Flowing back - Stories of claiming used water documentary, reframes wastewater as farmers’ lifeline

India’s water crisis is usually told as a story of scarcity. Dry wells, shrinking rivers, and desperate searches for new sources dominate public imagination.  ‘Flowing back – Stories of claiming used water’, directed by Alka Palrecha and produced by People in Centre, unsettles that narrative with quiet precision. Instead of asking where fresh water will come from, the film asks what happens to water after cities are done with it.

Set across Ahmedabad, Rajkot, Patan, Ruva, and Unjha in Gujarat, the documentary follows farmers who reclaim treated and untreated wastewater for irrigation. What cities discard as sewage becomes, in rural fields, a lifeline. The film documents this informal yet essential practice that sustains livelihoods and strengthens food security despite limited institutional recognition.

By weaving together lived experiences, municipal perspectives, and expert voices, the documentary exposes urban rural inequities and policy gaps embedded in water governance. Cities extract fresh water from distant rural landscapes through organized infrastructure. Once used, that same water flows back with little accountability. Farmers, often unrecognised and sometimes labeled unauthorized, become the first to claim it.

At its core, the film is not only about wastewater. It is about ownership, justice, and neglected rural urban relationships in water management. As Alka Palrecha explains, “We are documenting processes that institutionalise wastewater reuse for irrigation.” The documentary makes a compelling case that farmers are not scavengers of waste but central actors in a circular water economy.

The paradox of the "gift" and the "waste"

The documentary opens with a quiet but unsettling irony. Cities draw high quality fresh water from rural hinterlands through tankers, pipes, and canals. This extraction is organized, sanctioned by the state, and widely accepted as progress. Yet when that same water returns as "used water," the city’s duty appears to end at the discharge point.

For farmers, however, the story begins there. What the city calls "waste" becomes, in the field, a nutrient rich resource. By tracing the movement of water through Ahmedabad, Rajkot, and Patan, the film shows how the urban "end of pipe" becomes the rural "start of field." This shift in perspective is powerful. The conversation moves from getting rid of filth to managing a resource. The framing is not sentimental. It is systemic. It asks who decides when water stops being valuable.

Historical depth: The forgotten legacy of sewage farms

The film deepens its argument by returning to history. Long before modern treatment plants became the norm, cities ran "sewage farms" through formal municipal partnerships. In Ahmedabad, Amritsar, Bikaner, Bhilai, Delhi, Gwalior, Hyderabad, Jamshedpur, Kanpur, Madras now Chennai, Madurai, and Trivandrum, municipalities leased land to farmers and granted them rights to irrigate with city water.

A former mayor of Ahmedabad once leased 265 acres to 260 farmers. It was a structured relationship, not an informal workaround. Wastewater reuse was embedded in governance.

Today the practice survives, but recognition has faded. The film reflects on this "forgotten relationship" with restraint. Farmers continue to irrigate with used water, yet formal support and administrative clarity have largely disappeared. Many operate in legal and technical uncertainty. What was once policy has become improvisation.

The power of the collective: Cooperatives and innovations

The documentary then turns to the farmers themselves. In Anandpur and Ishwariya, cooperative members describe how they organized when institutional backing thinned. The Waste Water Users Cooperatives in Rajkot offer a working model. The municipal corporation earns nearly ₹4 lakhs annually, and farmers receive steady, year round supply. It is pragmatic and mutually beneficial.

Technical voices add credibility. The Plant Incharge at Aji 2 Dam explains COD and BOD levels, grounding the narrative in science rather than sentiment. Treated wastewater is shown to be consistent and reliable. Unlike canal water that depends on seasonal allocations, used water flows as long as the city functions.

The film challenges the idea of a universal treatment standard. If water is meant for agriculture, the goal should be to remove harmful pathogens and heavy metals while retaining nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium. In that context, sewage becomes a kind of liquid fertilizer.

Farmers speak with clarity about the economic shift this enables. Reliable irrigation allows multiple short duration crops each year. Many move from low value staples to vegetables and fodder. They reduce dependence on chemical fertilizers and avoid the high energy costs of pumping groundwater from depths of 700 feet. What appears to be waste at the city’s edge becomes stability in the village.

The conflict: Exclusion and misunderstanding

Despite the success stories, the film does not shy away from the conflict. In segments detailing areas like Bhavnagar, we see the "fragile balance" tipping toward exclusion. Despite its value, farmers face hurdles. As cities grow and divert more fresh water, farmers struggle. India generates 72,000 million liters of used water daily, but only 30% is treated. Often, this treated water is diverted to industries, neglecting the farmers who are the primary claimants. As cities "reimagine" treated wastewater as a commodity for industry or construction, the farmers—the historical users—are being pushed out.

Farmers in villages like Akwada and Dewara (near Bhavnagar) have to request the government to stop wasting this water and instead create partnerships for irrigation. The documentary captures the frustration of farmers who are labeled as "unauthorized" or accused of "breaking lines" to access water. There is a poignant sense of injustice here: the city takes their fresh water, sends back filth, and then denies them the right to use that filth even after they have invested their own money (often up to ₹1 Lakh for private pipelines) to access it.

A call for policy reform

As the documentary moves toward its closing argument, it brings in S Vishwanath, widely known as Zenrainman. His presence sharpens the policy lens. He outlines what he calls a "hierarchy of reuse." In a water scarce country, he argues, agriculture must come first. Ecological regeneration should follow. Industrial and commercial use should come last.

This order challenges the dominant smart city approach, where treated water is often sold to industries to recover infrastructure costs. The film questions this logic. It suggests that "doing justice" to used water requires acknowledging the farmer’s "first right" to it. After all, the fresh water that sustains cities is frequently sourced from rural landscapes. The return flow cannot be detached from that origin.

The argument gains force through scale. The KC Valley project in Bengaluru supplies 440 MLD of treated water to drought prone regions and has increased agricultural production by 15 percent. In Punjab, 64 sewage treatment plants irrigate 22600 acres. These examples make it clear that wastewater irrigation is not a marginal practice. It is operational, measurable, and capable of expansion.

Conclusion: A resource for a thirsty future

In its final moments, the film leaves viewers with a question that lingers. Will policy continue to sideline farmers who rely on used water, or will governance formally recognize urban rural water partnerships?

Flowing Back dismantles the word waste with quiet persistence. It argues that in a circular economy, nothing is inherently useless. Value depends on perspective and priority. What cities discard sustains crops, incomes, and food security.

The documentary does not rely on dramatic spectacle. Instead, it builds a steady case for rethinking ownership, responsibility, and justice in water management. For those concerned with urban planning, sustainable agriculture, and equity in the Global South, the film offers more than documentation. It offers direction.