Perched in the rolling hills of Meghalaya in the North-east of India is the capital city of Shillong, which is known for its cool climate and postcard-perfect charm. This city has long held the title of the “Scotland of the East.” Its misty mornings, pine-covered slopes, and bustling markets like Laitumkhrah, Police Bazaar, and Bara Bazaar attract tourists year-round. On the surface, it’s a city full of life, colour, and movement. But hidden beneath this beauty is a quieter, more troubling reality of the growing dependence on water tankers.
Every day, customised truck-mounted water tanks snake and rumble through the city’s narrow lanes. They’re no longer a backup or an occasional sight; they’ve become an essential. These tankers now carry water to households where taps stay dry, often lining up before sunrise at shrinking natural springs and makeshift filling points. Drivers wait patiently in the morning chill, sipping tea as their engines idle, ready for another long day of delivering water across Shillong.
From the first light of day to late night, the rumble of tankers has become Shillong’s new soundtrack—a daily reminder that even in a region once blessed with abundant natural water, access to clean water is becoming precarious.
Not too long ago, Shillong was a city where water flowed naturally and freely. In areas like Mawlai, Malki, and Laithumkhrah, families remember fetching clean, cold water from springs right in their neighbourhoods.
“We used to play by the springs and streams. There was always more than enough water. We didn’t need to worry,” says Joshua, a 30-year-old businessman from Laithumkhrah. Banri, 45, from Malki, nods, recalling a time when natural water sources were part of everyday life.
But those memories now feel distant. Jessica, 29, a PhD student at North-Eastern Hill University, says, “There used to be enough, but now many community springs are nearly gone. I remember playing in spring and stream waters.”
Today, many of those once-reliable springs have dried up or barely trickle. The joy of water is now replaced with the struggle to get it. In a rain-fed city like Shillong, this growing dependence on tankers raises serious questions like, how did a place once full of water end up relying on trucks to survive?
Shillong, today, is the second-largest urban centre in India’s northeastern region and is grappling with a deepening water crisis driven by rapid urbanisation, deforestation, poor planning, and erratic rainfall. Meghalaya lost over 84 square kilometres of forest cover between 2021 and 2023, severely disrupting the natural recharge of springs and rainfall cycles. These forests, critical for maintaining water sources, are being cleared for roads, housing, and construction, particularly in fast-developing areas like New Shillong.
K. War, a former Public Health Engineering (PHE) staffer, explains that unplanned construction on forested hillsides blocks natural water pathways, causing springs to dry up and wells to run empty. As PhD student Jessica explains, “The forest is our catchment, and without it, there is no water. In some localities, even government-installed borewells have stopped working.”
The city’s growing status as a major urban hub has intensified water demand. In response to dwindling supplies, many households and businesses have resorted to drilling deep borewells—a practice that only worsens the crisis. Shillong’s population has further intensified pressure on water resources. Unplanned urban sprawl continues to outpace infrastructure development, compounding the crisis.
War warns that excessive drilling disrupts the water table, yet people feel compelled to dig due to a lack of alternatives. Local Dorbar Shnongs have attempted to regulate borewell use and restrict activities like washing clothes in water bodies, but inconsistent enforcement allows the problem to persist, creating a dangerous cycle of over-extraction that depletes groundwater reserves even faster.
Despite Meghalaya’s generous rainfall, Shillong faces acute water shortages, particularly during the dry winter months. Climate change has made rainfall patterns increasingly erratic, with shorter, more intense downpours that fail to adequately recharge aquifers.
Recent research by scholar Baniateilang Majaw reveals a 15% decline in rainfall across Meghalaya over the past five years. When it does rain, much of the water is lost as runoff—streaming over concrete roads and clogged drains instead of soaking into the ground. Jessica highlights the irony: “Even with less rain, parts of Shillong now experience flooding. Two weeks ago, there were floods despite water shortages.”
The Meghalaya State Water Policy (2013) notes that while the state has about 63.204 billion cubic metres of annual surface water, its replenishable groundwater is only 1.15 billion cubic metres. Ageing infrastructure and inadequate rainwater harvesting systems leave the PHE network overburdened, unable to meet the needs of a growing urban population. Jessica laments, “They call it a smart city, but what is smart in losing our water sources?”
The Mawphlang Dam, Shillong’s primary drinking water reservoir, is also under severe strain. Water levels have declined to the point where they can no longer meet the city’s growing demand. War points out that repeated warnings about the dam’s limitations went unheeded.
Encroachment on rivers and wetlands such as the Umkhrah and Umshyrpi has reduced natural water storage capacity and contributed to source pollution. Climate change has added another layer of complexity. Today, much of the city is forced to rely on water tankers, an unsustainable stopgap measure.
As Shillong’s springs dry up and the public water supply falters, water tankers have become a lifeline and a booming business. What started as a backup plan has now become a primary source of water for many families, turning necessity into business. Families who once relied on personal springs or PHE taps now turn to tankers, especially in winter when natural sources vanish. “We have our own spring. But it dries up in the winter. Tankers are now our backup,” says Dilenbert, a 35-year-old resident.
For many households, tanker water has become the only dependable source, as government supply often falls short of daily needs. When taps do work, the water is frequently muddy, discoloured, or unsafe to drink, leading more residents to turn to private tankers. Some, like Banri, have lost trust in the piped supply altogether. “It’s dirty and full of iron. I bring spring water from home to work, as it’s cleaner,” he says.
While the cost remains affordable, the real concern isn’t the price—it’s the source. Tankers fill up from streams and springs that are also under pressure. What happens if these dry up too?
About 20% of Greater Shillong’s population depends on groundwater sources, mostly via bore wells, while rural areas in East Khasi Hills rely on springs. Urban demand, however, far outpaces supply. The Greater Shillong Water Supply Scheme aims to provide 11.3 million gallons of water per day from surface sources like the River Umiew. This system, designed in 1978 for a population of 3.51 lakh (urban and rural), struggles to meet current demand due to population growth (354,759 in 2011, with a 31.79% decadal growth rate).
“This gap pushes reliance on groundwater and private water tankers. Many times we have called the tanker guy twice a day, but he would often be busy delivering to other places as the demand for water has increased,” recalls Joshua. The Meghalaya High Court in 2023 highlighted the exorbitant rates charged by private water tankers in Shillong, urging the state government to regulate them. This reflects a heavy reliance on tankers due to inadequate public water supply, especially in non-municipal areas.
This has created stark inequalities. “Those who own land and springs can supply 30–40 tankers a day,” War notes. “They’re sitting on liquid gold.” But even tanker operators are now struggling. “I used to deliver 20–30 tanks a day. Now it's down to 8–10. Even our sources are drying up,” says one of the tanker drivers.
As demand has risen, a new informal water economy has emerged. Tankers, often privately run, charge Rs. 300 to Rs. 500 per delivery depending on the distance and volume. On average a small-to-medium tanker would carry 200-300 litres of water. Many operators source water from their own lands or buy from families who control springs. Some have built concrete tanks and ponds to store water and sell it.
Shillong’s water crisis, unfolding in one of the North-east’s major urban centres, is a stark warning about the consequences of environmental neglect and systemic failure. It also reflects the broader distress that Meghalaya is experiencing.
On March 3, 2025, Chief Minister Conrad K. Sangma raised alarm over the deepening crisis, citing a recent study by the state's Soil & Water Conservation Department that mapped over 55,000 of the state’s 70,000 identified springsheds. The findings were grim: 792 water sources were found to be in critical condition, many dried up completely, some beyond revival, even as water-related projects worth Rs 8,000 crore have been implemented. Many of these springsheds support supply systems under the Jal Jeevan Mission (JJM). In response, the state government has established a climate council, chaired by the Chief Minister, to coordinate efforts across departments.
Citizens like K. War are concerned about Shillong’s growing reliance on groundwater and private tankers and are advocating for rainwater harvesting at both household and community levels. This shift, according to War, would help recharge aquifers and ease pressure on the city’s fast-depleting springs. “We can still save our springs,” he cautions, “but we need to plan and focus on the possibilities of recharging groundwater. Otherwise, we might have to pump water all the way from the Brahmaputra.”
In the long run, Shillong must move beyond short-term fixes like tankers. While they remain a necessary response to the current emergency, tankers commodify a public good and often deepen existing inequalities. A sustainable water future will depend on restoring natural sources, rethinking supply systems, and building resilience from the ground up.
This story is produced as part of the India Water Portal Regional Story Fellowship 2025.