THE luminous white stones of Sadapathar, glistening in the currents of the River Dhalai, have long been celebrated as a wonder of Sylhet. Tourists travel miles to marvel at this natural treasure, yet behind its beauty lies a thriving, often lawless, industry of stone and sand extraction. Along the Companiganj鈥揃holaganj highway, stone-crushing machines run ceaselessly, and in the beds of the Dhalai and Piyan rivers, heavy 鈥楤oma Machines鈥� gouge deep wounds in pursuit of profit.
In recent weeks, Sadapathar has become the subject of national outrage after reports revealed that thousands of tonnes of stone had been looted, stripping the area of its former appeal. Accusations now fall on local politicians and the administration, with claims of complicity or wilful neglect. Yet another question lingers in the background: why did the media remain silent until the scandal became too large to ignore? Were newsrooms under pressure, or simply reluctant to confront entrenched political interests? This silence must itself be interrogated if public accountability is to mean anything.
Even government officials have been forced to acknowledge the crisis. One adviser openly admitted failure to curb illegal extraction at Sadapathar and Jaflong, while another stressed that eco-tourism could generate two to three times more employment than stone mining ever has. But a shift towards eco-tourism cannot be built on rhetoric alone. Proper planning is essential to provide alternative livelihoods for the thousands of workers who now face sudden joblessness. Without such planning, the cycle of exploitation will simply resume under new names or new patrons.
The truth is that unregulated stone mining is not new to Sylhet. Two years ago, while working on a research project with BUET on sedimentation in Companiganj and Gowainghat, I saw firsthand how extraction was officially banned 鈥� even manual collection 鈥� yet continued in practice. When asked whether locals welcomed the ban, the answer was an unequivocal 鈥渘o鈥�. A young man of twenty-seven, formerly involved in manual collection, explained why: with a few hours of work, a person could earn one to two thousand taka; at peak demand, even seven to eight thousand taka a day. Over fifteen years, many marginalised families transformed their fortunes. Brick-built homes now stand in Paschim Islampur, evidence of a community that abandoned agriculture for the quick cash of stone.
The environmental toll has been staggering. Satellite images over three decades show a 904 per cent increase in sand-dominated, silted-up land in the Dhalai, Om鈥揚iyan鈥揇awki and Sari鈥揋owain floodplains. Wetlands have shrunk by 42 per cent, and natural river channels have been disrupted. Mining pits, carved into riverbeds by heavy machinery, are often mistaken for natural ponds. The rivers themselves are losing both capacity and flow pattern, their channels choked by sediments washed downstream. Flash floods now strike with greater frequency and ferocity, because the rivers no longer retain water as they once did.
Machine owners continue to operate with near total impunity, altering the region鈥檚 hydrology and destroying its ecological balance. To justify this destruction, some argue that Sylhet鈥檚 stones are a natural gift, constantly replenished by upstream currents, and that halting extraction would cause rivers to clog and intensify flooding. Yet local residents and field evidence contradict this claim: it is precisely indiscriminate mining, sand theft and soil removal that have disrupted the rivers鈥� natural flow, increased sedimentation, and worsened floods. While academic literature already links unplanned mining to sedimentation-induced flooding, comprehensive studies specific to Sylhet remain scarce 鈥� leaving room for myths to flourish in place of science.
But let us consider scale. Sylhet鈥檚 quarries meet barely six per cent of national stone demand. Is it rational to sacrifice invaluable landscapes and rivers for a fraction of the country鈥檚 requirements? Stone extraction here is not an ancient curse; it is a modern industry. Although the limestone trade has a long history in the region, never before has Sylhet witnessed such indiscriminate plunder. The crisis did not erupt overnight. Why did the government fail to act when the warning signs were clear? Who bears responsibility for this paralysis? And is there a third force 鈥� business, political or criminal 鈥� seeking to 鈥榝ish in troubled waters鈥�?
The way forward demands both decisive enforcement and imaginative alternatives. Those engaged in illegal extraction must face the full force of the law. The Bangladesh Environment Conservation Act, 1995 (Sections 6A and 15) and the Penal Code (Sections 379 and 430) already provide for prosecution, imprisonment and fines. The Police, Border Guard Bangladesh and Department of Environment must deploy digital surveillance, regular patrols and strict monitoring to end impunity.
At the same time, alternative livelihoods must be developed for those who depended on stone collection. Government support schemes, cash assistance and skills-training programmes are essential to prevent economic distress from fuelling further illegal activity. Short-term aid must be matched with long-term strategies for sustainable employment, particularly in eco-tourism and agriculture.
But enforcement and relief alone will not save Sadapathar. The entire system of resource management must be reimagined. Stone mining should be halted entirely until a comprehensive environmental and hydrological study determines how much, if any, extraction can be permitted without harming river morphology, biodiversity and flood resilience. Research must establish how many stones arrive from upstream, of what type and in which seasons, and what volumes can be sustainably removed. A yearly government assessment, jointly overseen by the Ministry of Water Resources and the Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change, should publish transparent 鈥渟cores鈥� on the condition of specific sites.
Community awareness must also be part of the solution. Training sessions, seminars and local symposiums can make residents partners rather than adversaries in preservation. A zone-wise master plan, integrating tourism, climate projections, hydrological analysis and population growth, is urgently needed. This is not simply about banning machines or prosecuting offenders; it is about giving the region a future beyond extraction.
The stakes are high. If Sylhet鈥檚 rivers lose their natural flow and floodplains vanish under silt, the costs will not be borne by machine owners or political patrons alone 鈥� they will fall on the entire region, through ruined ecosystems, shattered agriculture and recurring disasters. A resource that took millennia to form is being destroyed in a matter of years, for short-term gain that benefits only a few.
The choice before Bangladesh is stark. Will it allow plunder to masquerade as progress, or chart a course of stewardship grounded in science, law and community welfare? Sadapathar is more than a quarry; it is a test of whether we value our natural heritage enough to defend it. If we fail here, we may find that the true price of the stones is not counted in the taka, but in rivers lost, livelihoods shattered, and an ecosystem pushed past the point of recovery.
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Md Nabil Shad is an integrated water resources management and water security expert and former fellow at Institute of Water & Flood Management, BUET.