Floods, Fury, Forgetting

Clouds rumbling in the hills. Landslides tearing through mountain roads. Relentless rain. Sudden downpours. Villages cut off overnight. Fields washed away. Families displaced. These are the visuals of today’s Jammu & Kashmir. A fragile place caught between a changing climate and a society too insensitive to change.

The signs are no longer distant warnings. They are here. Every year feels like a close shave with disaster. And yet, we carry on as if nothing has altered.

Centuries ago, the road was built that still bears the weight of storms. The Mughal Road, old and tough, has survived the tempest of rain, snow and shifting terrain. Compare this to many of our newer roads, built with modern engineering. They crack, sink and vanish under the first onslaught of climate. The contrast is sharp. One was built with patience and respect for the mountains. The other, often hurried, without listening to the land. This is not just about roads. It is about our approach. The Mughal Road is a metaphor. It shows us that durability comes from working with nature, not against it.

September 2014 drowned the valley. Floods consumed entire neighborhoods in Srinagar. People shuffled to rooftops, waiting for rescue. It was a stark moment of truth. And we pledged, “Never Again”.

But what happened after? Encroachments on riverbanks continued. Flood basins, nature’s own safety nets, were filled with concrete. Officials signed papers allowing constructions in danger zones. People built houses where water once had space to breathe. The river, squeezed and narrowed, lost its rhythm. Nature remembers. When rains return, rivers reclaim what was theirs. Our forgetfulness becomes our biggest hazard.

Since 2014, each year Kashmir has faced flood scares. Chaos in the city. Alerts on phones. Water levels rising dangerously with small downpour. Each time, the panic lasts for a week. Once the waters recede, the urgency fades. Life goes back to business as usual.

This cycle is dangerous. We are treating disasters like passing storms, not ongoing realities. Climate change is not a guest. It is a resident now. The mountains are more fragile. The weather more unpredictable. Yet our response remains reactive, not preventive.

Floods feel more devastating today. We have narrowed the room for water. Concrete leans where wetlands once absorbed the overflow. Shops rise where streams once flowed. Riverbanks are scarred with houses, hotels and offices.

Officials who should have protected these spaces often turned a blind eye. Permissions were granted. Rules were bent. People too became complicit, chasing short-term gains over long-term safety. The result is visible: a valley more vulnerable than ever!

This year again, heavy rains brought devastation across Jammu and Kashmir. Homes were damaged. Roads were blocked. Families were stranded. The story sounded familiar because it is. We are living in a loop. Disaster, recovery, denial. Then reprise.

Each event chips away at the valley’s resolve. Each flood is a reminder. Yet we treat reminders as inconveniences, not alarms. 2014 floods should have been our wake-up call. Instead, we wasted years to act. Officials who sign off on illegal construction must answer, and community must stop selling tomorrow for today’s benefit by rampant encroachment. True resilience lies not in sandbags but in foresight. In embankments that hold, wetlands that breathe, and rivers that flow free. We cannot stop disasters. But we can choose whether they shatter us or spare us.

Yes, climate change is global, but its wounds are local. In Kashmir, the wounds are visible in drenched lanes, disintegrating mountains and displaced families. The responsibility is not just of governments. It is of people too. How we build, where we build, and what we demand from authorities matters.

Our elders often said the valley is a delicate bowl. Tilt it slightly and it spills. That wisdom rings truer than ever. Every careless act tips the balance.

The Mughal Road still stands because it listened to the mountains. If we are to survive the storms ahead, we must listen too. Otherwise, floods will not just drown our homes, they will drown our lessons, our memories and our future.