On a cold December morning in 1995, second-year students from one of Delhi University premier women’s colleges set out on a long-awaited picnic. Wrapped in coats and jackets, they boarded a bus headed to Damdama Lake, near a small village of the same name on the outskirts of Gurugram, then still known as Gurgaon. Nestled in the folds of the ancient Aravalli hills, the lake was a cherished escape for Delhiites, a place where water, forests and sky came together in quiet harmony.
The journey took nearly three hours, in a time before expressways compressed distances and Gurugram transformed into an urban sprawl. The bus windows refused to shut, letting in icy winds that numbed hands and faces. The first hour passed in silence. Gradually, as the sun climbed and warmth seeped in, spirits lifted. Snack packets were opened, jokes were exchanged, and soon the bus filled with laughter and song. Among the students were four friends, unaware that this day would become one of the most enduring memories of their lives.
After navigating crowded roads and jolting along a dusty kaccha rasta, the bus finally reached the Haryana Tourism guesthouse overlooking the lake. The students spilled out, stretching stiff limbs and taking in the view. Gardens sloped gently toward the water, their curves echoing the lake’s soft ripples.
The four friends wandered off together. From the terrace, they admired the lake’s wide expanse before making their way down to the shore, where boats bobbed quietly. Under a tree beside the water, close to the moored boats, they paused. The college photographer clicked a picture. Four young faces, caught in a single frame, unaware that this image would come to define their friendship for decades.
In that moment, Damdama Lake became more than a picnic spot. Its still waters and shaded banks fused with memory. The lake felt permanent, unchanged, much like the friendship they shared. But time moved on. One friend left for the United States the following year. The others went their separate ways after graduation. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the lake’s waters also began to retreat.
Nearly thirty years later, shortly after the New Year, the four friends reunited in Delhi. The years dissolved easily as laughter returned and old jokes resurfaced. Drawn by nostalgia, they decided to revisit Damdama Lake, hoping to recreate the moment that once bound them so closely.
As they drove toward the guesthouse, a quiet settled among them. Each seemed to be preparing to meet her younger self. Stepping out of the car, memory rushed back. Without speaking, they walked inside and climbed the familiar stairs to the terrace.
The lake was still there, but it was smaller.
They stood together in silence, absorbing the view. They walked through the gardens and down to the shore, retracing old paths. Searching for a marker from the past, they looked for the tree near the boats. One of them stopped and pointed. The tree was there. The boats were not. They now lay far from the shore, pulled back by the shrinking waterline. In their old photograph, the boats had been close. The distance between tree and water quietly spoke of time, neglect and loss.
Past and present overlapped. The lake had changed, much like their friendship had changed shape over the years. Yet something essential remained.
Damdama Lake lies along the foothills of the Aravalli range, spread across Abheypur and Damdama villages in Gurugram’s Sohna block. Built by the British in 1947 for rainwater harvesting, it once formed part of a landscape rich in ponds, forests and wildlife. The region includes the Sohna Undulating Plain, shaped by rocky Aravalli outcrops, and once supported diverse flora and fauna.
Over time, however, deforestation, mining, urban development and excessive groundwater extraction degraded the lake and its catchment. In December 2022, a restoration effort was launched through a tripartite agreement between GuruJal, the Haryana State CSR Trust and the EY Foundation. The plan envisions a four-year lake restoration and a 500-acre biodiversity park developed over a decade across Abheypur, Damdama and Kherala villages.
An ecological assessment submitted in June last year examined climate, land use, hydrology, biodiversity, archaeology, waste management, social factors and governance. The study found that the lake depends on a 24.5 square kilometre catchment area, dotted with 26 depressions, many created by mining. Two main streams feed the lake, but mining has disrupted their natural flow, shrinking channels and blocking smaller streams with silt. As a result, far less water reaches the lake today.
After the 2011 monsoon, Damdama Lake covered about 108 acres. By June 2019, it had shrunk to just 1.49 acres. It partially recovered to around 46 acres by December 2023, but no longer expands as it once did, even after heavy rainfall.
Despite this degradation, biodiversity surveys recorded 262 plant species and a wide range of wildlife, including mammals, reptiles, amphibians, butterflies and 117 bird species. Archaeological surveys revealed prehistoric stone tools and rock art dating back hundreds of thousands of years, underscoring the region’s deep human history.
The restoration plan recommends building check dams and gully plugs, improving rainwater harvesting, conserving soil, removing invasive species like vilayati keekar, restoring native vegetation and strengthening waste management. Yet, despite detailed planning, work on the ground has not yet begun.
Still, Damdama Lake holds promise. Standing beneath the same tree by the shore, the four friends felt that what had been lost could be restored. Just as friendships can be renewed through care and commitment, the lake too can recover through shared responsibility.
Damdama Lake is not merely a backdrop to human lives. It is a living presence, shaped by human choices and capable of renewal. It calls upon the people of the National Capital Region to remember the joy it once offered and to recognise their responsibility to care for it, much like one nurtures relationships formed through shared moments and enduring bonds.