When the Sirens Sound: Are We Ready?

Immediately after the ceasefire announcement, I started receiving desperate calls from panicked friends, who reported explosions in Lal Chowk. “We can hear loud explosions and see red streaks in the sky… What is happening? What should we do?”

Jammu and Kashmir has long lived under the shadow of at least three wars, the Kargil conflict and calamity. But as missile alerts, drone intrusions and cyberattacks begin to feel like part of the region’s new normal, an uncomfortable question arises: are civilians and the administration genuinely prepared for a modern-day emergency in modern-day warfare? Whether it is war or natural disasters like earthquakes and floods, the answer is almost certainly no. We are not. Civilians need to be educated on the new normal, including how to protect themselves and how to respond in the event of an emergency.

The contours of conflict are changing rapidly. Gone are the days when war meant just bombs and gunfire along the Line of Control or international border. The current phase, as seen in recent escalations, includes armed drones, missile strikes on civilian zones, and the frightening prospect of cyber warfare. The tools of war are increasingly autonomous or remotely controlled, even if controlled, but still sometimes indiscriminate, and capable of inflicting wide damage quickly. In many circumstances, civilians are no longer caught in the crossfire by accident; they are often deliberate targets, or collateral in attacks meant to paralyse the state.

Despite this, civilian preparedness remains worryingly low. Most households or business establishments in Kashmir, Jammu, and adjoining border towns have no idea what to do when drones buzz overhead or missile sirens sound. Panic spreads faster than information. Few know where to take shelter. Schools do not conduct regular safety drills. Hospitals lack contingency plans for mass casualties. And hardly any locality has a functioning underground shelter or assembly point. What we recently saw were drills; it was just a knee-jerk reaction and faded away in the noise of ceasefire and follow-up activities.

The Illusion of Resilience

This is not just about war. The problem extends to how we treat every emergency. Earthquakes in the Himalayan belt regularly shake homes and nerves. Yet, post-disaster evaluations reveal a consistent pattern: untrained first responders, confused communication, and poor public awareness. In recent telephone conversations in and around Srinagar, my friends and residents admitted they would not know what to do in case of a disaster. Most of them have heard of a first aid course or an emergency response drill, but never participated in it until last week, when the government introduced it in some schools and residential localities. The majority of them said they had no idea how to help someone who was bleeding or unconscious. This is not a reflection of apathy; it is a critical indictment of policy and societal neglect.

When disaster strikes, the first few minutes are often the most critical. But in India, it is rare to find a home with a fire extinguisher, let alone a survival kit. In Kashmir, even basic preparedness is missing: no designated community bunkers, except a few in the border area, no drills in schools or colleges, and very few trained volunteers. While the State Disaster Management Authority exists, its presence is hardly felt at the mohalla level.

Learning from Natural Disasters

Earthquakes, floods, and chemical leaks may differ in origin from military crises, but the civic response required to address them overlaps significantly. What we need is a culture of readiness. Every residential area should have an emergency plan. Where do people go during a quake? What route do they follow if there is a fire? Who keeps emergency kits? Where are the extinguishers? Do homes near rivers or factories know how to evacuate during a flood or gas leak? What should those living in border areas do when an exchange of fire occurs? Most would struggle to answer these. We also need to think about mass shelters, cellars, and assembly points as safe zones. Schools and public buildings should be retrofitted to double as shelters. In war and vulnerable zones, local authorities must identify secure underground spaces that can house civilians during bombardments or now even nuclear emergencies. It may sound alarmist, but these are global standards in other places. Even in non-conflict countries like Japan, children are taught how to take cover within seconds of an earthquake, Tsunami, so why not here?

Training the First Responders

The government must begin by training the trainers. Asha workers, Anganwadi staff, civil defence volunteers, tourist guides, pony and shikara wallas, taxi drivers, religious leaders, home guards, and NGO workers should all be offered basic disaster response training and regularly updated. They are embedded in the community and often respond faster than official agencies. Regular drills must follow. In schools, mosques, temples, markets, and bus stands, simulation exercises should be held every quarter. These are not expensive to organise, and their long-term value cannot be overstated. Children who know how to duck, cover and evacuate are less likely to panic. Shopkeepers who know where to shut gas lines or use fire extinguishers can stop a minor mishap from becoming a catastrophe. Or, civilian residents living in the firing line should know how to find a safe place away from the firing line. Meanwhile, residential associations and mohalla committees must be empowered. Each cluster should establish an emergency response team, with members assigned specific roles in the event of a fire, flood, or attack. They should know where to get first aid, how to contact emergency services, and how to help the elderly or disabled in their area.

Start with the Basics

Every home, school, Mosque, temple and office should stock a basic emergency kit. At minimum, it should include two- or three-days’ drinking water per person, non-perishable food, a flashlight, batteries, a power bank, copies of identity documents, some cash, first aid supplies, a whistle, and any essential medication. This is not paranoia; it is common sense. In the event of a nuclear alert or a chemical leak, survival in the first few hours may depend entirely on what people have at hand. Yet, even in the shadow of nuclear tension or industrial accidents, hardly anyone in Jammu and Kashmir has thought about preparing such a kit.

The Administration’s Role in Peacetime

Peace time is when preparation must happen. The administration cannot wait for calamities to design responses. Local governments must integrate emergency awareness into school curricula and public messaging. They must allocate funds not only for disaster relief, but also for readiness. And they must foster a culture where knowing how to use a fire extinguisher is as common as knowing how to use a mobile phone.

In today’s world, war may not come through bombs, but through power cuts, internet blackouts, or attacks on water systems. Keep cash in hand, have alternative power sources like small solar chargers, and keep basic tools to purify water (like iodine tablets or filters).

We must stop treating war and disaster preparedness as issues only for the government or armed forces. Civil defence must become everyone’s business. It begins with awareness, grows through training, and is tested by real-world events. India is no stranger to adversity. From tsunamis to terror attacks, from wars to pandemics, the nation has seen it all. But resilience without readiness is a myth. We honour our dead with silence and our survivors with neglect. This must change. Jammu and Kashmir stands at the fault line, often experiencing violence and tectonic instability. It deserves better. Before the next drone crosses the border, a missile strike or the next tremor hits the hills, let us at least be prepared to protect ourselves and those around us. Because when the sirens go off, it will be too late to read the manual. Let’s prepare now, so that when the time comes, we act with calm, courage, and competence. Disaster may strike in minutes. Survival depends on what we do in the months before.

Author is National Editor,

Greater Kashmir