These pathways formed a perfect network through which excess rainwater moved from high ground to low ground, eventually reaching rivers and the sea. Nature designed a flawless system. Human civilization broke it.
In Tamil Nadu, we see this failure every monsoon. A few hours of moderate rain can now flood entire districts. Streets disappear under water, homes collapse, and cities freeze—not because rainfall has become extraordinary, but because the pathways that once carried water are no longer alive.
For centuries, Tamil society understood water profoundly. Our ancestors identified 47 unique types of water bodies, each crafted with a purpose and a rhythm. But modern development forgot all of them. Streams were buried, canals were encroached, lake boundaries stolen, and surplus water channels treated as empty land. Where water once flowed freely, concrete now stands arrogantly.
Urban flooding is often blamed on climate change, but the real cause lies much closer—in human greed, negligence, and ignorance. When 'poramboke' lands—streams, canals, pond areas—are illegally converted for construction, the city’s veins are cut off one by one. Water, trapped and confused, has no path but destruction.
If an individual commits theft, the law punishes them. If someone commits murder, they are arrested.
In Tamil Nadu, we see this failure every monsoon. A few hours of moderate rain can now flood entire districts. Streets disappear under water, homes collapse, and cities freeze—not because rainfall has become extraordinary, but because the pathways that once carried water are no longer alive.
For centuries, Tamil society understood water profoundly. Our ancestors identified 47 unique types of water bodies, each crafted with a purpose and a rhythm. But modern development forgot all of them. Streams were buried, canals were encroached, lake boundaries stolen, and surplus water channels treated as empty land. Where water once flowed freely, concrete now stands arrogantly.
Urban flooding is often blamed on climate change, but the real cause lies much closer—in human greed, negligence, and ignorance. When 'poramboke' lands—streams, canals, pond areas—are illegally converted for construction, the city’s veins are cut off one by one. Water, trapped and confused, has no path but destruction.
If an individual commits theft, the law punishes them. If someone commits murder, they are arrested.
But when someone blocks a natural water channel—and thousands suffer because of it—there is no punishment, no accountability, not even recognition of the crime. This is one of the greatest failures of modern governance.
Agriculture declined, villages emptied, and people migrated to cities. Expensive urban rent forced them toward lake-beds and canal routes. Political groups turned these encroachments into vote banks. Temporary huts became permanent homes; homes became apartments; apartments became towering blocks—all standing on the buried memories of water.
Walk just five kilometres around your home and ask yourself:
Can you find even one natural stream still flowing?
In most cities, the answer is no. We erased nature’s map and replaced it with our own confusion. We blocked the very slopes through which water silently protected us for thousands of years. Now, when rain falls, the land simply cannot breathe.
The irony is painful: the same cities that drown in monsoon beg for water in summer. Flood one month, drought the next—this is the signature of a civilization that forgot both drainage and storage. Lakes that once held water have become housing colonies; channels that once guided water have become roads; catchment areas are now parking lots. Water has nowhere to stay and nowhere to go.
And this is not only Tamil Nadu’s story. Not only India’s story.
This is the world’s story.
From New York to Beijing, Dubai to Berlin—every year we watch major cities drown in hours. Even the richest nations, with trillion-dollar technologies, stand helpless as water tears through their streets. Why? Because even they destroyed the micro-streams, the gentle slopes, the shallow depressions that nature crafted long before their skyscrapers existed.
A civilization that buries its water pathways cannot show shock when water rises to bury its cities.
It is time for governments to accept a truth they have avoided:
Urban floods are man-made.
They are the direct result of blocking natural water routes and pretending that development is simply more concrete.
Every nation must now elevate Hydrological Management to the level of a central ministry. Satellites should not exist only to spy on neighboring nations—they must map natural slopes in every five-square-kilometre zone. Water pathways must be restored scientifically, reconnected to living streams, and protected with the seriousness reserved for national security. A complete national water-route map must be placed before every Parliament and discussed as a matter of survival.
The world must face an uncomfortable truth:
Nature may tolerate our ignorance,
but it never forgives deliberate arrogance.
If we continue to choke its pathways, the floods we see today will look like harmless warnings compared to what is coming. Nature is not threatening us—it is promising us. A promise that every obstruction will be answered, every stolen waterway reclaimed, and every act of human greed paid for in full.
Agriculture declined, villages emptied, and people migrated to cities. Expensive urban rent forced them toward lake-beds and canal routes. Political groups turned these encroachments into vote banks. Temporary huts became permanent homes; homes became apartments; apartments became towering blocks—all standing on the buried memories of water.
Walk just five kilometres around your home and ask yourself:
Can you find even one natural stream still flowing?
In most cities, the answer is no. We erased nature’s map and replaced it with our own confusion. We blocked the very slopes through which water silently protected us for thousands of years. Now, when rain falls, the land simply cannot breathe.
The irony is painful: the same cities that drown in monsoon beg for water in summer. Flood one month, drought the next—this is the signature of a civilization that forgot both drainage and storage. Lakes that once held water have become housing colonies; channels that once guided water have become roads; catchment areas are now parking lots. Water has nowhere to stay and nowhere to go.
And this is not only Tamil Nadu’s story. Not only India’s story.
This is the world’s story.
From New York to Beijing, Dubai to Berlin—every year we watch major cities drown in hours. Even the richest nations, with trillion-dollar technologies, stand helpless as water tears through their streets. Why? Because even they destroyed the micro-streams, the gentle slopes, the shallow depressions that nature crafted long before their skyscrapers existed.
A civilization that buries its water pathways cannot show shock when water rises to bury its cities.
It is time for governments to accept a truth they have avoided:
Urban floods are man-made.
They are the direct result of blocking natural water routes and pretending that development is simply more concrete.
Every nation must now elevate Hydrological Management to the level of a central ministry. Satellites should not exist only to spy on neighboring nations—they must map natural slopes in every five-square-kilometre zone. Water pathways must be restored scientifically, reconnected to living streams, and protected with the seriousness reserved for national security. A complete national water-route map must be placed before every Parliament and discussed as a matter of survival.
The world must face an uncomfortable truth:
Nature may tolerate our ignorance,
but it never forgives deliberate arrogance.
If we continue to choke its pathways, the floods we see today will look like harmless warnings compared to what is coming. Nature is not threatening us—it is promising us. A promise that every obstruction will be answered, every stolen waterway reclaimed, and every act of human greed paid for in full.
(Based on an original Tamil essay written by me in 2011)
And now, a final message—
not from governments,
not from science,
not from policy…
…but from Water itself.
I Am Water
A poem by Yozen Balki
______________________
I am Water.
You have stolen my pathways—
the places where I once lived.
You raised great buildings
on the land that belonged to me.
For a few years, I remain silent.
I wait.
But one day—
when the rains grow heavy,
when the floods return,
in one unexpected year—
I will come back.
Slowly…
quietly…
I will slip beneath the foundations
and will uproot every structure
you built upon my home.
And I will reclaim
what has always been mine.
For I am Water.
I do not forget
where I belonged.
And now, a final message—
not from governments,
not from science,
not from policy…
…but from Water itself.
I Am Water
A poem by Yozen Balki
______________________
I am Water.
You have stolen my pathways—
the places where I once lived.
You raised great buildings
on the land that belonged to me.
For a few years, I remain silent.
I wait.
But one day—
when the rains grow heavy,
when the floods return,
in one unexpected year—
I will come back.
Slowly…
quietly…
I will slip beneath the foundations
and will uproot every structure
you built upon my home.
And I will reclaim
what has always been mine.
For I am Water.
I do not forget
where I belonged.
- Yozen Balki
Subconscious Transformation Therapist | Social Thinker
