By Arunima Rajan

On the surface, Mumbai has enough water. Its reservoirs brim with monsoon rain, its infrastructure spans decades of development. And yet, in daily life, water remains an elusive privilege — scarce not because of nature, but because of neglect, design, and politics.

For water policy researcher Sachin Tiwale, the roots of India’s urban water crisis lie not in a lack of supply, but in how that supply is managed, distributed, and governed. His work, bridging engineering, public policy, and social justice, urges a fundamental rethink: not just of pipes and pumps, but of the very values driving water access.

Trained as a chemical engineer, with a master’s degree in Water Resource Management from the Netherlands and a PhD in public policy from IIT Bombay, Tiwale’s approach is as much about people as it is about pressure gauges. Arunima Rajan spoke with him about the pitfalls of centralised water models, the promise of decentralised systems, and why resilience begins with recognition — of what already works, and whom it must serve.

Scarcity isn’t the crisis. Distribution Is.

“Mumbai doesn’t have a water shortage problem,” Tiwale says plainly. “It has an access problem.”

The monsoon provides ample rainfall. The city’s dams and reservoirs meet supply targets on paper. But in practice, vast swathes of the city — especially slum communities — remain disconnected from formal piped networks.

Until 2014, settlements established after 1 January 1995 were explicitly denied legal water connections. That policy, eventually overturned by the courts, effectively excluded millions. “These residents were — and in many cases still are — forced to buy water at higher rates,” says Tiwale. “The poorest pay the most for what should be a guaranteed public good.”

An Ageing Infrastructure, a Misfit Model

At the heart of India’s urban water strategy is a 19th-century European design: draw water from distant sources, treat it centrally, and pipe it into homes. This centralised model, despite several benefits, has significant limitations, especially in the global south. While it may work effectively in well-planned cities, this model often falters in India’s urban centres, where unplanned and uneven growth is the norm.

“The system is brittle,” Tiwale explains. “Pipes are over 100 years old in some areas. Pressure is inconsistent. Corrosion, leaks, and biofilms — bacterial growths inside pipes — are common.” These not only affect delivery, but pose serious public health risks.

More worryingly, the model prioritises infrastructure over equity. “We count capacity in megalitres, not in how reliably water reaches each household,” he notes.

And the opacity of governance compounds the problem. “Do we have data on water supply coverage? On pressure? On water distribution? On water quality delivered at the tap?” he asks. “In most cases, we simply don’t know.”

Decentralisation Isn’t the Future — It’s the Present

While official policy clings to centralised supply, ordinary people have already adapted. Tiwale and his colleagues' field research reveals a striking reality: Indian households don’t rely on just one source of water. In many cases, they manage three or more, improvising their own survival networks.

“In Chennai, 89% of households use multiple sources. In Kolkata, it’s 59%,” he says. “This includes borewells, tankers, municipal supply, packaged drinking water (PDW), and even open wells.”

The packaged drinking water industry — mostly unregulated — has boomed. In Chennai and Kolkata, 35–45% of households now rely on PDW as their primary drinking source. “These are decentralised systems, often using reverse osmosis (RO),” Tiwale says. “They work — but they’re uneven, unmonitored, and expensive.”

Unbranded 20-litre jars may cost ₹20–₹30. Branded ones can go up to ₹120. “There’s no guarantee of quality or hygiene. No standardisation. Yet this is what people turn to when the centralised model doesn’t deliver.”

Regulation, Recognition, Reform

Tiwale’s argument is not to dismantle the central system, but to complement it. “Decentralised models already exist,” he says. “We must recognise them, regulate them, and integrate them.”

This means setting standards for PDW and tanker operations, fostering partnerships between public utilities and small providers, and investing in localised treatment systems.

“It’s time to move beyond the obsession with piped water as the only legitimate form of supply,” he says. “Decentralised models are not a step backward. They are part of a resilient, hybrid future.”

A New Way to Count Water

Another major shift Tiwale proposes is to separate drinking water from water used for other domestic purposes. Official guidelines suggest 135 litres per person per day. But drinking and cooking needs only require 3 to 5 litres.

“Why treat the full 135 litres to drinking water standards if most of it is used for washing or flushing?” he asks. “It’s inefficient — especially when the system can’t guarantee drinking-quality water at the tap.”

He suggests a tiered approach: treat a small portion to high-quality standards at the local level, and use the existing infrastructure for non-potable needs. “It’s been piloted before,” he says. “But never at scale.”

Don’t Forget the Groundwater

Beneath the surface lies one of India’s most vital — and most ignored — water sources: groundwater.

“It doesn’t appear in most technical planning documents,” Tiwale says, “but when municipal supply fails, that’s where people turn.”

In Mumbai, tanker water serves many from slum clusters to upscale housing societies. In the last week when the Mumbai Water Tanker Association went on strike, even luxury apartments felt the crunch.

“We need to bring groundwater into formal planning,” Tiwale says. “That means mapping, monitoring, and managing it sustainably.”

A Singular Message to Policymakers

If there’s one reform Tiwale urges most strongly, it’s this: invest in fixing distribution.

“The water is there,” he says. “What’s missing is the political will to ensure it reaches everyone fairly.”

Resilience, for Tiwale, is not about building more infrastructure. It’s about acknowledging the systems people already rely on — and making them safer, more equitable, and better governed.

Because in the end, India’s urban water crisis is not defined by what we lack. It’s defined by what — and who — we choose to ignore.

Got a story that Healthcare Executive should dig into? Shoot it over to arunima.rajan@hosmac.com—no PR fluff, just solid leads.

Pipes, Power and Public Health : Who Controls Water in Indian Cities?