Nilanjan Mistry

27 July 2026
Location: Confluence of the Teesta and Rangit Rivers, Teesta Bazar

On 24 July 2026, an organisation named Affected Citizens of Teesta began a remarkable foot march from Dzongu in Sikkim with a simple yet powerful message: Save Teesta. Their destination was the sacred confluence of the Teesta and Rangit rivers, a journey of nearly ninety kilometres across steep mountain trails, dense forests, and challenging terrain.

When I first learned about this march, I felt an immediate connection. My long association with the Teesta through research, field documentation, and visual storytelling made it impossible to remain a distant observer. This was not simply a protest. It was the collective voice of people determined to protect a river that shapes their landscape, culture, history, and identity. I therefore decided to travel to the confluence and stand beside them in solidarity.

On the morning of 27 July, my friend Krishnendu Das and I left Siliguri at around nine o’clock for Teesta Bazar. Throughout the journey, one question stayed in my mind. Would we be fortunate enough to meet the marchers after travelling all this way?

Perhaps Mother Teesta had already decided the answer.

As we arrived at Teesta Bazar, the procession was descending from the mountains towards the confluence. The timing felt almost providential. Without a moment’s hesitation, we joined the march, walked beside the participants, encouraged them, and conveyed that people from the plains also stand with them in their struggle to protect the river.

Among those leading the procession was Gyatso Lepcha, Secretary of Affected Citizens of Teesta. During our conversation, he shared a thought that deeply moved me. Standing on this sacred land, he said, they wished to symbolically pass the responsibility of protecting the lower reaches of the Teesta into the hands of the people living in the plains. Their journey had begun in Dzongu with the intention of awakening every community living along the river and carrying the message from the mountains to the downstream landscape where the Teesta eventually flows into the plains.

The march concluded at the confluence of the Teesta and Rangit, one of the holiest places for the Lepcha community. There, participants offered traditional prayers before the river, expressing gratitude, respect, and an unwavering commitment to protect her.

The discipline, dignity, and peaceful spirit of the procession left a profound impression. Although the organisation raised several demands, one stood above all others. They called for an end to further hydropower development on the natural course of the Teesta. In their view, the river should be allowed to flow freely without additional dams that continue to fragment its ecological integrity.

Their concerns are rooted in lived experience rather than abstract environmental theory.

For many years, the organisation has opposed large hydropower projects along the Teesta. They believe that sustained public resistance has helped slow the progress of the proposed Teesta Stage Four project. They also expressed serious concern about the ongoing Teesta Stage Six project, where a recent tunnel accident claimed the lives of several workers. For them, the tragedy serves as another reminder of the risks associated with large scale infrastructure development in the fragile Himalayan region.

As the programme unfolded, one truth became increasingly evident. The relationship between the Lepcha people and the Teesta is profoundly spiritual. They do not merely respect the river. They call her Mother Teesta. They believe that the souls of their ancestors continue to exist within her waters. Protecting the river is therefore not only an environmental responsibility but also a sacred cultural obligation.

The memory of the South Lhonak Lake Glacial Lake Outburst Flood in October 2023 remains vivid throughout the region. The disaster devastated Chungthang and caused widespread destruction across numerous settlements downstream. Even today, many villages located near ongoing tunnel construction sites live with uncertainty. Residents spoke about falling rocks, unstable mountain slopes, and increasing geological risks. Alongside multiple hydropower tunnels, the construction of the Sevoke Rangpo railway tunnel has intensified concerns about cumulative impacts on one of the youngest and most fragile mountain systems in the world.

Throughout the march, one message was repeated again and again. Protecting the Teesta cannot remain the responsibility of mountain communities alone. People living in the plains must also become active participants in this movement. The future of the river depends upon a shared understanding that the Teesta is one continuous living system connecting glaciers, mountains, forests, foothills, floodplains, agriculture, biodiversity, and millions of people.

The participants also spoke about future hydropower proposals downstream. They urged that no additional dams should be constructed anywhere along the Teesta, including the proposed projects in the plains. Their appeal was not directed against development itself, but towards a model of development that respects ecological limits, indigenous knowledge, and the long term health of the river.

Our presence at the confluence was only a modest gesture, yet it carried a deeper meaning. We listened to their stories, walked beside them, and expressed our moral support for their movement. More importantly, we recognised that the responsibility of protecting the Teesta does not end in the mountains. It extends downstream to everyone whose lives are connected with the river.

This field visit reminded me that the Teesta is far more than a river. She is memory, identity, livelihood, history, spirituality, and home. Every bend of her course carries stories of people who have lived beside her for generations. Any meaningful conversation about her future must therefore begin by listening to those voices before decisions are made in distant offices and planning rooms.

For me, this journey was much more than documenting a public demonstration. It became an opportunity to witness how an Indigenous community continues to defend a river they consider sacred, and how the responsibility of protecting the Teesta now belongs to all of us. Whether we live in the mountains or in the plains, our futures remain inseparably connected through the flow of this extraordinary river.