Shamasundori Canal: Rangpur’s 140-year-old lifeline dying in neglect
Popularly known as ‘the lungs of Rangpur,’ the Shamasundori Canal once breathed life into the city but is now choking under decades of encroachment, waste, and institutional neglect
"What's the point of taking photos and videos? How many times has this been done before—nothing ever changes." A passer-by hurled these words with undisguised irritation as he watched us photographing the Shamasundori Canal—the waterway that slices through the heart of Rangpur.
Yet the contradiction of public sentiment is always present. Another passer-by paused, offered a brief nod of approval and said, "You're working on Shamasundori? Good, good."
Between this despair and this flicker of encouragement lies the very centre of the debate: the Shamasundori Canal, popularly known as "the lungs of Rangpur". But those "lungs" are collapsing.
What once breathed life into the city is now choking under the weight of encroachment, waste, and decades of institutional neglect. Shamasundori, in many ways, is no longer alive—only surviving as a shadow of its past.
The forgotten purpose
The canal was dug in 1890 with the clear objective of reducing waterlogging and preventing airborne diseases. It was built by Raja Janaki Ballav Sen of Dimla in memory of his mother, Shamasundori Devi.
A canal of such size and purpose is rare—not only in Rangpur but across the country. Stretching 16 kilometres, and between 40 and 120 feet in width depending on location, it begins at the Ghaghot River in the north-western fort-adjacent municipality, meanders through neighbourhoods like Dhop Pashari Para, Kerani Para, Munshi Para, Engineer Para, Gomosta Para, Sen Para, Mulatol, Tetultola, Nurpur and Bairagipara, touches the KD Canal in Mahiganj and then empties itself into the Khoksa Ghaghot River.
Historical accounts show that the region once suffered severe waterlogging. With no proper drainage system, stagnant water turned the area into a breeding ground for malaria-carrying mosquitoes. The queen mother, Shamasundori Devi, reportedly died after contracting malaria. Her son, devastated by the loss, undertook the canal's excavation to save local residents from the deadly disease and the suffocating conditions of the time.
The excavation committee—formed jointly by Rangpur Municipality and the District Board—was headed by Francis Henry Scrine. In 1890, the then Lieutenant Governor of undivided Bengal, Sir Stuart Kelvin Bailey, inaugurated the Shamasundori Canal. A memorial built near Keramotia Mosque and the Judge Court still stands to remind the city of this historic intervention.
Yet the noble intention behind the canal has been trampled over by population pressure, weak governance, opportunistic land grabs and civic irresponsibility. Instead of easing waterlogging, the canal now collects human waste, sewage and household rubbish.
What was once a proud, flowing waterway has been reduced to a narrow, suffocating drain. Many adjoining residents—and in some cases powerful people—have built illegal structures on the banks. Rangpur residents have long been demanding full-scale excavation and restoration, but their voices have mostly dissolved into bureaucracy.
A canal on life support
Older residents still recall a time when Shamasundori flowed like a small river—clear water, steady current, and the entire city's drainage running through it towards the Teesta River. It once played a crucial role in preventing waterlogging. Just as rivers ultimately flow to the Bay of Bengal, Shamasundori carried Rangpur's water with pride.
Yakub Ali was reminiscing. For 24 years, he has run a tiles shop at Shapla Chattar in Rangpur. "It wasn't even that long ago," he recalled. "We used to see currents here in Shyamasundari—just like in a river. The water flowed smoothly. But as the city's population grew, people began grabbing land here and there along the canal. And this is what it has turned into today."
Yet when asked who these encroachers actually were, almost no one was willing to speak. Most residents avoided direct comment, hinting that the occupiers are politically influential—and therefore better left unmentioned.
Today, only a few hours of rain leave various parts of the city flooded. With the canal nearly filled in and its natural gradient disrupted, water flow has almost disappeared. People now treat it as a communal dump. Household waste is thrown into it with astonishing carelessness. Many residents have illegally directed their sewage lines straight into the canal.
"Small allocations of a few crores will only beautify the canal a little. They will not fix it. Restoring Shamasundori requires a mega project. We've done academic research and provided planning support to the district administration, but without substantial funding, no permanent solution is possible."
What was once clear, flowing water has turned into a black, stagnant, foul-smelling mass. The stench is so overpowering that walking nearby is difficult. Mosquitoes swarm over the clogged water, turning the canal into an all-year breeding ground. And with that comes a rise in airborne and mosquito-borne diseases—posing a particular threat to schoolchildren who live or study near the canal.
Rajib Hossain of Munshipara said, "Even a light rainfall now causes waterlogging, and with that, the mosquito infestation gets worse. Day or night, we can't sit in peace. Burning mosquito coils all the time has become normal. We're exhausted."
Environmental experts warn that if the current pace of degradation continues, Rangpur could soon become uninhabitable. The canal, which is only of its kind in Rangpur, they say, may disappear entirely if dumping and encroachment remain unchecked. Their warnings, however, have rarely translated into decisive action.
A cycle of broken promises
A new Tk15 crore restoration project has been initiated by the Water Development Board. The plan includes re-excavation and tree plantation along both banks. But public confidence is low—and understandably so.
In 2009, Tk12 crore was spent by the city corporation to renovate the canal. In 2012, another Tk24.8 crore went into excavation and renovation. In 2007–08, there had already been a round of digging. Later, the LGED started work again in 2012, building a one-way system and constructing bridges—only for the project to be abruptly halted. In the 2018–19 fiscal year, the Water Development Board undertook another excavation project, spending Tk 3.5 crore to clear about 2.5 kilometres.
Each time, money is spent. Each time, reports are written. Each time, officials visit sites. And each time, the canal reverts to decay within months. Rangpur residents no longer see these as "projects"—they see them as cycles of temporary clean-ups wrapped in bureaucratic paperwork.
Ashiq Talukder from Dhap area said, "All my life, I've heard the same thing—Shamasundori will be renovated. Projects come and go, but the canal returns to the same miserable state."
Arat owner Shimul Kumar Bosak added, "Influential people have grabbed land on both sides of the canal and built structures. It hasn't been cleaned properly for years. The whole canal is filled with waste. There's no one to monitor it. We need a permanent solution."
A mega project is needed
Associate professor Mostafizur Rahman, Chairman of the Department of Geography and Environmental Science at Begum Rokeya University, explained the central barrier clearly, "Small allocations of a few crores will only beautify the canal a little. They will not fix it. Restoring Shamasundori requires a mega project. We've done academic research and provided planning support to the district administration, but without substantial funding, no permanent solution is possible."
He also pointed to another chronic problem—political inertia: "To get such a mega project approved at the national level, you need organised, proactive leadership. Rangpur lacks that. Without it, nothing beyond occasional clean-ups will ever happen."
Water Development Board Executive Engineer Rabiul Alam agreed, "He's right about the budget. With what we receive, we can only manage one round of waste removal."
He explained that the new project will be jointly implemented by the Water Development Board, Rangpur City Corporation and the Forest Department—the Board will clean the initial waste, the City Corporation will handle the 68 inlets, and the Forest Department will plant trees around the banks.
But even then, he insists, government action alone cannot save the canal. Residents too must stop treating it as a dumping ground.
The bond between Rangpur and Shamasundori spans nearly 140 years. But before the very eyes of Rangpur's citizens, a historic canal is dying. Today, even the word "Sundori" feels painfully ironic. The question now is: Will Shamasundori survive?
