The first signs of the developing global Super El Niño are no longer confined to satellite maps over the Pacific Ocean. They are now visible in the drying ponds, collapsing groundwater levels, and cracked agricultural fields of rural Bengal, where villages dependent on monsoon rain are beginning to experience an alarming climate shift long before the arrival of peak summer. Across the agrarian belt of southern West Bengal, farmers confront a new and dangerous reality: pumps running dry, canals disappearing before winter ends, and farmland turning barren under relentless heat.
In Uttarbill-Bhedua village under Garbeta Block of Paschim Medinipur, the crisis has become a stark warning of how global climate instability is rapidly entering India’s rural hinterland. Climate agencies, including the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) and the India Meteorological Department (IMD), have warned that a powerful Super El Niño may intensify during late 2026, potentially weakening India’s southwest monsoon and triggering severe heatwaves, drought-like conditions, and agricultural distress across large parts of the country. But for farmers here, the impact is no longer a future forecast. It has already begun unfolding beneath their feet. The ponds that once sustained irrigation throughout the year are shrinking into muddy depressions.
Groundwater tables are falling sharply due to relentless extraction through deep borewells and submersible pumps. Monsoon rainfall has become increasingly erratic, while prolonged heat is draining moisture from the soil at unprecedented speed. For 68-year-old farmer Anisur Pathan, the climate crisis arrived the day his irrigation pump suddenly stopped drawing water in the middle of the boro cultivation season. Within days, standing paddy dried beneath the scorching sun. Scientists warn that if current Pacific warming trends continue, the world could witness one of the strongest El Niño events in modern history, a phenomenon capable of disrupting rainfall systems, intensifying extreme weather, and deepening water stress across monsoon-dependent regions like India. In Bengal’s villages, that planetary crisis is already beginning to take the shape of empty ponds, failed crops, and a growing fear that the monsoon can no longer be trusted.
WHEN WATER STOPS RESPONDING In Uttarbill-Bhedua, 68-year-old farmer Anisur Pathan walks slowly across his field each morning, not to assess growth, but to confirm absence. The soil, once soft and moisture-rich even in late summer, now cracks under foot long before peak heat arrives. The ponds that sustained multiple generations of cultivation no longer hold water through the year. Canals that once overflowed during monsoon spells now vanish into dry beds before winter ends. “We are no longer farming land,” he says quietly, “we are farming uncertainty.”
For decades, agriculture in this part of Paschim Medinipur, depended on shallow groundwater and seasonal rainfall. Wells were shallow, recharge was natural, and monsoon cycles though variables were broadly dependable. But over the past decade, that equilibrium has fractured. As rainfall patterns turned erratic and summer temperatures rose, villagers increasingly turned to submersible pumps and deep borewells. At first, it appeared to be a technological relief. Water was available even when the skies failed. Agriculture continued. Harvests were secured. But beneath the surface, a slower crisis was unfolding. Each pumping season began drawing groundwater deeper into the earth, lowering the water table beyond the reach of traditional systems.
What was once a shallow, easily accessible aquifer has now retreated hundreds of feet below ground in many pockets, leaving farmers dependent on increasingly expensive and energy-intensive extraction? The warning signs became unmistakable during the last boro season. In Anisur Pathan’s case, irrigation stopped abruptly in the middle of a cycle. Pumps ran, pipes hummed, electricity flowed but water did not rise. Within days, standing crops turned yellow, then brittle, then lifeless. “It was not as dry as before,” he recalls. “It was like the earth had closed itself.”
A GLOBAL CLIMATE SYSTEM TIGHTENING ITS GRIP While local distress intensifies, climate scientists are tracking an atmospheric shift thousands of kilometres away in the equatorial Pacific. According to projections from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, sea surface temperatures in key ENSO monitoring zones have been rising steadily since late 2025, increasing the probability of a strong El Niño event developing through 2026 and potentially extending into 2027. El Niño is part of the El Niño–Southern Oscillation (ENSO) system, a periodic climate cycle that influences weather patterns across the globe.
During El Niño phases, weakened trade winds allow warm Pacific waters to shift eastward, disrupting atmospheric circulation. The result is often a weakened Indian monsoon, altered rainfall distribution, and intensified heat extremes across South Asia. For India, this matters acutely. The India Meteorological Department has indicated a higher probability of below-normal monsoon rainfall for 2026, with the risk of rainfall deficits rising significantly compared to climatological averages.
Even marginal reductions in monsoon rainfall can have disproportionate effects in regions where agriculture remains overwhelmingly rain-dependent. Nearly 60 per cent of Indian agriculture still relies directly on monsoon precipitation rather than irrigation infrastructure, making the system highly vulnerable to climatic fluctuations. WHEN FORECASTS BECOME LIVED REALITY In Bengal’s rural districts, the abstract language of probability is being translated into lived experience. Farmers no longer speak only of crop cycles but of “failed seasons.” The timing of rainfall, once predictable within a narrow window, is now increasingly erratic.
Delayed monsoons compress sowing schedules, while early withdrawal of rains cuts short critical growth phases. Agricultural economists warn that this disruption is not merely meteorological but systemic. Reduced rainfall is occurring simultaneously with rising groundwater dependence, increased pumping costs, and declining aquifer recharge. The result is a structural imbalance where each failed monsoon deepens reliance on a resource that is itself shrinking. Dr Pravat Kumar Shit, a geo-scientist, stated that the El Niño–Southern Oscillation (ENSO) cycle and the Indian Ocean Dipole (IOD) significantly influence surface water quality, groundwater recharge patterns, groundwater drought, and groundwater level fluctuations, both directly and indirectly. In the Junglemahal districts, more than 60% of farmers and rural households depend heavily on groundwater resources and deeper bore-wells for irrigation during the Kharif cropping season (June to October).
Declining groundwater availability during El Niño years has serious socio-economic impacts, including reduced agricultural productivity, increased irrigation costs, livelihood insecurity, household financial stress, and greater vulnerability among rural communities dependent on agriculture. In Paschim Medinipur, this imbalance is already visible in the form of abandoned shallow wells, non-functional ponds, and fields lying fallow even during traditional cultivation periods.
THE LARGER PACIFIC SIGNAL Globally, the concern is not just the emergence of El Niño but its potential intensity. Climate models suggest that sea surface temperature anomalies in the central and eastern Pacific could exceed 2°C above average by late 2026 levels associated with historically severe “super” El Niño events. Such events are not new. The world has witnessed catastrophic El Niño episodes in 1982–83, 1997–98, and 2015–16, each of which triggered widespread droughts, floods, agricultural collapse, and economic disruption across multiple continents. The 1876–78 events, often cited by historians, are estimated to have contributed to tens of millions of deaths globally due to famine and disease. What makes the current situation more alarming, scientists argue, is the background of global warming. With the planet already approximately 1.4°C warmer than pre-industrial levels, even natural climate cycles now operate in a more volatile environment. Oceans store greater heat energy, amplifying atmospheric responses and intensifying extreme weather outcomes.
RURAL BENGAL AT THE FRONTLINE OF A PLANETARY SHIFT In villages like Uttarbill-Bhedua, the intersection of these global systems is felt not through data dashboards but through everyday deprivation. A failed pump is not an anomaly, it is a warning. A dry pond is not seasonal, it is structural. A missed rainfall is not an event, it is a threat to livelihood continuity. Farmers describe increasing unpredictability as the most distressing change. Crops can no longer be planned with confidence. Input costs rise while output becomes uncertain. Debt cycles deepen. Migration pressures grow. Professor Dr. Biswajit Bera explained that deficient rainfall directly threatens kharif crops such as rice, pulses, and oilseeds.
Lower agricultural production often leads to rising food prices, inflation, and declining rural demand. He further warned that prolonged heatwaves and falling reservoir levels may also affect hydroelectric generation and drinking water supply. The crisis is not limited to villages alone. Cities across India are also beginning to suffer from environmental stress. Bengaluru recently experienced severe water shortages. Chennai repeatedly approached “Day Zero” conditions where reservoirs nearly ran dry.
Across urban India, wetlands are disappearing beneath concrete expansion while groundwater extraction continues without adequate regulation. The signs of environmental imbalance are now impossible to ignore. Summer heat lingers longer than before. And yet, the landscape still carries echoes of its older rhythm. Morning light still falls on paddy fields. Birds still circle over dry canals. Farmers still walk their fields before sunrise, hoping for signs of moisture beneath the soil. But hope, increasingly, is being recalibrated.
A CLIMATE WARNING WRITTEN IN SOIL Scientists caution that if Super El Niño conditions fully develop, India could face a significant weakening of the southwest monsoon, with cascading effects on agriculture, food prices, water availability, and rural employment. Combined with ongoing groundwater depletion and rising temperatures, the risk of multi-layered drought conditions cannot be ruled out. For Bengal’s rural hinterland, this means that climate change is no longer a future tense phenomenon. It is present, incremental, and accumulating. Back in Uttarbill-Bhedua, Anisur Pathan still follows his routine. He walks to his field, bends down, and presses the dry earth between his fingers. There is no water to feel, only heat stored in soil. “The rain will come,” he says, half as belief, half as memory. But even that certainty now sounds like a question the climate is no longer obligated to answer.
THE WRITER IS A SENIOR STAFF REPORTER WITH THE STATESMAN.
