A breeze rustles through the banyan trees. Dragonflies skim the water’s surface. Temple bells echo through the humid air.
For generations, this was a familiar scene around Keralam’s ambalakulams, or temple ponds.
Long before “natural pools” became a feature of luxury resorts and wellness retreats, these ponds quietly performed an essential role. They stored rainwater during heavy monsoons, replenished groundwater during dry months, cooled surrounding areas during peak summers, and supported fish, birds, insects, and aquatic plants.
They were not built as climate solutions. Yet that is exactly what they became.
Today, as Indian cities grapple with rising temperatures, shrinking water bodies, and growing water stress, these centuries-old ponds are returning to public conversation as living ecological systems that still hold valuable lessons for the future.
Water bodies woven into everyday life
Across Keralam, temple ponds were once at the heart of community life.
Built beside temples and lined with laterite or granite steps descending into deep green water, they served as gathering spaces for morning baths, evening prayers, festivals, conversations, and quiet moments during long summer days.
But their importance extended far beyond ritual.
In a state shaped by intense monsoon cycles, ambalakulams functioned as natural rainwater-harvesting systems. During heavy rainfall, they absorbed and stored excess water. Over time, that water slowly seeped into the ground, helping recharge wells and maintain groundwater levels in nearby areas.
The trees and vegetation surrounding these ponds created cooler microclimates in otherwise densely built settlements. Even during Kerala’s humid summers, the air around a kulam often felt noticeably cooler than nearby roads and concrete structures.
The ponds also supported rich biodiversity. Lotus flowers, water lilies, frogs, fish, dragonflies, turtles, and migratory birds thrived in these ecosystems. Many kulams became small but vital pockets of nature within busy towns and villages.
In places such as the Peralassery Subramania Temple pond in Kannur, the design itself reflected a deep understanding of water management. Multi-layered stone steps allowed access even as water levels rose and fell with the seasons.
Other ponds, including those attached to the Ambalappuzha temple in Alappuzha and the Sree Ramaswami Temple in Thalassery, became defining landmarks in their regions.
For generations, local communities collectively maintained these water bodies.
Then, many began to disappear.
The slow decline
As towns expanded and land values increased, several temple ponds across Keralam fell into neglect.
Some were encroached upon. Others became dumping grounds. In many places, ponds were reduced in size to make way for roads, parking lots, and buildings.
At the same time, the community-led systems that once cared for these water bodies gradually weakened as lifestyles changed and urbanisation accelerated.
The environmental consequences soon became visible.
Like many parts of India, Kerala’s cities now face challenges such as erratic rainfall, flash floods, and falling groundwater levels. Traditional water bodies that once absorbed excess rainwater have steadily given way to concrete.
An old idea makes a comeback
In recent years, local communities, temple committees, and conservation groups across Keralam have begun restoring neglected kulams.
Silt is being removed. Stone steps are being repaired. Native vegetation is returning to pond edges. In some places, residents have revived regular cleaning drives after years of neglect.
This revival comes at a time when cities across India are searching for ways to address heat stress and water scarcity. Urban lakes are shrinking, wetlands are disappearing, and groundwater extraction continues to rise.
Kerala’s ambalakulams offer a simple but powerful reminder: climate solutions do not always have to be new.
Sometimes, they already exist — built into the landscape by earlier generations who understood that water was never separate from community life.
