How water ATMs are marking a wave of change in Maharashtra's Velhe village

Founded in 2018 by Leena Dandekar with her children Abha and Vivek, the foundation works to restore not just ecosystems but dignity. “Our main focus is the well-being of people and of the planet,” says Shivdas Wayal, field operations manager. “Migration was one of the big reasons Raintree Foundation came here and to address the lack of livelihood opportunities. We want to create multiple viable choices where there were limited choices earlier.”

But the story of Velhe cannot be told without the silences left behind. Every year, working-age men board buses to Pune or Mumbai, due to lack of financial stability in the villages. Left behind are women, children, and the elderly, holding together households with little support.

These water ATMs give out 20 litres of water for every Rs 5 deducted from the “water card” with Rs 100 balance

Standing by his fields in Gundavane, a village in Velhe, farmer Mohan Sonawane gestures towards a patch of overgrown land. “After my parents passed, I stayed back and kept my farms the same way,” he says. “But so much of others’ property is not maintained. Lack of income source discourages many from taking up farming.” Census data shows that Maharashtra accounts for nearly 16 per cent of India’s rural-to-urban migration, with villages emptying even as cities groan under the pressure of absorbing them.

For the women left behind in Velhe, life means balancing between households, cattle, children, and sometimes entire farms. These tasks, once shared with men, now rest on their shoulders. Among the heaviest burdens is water. In rural Maharashtra, women walk an average of 3–5 kilometres daily to fetch water for drinking, cooking, and livestock, according to state government data. Before the advent of solar-powered “water ATMs”, this chore was punishing, often exposing families to unclean water and forcing extra expenditures on water tanks.

MOHAN SONAWANE and LAXMAN MAHAKAJI RASAL

In Sakhar village, women now wield a simple card to draw filtered water from solar ATMs. “The water that used to come through the existing village pipeline would make us sick and cause diarrhoea,” says Shantabai Gaikwad, with a fervour to voice her issues. “But with the filtered water, labour and expenditure is minimal and the water aplenty! Now the ATM gives us water at the ready.” Pallavi Ranjane adds, “My mother-in-law used to carry pots for long distances. Her head used to become numb. Now it barely takes fifteen minutes to get water and be back.”

Beyond easing daily labour, these ATMs are a breath of relieving air.  In Gundavane village, the Raintree Foundation’s farm ponds have reshaped the way farmers interact with water. Lined with high-quality plastic sheets that last up to ten years, these ponds supply water for both domestic needs and horticulture allowing villagers to grow orchards of Alphonso mango, black jamun, jackfruit, and leafy vegetables like coriander, brinjal, chili, and methi.

With the bio-digester, Sunita Renuse explains that she no longer has to go get wood for the choolha chauka (stove) because the biogas fuel emits a strong enough flame

“Earlier, water scarcity crippled production,” says rice farmer Sunil Pawar. “The organisation did a changla kaam (good work) by bringing us farm ponds. The question of water, which used to be insufficient after January, does not exist now; it lasts till the next monsoon.” Wayal adds, “We have established 73 farm ponds. People use the water from these farm ponds for horticulture, vegetable cultivation, and domestic purposes — addressing the fact that the Gunjavane river’s dam cannot serve some of the villages directly for farming.”

Sarpanch Laxman Mahakaji Rasal and ex-vice sarpanch Balu Pawar of Gunjavane village have championed these initiatives. “Until the river runs dry, villagers can farm. Raintree’s ponds now allow year-round farming and increased revenue,” says Rasar. Pawar adds, “People forget that if we don’t grow our crops, they won’t get to eat anything either. So it was very crucial for us to have the resources to do that and the foundation helped us with it.”

Shivdas Wayal, field operations manager of Raintree Foundation says that they have established about 73 farm ponds. Some are used for domestic purposes, some for horticulture, and some for both

In Velhe, where the clean air roams freely in Sahyadri valley, water once meant walking for miles. Today, solar ATMs stems such problems. Raintree’s model of water restoration touches more than 4,000 lives across nine villages. The image now is hopeful with the unburdening of women, farmers planting new trees, and a future where ecology and economy grow together.

Fuelling change

At her home in Velhe, Sunita Renuse has been using a household bio-digester for two years. In her family of six, the bio-digester, fed by cow dung from her own cattle, now provides clean biogas fuel for all cooking needs. Previously, her daily routine included long hours gathering firewood — a task that exhausted her and exposed her lungs to smoke, leading to coughing and breathing difficulties. With bio-gas, Renuse says, “The bio-digester is enough for my entire family. I don’t have to go get wood for the choolha chauka (stove) because the bio-digester fuel emits a strong flame. The exhaustion from collecting firewood is completely gone.”

SHANTABAI GAIKWAD, PALLAVI RANJANE, SUNIL PAWAR and BALU PAWAR

Raintree Foundation has installed 60 bio-digesters in Velhe so far. Thanks to these, 75 trees are saved annually, since they no longer need to cut firewood. Women like Renuse also reclaim 1–2 hours daily, previously spent in collecting wood. These statistics mirror what projects in places like Singrauli, Madhya Pradesh observe, where rural households replacing firewood with biogas save Rs 800-1,100 monthly and dramatically reduce smoke-related health burdens. In a place where LPG pipeline access is prohibitively expensive, these bio-digesters bring clean fuel, relief, and dignity to women who once bore the brunt of fuel poverty.

Why Velhe is a prime location for safeguarding biodiversity

Leena Dandekar, founder of Raintree Foundation, explains the importance of Velhe: “As one of the places with a low human development index, Velhe is both ecologically rich and developmentally fragile.  Velhe is strategically located in a buffer zone between the UNESCO-recognised Western Ghats and urban civilisations. Despite abundant rainfall, the region suffers from chronic water scarcity, minimal industrial presence, and significant migration pressures.

GLORY LILY

We chose Velhe because it represents both urgent need and immense potential — a landscape where climate action interventions can make a tangible difference. At Raintree Foundation, we are working with several villages here to strengthen communities while safeguarding biodiversity. In just a few years, our integrated initiatives have demonstrated how conservation, community leadership, and innovation can come together to achieve progress across 15 of the 17 UN Sustainable Development Goals.

Velhe is not just a local success story; it is a working model of how people and planet can thrive together. For me personally, this work is driven by a deep commitment to renew and restore dignity and wellbeing, uniting communities under a shared vision of climate action, responsible consumption, and sustainable living.”

Healing beyond the body

In the shadow of the Sahyadris, conversations around health once meant only fevers, fractures, or fatigue. The idea that the mind, too, could need care was unheard of. Raintree Foundation is changing this with Manosaarthi, one of India’s first rural mental health centres, established in Velhe. Unlike urban clinics, its approach is deeply contextual, working on a psychosocial model that relies on safe spaces and empathetic counselling more than medicines.

Over the past four years, Manosaarthi has reached more than 2000 community members, integrating two counselling groups into local Public Health Centres (PHCs). These sessions chip away at stigma, normalising words like “counselling” and “safe space” in villages often left out of India’s health discourse.

“People here did not understand what mental health is,” says Ankita Tumsare, senior field operations officer for community mental health while also supporting Raintree’s staff. “Our focus is preventive — we term those who come to us clients, not patients. Often villagers have losses in crops and in general, which can cause them stress and tension. We provide them a safe space to express themselves.” In these small hill villages, where tolerance once cloaked suffering, Manosaarthi is nurturing an environment where acknowledging stress is not weakness but a first step toward dignity.

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