Getting our comeuppance

This year’s monsoon woes began on 20 June in Himachal Pradesh. By 15 July, the state had reported 17 landslides, 22 cloudbursts and 31 flash floods. At the time of writing, the numbers had climbed higher — 45 cloudbursts, 91 flash floods, 105 landslides…

It seems impossible to keep up. Grim statistics barely convey the enormity of the devastation on the ground. Red and orange alerts have become routine. Piles of debris stand where homes once stood. More than 1,359 roads are still blocked, including several national highways — many of which had been — or are in the process of being — widened into four lanes.

It is these highway projects — built under the dubious banner of ‘development’ — that are to blame for the extent of the destruction we are witnessing, say experts, pointing to the reckless hill-cutting by the National Highways Authority of India (NHAI). In late June, a five-storey building near a highway under expansion in Himachal Pradesh collapsed, prompting chief minister Sukhvinder Singh Sukhu to call out NHAI’s practices. Despite several accidents and growing public concern, there is little sign of course correction by the Union government.

Neighbouring Uttarakhand has fared no better. On 5 August, a flash flood struck Dharali village in the picturesque Harsil valley of Uttarkashi, killing locals, tourists and army personnel, and flattening many buildings and sections of the army camp. Dharali was still being discussed when another cloudburst hit Tharali in Chamoli district on 22 August. The market was swept away as also the official residence of the sub-divisional magistrate.

On 29 August, the Alaknanda river overflowed, damaging a portion of the National Highway to Badrinath. While many pilgrims were rescued, several remained stranded (at the time of writing). Reports of landslides poured in from almost every hill district. On 1 September, a landslide blocked the tunnel entrance of the Dhauliganga power station in Pithoragarh, trapping 19 people inside.

None of this translated into serious debate. Instead, the political discourse stuck to the Uniform Civil Code or Dhami’s campaign for swadeshi (homegrown) products, with ‘Swadeshi Apnaayein’ stickers being plastered all across shopfronts in Dehradun’s Paltan Bazaar.

Jammu and Kashmir was not spared either. On 14 August, a cloudburst hit the hills above Chashoti village in Jammu's Kishtwar, triggering a landslide on the Machhel Mata pilgrimage route, killing at least 65 people. A similar incident near the Vaishno Devi pilgrimage route claimed 34 lives. All pilgrim routes in Uttarakhand, Himachal Pradesh and J&K have since been suspended.

But mountain disasters aren’t confined to the mountains. Overflowing rivers — the Sutlej, Beas, Ravi, Yamuna and even the smaller streams — carried the chaos downstream, hitting Punjab. On 1 August, the first village to go under was Saiyadwala, on the Abohar–Srinagar National Highway. More than a month later, it still lies submerged, with 1,177 families living in relief camps.

Other districts also faced the fury of the floods. Fazilka, Ferozepur and Tarn Taran were the worst affected — and remain so even now. In this cotton-growing belt of Malwa, most of the crops have been destroyed. Paddy fields across the state have suffered heavy losses. Every single one of Punjab’s 23 districts has officially been declared flood-affected. In Amritsar district, floodwaters entered the low-lying parts of Ajnala town. Besides entire villages and towns, several gurdwaras were also submerged.

The ‘flood-management’ infrastructure did little. With reservoirs filled beyond capacity, authorities had no option but to open the floodgates. At Madhopur Headworks on the Ravi river near Pathankot, the pressure was so intense that the gates broke, sending torrents of water into adjacent villages. Residents were caught completely unawares.

The Sutlej overflowed nearly 10 km beyond its banks. By the end of August, the flow of water in the Beas had reached 2.3 lakh cusecs, compared to its normal flow of 14,400 cusecs.

On 4 September, the water level in the Bhakra Dam was just one foot short of the danger mark of 1,680 feet. The Pong Dam stood at 1,396.61 feet, a good three feet above the danger mark, intensifying fears of more flooding in the downstream districts of Punjab. Ranjit Sagar Dam too recorded a heavy inflow of 1.31 lakh cusecs.

Punjab’s extensive network of irrigation canals, which usually nourishes the fields, turned into a destructive force. The situation was further compounded by continuous heavy rainfall. On 31 August alone, Ludhiana recorded 216 mm of rain in a few hours — enough to flood an entire city.

In Punjab, as in Himachal, the NHAI finds itself in the dock. A parliamentary committee stated that elevated highways have choked the natural drainage of agricultural fields and demanded a detailed report within two months. Congress MP from Gurdaspur Sukhjinder Singh Randhawa went a step further, accusing the NHAI of drowning the Kartarpur corridor which flooded because the agency had failed to build even basic culverts.

The disaster may be natural, but the exacerbating factors could have been avoided, or at least managed better. Why were the usual preparations for flood control missing this time around? The Indian Express reported that an annual flood-preparedness meeting held every February was skipped this year because the AAP government in Punjab was busy with elections in Delhi. By the time the meeting took place on 5 June, it was too late for any meaningful, preventive action. By 22 June, the deluge was upon us and over 12,000 people displaced.

Relief efforts have not moved beyond political posturing. Chief minister Bhagwant Singh Mann has deployed government helicopters for relief operations. But, as the Tribune reported, local AAP leaders and MLAs with accompanying camera teams have been treating the distribution and air-dropping of aid as photo ops.

Support from the Centre has been slow and selective. In his 1 September episode of Mann Ki Baat, the prime minister made a mention of the Punjab floods. On 2 September, a day after he returned from China, Modi dialled Bhagwant Mann — reportedly their first such conversation. However, no Central minister barring Shivraj Singh Chouhan has yet visited the affected areas, nor has any firm assurance of help been given.

In response to Mann’s request for pending dues — to the tune of Rs 60,000 crore — the Centre has released less than Rs 300 crore as interim relief. Meanwhile, Sukhu has demanded that Himachal Pradesh be declared a disaster-hit zone. Interestingly, no such demand has come from Uttarakhand.

Past experiences have already shown how political favouritism plays out in disaster relief.

The Yamuna is also in full spate and has crossed the danger mark at Hathini Kund in Haryana. As a result, the gates of the Tajewala barrage had to be opened. Raging floodwaters tore through villages in Karnal, Panipat and Sonipat before crashing into the national capital — submerging not just low-lying neighbourhoods but even the Inter-State Bus Terminal, stretches of the Ring Road, and some parts of New Delhi proper.

Meanwhile, swollen rivers like the Tangri, Ghaggar and Markanda have burst their banks, swallowing vast stretches of land in Ambala and Kurukshetra. With the IMD’s forecast of heavy rains over the next days, the current flood crisis is unlikely to end soon. The largescale devastation, which has sadly become an annual feature now, throws up larger questions that we must continue to ask:

a) Why were the highways in the hills constructed with scant regard for geological stability?

b) Why was Punjab’s flood-preparedness meeting delayed until June?

c) Why does disaster relief still hinge on political equations rather than the need of the hour?