Himalayan glaciers are often called “natural water towers” that serve as a vital source of freshwater in South Asia and beyond. Major rivers like Dudh Koshi, Trisuli, and Karnali in Nepal are fed by these glaciers, sustaining lives in the highlands, lowlands, and everywhere in between. These frozen arteries shape every possible aspect of our lives, from daily water consumption and agriculture to cultural and spiritual identity. However, what once seemed eternal is receding at a pace that even science has trouble keeping up with.
According to research by the International Center of Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD), the Hindu Kush Himalayan region’s glaciers are melting 65% faster than they did a decade ago. A study from 2023 has also revealed that Nepal lost nearly 24-25% of its glacial area and about 29% of the total ice volume from 1977 to 2010. This represents a shocking change that happened in just a few decades. The trajectory continues for the environment and Nepal’s water security, agriculture, energy production, and long-term survival.
The Himalayas: Melting at the source
In the Himalayas, the first signs of downfall are already visible. The glacier retreat has caused setbacks for the people living downstream who rely solely on the glacier-fed water system. Instances of alarming glacier retreat, GLOFs (Glacier Lake Outburst Floods), changes in rainfall and snowfall patterns, unpredictable weather, and countless other impacts stand before us, unmasked.
Glaciers are thinning every year, turning into water that flows too fast, causing extreme water availability, and even flooding. At first, the surge of water may seem abundant, but this is a misleading peak. As the ice reserve degrades, the rivers will begin to dry up, compromising the water supply and causing long-term water scarcity.
A study published by the Science of the Total Environment in 2021 shows that the meltwaters from the Khumbu glacier are responsible for 65% of the water supply to the locals in the pre-monsoon season. However, this is not some distant, theoretical concern. Even those living near the glaciers are deeply worried.
“I remember when I was a boy, the glacier above Dingboche reached far down the valley,” says Mingma Sherpa, a local mountain guide. “Now, it’s just bare rock and a lake where there used to be ice. We used to walk over frozen ground; today, I warn trekkers not to camp too close to the water as it changes too fast. The mountain is not what it was.”
The hills: Between flood and thirst
In the mid-hills of Nepal, the crisis takes on a different shape. The glaciers may be far above, but their slow dwindling is experienced by every dry tap and cracked terrace below. The serene spring that flowers all year round has slowly disappeared. People living in the villages now walk hours away from their homes to fetch a bucket of water that used to be available at their doorstep.
With less meltwater sustaining the underground reservoirs, springs are no longer filled like they once were. As a result, the farmers experience dry spells during the pre-monsoon seasons, leading to water scarcity and changes in the planting schedule.
Rainfall patterns, too, are disrupted. Why? Besides being a great water supply, Glaciers play a crucial role in regulating local climate and hydrological patterns. Glacier’s high reflectivity, known as the albedo effect, helps cool the local temperature. As the glacier’s cooling effect diminishes, the local climate shifts, resulting in unpredictable and intense monsoons over a short period. The farmers face consequences like failing harvests, soil degradation, and traditional cropping patterns that no longer match the rhythm of the rain.
The Terai: Drought in the land of plenty
Further south, in the flats of Nepal, changes may seem subtle; however, it is no less severe. These lowlands depend on the underground reservoirs and rivers fed by the meltwaters. Glacier retreat, catering to the steady flow of these aquifers, is now faltering. A crisis of dry wells, a thin irrigation canal, and farmers struggling to grow crops follows.
During my visit to Bardiya last year, I talked to a local farmer, Mrs. Ram Kali, who has spent her entire life cultivating rice and vegetables on the same piece of land. She told me how the canal connected to the Karnali river now dries up during the dry season. “ We knew when the rain would come, when to plant,” she said. “Now it’s all a guesswork. Sometimes it doesn’t rain at all, and when it does, it floods everything.” Her voice echoed a quiet anxiety shared by many in Terai, a land that is still green but gambling with uncertainty.
Time to act
The melting glaciers are not a distant concern reserved for scientists and researchers. It is a slow, unrolling emergency remodeling our lives, nature, and future. From naked mountains to parched fields, these ripple effects are quietly rewriting the connection between land and its people. But we are not paralyzed. With adequate data, dialogue, and determination, we can shift directions. This means rethinking development, restoring the ecosystem, and requesting climate justice. It also means recognizing and supporting local efforts like local trekking companies promoting reforestation, managing waste in trails, and encouraging trekkers to leave no trace. The ground-level actions may seem small, but they are seeds for larger change.
The mountains are melting, but so is our margin for inaction. We must wake up and act now! Our actions should not be guided by fear, but by a sense of responsibility to those who will walk these trails, farm these lands, and drink from the river after us.
