What happened on the evening of 12 May at an Agra ghat was not a tragic fluke. Six young people who had come to celebrate a birthday entered the Yamuna. Two hours of rescue efforts ended with four bodies recovered. Such tragedies are becoming routine. The police put up warning hoardings, but people ignore them. The families’ grief is beyond words. The Yamuna that has cradled our faith, history and civilisation is becoming a witness to death.

Weeks earlier, more than 15 pilgrims died when an overloaded boat capsized at Keshi Ghat in Vrindavan. There were no life jackets. Supervision was virtually absent. After every such catastrophe, we perform rituals of condolence and hand out compensation — but why do we settle for that?

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Calling these events ‘accidents’ evades the truth. They are the product of administrative failure, official negligence and broken systems. When a river is poisoned, when its flow is choked, when safety exists only on paper and monitoring sleeps, fatalities are only a matter of time. Despite repeated claims of enormous spending, conditions on the ground remain unchanged.

The state of the Yamuna is plain to see. Rising in the Himalayas, it runs about 1,376 kilometres through Haryana, Delhi and Uttar Pradesh. After Delhi, much of it resembles an open sewer. Millions of litres of untreated sewage enter the river daily. Sewage-treatment plants are incomplete, undersized or nonfunctional. Central Pollution Control Board and other reports show biochemical oxygen demand and faecal coliform levels far above safe limits. In many places, the water is unfit even for bathing.

Pollution from Delhi reaches Mathura, Vrindavan and Agra. Ghats in these religious towns draw crowds every day, yet drains pour directly into the river. Behind the Taj Mahal, the Yamuna often carries foam, black water and a foul smell. This is not merely an aesthetic problem; it is a public-health and environmental emergency.

Encroachment has compounded the problem. Drone surveys in Vrindavan and Mathura exposed hundreds of illegal structures on the floodplain. Where the river once spread and cleansed itself, concrete and colonies now stand. Stagnation increased, pollution accumulated, and the river began to suffocate. Too often these encroachments thrive under the protection of the powerful.

For three decades we have launched plans: the Yamuna Action Plan, projects under the National Clean Ganga Mission, with claims of thousands of crores spent. Yet the river remains toxic. Incomplete pipelines, idle plants, weak oversight and corruption turned policy into paper victories. Citizens deserve to know where the money went, who monitored the work, and who was held accountable.

Safety at the ghats is woefully inadequate. At many sites, including Balkeshwar Ghat in Agra, there are neither enough lifeguards nor clear depth markers, sturdy barriers or emergency rescue systems. Boat operators routinely overload vessels; fitness certificates and life-jacket rules have become mere formalities.

Illegal sand mining has left deep pits and hidden whirlpools in the riverbed. Water that looks calm can suddenly swallow a life. This is not only an environmental crime, but it is also a direct assault on human life.

The critical failure is a lack of coordination. The Jal Shakti Ministry, municipal corporations, development authorities, pollution control boards and state governments have divided responsibilities, but coordination is almost non-existent. After every disaster, files circulate, meetings happen, and statements are issued — and then silence returns.

Courts and the National Green Tribunal have issued strict directions: stop sewage discharge, remove encroachments, protect the river. Most orders remain on paper. Without persistent oversight and real accountability, directives are reduced to bureaucratic ornamentation.

Words are no longer enough. We need swift, concrete action. Immediate steps must include: connecting every drain to working treatment plants and bringing idle plants online within 30 days; mandatory trained lifeguards, depth markers, warning signs and emergency rescue teams at all ghats; strict enforcement of boating rules and compulsory life jackets in every boat.

Illegal floodplain structures in Vrindavan, Mathura and Agra should be transparently identified and removed. Illegal sand mining must be stopped, and criminal cases filed against responsible officials and mafias. Water management policies must ensure minimum flows in the Yamuna. Every project must face public audit and regular, publicly accessible progress reports.

These demands are tough because the reality is grimmer. Without political will, no meaningful change is possible. Until administrative officials and political leaders face personal accountability, plans will remain announcements.

The Yamuna is more than a river; it is the memory, culture and heartbeat of Braj. Generations were raised on its banks. If this river dies, society, culture and our future suffer grievous wounds.

Kanha, Mehak, Riya and Vicky are not just four names. They are the cost of our collective indifference. The tragedies at Keshi Ghat and in Agra warn us that if we remain blind, such disasters will multiply.

The government still has an opportunity. Show transparency, enforce accountability, and launch a serious public-participatory revival of the Yamuna. Citizens must wake up: ask questions, demand reports, join local monitoring.

When rivers die, civilisations fade. Saving the Yamuna is not merely conserving a waterway; it is preserving our culture, our memories and future generations.

There is still time. The choice is ours: leave the Yamuna to fate, or save its future with wisdom, sensitivity and action?