources must also be curbed. According to PCRWR, the Ravi River now consists of 70pc sewage and industrial effluents. Rivers and canals are routinely treated as dumping grounds. Industrial discharge goes unchecked. Illegal bore wells drain groundwater for commercial use, unchecked and unregulated. Tubewells, drilled freely in homes and businesses, continue to lower the water table — turning once-rich lands barren and deepening urban water stress.

While policy reform is necessary, public accountability is equally crucial. The public must demand transparency and efficiency in implementation of water-related projects. If a dam remains stalled due to corruption or mismanagement, citizens must raise their voices. If groundwater is being siphoned by a factory or elite housing scheme, it must be reported. Civil society, media, and citizen-led advocacy are essential players in this national battle for survival.

NGOs across the country are already working to protect water resources — whether it is by educating rural farmers, restoring traditional water storage methods, or advocating for better regulation. They need support. This is not a government problem alone; it is a collective emergency.

The consequences of inaction are no longer theoretical. Pakistan is on the edge of massive crop failures, which will spark food shortages and price spikes. Water disputes — already a cause of tension between Sindh and Punjab — could intensify into full-blown conflicts. Cities like Karachi risk the total collapse of their water supply systems, rendering them near-uninhabitable.

Yet hope remains. Countries like Singapore, with far fewer natural water resources than Pakistan, have successfully recycled wastewater into drinking water. Cape Town, South Africa, famously averted a catastrophic “Day Zero” through coordinated public awareness and conservation efforts. Pakistan can do the same — but only if we act collectively and urgently.

The clock is ticking, and every drop counts. We are faced with a clear choice: act now, or wait for the last well to run dry. This is not someone else’s problem. It is ours. It is yours. It is mine. And it demands nothing less than a national awakening.