That sinking feeling

JUNE 30 was a typical rainy day in the monsoons at Seraj valley in Mandi district. After working hard on their farms and daily chores, people in the villages had retired for the day. But two hours before midnight, a thunderous downpour transformed virtually every gurgling nullah in the region into jarring landslips and flash floods, bringing down giant boulders. People ran out of their homes, while some remained huddled in their houses, or on the roadside, or in any safe shelter they could find. The elderly and differently-abled were carried on backs to safety. Some brave souls picked up spades and shovelled relentlessly through the night, digging drainage paths to salvage a field here, a cowshed there — to save their cattle.

Till around 11:30 pm, people were communicating on phones, sending out warnings and checking in on their kith and kin — before both the network and power went out. “We waited all night, listening to outbursts from the skies and eruptions from the ground, hoping the deluge would halt. At around 3 or 4 am, the rain stopped, the floods began to recede, and by dawn the landscape had transformed beyond recognition,” narrates Mahendra Kumar from Pakhrair panchayat, where 11 persons were washed away. His 7 bighas of land were completely wiped out.

Such was the horror that students from the horticulture university at Thunag, who barely managed to flee their hostel building, left the region en masse, unable to cope with the trauma.

While several parts of Mandi district in Himachal Pradesh suffered damage due to a reported 1,900 per cent excess rainfall in the 24 hours between June 30 and July 1, Seraj valley — especially Thunag sub-division — appears to have been the worst-hit. Official data on people missing and damage to homes and farms is still being compiled, but nearly 80 per cent of 36 panchayats, covering about 200 villages, seem to have been adversely affected, with massive destruction of public infrastructure, habitation and farms.

Reports that multiple cloudbursts occurred across a 30-40 km stretch would need to be verified with more localised rainfall data. In Bung Rail Chowk, where farmlands have vanished, 16 houses are untraceable, 45 have been buried under flood debris and 15 marked as unsafe for living.

Women poured their hearts out about how their thriving horticulture and vegetable economy now feels short-lived. “Just two-three decades ago, we had few income sources. And when we began progressing, sending our children out to study, the changing climate is hitting us,” laments Phoolan Devi. She adds that for the women, the dairy which they sold milk to was their main source of daily income — now the roads are blocked, cattle injured or dead and the dairy structure lies damaged.

“Last winter brought barely a few inches of snow, summer saw more rain than sun, and then came the torrential monsoon,” she recalls, taking stock of the erratic weather patterns.

Yet, she and other women also reflect on what elders in the village have been saying post-disaster — that the streams were only reclaiming their original course, which had been occupied by new habitations. “Paapi ke pichhe pichhe dharmi bhi chalein hain (The decent folk are also following in the footsteps of the corrupt)!” they say, referring to the unchecked greed that has led people to disregard both each other and their ecology.

Bhagat Ram, a local resident and NGO worker, points to patches of fallen-off terraces across the valley and suggests that the role of Glyphosate herbicide usage in eroding soils must also be probed.

In another village, a group of young men speak of how development has outpaced the region’s geographical limits and sensitivities. “Believers may say that Shikari Mata (the local deity) is unhappy but amongst the youth, there is dialogue on how in less than 10 years, hundreds of roads have been built here due to political pressure, compromising scientific principles. Drainage has been disrupted, muck dumped in the wrong places.” This was a reference to the road-building surge that began after the long-standing local MLA, Jai Ram Thakur, became Chief Minister in 2017. A new PWD division was created and an unusually high amount of funds sanctioned to build roads at a record pace.

As per the 2011 indices, Seraj block was among the most remote and underdeveloped in Mandi. Only 23 per cent of its villages had access to pucca roads then. The region’s population — nearly 30 per cent of which belongs to the Scheduled Caste communities — often walked several kilometres to get to basic services. Compared to other parts of Himachal, Seraj lagged in welfare infrastructure and was in genuine need of it.

Ironically, it is the vulnerable communities — those with the smallest holdings and least social capital — who now bear the brunt of disasters disproportionately.

For them, recovery takes longer, sometimes generations, pushing them further to the margins. Khila, a young shopowner from the SC community, shares how the new village road had enabled her to set up a shop in Thunag. But the structure was hit by floods in 2022, 2023 and again most severely in 2025. Back in her village, her family’s 2-3 bighas of land have been lost. Only their house remains — though even that feels only ephemerally safe.

Market residents recall a similar flood in 2009 in Thunag. “But back then, there were fewer shops and homes along the nullahs, and no roads had been built upstream.” The 2023 flood brought media outrage, especially due to the volume of wooden debris that surged through waterways. Leeladhar Chauhan, a local human rights defender, does not mince words: “Unnecessary and mindless construction from the ridges of the mountains is responsible. Even the 2009 Thunag market flood was because of the road built to connect Tandi to the market.”

What were the factors that led to the historically lopsided development in Seraj? And how much has the sudden, rapid infrastructure push amplified disaster risk and vulnerability? Why haven’t past red flags triggered better preparedness and planning? These are questions that demand deeper examination.

Only an urgent, multi-disciplinary inquiry that assesses not just biophysical risks but also socio-economic vulnerabilities, developmental trajectories and governance failures can help unpack these protracted and compounding disasters to make ground for any meaningful disaster response.

While the state government has assured compensation, the rehabilitation of disaster-displaced families remains the most pressing need. This demands not just intent, but action — from both the state and Central governments — ensuring special attention to the most marginalised. Transfer of land for resettlement needs to be speedy, invoking the relevant legal provisions.

There is the larger, more daunting challenge: how will communities centre sustainable catchment-level land use and development planning, given the push and pull of market forces and political patronage?

— The writer is a Himachal-based researcher and activist

Himachal Tribune