Kaleshwaram: ‘World’s Largest’ Irrigation Dream Turns into Ruin

Once hailed as Telangana’s pride, the Kaleshwaram Lift Irrigation Project now faces collapsed structures, spiraling debt, and a CBI probe—raising questions on political accountability, audit delays, and the governance of mega-projects in India.

By P SESH KUMAR

NEW DELHI, September 12, 2025 — The Kaleshwaram Lift Irrigation Project (KLIP) was conceived as the glittering emblem of Telangana’s new statehood. When inaugurated in 2019, it was trumpeted as the world’s largest lift irrigation scheme, designed to irrigate millions of acres and to stand as a testament to Chief Minister K. Chandrasekhar Rao’s vision. Yet, in less than a decade, that dream has curdled into a nightmare of collapsed piers, ballooning costs, and unmanageable debts.

The Comptroller and Auditor General’s (CAG) performance audit, tabled in 2024 after years of delay, exposed the project’s financial and technical infirmities. The Justice P.C. Ghose Commission, in 2025, sharpened that indictment by fixing political responsibility. And in September 2025, the Telangana government entrusted the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) with probing the irregularities, a move that pushes the saga into the realm of criminal accountability.

The CBI investigation could redefine accountability in India’s mega-projects, as KLIP faces scrutiny for political significance. Amid criticisms and defences, the long wait for the CAG report, the limited role of the Public Accounts Committee (PAC), and the Ghose report call for a national attention.

The Dream Project and Its Political Aura

Kaleshwaram was not just an irrigation project; it was a political statement. Unveiled with much fanfare in June 2019, the scheme promised to lift Godavari waters from Medigadda through an audacious series of pump houses, barrages, tunnels, and reservoirs. For KCR’s government, it was proof of Telangana’s capacity to dream big and deliver fast. The political symbolism was unmistakable: if Andhra Pradesh had the Nagarjuna Sagar, Telangana would have Kaleshwaram, bigger and more modern.

The TRS (later BRS) government defended the project vigorously. It argued that shifting the barrage from Tummidihatti to Medigadda was dictated by water availability and interstate clearance issues, not vanity. Former Irrigation Minister Harish Rao insisted that central agencies had cleared every stage, and that the project had already irrigated vast acreages. To him, allegations of corruption were political vendetta, and damages like those at Medigadda were normal in irrigation history, repairable and exaggerated by rivals.

Yet criticism never subsided. Opposition leaders accused the government of rushing the project for political mileage, manipulating designs to suit contractors, and plunging the state into debt through off-budget borrowings. Civil society voices warned that the cost-benefit ratio was unsustainable, and that electricity demands for pumping would cripple the state exchequer. For years, these criticisms remained in the realm of partisan contestation, but the project’s physical failures—flooded pump houses in 2022 and the collapse of Medigadda piers in 2023—turned rhetoric into undeniable reality.

The Long Road to the CAG’s Audit

The Comptroller and Auditor General began examining Kaleshwaram as early as 2018, recognising the unprecedented expenditure involved. Audit teams carried out field work in 2018 and again in 2021–22. Yet the performance audit was only finalised in January 2024 and tabled in the Assembly on 15 February 2024—nearly six years later. No one asks CAG why this delay had taken place.

Part of this delay could have been technical, defenders of CAG may say: works were ongoing, data incomplete, DPRs still shifting.

But part of it was clearly institutional caution: few constitutional bodies are eager to pick a direct fight with a powerful Chief Minister in full command. The timing was telling. The report was tabled only after KCR lost office and the Congress government took charge, ensuring the audit’s explosive contents would land in a changed political landscape.

And explosive they were. The 260-page report described Kaleshwaram as “ab initio economically unviable.” It revealed that 73 piecemeal approvals, worth over ₹1.10 lakh crore, were issued instead of a single comprehensive sanction.

It showed how off-budget borrowings saddled the state with massive debt, how works worth ₹25,000 crore were awarded even before the DPR was approved, and how undue benefits of over ₹4,000 crore accrued to contractors through manipulated clauses and inflated procurement.

The audit also underlined how only 40,888 acres of new irrigation had materialised against the promise of 18 lakh acres. In short, it was an indictment written in the dry language of audit, but with devastating conclusions.

Telangana’s Fiscal Freefall: From Surplus to Existential Crisis

The PAC: A Limited Arena

Once tabled, the CAG report was referred to the State Public Accounts Committee. In theory, this is where accountability sharpens: officials are summoned, clarifications sought, and recommendations made.

In practice, PACs in India often lack teeth. As of mid-2025, there is no public evidence that the Telangana PAC submitted a separate report on Kaleshwaram back to the Assembly. The debates over the project have played out more in the media and political rallies than in PAC hearings.

The absence of a PAC report diminishes the legislature’s role in closing the audit loop. What remains is the CAG’s findings as raw material for political crossfire, rather than as a foundation for structured corrective action.

The Ghose Commission: Putting Faces to Faults

To break through the fog, the Congress government constituted a judicial inquiry under former Supreme Court judge and Lokpal, Justice P.C. Ghose. Unlike the CAG, who confined himself to numbers and processes, Ghose went further: he identified who took decisions, who ignored expert warnings, and who benefitted.

The commission held KCR “directly and vicariously” responsible for the irregularities. It pointed out how the barrage location was shifted unilaterally, how an expert committee report warning against Medigadda was suppressed, and how contracts were manipulated to enrich select agencies.

Where the CAG spoke of undue benefits, Ghose alleged deliberate siphoning. Where the CAG flagged technical flaws, Ghose traced them to wilful suppression of advice.

Did this diminish the audit’s value? On the contrary, it amplified it. The audit had established the facts and figures; the commission added motive and accountability. The two reports, together, form a devastating duet—one technical, one judicial.

The CBI Enters: From Audit to Prosecution

On 1 September 2025, Chief Minister Revanth Reddy announced in the Assembly that the state would entrust the Kaleshwaram case to the CBI. The reasoning was clear: central agencies had approved key components, national financial institutions had extended loans, and defects were now undeniable.

A state inquiry could expose, but only a national investigative body could prosecute across jurisdictions.

The CBI’s entry changes the game. While the CAG could only highlight irregularities, and the Ghose Commission could only recommend, the CBI can investigate criminality, trace money flows, and file charge sheets. It can interrogate former ministers, serving officials, and contractors under criminal law. For the Congress government, this is both accountability and politics: it proves their anti-corruption resolve and tightens the noose around their principal rival, the BRS.

For KCR and his party, the stakes are existential. What was once a monument to Telangana pride is now a millstone, dragging down their credibility. The BRS argues vendetta, but the combination of audit, judicial inquiry, and now CBI investigation makes that defence harder to sustain.

Lessons from a Fallen Colossus

The Kaleshwaram saga has come full circle—from being Telangana’s showcase project to becoming its cautionary tale. The CAG’s delayed but rigorous audit showed how economic unviability was baked into the project from the start.

The PAC, by not producing its own report, missed a chance to deepen legislative accountability. The Ghose Commission added sharp political responsibility, naming names. And the CBI’s investigation now threatens to translate those findings into criminal liability.

The way forward lies in three lessons. First, mega-projects must not be pursued as political trophies; feasibility, transparency, and sustainability must guide them. Second, audit reports should not languish for six years before surfacing; timely scrutiny is vital.

Third, legislative bodies like PACs must be empowered to enforce, not merely recommend—even that they are unable to do because of severe polarisation of issues on political lines. We have seen the equally sad spectacle of central PAC which did not submit its recommendations on CAG reports on the allocation of 2G spectrum (2010) allocation of coal blocks (2012) and the more recent ‘redacted’ report on acquisition of Rafale fighter jets in Parliament.

There is a lesson for CAG too—why should it take six years for the report to have been finalised-audit had commenced in 2018.It would do well to avoid being unnecessarily dragged into political controversies by either unduly delaying its reports or appearing to show extra enthusiasm in pursuing reports of governments that are not aligned with the ruling dispensation at the Centre.

Kaleshwaram was meant to lift water; instead, it has lifted the veil on how ambition without accountability can drown a state in debt and controversy. The CBI’s probe will decide whether this is merely another scandal in India’s annals or a turning point in holding leaders answerable for their engineering of excess.

We all know how labyrinthine the investigation and the legal process in our country is. Very often the ‘process’ itself can mean punishment with political parties merrily scoring brownie points with rare convictions happening in courts of law.

(This is an opinion piece, and views expressed are those of the author only)

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