Deepor Beel: From Feathered Paradise to Rubbish Pit
Deepor Beel, once Guwahati’s natural jewel and flood barrier, now teeters on the brink of ecological collapse. Inspired by Kumkum Dey’s article in The Assam Tribune, this piece highlights the urgency and calls for sustainable urban planning to save Assam’s vanishing wetland.
This article is inspired by Kumkum Dey’s article in The Assam Tribune on Deepor Beel.
Once upon a time, in the not-so-distant past, Guwahati was the sort of place where you could sip your morning tea with a view of gently rippling waters, the soft call of migratory birds in the distance, and a sense that nature and city life had struck a rare and beautiful truce.
Fast-forward twenty years, and the capital of Assam has been caught in a whirlwind of urban expansion faster than a child tearing into a packet of jhalmuri. Today, the city that once charmed with its green belts and wetlands resembles a full-blown concrete spaghetti junction — a right pickle, as we say.
The poster child for this transformation (read: tragic cautionary tale) is Deepor Beel – once a glorious wetland, now steadily being turned into what could only be described as a landfill in a tuxedo.
Kumkum Dey’s evocative report in The Assam Tribune does more than just raise the alarm bells – it practically smashes them with a cricket bat.
A Beel in Dire Straits
Let’s not mince words – Deepor Beel was a marvel. Spanning over 40 square kilometres in its heyday, it served as a haven for over 200 species of birds. Think of it as the bird version of The Ritz. Spot-billed Pelicans, Greater Adjutants, and other well-heeled feathered folk checked in every season. Not to mention the aquatic life – fish, amphibians, the odd curious turtle, and even the local fishermen who made an honest living without having to dodge bulldozers and bin bags.
But alas, no good thing is left unpoked by the steel finger of “development”.
Rubbish Business – Literally
It appears that someone in city planning decided it was a cracking idea to plonk a giant rubbish dump right next to this Ramsar site. Yes, you heard right – not near an abandoned warehouse or a barren patch of earth, but beside one of the region’s most ecologically significant wetlands. That’s like setting up a pigsty next to the Taj Mahal and wondering why the neighbours are complaining about the pong.
According to the indefatigable Raju Das, a local fisherman who’s seen the beel shrink faster than a woolly jumper in a hot wash, “The birds are vanishing, the fish are fleeing, and our revenue’s sinking.” One might say it’s going down the drain – except the drains are blocked too.
Nature’s Sponge Now Soaked and Sinking
Deepor Beel wasn’t just pretty to look at – it was Guwahati’s natural flood barrier, a sponge that absorbed monsoon water and kept the city from turning into a soggy mess. But with it contracting faster than your bank balance after Christmas, the water has nowhere to go. The result? Areas that were dry now look like indoor swimming pools – minus the chlorine.
As Dr Partha Bordoloi from Gauhati University rightly points out, “Destroy the drainage, and you invite disaster. Deepor Beel soaked up the excess. Now it’s a soggy tale of what could’ve been.”
A Crime Against Nature
To continue dumping toxic waste near this Ramsar site isn’t just dodgy policy – it’s an outright crime. Not just against the environment, but against common sense. The wetland’s pH levels have gone haywire, the aquatic ecosystem is in tatters, and if we’re not careful, the only birds left might be the ones flipping feathers at us in frustration.
And all this, despite court orders, expert warnings, and public protests. It’s like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic while ignoring the iceberg dead ahead.
A Call to Reason (Before It’s Too Late)
Dr Anamika Goswami puts it bluntly: “This is not about birds or fish. It’s about the city’s survival.” And she’s bang on. Sustainable urban planning isn’t just a trendy phrase to be tossed around at cocktail parties – it’s the need of the hour.
Instead of viewing wetlands as wasted space waiting to be paved over, we ought to cherish them like that last piece of rosgolla at the dinner table. Deepor Beel isn’t just a wetland – it’s the beating heart of Guwahati’s ecosystem.
In Conclusion: Time to Pull Up Our Wellies
There’s still time. But not much. Deepor Beel doesn’t need a miracle – it needs common sense, political will, and the realisation that nature doesn’t hand out second chances like ladoos at a wedding.
So let’s give the beel the respect it deserves. Let’s chuck the rubbish plans in the bin instead of the wetland. Let’s restore what’s left, revive what’s fading, and ensure future generations don’t remember Deepor Beel as the once-was wonder swallowed by short-sightedness.
If Guwahati is to rise, it must do so with its roots intact – not buried beneath concrete and compost.
With a tip of the hat to Kumkum Dey and the fine reporting at The Assam Tribune.
At East India Story, we’re not just about what bleeds or leads. We’re about what inspires, surprises, and reminds us all that across mountains, cultures, —there’s more that connects us than divides us.
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