For generations, the Kahoon Valley in Pakistan’s Chakwal district in northwestern Punjab has thrived as a rich ecological haven. Its fertile soil has yielded lush, historical loquat orchards, while the surrounding scrub forests have provided vital refuge to diverse wildlife, including local peacock populations and rare mountain deer species.

At the center of this landscape sit the Katas Raj Temples, an ancient Hindu pilgrimage site anchoring the region’s profound spiritual heritage. However, the unchecked expansion of mega cement factories in the early 2000s transformed this natural sanctuary into a toxic industrial zone. Relentless industrial pumping reportedly caused the water table to crash from 36 meters (120 feet) to 122 m (402 ft). This extreme depletion withered the famous loquat trees and displaced native birds, also draining the sacred Katas Raj pond.

Determined to save his homeland from erasure, Raja Waseem Ahmed, an environmental activist, brought together residents from neighboring villages to establish the Kahoon Protection Committee to defend the Kahoon Valley against the extreme ecological and social damages caused by heavy industrialization. Waseem utilized environmental legislation and led a forensic legal campaign that exposed the manipulated environmental approval documents eventually driving the Supreme Court of Pakistan to intervene on its own accord, resulting in a historic verdict that banned factories from draining local groundwater and slapped the industry with huge fines.

In retaliation for his activism, Waseem was struck by unjustified anti-terrorism lawsuits, temporarily exiled from his native district by local authorities, and subjected to stress so harsh that it triggered three separate heart attacks. Now recognized with WWF-Pakistan’s Al-Mizan Award for Environmental Justice, his prolonged fight serves as a key, practical guide for marginalized groups facing similar industrial abuse.

In a recent conversation with Mongabay, Waseem shared the beginnings of his community-led struggle, the intimidating realities of challenging powerful syndicates, and the steps necessary to use the judicial system to safeguard a region’s natural lifelines. The following interview has been edited for clarity and length.

Mongabay: Growing up in Chakwal, how do you remember the Kahoon Valley before the massive cement factories arrived in the mid-2000s? What did it mean to you personally?

Raja Waseem Ahmed: In my sharpest childhood memories, the Kahoon Valley was a peaceful, and ecologically vibrant sanctuary. The groundwater table was effortlessly close to the surface, agriculture formed the baseline of our local economy — orchards of wild olives and loquats — and the Katas Raj Temples were the living, breathing symbol of our region’s deep cultural, spiritual and civilizational identity. The dark shift began in the mid-2000s with the aggressive influx of massive cement plants. Local anxiety grew immediately, driven by a highly alarming corporate decision [to harvest water from the valley]. The factories initially targeted a vital natural freshwater spring as their primary water source. This spring was the lifeline that irrigated generations-old local orchards, sustained agricultural fields, and provided drinking water to multiple surrounding villages. Watching the corporate machinery place an unsustainable burden on our finite water resources made it undeniably clear that rising up to defend the Salt Range [mountain range in northern Punjab] was a sacred duty to our ancestral heritage.

Mongabay: Was there a specific personal moment or a particular breaking point on the ground that made you realize you had to step up and form the Kahoon Protection Committee?

Raja Waseem Ahmed: In late 2003, large-scale land acquisitions began for a mega cement plant. To procure the land, a blanket Land Acquisition Act was utilized. The breaking point arrived when plans for a second factory were announced, targeting a vital natural freshwater spring for industrial extraction. If they choked this spring, the region faced ecological death. We launched a relentless grassroots campaign, traveling from village to village. Participating villages unanimously entrusted me with leadership, forging the Kahoon Protection Committee — an institutional platform uniting our struggle around environmental justice and constitutional protection.

Mongabay: How difficult was it initially to mobilize and unite so many distinct communities against multibillion-rupee corporations?

Raja Waseem Ahmed: Uniting distinct villages was a daunting challenge. We faced skepticism and corporate deception, as factories planted a false narrative of ‘development’ and ‘economic prosperity.’ Compounding this was an atmosphere of fear; many hesitated to speak out against the multibillion-rupee corporations, fearing administrative victimization. To break this inertia, we executed an exhaustive door-to-door campaign. Our core strategic communication was built on one undeniable truth: Industrial development at the cost of our lifelines is not progress; it is exploitation. We proved that a factory job means nothing if ancestral lands become a desert, orchards wither and children have no water. Overcoming entrenched rivalries, the villages made a historic decision to subordinate local priorities to a singular objective: the defense of the Salt Range.

Mongabay: Can you explain the sheer scale of the groundwater crisis for our global audience? What did it look like for local farmers when the water table reportedly crashed from 120 ft to more than 400 ft?

Raja Waseem Ahmed: To the outside world, the drop in the groundwater table from 120 ft to over 400 ft might look like a mere technical data point. But for the people of the Kahoon Valley, it was an existential upheaval. Historically, our farmers could access pristine water at remarkably shallow depths. However, as the cement factories began aggressively drawing millions of gallons daily, traditional wells gasped empty. Farmers were forced into a desperate, unending race to drill deeper into the unforgiving, rocky terrain of the Salt Range. For our smallholder farmers, these recurring expenses were utterly ruinous, forcing those who could not afford deep-bore technology to abandon their ancestral lands. Green, fertile fields turned into cracked, arid earth. Domestic water availability became a daily battle across dozens of villages. This was a loud, clear distress signal for a region whose agriculture, biodiversity and sacred cultural heritage were entirely dependent on the lifeblood beneath our feet.

Mongabay: The Katas Raj pond is a deeply important global heritage and Hindu pilgrimage site. How did its drying out shift the conversation from a purely local agricultural issue to an international heritage crisis?

Raja Waseem Ahmed: When we first raised our voices, corporate actors and complacent state regulators tried to dismiss our struggle as a hyperlocal, isolated environmental dispute. The absolute paradigm shift occurred when the sacred waters of the Katas Raj Temples began to drastically recede, ultimately exposing a bone-dry, cracked stone bed. Katas Raj is one of the oldest, most sacred anchors of spiritual and cultural heritage in the entire South Asian subcontinent, holding profound religious significance for Hindu pilgrims globally.

In early 2017, the internationally respected German foundation Heinrich Böll Stiftung undertook efforts to better understand the unfolding environmental crisis. Through seminars, stakeholder engagement, field visits and subsequent reporting, the organization helped bring greater international attention to the environmental and heritage concerns surrounding Katas Raj and the broader Kahoon Valley. This additional international scrutiny further elevated the issue beyond a localized dispute, and it erupted into an international scandal. It proved that the multibillion-rupee corporations were causing systemic hydrological failure across the entire Salt Range.

Mongabay: Beyond water depletion, what were the secondary ecological impacts, such as air pollution and toxic waste, that the valley’s unique biodiversity and wildlife faced due to heavy industrial transport?

Raja Waseem Ahmed: The devastation can be broken down into four critical areas. First, topographical toxicity: There was absolutely no containment for contaminated industrial effluents. During rainy seasons, toxic wastewater rushed unchecked down the natural slopes, turning communal water ponds into stagnant, poisoned sinks. Second, atmospheric suffocation: Factories released massive emissions of limestone dust that clogged the breathing pores of local flora, stunting the growth of our historic loquat and olive orchards and causing widespread respiratory problems. Third, habitat destruction via dynamite blasting: Open-cast mining systematically blasted away our ancient limestone hills, shattering the migratory corridors and nesting grounds of the globally threatened Punjab Urial [Ovis vignei punjabiensis], grey partridges [Perdix perdix] and chinkara gazelles [Gazella bennettii]. Finally, infrastructure collapse: Thousands of severely overloaded industrial cargo trucks thundered through narrow roads 24 hours a day, causing severe noise pollution and leaving behind heavy residues of oil spills that washed straight into our agricultural soil.

Mongabay: You chose environmental law as your primary weapon and successfully exposed deviations in the factories’ environmental impact assessments (EIAs). What gaps or loopholes did you discover in how these multibillion-rupee corporations were originally granted clearance?

Raja Waseem Ahmed: Choosing environmental law was a deliberate, strategic decision. Our litigation exposed a deep systemic crisis: the Environmental Protection Agency [EPA] Punjab had succumbed to absolute regulatory capture. The most shocking revelation was that these corporations commenced heavy industrial construction with total disregard for environmental laws. Crucially, WWF-Pakistan submitted detailed technical objections during the EIA review, providing important independent support. When the corporations submitted a sham EIA report, the federal Environmental Protection Agency launched blistering technical objections, advising the Punjab EPA to reject it outright. By exposing these fraudulent omissions, we proved the industrial permits were built on a foundation of misrepresentation.

Mongabay: Your relentless petitions eventually forced the Supreme Court of Pakistan to take suo motu notice, compelling factories to pipe water from the Jhelum River instead of local wells. Can you take us inside that landmark legal victory and its enforcement?

Raja Waseem Ahmed: The suo motu proceedings were the culmination of more than a decade of exhausting litigation. We were fortunate to receive invaluable pro bono assistance from the Pakistan Environmental Law Association (PELA). Significant roles were played by Advocate Syed Mansoor Ali Shah — who later became an internationally recognized pioneer judge of the Supreme Court of Pakistan — and Ms. Saima Amin Khawaja, whose unwavering dedication and legal expertise remained a constant source of strength for our communities. We anchored our arguments on two monumental pillars. First, activating the Public Trust Doctrine and Article 9 [the right to life enshrined in the Pakistani Constitution], proving that unchecked extraction of millions of gallons of water daily was an unconstitutional deprivation of life and heritage. Second, shifting the burden of proof via the Precautionary Principle; the fact that the Katas Raj pond had dried up was prima facie evidence of irreversible damage, forcing the corporations to prove they were not destroying the aquifer. The Supreme Court’s historic judgment prohibited the extraction of local groundwater for industrial cooling and imposed heavy water charges. However, the factories immediately attempted to subvert the implementation process with fabricated compliance reports. We aggressively raised evidence-based objections, prompting the Supreme Court to appoint an independent judicial commission. Based on their ground verification, the Court imposed a fine of 100 million Pakistani rupees [about $360,000] upon the noncompliant industry.

Mongabay: Can you speak about the personal risks you face due to your activism?

Raja Waseem Ahmed: As the legal battle intensified, I faced a series of complex legal and administrative challenges, including numerous First Information Reports [police documents]. During this highly sensitive period, I was restricted from entering my own home district of Chalwal and had to live away from my ancestral lands. Surviving this chapter required an exhausting personal toll. The staggering physical and psychological stress of navigating the prolonged struggle caused me to suffer three heart attacks.

Mongabay: You were recently honored with the prestigious Al-Mizan Award for Environmental Justice by WWF-Pakistan, in collaboration with the Research Society of International Law (RSIL). What does this global recognition mean to you personally, and what is your blueprint or message to other frontline communities fighting corporate ecocide across the world?

Raja Waseem Ahmed: To see our struggle formally enshrined by WWF-Pakistan and RSIL under the banner of the Al-Mizan Award for Environmental Justice is a deeply emotional milestone. Al-Mizan [divine scales of justice] represents the divine, perfect equilibrium woven into our natural world, which the cement cartel tried to shatter. This award belongs to the elders, farmers and families of the Kahoon Protection Committee and our tireless legal allies like Ms. Saima Amin Khawaja and PELA.

To frontline communities globally, the Kahoon Valley offers a battle-tested blueprint. First, institutionalize your resistance: Build an ironclad collective structure, like our 40-member council, so corporate financial leverage loses its power to divide. Second, deconstruct the corporate documentation: Master the technical terrain by forensically dissecting flawed EIAs and turning institutional fraud into a legal liability. Finally, enforce the verdict with audacity: A verdict is only as strong as your willingness to police its execution, which is how we extracted a 100-million-Pakistani-rupee penalty. My ultimate message is simple: No corporation is wealthy enough to buy the right to destroy the lifeblood of a people. Protect the balance.

Mongabay: What still needs to be done to protect the Kahoon Valley and Kallar Kahar for future generations?

Raja Waseem Ahmed: While the Kahoon Valley struggle has received national and international recognition, the work of protecting the region is far from complete.

The most important lesson from the Kahoon Valley is that environmental justice does not end when a court delivers its verdict. Judicial directions must be enforced in both letter and spirit, without external influence, selective interpretation or regulatory compromise. Where concerns regarding compliance arise, they should be independently examined through transparent mechanisms so that public confidence in environmental governance is maintained

Ultimately, the future of the Kahoon Valley, Kallar Kahar and the wider Salt Range will depend upon whether governments, industries, regulators, courts and citizens remain committed to the principle that natural resources are a public trust held for present and future generations. If we fail to protect that trust, future generations will inherit the consequences. If we uphold it, they will inherit a living landscape, secure water resources and a natural heritage worthy of preservation.

Banner image: The Katas Raj Temples and the pond, 2014. Image by Ajwad666 via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).

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Citation:

Muhammad Mustafa (Corresponding Author), & Saima Mushtaq. (2025). Sacred waters, dying faith: Hydropolitics and industrial impact on Katas Raj’s cultural continuity. Journal of Applied Linguistics and TESOL (JALT), 8(4), 1-25. doi:10.63878/jalt1395

Cite this article

Muhammad Talal (2026). No corporation can buy the ‘right to destroy’: Interview with activist Raja Waseem Ahmed. Mongabay Conservation news. DOI: https://doi.org/10.66709/news-323388

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