Following the reorganization of Punjab in 1966 and the creation of Haryana, the distribution of river waters—particularly from the Ravi and Beas—became an immediate concern. The 1981 tripartite agreement between Punjab, Haryana, and Rajasthan laid out water entitlements and directed the construction of the SYL Canal to facilitate Haryana’s access.
Yet despite legal clarity, implementation was anything but smooth. Punjab’s resistance, both political and popular, led to stalled construction, culminating in the 2004 Punjab Termination of Agreements Act—an unprecedented legislative move that sought to unilaterally cancel prior arrangements.
The Supreme Court later deemed this Act unconstitutional, reaffirming that inter-state water agreements fall under the Union’s adjudicatory purview. In more recent developments, the Apex Court has pulled no punches. Punjab’s move to denotify land previously acquired for the SYL Canal was met with sharp judicial criticism. The Court’s observations were In the verdant plains of Punjab, where agriculture forms both culture and livelihood, the Sutlej Yamuna Link (SYL) Canal dispute remains a contentious flashpoint in Indian federalism.
What began as an administrative exercise in water-sharing has evolved into a decades long legal conundrum, emblematic of the tensions between constitutional obligations and grassroots realities were unequivocal: such actions flout the rule of law, weaken the federal fabric, and dishonor binding court orders.
Yet, the Court also displayed a calibrated sensitivity by acknowledging Punjab’s on ground realities—its declining groundwater table, ecological strain, and the fears of its farming community. Beyond legalities, the issue taps into the collective consciousness of Punjab. A state steeped in the ethos of Sikhism, where historical figures like Bhai Kanhaiya embody service without discrimination, the narrative of “withholding water” appears antithetical.
However, Punjab’s stand stems not from unwillingness to share, but from existential anxiety. The concern is not just over cubic feet of water—it is about survival, sustainability, and safeguarding the green backbone of the state. Unfortunately, political opportunism has often overridden sincere attempts at resolution.
The SYL issue is frequently revived during election cycles, not for closure but for populist mileage. This erosion of political will has only deepened public cynicism, particularly in Punjab, where the perception grows that its pleas are drowned out by administrative indifference and central assertion. There are also historical parallels worth noting. The asymmetry in resource extraction echoes Dadabhai Naoroji’s theory of the “Drain of Wealth” under colonial rule. Today, many in Punjab view forced water sharing without adequate environmental or economic safeguards as a contemporary form of internal exploitation—a taking without consent.
To break this impasse, India’s legal and political systems must pivot toward cooperative federalism. Solutions must begin with transparent, good-faith dialogue— backed by rigorous hydrological data and environmental assessments. Judicial orders must be honored, but so must the concerns of those whose lands and lives lie directly in the canal’s path.
Equitable sharing should not mean identical solutions, but context-sensitive compromises that factor in regional vulnerabilities. Ultimately, the SYL dispute is not just about Punjab and Haryana. It is a test of how modern India negotiates the overlap between law and justice, rights and responsibilities, unity and diversity. A resolution, if rooted in fairness, could serve as a template for resolving similar inter-state conflicts. Until then, justice—for Punjab at least—remains watered down.
“Punjab’s resistance is not a rejection of law, but a cry for ecological and economic survival.”
