Calcutta was once dotted with ponds — the Bengali word for which is pukur. No one remembers how many any more, but old names of neighbourhoods endure, complete with the suffix “pukur” — Monoharpukur, Ahiripukur, Bosepukur, Thakurpukur, Paddapukur, Talpukur, Keorapukur...

The ponds themselves took their names from their patrons. And that is why you have Naskarder Pukur and Gangulyder Pukur, Madhab Babu Ka Talao. But those names have disappeared with time and ponds are now recognised by ward numbers.

Digging ponds was not a British practice, as some believe; it goes further back. In his 2010 book Old Mirrors: Traditional Ponds of Kolkata, Mohit Ray writes, “The excavation of water bodies for public use was considered a pious duty and for centuries of yore, rich and philanthropic people took it up as a practice for salvation of their souls.”

Calcutta is dotted from north to south with ponds. “I can narrate the history of the entire city through its ponds,” says Ray, who is a scientist-activist and has also researched and written extensively on ponds. The oldest pond in Calcutta is Sen Dighi on the southeast fringes of the city. The Sens were the last Hindu rulers of Calcutta and Sen Dighi is over 800 years old. In the 16th century, Raja Basanta Ray dug two ponds for his two wives, Kamala and Bimala. They are still there in the Behala-Barisha area in southwest Calcutta. “These ponds are older than the Taj Mahal,” says Ray. To date, one is not supposed to wash clothes in Bimala, though bathing is allowed. But Kamala is unusable, littered with garbage and overgrown with water hyacinth and weeds. Pagla Pirer Pukur in Tollygunge is more than 350 years old.

When Job Charnock arrived here in the 17th century, he set up his office beside Lal Dighi in central Calcutta. “This pond was not dug by the British but it became the main source of water for them,” says Ray. Lal Dighi came to be named Tank Square and was later renamed Dalhousie Square.

Since we are journeying across time, the next pond stop would be Birjee Talao. One of the earliest references to it is to be found in A. Upjohn’s 1784 map of Calcutta. A portion of the pond exists close to the Nandan cultural complex and Nehru Children’s Museum in Maidan. It lies in utter neglect.

Not all ponds are historically significant. Ray explains that across civilisations ponds have been dug close to human habitats. The mud was used to raise the ground level. Oftentimes, these ponds were filled up later when one needed to extend the house. But until then, they doubled as the source of water, for cooking, cleaning and drinking.

Stories of poor maintenance of ponds are as old as the ponds themselves. In the early 18th century, the British issued orders to say that individuals would not be allowed to dig up ponds. The order was a fallout of the citywide malaria and cholera outbreak, a direct outcome of ill-maintained ponds. A hundred years later, the Lottery Committee was established to assist the British government in developing the town. The committee renovated many of the existing ponds.

One of them was Hedua in north Calcutta. It used to be part of Maharaja Nanda Kumar’s estate. Hedua was renovated in 1820 and renamed Cornwallis Square. The Committee also dug three big ponds — one at Dharamtala and two on the Harinbari jail grounds, which is close to Victoria Memorial. The tank at Dharamtala has long been filled up and turned into a park. Ray says, “The pond at Minto Park in central Calcutta can be found in the map of the Lottery Committee from 1820. The ones at Wellesley Square and Wellington Square were also initiatives of the Lottery Committee.” The Wellington Square pond does not exist now.

All these waterbodies were built strategically. For example, a pond in front of the Records Department in Alipore Court had been dug with the purpose of putting out any fire that might break out. That pond does not exist anymore. Ray talks about Muraripukur that used to be a cluster of ponds in north Calcutta. On one side there was a bomb factory, a haunt of Khudiram Bose and other revolutionaries. Muraripukur, as it exists today, is a single pond. Then there is one in south Calcutta’s Jadavpur area called Galakata Pukur; it has been witness to the Naxal movement of the 1970s.

Over the years, a lot of ponds in Calcutta have been filled up. Those that exist have shrunk. “In 1996-97, the Government of India’s National Atlas and Thematic Mapping Organisation claimed there were 10,000 plus ponds and lakes in the city. Ponds have been filled up and residential complexes, malls and commercial buildings have come up in their place,” says Naba Dutta, secretary of Sabuj Mancha, a green platform.

Debasish Ray, who is a resident of Kalikapur in south Calcutta and general secretary of Paribesh Sanrakhan Samity, a local green platform, talks about a pond in his neighbourhood. How some years ago, 30 trucks of building waste were dumped into it, how he registered a complaint with the police, and how land sharks are still trying to choke the pond.

Wards 92, 104 and 105 have several ponds. One of them has been partially filled up and built over with houses, hospitals, schools, clubs. But now the residents of the area do not want land sharks to fill up the water body any further. “We have planted trees and put up a net around one of the ponds,” says Samir Mukhuty, an environmental activist and a resident of the area. “But people continue to dump waste. And the pond is becoming smaller and smaller,” he adds. In some areas, filled up ponds have been turned into parking lots.

Sashi Chakraborty, a resident of Thakurpukur, tells The Telegraph that he regularly visits the pond in his ward and whenever a truck enters with construction waste and tries to dump it beside the pond, he protests. He says, “Concerns have also been raised at the ‘Talk to the Mayor’ programme. But no one has acted on them.”

In 2023, the state government informed the Calcutta High Court in an affidavit that the character of about 4,000 water bodies in 44 wards had changed. Calcutta has 144 wards in all. In Ray’s Old Mirrors, the count of water bodies in Calcutta stood at 3,874.

If ponds are filled up at this rate, in such numbers, environmentalists say nature is sure to take revenge. Dutta continues, “In Calcutta, water shortage is apparent in areas where ponds have been filled up indiscriminately — Jadavpur, Dhakuria, Tollygunge, Behala...” He explains that if ponds vanish, real estate multiplies, trees are felled, water and air pollution rise. He continues, “Think about it — if there is a pond, a cool breeze will blow. The trees around will rejuvenate the air. But that is not happening. In the last two years, Calcutta has experienced heat waves, reduced rainfall and low humidity. Children are increasingly suffering from breathlessness and COPD, eye and skin diseases...”

The revenge may seem notional, but for all those who think so, experts draw attention to Chennai. Says Datta, “Once, full of ponds, Chennai now — despite receiving a lot of rain — suffers from an acute water shortage.”

He adds, “Calcutta is not too different from Chennai, climatically.”