Just over two decades ago, Kashmir’s lakes and natural springs were full of life. Their crystal-clear waters tempted children to dive in and open their eyes underwater. In the 1990s, even though the valley lived under the shadow of conflict, people worried more about the Jhelum river overflowing during heavy rains than about finding safe drinking water. Today, that picture has changed dramatically.
Many lakes and springs are dying. Plastic drifts where lilies once bloomed. Pollution, untreated sewage, and encroachment have turned clear waters murky. Springs have run dry, and wetlands are being buried under construction debris. Kashmir’s water heritage is in peril. Amid this decline, one man refused to turn away. Manzoor Wangnoo picked up a shovel and began cleaning the lake near his home.
What began as a small cleanup drive has grown into one of Kashmir’s most visible citizen-led environmental movements. Mission Ehsaas, launched in February 2021 under the Nigeen Lake Conservation Organisation (NLCO), works to revive water bodies, restore springs, rejuvenate wetlands, raise awareness, and collaborate with local authorities. It also contributes to policy-level decisions, ensuring ecological concerns are heard.
Lakes like Nigeen, Khushalsar, and Gilsar have seen visible improvements through this initiative. But Mission Ehsaas is more than a cleanup effort; it’s about building shared responsibility for Kashmir’s natural heritage. At its core is Manzoor Wangnoo, founder of NLCO and the Mission Ehsaas initiative’s driving force.
Yet, the journey didn’t start in 2021. The roots of the movement go back to 2002, when Wangnoo, a businessman with a deep love for nature, began protecting water bodies by organising cleanups, speaking at schools, and staying committed through the Valley’s most difficult years.
Wangnoo draws strength from lived memory. Refusing to watch silently, he acted out by educating others, guarding lakes during Eid, and building momentum through social media. He recalls a time when fish swam in Dal Lake, waters that have since turned into dumping grounds. But instead of staying silent, he chose to act: speaking with people, stopping waste dumping during Eid, and using social media to mobilise support and document progress.
In this interview with India Water Portal, Manzoor Wangnoo reflects on what inspired Mission Ehsaas, why environmental action matters in conflict-hit Kashmir, and how community-led efforts can drive lasting change.
Do you have childhood memories tied to Kashmir’s lakes or springs? How did your school years shape your connection to nature and environmental work today?
Absolutely. I studied at Biscoe School. We ran cross-country, water-skied on Nigeen, trekked Kashmir’s mountains, and swam in its pristine lakes. We even dove for coins tossed by tourists. Dal Lake was crystal clear then, you could open your eyes underwater and see Athana and Pomfret fish swimming besides you. Life felt in harmony with nature.
My father once spoke of a British woman who stayed on a Nigeen houseboat. She would inhale deeply and say, “This air is like medicine.” She returned yearly for the calm and vitality it brought. That clarity is lost today.
In the 1970s, our teachers, Shadilal, Satlal, and Noor Mohammad, imparted more knowledge than academics alone. They instilled in us the love for nature and taught us our responsibilities towards it. Every camping trip ended with cleaning the site on the last day, a habit I carry forward. Today, I run a school. When students go to Sonamarg or elsewhere, they must clean the site, send me photos, and report garbage collected.
The children at my school also create environmental paintings. One child gifted me a painting that still hangs on my wall. A 3.5-year-old recently drew trees, water, and mountains. I photographed it. These moments and children remind me why this work matters. I always say, "Attahuru shatrul iman (Cleanliness is half of faith)." That’s our message to every child.
Yes, the government has taken measures, especially at Dal Lake, but it’s not enough. We need modern sewage treatment, an end to landfilling, and zero encroachments. Khushalsar suffers from what I call the “Midnight Mafia.” They plant willows in the lakes, let them grow, and then fill the lake overnight with soil to sell the land for crores.
You were running a successful business before dedicating yourself to environmental restoration. What triggered that shift in focus? Can you take us back to the moment that first drew you into environmental work in Kashmir?
Back in 1989, we had a thriving family business in Srinagar. When the situation worsened, we had to leave for Delhi. My father and four brothers rebuilt everything from scratch. I worked relentlessly for years, and eventually, I felt completely drained. I returned to Srinagar for a break.
One morning, I sat on a houseboat at Nigeen Lake, a place I loved. What I saw broke my heart. The lake was choked with polythene, dead animals, lily pads, and encroachments. It had lost its soul. I remembered its beauty in 1989. That contrast shook me. This was in the early 2000s, and that moment changed everything.
I asked a few friends, “Why don’t we clean the lake?” They said, “Is it even possible to clean such a huge lake?” I told them, “Himmat-e-marda, madad-e-Khuda ('When a man shows courage, God helps him).” I began meeting residents around the lake, door to door. In three and a half months, the water started flowing again. The lake looked alive. Then one day, a friend called me: “Have you read Greater Kashmir?” The headline read, “Salaam to the Rescue Workers of Nigeen Lake.” That gave us the push to continue.
How did your work evolve into disaster relief and larger community support?
After the success at Nigeen lake, we realised this effort had to go on. So, in 2000, we registered an NGO called NLCO, Nigeen Lake Conservation Organisation. Our next challenge was the connected Chota Nigeen, a smaller, more degraded lake in Srinagar. It was buried under floating gardens, some with turbans and religious symbols to stop anyone from touching them. I cleared them anyway. We faced harsh backlash with threats and abuses, but the public stood by us, and we continued the work.
In 2005, an earthquake struck. A friend from Delhi asked me to join him in Uri and Tangdhar. When we arrived, it was like a nightmare. Everything was flattened, homes, hospitals, temples, mosques. I was in shock and unsure what to do. But I stayed and helped for a few days arranging food packets and distributing them with local support.
Soon after, a stranger from Mumbai called and said, “Manzoor bhai, leave your sports behind and do social work.” He sent ₹70 lakhs worth of GI sheets to build shelters. That was a turning point and how it all started. Since then, we’ve supported people during disasters, including the 2014 floods, and always returned to lake restoration.
Mission Ehsaas started small but has grown significantly. Did you ever imagine it would reach this scale?
No, never. Mission Ehsaas began in February 2021 as a simple effort to clean lakes and springs. But it evolved. More people joined, more responsibilities came, and it grew beyond anything I expected. During school, we trekked to places like Kishansar and Vishansar. The water was crystal clear. On our cross-country runs from Nehru Park to Nishat, even the weeds looked beautiful, and fish swam beside us.
But over time, we polluted everything. Dal Lake became a dustbin, drains emptied into it, and the same fate met Gilsar, Khushalsar, and Nigeen. I credit the government for the sewage treatment plant connections to houseboats, especially around Dal and Nigeen. Today, despite heavy tourism, you won’t see a toffee wrapper or a single banana peel floating.
People have become aware. Once, my team stood guard for three days before Eid to stop animal waste dumping. And since then, locals protect the lake themselves. If anything happens, people immediately call me or the volunteers. SMC responds right away.
What made you believe community-led restoration could succeed where government efforts had failed?
In 2013, I lost my father, who was my guide and mentor in this social work. Just after his passing, I was invited to speak on Doordarshan about Nigeen Lake. I ended the interview by saying, “This work isn’t just for the government. It’s our responsibility.”
The next morning, I visited Gilsar and Khushalsar with my cousins, Latif and Riaz. The lake was in an unbearable state with dead animals and an overwhelming smell. We had to wear three masks just to stand there. I said, “Let’s clean it.” People laughed: “Many agencies failed. What will you do?” I told them, “Give us 5 to 10 days.”
I remembered a line: I walked alone, but slowly people joined me on the way. Eventually, the Divisional Commissioner intervened and instructed the administration to help. 5,000 truckloads of waste were removed. Srinagar Municipal Corporation (SMC) has that on record. It wasn’t easy. Encroachers and land mafias tried to stop us. But I’ve always believed in the power of pure intentions. If there is ikhlas (sincerity), Allah helps.
You’ve also led spring restoration projects. What drives that, and how do you manage it?
My connection to springs goes back to childhood. Our mothers sent us to collect cold water from Nagaspeth. Most springs are now neglected, but they can be revived. We’ve restored 14 springs so far, with 12 lab-tested and safe for use. It’s not a crore-rupee job. Done honestly, it costs ₹1.5 to ₹2 lakhs. We clean the source, remove blockages, create inlets and outlets, and support them with stones. We don’t build new springs;
In Ganderbal and Srinagar, the results have been beautiful. This work gives me purpose. We’re also part of a WhatsApp network where locals report encroachments. I’ve urged the government to do proper demarcation of lake boundaries. These aren’t private lands, they belong to everyone. And without water, there is no life.
Could you tell us about the scale of the work - how many springs have been revived, how much waste has been removed, and how many people have been involved? And which areas of Kashmir have benefited the most
We’ve restored 14 springs. Thirteen are functional; one is under repair. Water flowed beautifully, but tiles couldn’t handle the pressure. We’re fixing it. Volunteers come from north, south, and central Kashmir. Young people who message me daily with leads like, “Sir, there’s a spring here.” I never say no. Everything we do is through public support, apna maal, apna jaan, thoda thoda karke. I don’t take government money.
When we cleaned Khushalsar, even a JCB operator reduced his rates, saying, “For you, I’ll take half.” That’s how we motivate people. It’s for the future, not for me. We’ve also done plantation drives with the Forest Department. We plant only in winter, not for photo ops, but for real survival. We assign locals to care for saplings. Once they’re strong, we hand them over and say, “Now this is your responsibility.”
Some restored water bodies get neglected again. Are you worried this won’t last?
No, I’m not worried. I say this with full conviction. There’s a growing sense of ownership in Kashmir, especially in rural areas and among officials. People want restoration to last. So, yes, I’m hopeful, Inshallah (if Allah wills it), something good will come of this.
Of course, there’s criticism. A journalist came with a ₹500 mic, spoke to the land mafia members, and said I’d taken ₹300 crore from the government. I didn’t respond. The encroachers, failed politicians, and mafias, naturally, they’re unhappy. They write letters and spread lies. But when the Prime Minister mentions your work on Mann Ki Baat, or the Honourable LG comes to inaugurate a restored lake like Sazgari Pora, what more do you need? Some even wanted to build a college on that lake! Will they ever support me? I say, let them be. Allah humaray saath hai (Allah is with us).
What do you think about the cultural and ecological role of springs in Kashmir? Why should today’s generation care?
Many young people are already restoring springs in their areas. They send me videos, and I always encourage them. I tell them, “You’re not just restoring water, you’re inspiring others.” Springs are our lifelines. If we maintain our wetlands and springs, Kashmir will survive. People need to understand the natural system here. We live in a place that is like a bowl. Glacial water flows down from catchment areas into Srinagar and then onward to Anchar and beyond.
That journey needs a clean, unhindered path. If we block or pollute that system, it will affect everything downstream. I’ve asked the government to map these systems properly. I believe springs are sacred, not private property. The Supreme Court said so too. That’s why I stay involved, because this is about legacy, about protecting what belongs to all of us. If we don’t act, we’ll lose the very essence of Kashmir.
How did your family and friends react when you shifted from business to full-time environmental work? Were there personal sacrifices, and how did their support shape your journey?
If your family doesn’t support you, you can’t do this work. I’m out from morning till midnight, sometimes responding to fires, floods, or food emergencies. This is more than environmental work; it’s social work. I give full credit to my better half, my wife. Every morning she says, “Kormakh Khudayas Hawaal (I leave you in Allah’s care).” That gives me strength. She checks in on me during the day and asks if I’ve eaten or had my tea. These little things matter.
Yes, people have tried to pull me down. Failed politicians tweeted against me. I stayed silent. Four days later, the Honourable LG Manoj Sinha called: “Keep doing your work.” That gave me reassurance.
The new SMC Commissioner is very cooperative. Together, we’ve made progress. My dream is to build walkways around Khushalsar and Gilsar, restore golden fish, and turn them into public spaces again, safe from encroachment.
What environmental challenge worries you the most, and what gives you the strength to keep working on it?
What keeps me up is our choked drainage system. Khuda na khasta (God forbid), if it rains for days, we’ll drown in our own negligence. We throw polythene into drains; we’re all guilty. What keeps me going is faith, hope, and public support. If intentions are pure, officials respond. We must work together on glaciers, lakes, and forests. It’s a shared duty. Show me a spring I haven’t seen, and I’ll come. This is teamwork, not a solo act.
Are you using any traditional methods of spring conservation that other parts of India could also learn from?
Absolutely. First of all, we don’t use heavy machines without understanding the terrain. My technical team always says, never disturb the water inlets. It’s like the human body: if veins are blocked, health deteriorates. The same applies to springs. Mud at the bottom must be removed manually, not with JCBs. Inlet and outlet channels need careful design so water can naturally flow. We also teach people not to throw chemicals into springs. Sadly, some still treat them like dustbins. But our work continues. Even today, children still swim in some streams. And even if we have to clean the same spring multiple times, we go back. We don’t abandon it. This is work of the heart, and that’s what keeps us going.
How can spiritual and community leaders help raise environmental awareness in Kashmir?
There should be full awareness in every mosque and school. I run a boarding school, you’re welcome to visit, even at midnight, to see for yourself. In my office, everyone is treated like a friend. Our teachers join in cleaning activities too. I once spoke with Prof. Shakil Ahmad Romshoo on Doordarshan, where he stressed that Maulvi sahabs should be counselled. In our circle, they already do this and will continue. When respected elders or spiritual leaders speak about cleanliness, people listen. We should encourage our Ulama and Maulana to address environmental issues.
Do you think Kashmir has a strong environmental movement today? Are you hopeful about the next generation taking up this work?
Yes, I’m hopeful. This movement has started now. Schools and even the government are making people more conscious about the environment. If we want sustainable tourism, we first have to work on the environment. Our glaciers are melting.
Our springs are not in good shape. Our water bodies are almost gone. All these issues are connected. But I have hope and we are working on this mission. I’d say we are accomplishing it. Things are changing. Today you can see the work at Khushalsar, Gilsar. There’s still a lot of work to do, but when you start something, Allah madad karega. (God will help.) He surely will.
Can you share a moment that showed you the power of community ownership in conserving water and nature?
I’ll never forget an old man in Watlar, a village in Ganderbal, who was around 80 and told my team, “Aaj itne saalon ke baad yeh paani humara hai. Hum yeh peete hain (Today, after many years, we are drinking water from here).” That moment said it all.
When people feel ownership of water, restoration succeeds. But we must approach it with mohabbat (love), not force. As Kashmiris, we must introspect. Glaciers, forests, springs, we must protect all. Work with the administration. Have conversations. Even if a child shows me a spring, I listen. This land is ours. Let’s protect it together.