Imagine a world where ancient wisdom holds the key to solving modern crises. That’s exactly what’s happening in India, where a forgotten architectural marvel is being resurrected to combat the country’s worsening water scarcity. But here’s where it gets fascinating: these aren’t just any structures—they’re stepwells, centuries-old subterranean wonders that once sustained entire communities. Now, one man is on a mission to bring them back to life, and it’s sparking both hope and debate.
EDITOR’S NOTE: This story is part of Call to Earth, a CNN editorial series spotlighting environmental challenges and solutions. In partnership with Rolex’s Perpetual Planet Initiative (https://www.rolex.org/environment), we’re shedding light on sustainability issues and inspiring action for a better future.
In Chennai, India, amidst a deepening water crisis, stepwells—intricate, terraced water repositories—are emerging as a lifeline. These structures, built centuries ago, were more than just water storage systems; they were community hubs, vital for drinking, agriculture, and industry. But today, many lie in ruins, casualties of neglect, pollution, and rapid urbanization in the world’s most populous nation. Enter Arun Krishnamurthy, an Indian environmentalist determined to revive this ancient technology for a thirsty future.
For nearly two decades, Krishnamurthy’s Environmentalist Foundation of India (EFI) has restored 657 water bodies across 19 states, from lakes to ponds. Now, as part of the Rolex Perpetual Planet Initiative, he’s turning his attention to stepwells—a challenge he calls both urgent and uniquely complex. And this is the part most people miss: restoring these structures isn’t just about water; it’s about preserving a testament to human ingenuity and cultural heritage.
“Stepwell restoration is the next big challenge I want EFI to take on,” Krishnamurthy told CNN. “We have a greater responsibility now to protect these historical assets, which showcase the brilliance of our ancestors.”
EFI’s approach is rooted in the past. By studying the engineering, land use, and hydrological principles behind stepwells, they’re adapting ancient wisdom to modern problems. “How was the embankment laid? Where was the palm tree planted? How was the canal cut?” Krishnamurthy explains. “We’re taking lessons from history and applying them to today’s challenges.”
But stepwells are no ordinary restoration project. They demand specialized traditional knowledge, craftsmanship, and even community engagement to prevent vandalism. EFI hires local experts with generational expertise tied to specific wells, ensuring authenticity and sustainability. Take the stepwell in Devanahalli, near Bangalore, which has completely dried up. While its stone structure remains intact, it needs aesthetic improvements and community accountability to thrive.
India’s stepwells are more than functional—they’re sacred. Carved like inverted temples, adorned with divine sculptures, they reflect the country’s deep reverence for water. These reservoirs capture rainwater, filter it through sand and stone, and provide clean drinking water year-round. Yet, their transformation from primitive cavities to architectural marvels is now threatened by pollution and apathy.
Here’s where it gets controversial: While water is worshipped in India, practices like casting offerings into rivers and stepwells—figurines, plastic flowers—are exacerbating pollution. “This irresponsible behavior toward nature and heritage is why we’re in this mess,” Krishnamurthy laments. It’s a delicate balance between tradition and conservation, one that sparks debate: How do we honor cultural practices without harming the environment?
EFI has restored two stepwells so far, with six more planned by 2026. The Moosi Rani Sagar stepwell in Rajasthan, restored in 2022, is a success story. Once choked with waste and crumbling, it’s now a vital water source again. But Krishnamurthy insists maximal conservation requires minimal intervention—no modern tech, just skilled artisans preserving architectural integrity.
India’s relationship with water is deeply spiritual. From the sacred Ganges to daily rituals, water is life, energy, and divinity. Yet, the Ganges remains one of the world’s most polluted rivers, a stark contrast to its holy status. Is this a failure of faith, or of action? Krishnamurthy’s work raises this question, inviting us to reflect on our responsibilities.
Despite the challenges, Krishnamurthy remains optimistic. Through public awareness campaigns, school programs, and community engagement, EFI is fostering a sense of ownership. “To work on these structures is a blessing,” he says. “We’re ready to give our all.”
So, here’s the question for you: Can ancient solutions truly address modern problems? And how do we balance tradition with sustainability? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s spark a conversation that could shape the future of India’s waters.
