When a lake becomes real estate: The mismanagement of Hyderabad’s waterbodies

By Dr Mansee Bal Bhargava* 

Misunderstood, misinterpreted and misguided governance and management of urban lakes in India—illustrated here through Hyderabad—demands urgent attention from Urban Local Bodies (ULBs), the political establishment, the judiciary, the builder–developer lobby, and most importantly, the citizens of Hyderabad. Fundamental misconceptions about urban lakes have shaped policies and practices that systematically misuse, abuse and ultimately erase them—often in the name of urban development.

Historically, Hyderabad’s land and waterscape were intricately interwoven with its undulating topography, drainage channels and interconnected waterbodies. Located on the Deccan Plateau along the banks of the Musi River, the city once enjoyed the distinction of being among the greenest urban centres in the world, a character largely sustained by its lakes. However, modern urban development has reversed this ecological logic. Hillocks have been mined and flattened, drainage courses obstructed, and lakes filled and reclaimed.

Between 2000 and 2020, the city’s water bodies reportedly shrank from 12,535 hectares to 2,280 hectares. As of 2025, the Hyderabad Metropolitan Development Authority records 2,959 lakes in the metropolitan area and 27 within the city limits. The Hyderabad Disaster Response and Asset Protection Agency (HYDRAA) states that over 61 per cent of the city’s lakes are already encroached upon, warning that without immediate corrective measures, the remaining 39 per cent could disappear within 15 years. The underlying reality is stark: a lake lost is treated as land gained. This transactional logic has come to define contemporary lake governance.

If urban lakes have deteriorated systematically over the past few decades, the question is not merely what action must be taken, but what actions must be reversed or discontinued. Any rushed interventions—particularly demolition or redevelopment drives carried out without ecological clarity—risk accelerating the very extinction that agencies warn against. The city must work harder to preserve both its “green” and its “blue,” ensuring that lake restoration does not become another form of lake transformation.

A rigorous diagnosis of lake governance is essential. What is happening among stakeholders? Why and how are decisions made? Who benefits, and at what stage? These questions define governance. Similarly, what is done to the lake, how, by whom, and when—these define management. The two are inseparable. To understand the state of Hyderabad’s lakes, one must understand the decision-making culture that shapes them.

The argument proceeds from the conviction—drawn from three decades of research and engagement with decision-makers across India—that lake governance directly influences lake management outcomes. In October 2024, during a workshop with HYDRAA officials, the emphasis was placed on “what not to do with urban lakes,” reiterating a simple but often ignored principle: a lake is a lake. It must not be reimagined as a park, a garden or a real estate opportunity. Misunderstanding its ecological identity inevitably misguides its management.

The larger hypothesis advanced here is that India’s recurring water crises—manifesting as both floods and droughts in a country otherwise rich in water resources and traditional wisdom—reflect less a water deficit and more a moral and governance deficit. The crisis lies in how lakes and communities are managed.

Designation and delineation offer insight into how lakes disappear. Following the introduction of the National Lake Conservation Plan (NLCP) in the early 2000s—later subsumed under the National Plan for Conservation of Aquatic Ecosystems (NPCA)—Hyderabad, like many Indian cities, witnessed the under-designation of its lakes. Fragmented records between the Collectorate, Land Revenue and Irrigation Departments enabled the de-designation of several shallow and smaller lakes. Once de-designated, a lake effectively ceased to exist in administrative terms—thereby converting it into developable land. Revenue records can reveal how government departments, private developers, industrial entities and influential individuals benefited from this transition.

The conversion of lake beds into real estate often involved opaque transaction costs and systemic corruption. Ironically, ULBs themselves may have emerged as major beneficiaries in this land transformation process. By privatizing former lake lands, they reduced the number of waterbodies under their jurisdiction, retaining fewer but larger lakes for management. At the same time, even before being formally entrusted with conservation under NLCP, ULBs were discharging untreated wastewater and dumping solid waste into these waterbodies—initially as an expedient measure, and later as a calculated strategy to gradually create land from within the lake itself.

With conservation funds flowing from central and state governments, a new narrative of “lake development” emerged—centred on beautification and recreation. Political imagination, supported by engineers, planners and architects accustomed to viewing cities through cement, brick and steel rather than ecological processes, reshaped lakes into infrastructure sites. Delineation exercises often removed portions of lake areas to construct parks, parking lots, roads and treatment plants. Construction and demolition waste, domestic garbage and industrial refuse were routinely deposited along lake edges. Dredging—frequently justified as desilting to enhance storage capacity—altered lake morphology. Maintaining year-round water levels became a pretext to legitimize continuous wastewater inflow, disregarding the seasonal rhythms intrinsic to lake ecosystems.

Before the NLCP, lake conversion was often guided by the Full Tank Level (FTL) demarcation and facilitated by distant oversight. Many colonies, public institutions, courts, hospitals and universities now stand on former lake lands. When formal designation later restricted outright conversion, a subtler process of “development” replaced it—transforming lakes without officially erasing them.

The consequences are visible in both floods and droughts. Traditional knowledge recognizes that shallow and smaller lakes function as effective water sinks during heavy rainfall, absorbing and dispersing floodwaters. Their disappearance has reduced the city’s capacity to manage stormwater. Simultaneously, the insistence on keeping lakes perpetually full has ignored their natural seasonal cycles—drying in summer and replenishing during the monsoon. With drainage channels obstructed, lake beds built over, and wastewater already occupying residual waterbodies, rainwater has nowhere to flow. The inevitable result is urban flooding, even as groundwater declines and drought conditions intensify.

The erosion of Hyderabad’s lakes is therefore not merely a technical failure but a governance failure rooted in misunderstanding. Unless lakes are restored to their ecological identity—rather than repackaged as recreational real estate—the city risks losing both its environmental resilience and its historical wisdom.

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*Dr Mansee Bal Bhargava is an entrepreneur, researcher, educator, speaker, and mentor associated with the WforW Foundation. This is the abridged version of the author's original article