Saving the Tiger of Indian Rivers

A Conversation with Steve Lockett, Mahseer Trust (UK)

By The Weekend Aquarist

Estimated read time: 7–8 minutes

Mahseer are often celebrated as India's ultimate sport fish — but that label barely scratches the surface. Drawing on over five decades of freshwater conservation work, Steve Lockett dismantles common myths around mahseer conservation, explains why stocking often does more harm than good, and argues that saving mahseer is inseparable from saving India's rivers themselves.

A Lifetime Along Rivers

Steve Lockett's engagement with freshwater conservation spans more than fifty years. A musician and music teacher by profession, later branching into photojournalism, his journey into river conservation began not in laboratories or offices, but along riverbanks. Since 1999, India has been central to that journey — visiting rivers, observing their rhythms, and listening to the stories embedded within them became as important to him as studying the fish themselves. When the Mahseer Trust was formally established in the UK in 2008, Lockett was initially hesitant to join. In its earliest form, he felt, the organisation was too Anglo-centric for a fish whose story is deeply Asian. That changed in 2011, when the Trust began actively working with Indian scientists, including Rajeev Raghavan. For Lockett, meaningful Indian representation was non-negotiable — and with that condition met, he joined.

"It's not just about being next to a river looking at a fish," he says — despite critics who claim that is all the Trust does.

Not One Fish, But Many

One of the most damaging misconceptions surrounding mahseer, Lockett argues, is the idea that they represent a single species — a simplification he's unequivocal in criticising, especially when it's promoted by influential figures. The Mahseer Trust focuses on the "true mahseers" under the genus Tor, which currently includes 17 valid species, nine of which inhabit Indian rivers. Each species is uniquely adapted to its own river system. Some even coexist within the same river by occupying different ecological niches — feeding differently, spawning at different times, or shaping riverbeds in distinct ways. These adaptations evolved over hundreds of thousands of years as mahseer dispersed across the subcontinent. Human intervention over the last 150 years, Lockett notes, has scrambled that balance: hatchery-bred Deccan mahseer now turn up across the country, while Himalayan golden mahseer are stocked into unsuitable southern rivers entirely outside their natural range.

A Fish Woven Into Culture

Mahseer command attention on sight — massive scales, powerful heads, a presence that's hard to miss. But Lockett's interest in the species goes well beyond biology. Archaeological evidence suggests Indus Valley communities were well aware of mahseer, depicting them in art, yet conspicuously not eating them — despite consuming other large river fish. To Lockett, that absence is telling: it hints that mahseer may have been among the earliest revered fishes, perhaps early avatars or vahanas, long before written records. Across India and Southeast Asia, mahseer-linked folklore abounds — blessed weapons, healing waters, divine interventions, flood myths. This cultural dimension now forms part of a long-term study Lockett contributes to with the Leibniz Institute of Freshwater Ecology in Berlin.

Why Stocking Is Not Conservation

Stocking fingerlings into rivers is often presented as a conservation solution. Lockett challenges that narrative directly. Stocking fails, he argues, when it's done without understanding species, genetics, or ecosystems — and when no monitoring follows. That isn't conservation; it's farming. Thrown into rivers year after year, hatchery fish may survive, but often at the expense of the native species already there. Genetic studies now reveal wild populations tracing back to just a handful of fish — a silent ecological crisis in the making. True conservation breeding follows strict IUCN and aquaculture guidelines — in India, this includes registering broodstock with the Central Zoo Authority and actively maintaining genetic diversity. According to Lockett, these protocols have largely been ignored.

Communities That Get It Right

One of the most successful models Lockett has seen comes from Malaysian Borneo, where community-managed tagal river zones have reduced poaching and improved local livelihoods. While not without flaws — including some unhealthy feeding practices — these systems demonstrate what genuine local stewardship can achieve. Similar efforts likely exist in Meghalaya, in India's Northeast, though Lockett has yet to visit himself. The principle, he says, is universal: when communities become proud custodians of a river, it recovers.

What Happens If Mahseer Disappear?

Losing mahseer wouldn't simply mean losing a sport fish — it would signal rivers in collapse. Mahseer act as indicators of river health, and their disappearance would reflect degraded flows, broken food webs, and polluted waters, with economic consequences following swiftly for fisheries, livelihoods, and river-dependent communities. Lockett places this in stark national context: pollution already costs India an estimated 3% of GDP annually, far exceeding the budget of the regulatory bodies meant to prevent it.

A Message to Aquarists and Fishkeepers

Freshwater conservation, Lockett insists, is not someone else's problem. Aquarists have a role to play — promoting ethical fishkeeping, respecting biodiversity laws, and questioning the trade in threatened species rather than pretending it doesn't exist. Not everyone can run a conservation NGO, but everyone can act: clearing plastic from waterways, educating neighbours, or supporting ethical initiatives all move the needle. Mahseer rivers — and the people who depend on them — stand a far better chance when we act together.

Read the full story in The Weekend Aquarist

The complete interview in our January 2026 issue covers the full conversation with Steve Lockett — including the three primary threats facing mahseer rivers today, the ethics of catch-and-release angling, the ongoing puzzle around hump-backed mahseer species identification, the Mahseer Trust's education and policy work across South and Southeast Asia, and much more from Lockett's five decades on the water.

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