Imagine losing your home to floods, watching your fields wash away, and seeing loved ones trapped in flooded areas and landslides. This is not a distant nightmare. It is the lived reality for thousands of people in Jammu and Kashmir.
In just a few weeks, relentless rains, flash floods and cloudbursts have claimed more than 110 lives, displaced families and caused economic losses worth hundreds of crores. While ordinary people mourn, New Delhi continues to boast of “development” and “normalcy.” What we are witnessing is not simply nature’s fury. It is a man-made, policy-driven disaster.
The past two months have brought an unbroken cycle of calamities across the region. In Jammu, the iconic Tawi Bridge collapsed on 26 August, taking with it three vehicles and underscoring the vulnerability of public infrastructure.
In Doda, flash floods tore through homes and water pipelines, leaving families without drinking water. Reasi and Ramban were among the hardest hit districts. A landslide in Bhadder village buried an entire family alive, seven lives lost within seconds. In Ramban’s Rajgarh tehsil, cloudburst-triggered floods killed four people and flattened houses.
In Kishtwar, twin cloudbursts in the Warwan Valley destroyed entire farmlands, leaving dozens missing. On the Vaishno Devi pilgrimage route in Reasi, a landslide near Ardhkunwari killed 34 devotees and injured 20 others. These tragedies were not inevitable. Many of these locations had already been marked by experts as high-risk zones. Yet, officialdom allowed unregulated construction, deforestation and destabilisation of slopes of fragile mountains.
Since the abrogation of Article 370 in 2019, the Indian government has relentlessly promoted an image of Kashmir as “peaceful, stable and thriving.” New roads, hydropower projects, “smart city” plans, and glossy tourism campaigns are presented as evidence of progress. But reality on the ground tells a different story.
Rather than making the region climate-resilient, these projects have undermined natural safeguards. Forests are being cleared at alarming rates. Riverbanks have been encroached upon, weakening natural flood buffers. Glaciers—already retreating under global warming—are further destabilised by unregulated blasting and tunnelling. New hydropower projects such as Pakal Dul, Kiru, Kwar and Dangduru are being constructed without credible and sustainable environmental assessments, placing entire valleys at risk of Glacial Lake Outburst Floods (GLOF).
A recent survey revealed 197 glacial lakes in Kishtwar alone, many dangerously are unstable. Scientists have warned of an “ecological time bomb,” yet the government persists with its agenda, selling the illusion of “sustainable growth” to the world. This obsession with cosmetic development—designed for political optics—has come at the expense of both people’s safety and the environment.
Farmers and Traders in Despair
The climate crisis is not just an environmental story; it is an economic catastrophe. Horticulture, the backbone of Kashmir’s economy, has been paralysed. The closure of the Srinagar-Jammu Highway for more than two weeks due to repeated damage and massive landslides left hundreds of trucks loaded with apples and pears stranded. Crops worth crores rotted on the roadside.
The Sopore Fruit Mandi, Asia’s second-largest fruit market, shut its operations on 9 September after losses crossed $25 million. Traders warned that if road closures persisted, losses could reach $50 million. Apple prices collapsed from about $7.20 per box to $4.80, dragging growers, traders and transporters into financial ruin.
For farmers, the blow is not only financial but emotional. After months of labour, they are forced to watch their produce decay in trucks or warehouses. Yet officials continue to boast about “record agricultural growth” in Kashmir. The gap between official claims and ground realities has never been wider.
The highway closures triggered a wider humanitarian crisis. Shortages of food, baby formula, medicines and fuel spread across the valley. Fresh landslides near Bali Nallah in Udhampur worsened the situation, isolating thousands. Northern Railways cancelled 58 trains on 27 August, leaving over 2,000 passengers stranded until special trains were arranged.
Meanwhile, the government issued press releases praising “uninterrupted connectivity” and “efficient crisis management.” Such hollow claims only deepen public frustration.
Since mid-August, more than 12,000 people have been evacuated due to floods, embankment breaches and landslides. In Budgam, the collapse of a Jhelum embankment on 4 September forced 10,000 people to abandon their homes. Many are now in temporary shelters without access to clean water, sanitation, or healthcare.
In Reasi district, residents of Arnas tehsil staged road blockades on 9 September, accusing the government of ignoring their plight. Families demanded tents, blankets, free rations, crop compensation, loan waivers and power restoration. Electricity has been cut off in several villages for more than two weeks, crippling daily life. Protesters warned they would escalate demonstrations if relief did not arrive.
This anger is not an isolated outburst. It reflects a larger truth: people in Jammu and Kashmir feel abandoned. They see a government more concerned with promoting a narrative of “normalcy” than addressing an unfolding humanitarian disaster.
Fragile Ecosystem Under Siege
Kashmir is one of South Asia’s most fragile ecological zones. Global climate change has undoubtedly worsened weather extremes, but the scale of devastation here is amplified by reckless human action. Authorities have encouraged unregulated urbanisation, deforestation and river exploitation without assessing environmental impacts.
Instead of investing in climate-resilient infrastructure, the government pours funds into highways and hydropower projects that look good in official brochures but weaken the land’s natural defences. Even moderate rainfall now threatens to unleash catastrophe. This is not merely mismanagement. It is a betrayal of governance responsibilities.
The government’s obsession with optics has blinded it to human suffering. When people are dying in landslides or watching their livelihoods rot, promises of “smart cities” sound not just hollow but cruel. When families plead for tents and rations, photo opportunities at project inaugurations are an insult.
Every disaster in Kashmir is now framed as nature’s wrath, absolving authorities of responsibility. But as locals know, these are not acts of God. They are the predictable outcomes of bad policy, poor planning and wilful neglect.
The lessons are clear. Kashmir needs urgent relief for those displaced by floods and landslides: safe shelters, food supplies, medical care and debt relief. Farmers need compensation for their losses, and markets require urgent logistical solutions to prevent produce from rotting.
Beyond immediate relief, systemic reform is essential. Environmental impact assessments must become rigorous, not perfunctory. Fragile zones must be declared off-limits to construction. Forests and wetlands should be restored as natural buffers. Investments must shift from cosmetic projects to climate-resilient infrastructure, such as flood-resistant housing, embankment strengthening and improved drainage systems.
Above all, policymakers must acknowledge the reality of Kashmir’s ecological fragility. Propaganda cannot stop floods. False claims cannot hold back landslides. The people of Kashmir deserve honesty, accountability and a survival plan—not more slogans about “development.”
Kashmir is drowning, not only in floodwaters but also in deliberate neglect. Until the authorities replace image-building with accountability, the Himalayan meltdown will only intensify. Climate justice for Kashmir means sustainable planning, respect for fragile ecosystems and policies rooted in people’s safety rather than propaganda.
Cosmetic development can win headlines. It cannot protect lives. Without urgent change, the next monsoon will bring even greater devastation—and with it, the question of how many more lives must be lost before lessons are learned.
(Mehr-un-Nisa is the Director of Research and Human Rights Desk at the Kashmir Institute of International Relations (KIIR). She can be contacted at: mehr_dua@yahoo.com)
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