Fourteen years ago this week, I, as the Municipal Commissioner of Pune Municipal Corporation, undertook a journey that was both symbolic and troubling. I traversed a ravaged 14-kilometer stretch of what the people of Pune call a “nala”—a watercourse, now mutilated and rendered unrecognizable by years of human interference. This trek was not a casual exercise nor a spur-of-the-moment decision. It was a deliberate attempt to lay bare before the municipal machinery the grievous sins committed by those entrusted with the governance of the city. The catastrophes Pune faces each year are not acts of nature alone; they are born of administrative negligence, deliberate wrongdoing, and a profound disrespect for the natural order.

In that journey, I sought to convey an uncomfortable truth: Pune’s incessant floods, which return with monsoon’s arrival each year, are not natural calamities alone. They are human-made disasters, engineered by the official mismanagement of the city’s water courses. Fourteen years ago, as the Municipal Commissioner, it became clear to me that the flooding was a direct result of corrupt urban planning and poor execution—sins against the city’s natural topography and hydrology.

The intricate web of watercourses that once defined Pune has been disrupted and defiled by the very machinery meant to protect it. These natural streams, veins through which the lifeblood of the city once flowed freely, have been dammed, diverted, and in some cases obliterated. Roads have been built over them, construction allowed to smother them, all in the name of so-called “development.” But this development has, in reality, been a covert means of profiteering, where officials and builders alike conspire for financial gain. Corrupt officers, seduced by the lure of illegal earnings, turned a blind eye to the systematic destruction of these water channels. The greed of the few has created an ecological nightmare for the many.

At that time, I advocated for the formation of an Inquiry committee, comprising a retired High Court judge and a retired senior IAS officer, to investigate this disaster—a disaster whose roots extend far beyond nature’s unpredictable wrath. I believed then, as I do now, that a forensic investigation, one that digs into both the micro and macro causes, was the only path forward to understanding the full extent of the mismanagement. Yet, those culpable in these crimes against the city prevailed. They manipulated the system to prevent any meaningful inquiry, convincing the political body, known as the Standing Committee, to reject the call for justice. The inquiry was not just halted; it was buried. The very machinery that orchestrated this urban tragedy moved swiftly to shield its own.

One cannot overlook the cyclical nature of this catastrophe. Year after year, the monsoon rains arrive, and Pune drowns anew. People wade through streets turned into rivers, homes are inundated, lives disrupted. Yet, just as the waters recede, so does public memory. The media, quick to awaken with each fresh disaster, falls silent once the deluge subsides. And the people, whose suffering is acute during the floods, too quickly forget their grievances once the sun returns. The officers, however, remain steadfast in their indifference, as if the city’s misery were an annual rite of passage, rather than a preventable crisis.

It is with a sense of deep frustration and lingering hope that I still argue for the inquiry that was first proposed fourteen years ago. The time has come—indeed, it is long overdue—for a comprehensive investigation into the flood crises that haunt this city. This investigation should not only focus on the proximate causes of each flood but delve into the deeper, structural failures of governance that allow such disasters to recur. Pune needs a “post-mortem” of its watercourse mismanagement, one that examines every facet of the city’s planning and execution. Why were these natural courses closed off? Who benefitted from allowing buildings to rise where water once flowed? What were the systemic loopholes that enabled this destruction?

The powerful forces within the municipal machinery will undoubtedly resist such scrutiny. They did so fourteen years ago, and they will do so again, pressing their weight to scuttle any attempt at accountability. It is a well-oiled machine, where self-preservation is paramount, and public welfare is an afterthought. The officers, adept at manipulation, will argue that an inquiry is unnecessary, a waste of resources, or even harmful to the morale of the administration. They will weave a narrative that seeks to absolve them of guilt, shifting the blame, as they always do, to external factors or, worse, to the public itself for being unprepared.

And herein lies the dilemma. How does one confront a system so thoroughly corrupt without first ensuring that the guilty parties are brought to justice? In a perfect world, those responsible would face the full force of the law, their careers, and reputations in tatters. But we do not live in such a world, and the greater objective must be the saving of lives, the prevention of future suffering, not the punitive satisfaction of retribution. If it requires, for the greater good, an assurance that the guilty will not face punishment, then perhaps that is a price worth paying. It is not an ideal solution, and it is certainly not just, but in a landscape of such entrenched rot, pragmatism must sometimes trump principle.

The inquiry that I propose would serve not just as a reckoning but as a blueprint for future action. It would shine a light on the dark corners of the city’s planning apparatus, expose the flaws in governance, and provide a pathway for rectifying the errors of the past. Pune can no longer afford to turn a blind eye to its watercourse mismanagement. Each year that passes without addressing the root causes of its flooding crisis is a year closer to a more catastrophic disaster. Nature, after all, has its limits, and so too does the patience of the people.

In the end, the question is not whether an inquiry should be held, but whether we, as a society, have the will to demand it. The sins of the past may be forgiven, but they must first be acknowledged. Pune’s future depends on it.

-Mahesh Zagade, IAS(rtd)