Mir Iqbal Hussain Chattergami
A few days ago, while teaching my students a lesson containing these memorable lines of Abdul Rahim Khan-i-Khana, popularly known as Rahim, I found their message particularly important and taught them with greater care and focus. Rahim was one of Emperor Akbar’s celebrated Navratnas—the Nine Gems of his court. A distinguished statesman, military commander and poet, he enjoyed a position of great prominence in Akbar’s court and is also widely remembered for his generosity, humility and timeless wisdom. The lines read: “Keep water, for without water everything is empty; once water is gone, pearl, human, and flour cannot be restored”. The message of these lines is simple, yet profound. Rahim reminds us to preserve water because without it everything becomes empty and lifeless. Water is essential for the survival of plants, animals and human beings.
Rahim also uses the word paani in different senses. For a pearl, it means its lustre or shine; without its lustre, the pearl loses its beauty and value. For a human being, it can symbolise honour, dignity and reputation; once these are lost, they are difficult to regain. In the case of chūn, it refers to the moisture necessary for it to retain its useful form. Through these lines, Rahim conveys a larger truth: what gives life, beauty and value must be protected before it is lost. Little did I know that these centuries-old words would soon remind me of one of Kashmir’s most precious natural treasures. Today, social media is filled with pictures of Dal Lake covered in a greenish hue, with dead fish also being seen in the water. For anyone who has known Dal Lake as a symbol of Kashmir’s beauty, the sight is deeply disturbing.
From a scientific perspective, excessive nutrients such as nitrogen and phosphorus can enter water bodies through sewage, domestic waste, agricultural runoff, detergents and other human activities. Their accumulation can encourage excessive algal growth, leading to eutrophication and algal blooms. Such blooms can change the colour of water and disturb the natural balance of an aquatic ecosystem. The danger does not end with green water. When large quantities of algae die and decompose, microorganisms consume dissolved oxygen. A significant decline in oxygen can place aquatic organisms under severe stress and, under extreme conditions, contribute to fish deaths.
Therefore, the greenish water and dead fish should not be viewed merely as an unpleasant sight. They may be warning signs of an ecosystem under stress. My concern is not only scientific. It is personal. During my childhood, Dal Lake was not merely a scenic attraction that I admired from a distance. I experienced it. My maternal aunt lived near the lake in the Dal Gate area, and whenever I visited her, my cousins would take me to the lake. We would sail in boats, swim in the water and catch fish along the shore. For us, it was great fun. But what remains most strongly in my memory is the crystal-clear water.
It looked so clean and inviting that, as children, it almost seemed to call us to drink it—even though there was no real need to do so. That was the impression the lake created: fresh, clean and full of life. Today, when I see images of Dal Lake covered in green, I cannot help comparing them with those childhood memories. The Dal Lake of my childhood and the lake we see today seem like two very different lakes. Yet Dal Lake remains a major tourist destination and an important part of Kashmir’s tourism economy. Shikaras and houseboats continue to attract visitors from across the country and beyond, supporting countless livelihoods. But there is a contradiction we cannot ignore: we depend on the lake for tourism and livelihoods while allowing human activities to threaten its ecological health.
“True education translates knowledge into responsible action rather than rote memorization. For instance, teaching children to view natural resources like lakes as living ecosystems encourages them to protect the environment at home and in their communities. Rahim’s ancient wisdom—”Preserve water; for without water, all is empty”—remains a timeless reminder of this fundamental duty.”
A lake is not merely a tourist attraction. It is a living ecosystem, a part of our natural heritage and a source of livelihood. If pollution continues unchecked, we risk damaging one of Kashmir’s greatest natural treasures.This is not the time merely to share photographs, express concern or blame one another. This is the time for proactive action. Dal Lake is a gift of nature, not a dustbin. Garbage, plastic, sewage and other wastes have no place in its waters. Local residents must act responsibly, but tourists too must understand that enjoying the beauty of the lake comes with a responsibility to protect it.
Most importantly, the government must respond with urgency. A comprehensive scientific assessment of the lake’s water quality and ecological condition is needed. Sources of sewage, solid waste, nutrient pollution and other contaminants must be identified and controlled. Scientific measures should be taken to remove accumulated pollutants and restore the lake’s ecological health. Continuous monitoring must follow to ensure that pollution does not simply return after temporary cleaning. But government action alone cannot provide a permanent solution. We all must take proactive action to protect Dal Lake. Citizens must change careless habits, tourists must stop treating water bodies as dumping grounds, businesses operating around the lake must act responsibly, and authorities must enforce environmental safeguards effectively. There is also a long-term intervention that cannot be ignored: education. Teachers should help students understand the real purpose behind the knowledge and values contained in their textbooks and curriculum.
Education should not end with memorising a definition or reproducing an answer in an examination. Knowledge and values become meaningful only when they influence our attitudes, decisions and behaviour in real life. When students encounter Rahim’s lines in their lessons, they should not merely memorise their literary meaning. Teachers can connect water with the water bodies around them and help students understand what the message means in today’s world. Dal Lake can become a living classroom for teaching water pollution, eutrophication, biodiversity, responsible citizenship and environmental stewardship. The real success of education is not when a child can reproduce what is written in a textbook, but when that knowledge becomes responsible behaviour. If children learn from an early age that a lake is a living ecosystem and not a dustbin, they can carry that value from the classroom into their homes and communities. Rahim’s words were written centuries ago, but their relevance has not diminished: “Preserve water; for without water, all is empty.” A few days ago, I taught these lines to my students. Today, Dal Lake seems to be teaching the same lesson to all of us. The question is no longer whether we understand the importance of water. The question is whether we are prepared to protect it. The Dal Lake of my childhood—clear, inviting and full of life—still lives in my memory. Let us act proactively today so that future generations know such a Dal Lake not merely through our memories, but through their own experience.
(The author is a teacher and Environmental Science researcher pursuing a PhD in Environmental Science. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the author and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
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