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Nestled in the Vindhyanchal hills, Mirzapur district is among Uttar Pradesh’s mineral-rich regions. The sandstone, sand, and gravel found here are classified as minor minerals. Mining is one of the district’s main commercial activities and takes place across 4,521 square kilometres. Open quarries extract stone, boulders, and slabs, while numerous crusher units operate to produce construction materials such as building stone, gravel for roads, sand, and morang (coarse sand).
People extract sand and morang from areas near the Ganga, while most stone comes from Lalganj, Chunar, Madihan, and Sadar tehsils. Mirzapur’s pink sandstone, especially from Chunar, has built forts, ghats, temples, and public structures for centuries. From the Ashokan pillar dating back to around 240 BCE, to the Chunar Fort, which is over 2,500-year-old, to the Ambedkar Memorial built under the Mayawati government, and most recently, the Ram Temple in Ayodhya—all have used Chunar’s sandstone.
This stone is so unique that, after Rajasthan’s Makrana marble, it became the second natural material in India to receive a Geographical Indication (GI) tag. Yet what could have brought prosperity to local communities has instead cursed their air, water, health, agriculture, and daily lives.
In Chunar and Madihan tehsils, miners blast hills day and night with explosives, showing little regard for environmental norms or public health regulations. The explosions crack people’s homes, while dust clouds hang over villages, exposing residents to tuberculosis, asthma, and silicosis.
Reports have highlighted these hardships in Mirzapur and neighbouring Sonbhadra. But another crisis is unfolding—one that few discuss: water. In their rush to extract stone from deep underground, miners destroy groundwater reserves. They pump out water released from fractured aquifers and let it go to waste, carrying stone dust that ruins nearby farmlands. As a result, aquifer depletion is drying up wells and borewells in surrounding areas.
In Chandlewa village of Padari block, Sadar tehsil, home to around 700 people, residents say mining and blasting have severely depleted groundwater.
Ramdhani Rajbhar (65), who lives just 200 metres from a quarry, says: “Blasting at the mine has caused us immense loss. The walls of our houses are cracking, and underground water is disappearing. In summer, if water tankers don’t come, we will die of thirst. They have dug into the hill to make a quarry, and now we don’t even have drinking water left.”
Asha Devi (60), another villager, adds: “Because of the blasting, our houses are breaking apart. Bricks are falling off from the roof, cement sheds are collapsing. When the blasts shake the ground, it feels like the whole house will one day come crashing down. And then there’s the water problem. Every handpump in the village has dried up. We fetch water from another village on our bicycles.”
Bablu Rajbhar from the same village says: “The hill has been dug 300 feet deep. Blasting happens every day for mining, and now we face a severe water crisis. We walk to Chhitampur, 2 kilometers away, to fetch drinking water. When the village head, Vyas Ji Bind, sends tankers, we manage. But the old handpumps and wells have been drying up every summer for the past three years.”
In an effort to stop illegal mining, local environmental activist Sampoornanand approached the National Green Tribunal (NGT) and filed a complaint against the leaseholders and the state government. Acting on his plea, authorities set up official committees that investigated the sites and found violations in 39 out of 40 leases. They imposed heavy fines running into crores, and the Uttar Pradesh Pollution Control Board ordered the suspension of mining operations. But within days, mining resumed.
“Despite NGT’s directions and the Pollution Board’s ban, work continues on 39 leases with the unlawful support of officials,” Sampoornanand told India Water Portal. “Water is being wasted in the same way as earlier. The committees have admitted that rules on pollution and other safeguards are ignored. But when it comes to water, they stay silent. As per rules, mining must stop at 18 metres or once groundwater is struck. Here, it goes on unchecked.”
Sampoornanand first moved the Tribunal in 2022 over the environmental damage caused by mining. A year later, in August 2023, he wrote again to the NGT, reporting that despite its orders, blasting and excavation were still continuing.
In his letter, Sampoornanand flagged the damage to groundwater. He wrote: “Mining in violation of norms has created pits as deep as 100–150 feet, leading to frequent accidents. Once the ground is dug, water naturally seeps out, and miners deploy machines to pump it out continuously so extraction can continue unhindered. This practice is causing rampant groundwater exploitation and pushing the water table down at an alarming rate. It is imperative that this be stopped.”
He explains that each mining lease covers roughly a hectare (about four bighas). In every lease area, miners use explosives to break apart rock layers. After they exhaust stone on the surface, they continue blasting underground. Even after striking groundwater, they do not stop mining — they install powerful pumps to flush out water and keep the pits dry.
“Forget the 18-metre limit — here stones are being quarried from as deep as 60 metres below. The water is wasted, and by January, borewells 60–70 feet deep in nearby villages run dry. People are now forced to drill 300 feet to find water,” he says.
A chapter in Solidarity Approach in Geography, published this year by Springer, describes the situation in Mirzapur:
“Mining is a dangerous activity because it damages the environment and harms the lives of villagers. But the entire system runs on betrayal. Nobody cares about the safety of local people. Because of blasting and quarrying in the hills, huge amounts of groundwater collect in open pits, yet no one bothers. These pits are unsafe as play areas as children can fall into them and lose their lives.”
Three hundred kilometres from Lucknow, miners in Mirzapur’s Chunar and Madihan tehsils claw out what remains of the hills with giant JCBs and Poklen machines. Dust and the acrid smell of explosives hang in the air, stinging the throat within minutes. For villagers, this polluted air is what they breathe day and night.
In Sonpur Pahadi village, we meet the family of 24-year-old national athlete Chanda. Earlier this year, she won gold in the 800-metre race at the National Games; before that, silver at the 2023 Asian Games and gold at the 2019 Nationals. Yet, back home in Mirzapur, her family lives with the toxic fallout of mining. Constant exposure to stone dust has left many sick.
Chanda’s father once worked in these very quarries. Years of inhaling dust and living amid pollution without proper nutrition took their toll. First came tuberculosis. After treatment, TB subsided — only to be followed by asthma.
“I struggle to breathe. For treatment we have run from Varanasi to Chandauli to Mirzapur. Now I am under care in Varanasi for asthma. It was the dust from blasts and stone particles that first gave me TB. Many in our settlement suffer from breathing illnesses. I am no longer fit for regular work. We had to sell our land for ₹5 lakh — that’s what is funding my treatment and feeding the children. Sometimes I manage to find daily work near the mines for ₹100, but often not even that,” says 50-year-old Satyanarayan Prajapati.
The same hills whose pink sandstone adorns Delhi’s Parliament building give local villagers little more than meagre wages — and a legacy of asthma, TB, and silicosis.
Dr. Pankaj Kumar Pandey, assistant professor at Maa Vindhyavasini Autonomous Medical College, confirms that tuberculosis is widespread among people working in Mirzapur’s quarries. “Stone dust contains silica particles that lodge in the lungs and weaken immunity. Even workers who quit mining a decade ago remain vulnerable to TB and silicosis,” he explains.
Dr. Pandey urges ex-mine workers to seek medical help at the district hospital immediately if they experience symptoms such as persistent cough or fever. The danger, he adds, extends beyond the labourers. “The dust also affects residents living near the quarries. They, too, must stay alert and seek treatment at the first sign of respiratory illness.”
In response to a Right to Information (RTI) application filed by this reporter, the district TB officer reported that between May 2019 and April 30, 2024, the District Tuberculosis Hospital in Mirzapur registered 24,066 patients. Of these, 21,035 recovered after treatment — but 636 lost their lives.
A book published by Springer describes the situation starkly: “Every second person here suffers from a lung disease. Some of the symptoms are severe and painful.” It notes that nearly 50,000 residents across Ahraura and Madihan tehsils inhale quarry dust daily — not only through the air but also with their food. “There is hardly a household where at least one member is not battling a respiratory illness,” the book states.
The NITI Aayog also commissioned a study in 2017 to assess the socio-economic impact of mining in Mirzapur. The study found that even people not directly working in the quarries suffer from respiratory illnesses caused by airborne dust. The list of mining-related health issues is long: TB, chronic cough and cold, malaria (from stagnant quarry water that breeds mosquitoes), skin diseases, diarrhoea, dental stains, joint pain, arthritis, and fatigue.
As per NITI Aayog’s recommendations, workers in stone quarries should be provided with protective masks — but this rarely happens. Before operations begin, mining companies are required to secure environmental clearance (EC) from the state’s Directorate of Environment and a Consent to Operate (CTO) from the Uttar Pradesh Pollution Control Board. While approvals are often obtained, compliance with the conditions laid out in these documents remains largely absent.
Some of the key norms under EC and CTO — and the ground reality:
During hearings in case no. 521/2022, Sampoornanand vs State of Uttar Pradesh & Others, the National Green Tribunal (NGT) was handed a joint committee report that laid bare the scale of violations in Mirzapur’s mining belt. Of the 40 mining leases under scrutiny for flouting environmental norms and endangering local health and ecology, the panel found that 39 failed to comply with most conditions.
Some of the committee’s key observations:
Only 4 out of 40 sites had partial boundary walls; the rest had none.
Not a single leaseholder had planted trees along the periphery of the leased area.
Despite explicit directions in the environment clearance (EC), none had set up air quality monitoring stations.
No mechanism was installed at any site to suppress dust.
Septic tanks were absent across all leases.
Most leases lacked proper sprinkler systems to control dust. Where tankers were used for sprinkling at loading sites, it was inadequate and below standard.
Disposal of solid waste at most sites was not being done in a way that prevented air, water, and environmental damage.
In many cases, vehicles transporting stone were left uncovered, without tarpaulin or any protective covering.
Second report flags deeper violations, groundwater impact ignored
While the earlier committee report said little about the impact on groundwater, a subsequent inquiry submitted during hearings in case no. 466/2024, also filed by Sampoornanand, pointed to even more serious violations.
According to this report:
Nearly all mines were operating without Consent to Operate (CTO).
Leaves of trees along village roads were coated in thick dust, indicating unchecked emissions from mines and stone crushers.
No quarry submitted mandatory blast vibration reports to the concerned department.
Steep, deep pits were left exposed after extraction.
Some leases lie barely 500–600 metres from the Jargo dam, which stores nearly 3 lakh cusecs of water and is the sole irrigation source for about 1,000 acres of farmland. Blasting tremors are felt here almost daily.
Despite rules, laws and repeated tribunal orders, mining continues in the very conditions that villagers have long been complaining about — conditions that multiple committees have confirmed in their reports.
Mirzapur has long been known for its biodiversity. During the British Raj, the district served as the headquarters of Central India, and colonial officers would often visit the forests here for hunting. But today, the picture is starkly different.
A study by the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) on the region’s sloth bear population notes that unregulated expansion of farming and unplanned mining inside and around forests have drastically altered land use and ground cover. This has put immense pressure on wildlife habitats and corridors, threatening the survival of species that once thrived here.
According to the study, large-scale illegal mining continues in Sukrit and Chunar forest ranges of Mirzapur. Alongside, rampant tree felling and the construction of religious ashrams inside forested patches are further squeezing wildlife habitats. Forest rangers in both ranges have admitted their inability to stop these activities—citing lack of support from other departments and the unchecked clout of politically powerful local groups.
In Banjarikalan village of Drummondganj block, residents have repeatedly reported sloth bears straying into their homes. Researchers say the primary trigger is the surge in mining on the southern hill adjoining the village—an area that once provided food, water, and shelter for the bears. With that habitat fast disappearing, the animals now wander into human settlements in search of survival.
Mining has not only degraded soil and water, it has turned the landscape into a zone of relentless noise. Drilling, blasting, crushing and loading of stones onto trucks create a constant din. The noise disturbs locals and, more crucially, alters the behaviour of wild species. Rangers acknowledge that many large mammals have already disappeared from these forests because of the disruption.
Environmental activist Devoditya Sinha of Vindhya Bachao Foundation concurs. “These three tehsils once had dense green forests, which were part of a natural corridor linking to the Chandraprabha Wildlife Sanctuary in neighbouring Chandauli. But mining has ravaged them completely,” he says.
Sinha recalls that Madihan’s forests once hosted wild dogs, wolves, sloth bears, leopards, deer, chinkaras and several species of wild cats. “After mining began, most of them have vanished,” he adds.
“Sloth bears still survive in the forests of Madihan and Chunar. Near Patehra, the Leduki forest had bears. In Ahrora too, bears were once common but their numbers have sharply declined because of rampant mining. Hyenas and leopards can still be found in the Ahrora hills—largely because irrigation department lands there remain untouched and offer them refuge. But overall, mining has devastated wildlife across Ahrora, Chunar and Madihan,” says Devoditya Sinha, activist with the Vindhya Bachao Foundation.
Mirzapur’s mines may contribute to government revenue and provide local jobs, but their blatant disregard for environmental safeguards has created a crisis for farmers. Water discharged from the mines carries silt that flows directly into agricultural fields. Dust from blasting and crusher operations coats the leaves of crops and trees, choking their growth. The result is steadily declining yields.
In Ahrora tehsil’s Ekli village, 45-year-old farmer Rambali describes the damage: “The wastewater from the mines flows into our fields and leaves behind silt, reducing the soil’s fertility. Fine dust and powder from crusher plants settle on our crops and form a white layer on the soil. This layer prevents the earth from absorbing water and stops plants from using sunlight properly. Both stone powder and dust harm the fields, trees, and crops.”
From Bhagwati Dei village, 42-year-old Sant Kumar shares a similar experience: “We grow two crops a year — paddy and wheat. Irrigation mostly depends on rainfall, and sometimes we get canal water. But the dust from blasting settles on our crops and stunts their growth. Yields have dropped. Earlier, when mining was less, we harvested 80 kilos of paddy from one biswa (0.012 hectares). Now it’s down to 60 kilos. Mining runs day and night, right next to our villages.”
In Chandolewa, 50-year-old Kumari Devi recounts the impact of blasting: “Blasting throws small and large stones into our fields, damaging standing crops. Dust settles on plants and dries them out. Labourers refuse to work in these conditions, so we are forced to harvest the crops ourselves by hand.”
NITI Aayog guidelines require quarries to plant trees along their boundaries to trap dust — yet not a single mining site in Mirzapur follows this rule. The Aayog’s report on the state of farming in the district is blunt:
“Dust rising from the mines carries enough silt to blanket the surrounding fields. This affects soil life systems and reduces crop productivity. Heavy metal particles also enter the soil. Villagers complain that constant truck movement kicks up more dust, further damaging fields. As silt content rises, the soil’s ability to retain moisture — crucial for farming — drops sharply. Mining impacts choke the soil’s pores, lowering both its physical and chemical quality. If this continues, farming conditions will only worsen. Without doubt, mining has degraded soil quality and already reduced crop yields and livelihoods.”
The survey revealed that 93% of respondents believed mining had harmed agriculture, and nearly 80% said their crop yields had fallen.
Mining is often justified as an economic activity that boosts state revenue and provides employment. But in Mirzapur, the trade-off is stark. The environmental, ecological, and human costs — water scarcity, vanishing biodiversity, collapsing soil health, rising illnesses — far outweigh the benefits. The question remains: when the state knows exactly what is happening on the ground, why is such a massive man-made disaster being allowed to unfold in plain sight?
This story is produced as part of the India Water Portal Regional Story Fellowship 2025.