This week’s cloudburst in Kishtwar has again focused our attention on the vulnerability of life in our Himalayan belt. Within minutes, watersheds and debris chocked walls of water ripped through houses, carried away livestock, and forced families to mourn their dead. The extent of damage, as unfortunate as it is, is no surprise. In recent years, freak weather conditions have become alarmingly common in Jammu and Kashmir.
Kishtwar, with its precipitous valleys and unstable hillsides, is extremely susceptible to flash floods caused by sudden cloudbursts.
The science is simple. When warm, humid air accelerates over hills, it rapidly cool, shedding heavy rain over a small radius. In an area with poorly drained river basins and loose soil, such a downpour may flood the land in minutes. But although we can’t prevent the clouds from breaking, we can and should minimize the cost in human life and economies.
The initial lesson from Kishtwar is that preparedness for disasters needs to be based on the local situation. It isn’t the first time the district has seen such destruction. Pictorial memories of the 2021 cloudburst in Honzar village are still fresh. However, the arrangements for alerting people and evacuating them continue to be weak or nonexistent. We require an effective early warning system specially designed for high-altitude settlements. Present-day commercial Doppler radars, satellite observation of rain, provide some communities with valuable minutes to escape to safer heights.
The second lesson is that of planning or the absence thereof. Numerous homes and public structures in vulnerable areas provide some examples of construction over riverbanks or unstable slopes. They are the first to be affected when nature decides to strike back. The government should impose a strict “no-construction” area along at-risk river courses. Meanwhile, more secure areas should be located and built out with core services so that individuals have a viable choice away from danger. Relocation never is simple, but complacency about the hazard only encourages future catastrophe.
We must also rethink infrastructure in these areas. Roads, bridges, and power lines are frequently constructed without careful evaluation of flash flood and landslide risks. Sometimes, inefficiently constructed culverts and embankments even intensify the flooding by obstructing natural water channels. The Kishtwar tragedy must compel engineers and planners to take up climate-resilient designs facilities that provide drainage of excess water, strengthened bridges that can absorb sudden spikes, and landslide-preventing slope stabilization works.
Next is the issue of community preparedness. Local disaster management committees need to be more than paper tigers. They need to be equipped, trained, and exercised regularly. Schoolgoing children need to be instructed on what to do in case a cloudburst happens. Villages need to have preidentified safe havens with basic provisions – clean water, dry food, first aid kits, and blankets. In the case of Kishtwar, most survivors have commented that they had no idea where to go when the water arrived, and that hesitation cost valuable time.
Environmental destruction is another underlying cause we no longer have the luxury to ignore. Forest clearing in upper catchments, indiscriminate road cutting, and syndicated sand excavation undermine the land’s natural resistance to heavy rain. Reforestation, soil stabilization, and regulated development are not indulgences they are acts of salvation. Nature, if respected, is a bulwark. If exploited, it retaliates with lethal fury.
Climate change provides the imperative to have this discussion. Research indicates that the Himalayas are warming at a rate greater than the global average, so the likelihood of extreme rain events will only increase. Strategies for adaptation will have to be integrated into all levels of government, from the state disaster management plan to village panchayat budgets. We cannot anymore consider floods and cloudbursts as “once in a generation” activities; they are becoming part of the new normal.
What must be done at once is apparent. Initially, get established and functional early warning systems in every high-risk district, beginning with Kishtwar. Secondly, implement zoning regulations to ensure buildings are not constructed in flood-risk and unstable slope zones. Thirdly, equip disaster response teams with instruments, train personnel, and have well-defined evacuation procedures. Fourthly, introduce huge reforestation campaigns in upstream catchments to enable the land to recharge its natural water absorption. And fifth, climate-proof and audit infrastructure at risk before the next disaster.
The Kishtwaris are left to pick up the pieces now, but they must not have to rebuild in fear of the next cloudburst. Their pain should not be for nothing. Every disaster is a test of our will to learn and do something about it, or whether we will just move on until the next headline makes us remember.
This catastrophe should be the turning point when Jammu and Kashmir embraces a model of disaster preparedness as an unalterable aspect of governance. Cloudbursts will recur, but their toll does not have to be so lethal. Prevention, planning, and environmental respect are our strongest shields.
Nature has issued us the warning. The question is whether we shall listen before the next blow.
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