The Jehlum is roaring again. Its murmurs are not the gentle ballads of a serene summer but the low, guttural warnings of a river pushed to its brink. In the coffee shops of Lal Chowk, on the bustling ghats, and in the anxious scroll of every Kashmiris’ social media feed, the question hangs thick in the rain-scented air: “Kya flood ka khatra hai?
Facebook page owners have transformed into amateur hydrologists, posting hourly gauge readings from Ram Munshi Bagh, their digital anxiety a stark, crowdsourced contrast to the official silence we have come to expect.
We have been here before. The trauma of 2014 is not a chapter in a history book; it is a scar on the soul of Srinagar. We remember the surreal sight of boats navigating the streets of Rajbagh and Jawahar Nagar,Barzulla, Boulevard etc—areas misnomered as ‘posh’, as if their affluence could somehow grant them immunity from nature’s fury. We remember the submerged houses in Hyderpora and the drowned elegance of the Amir Kabir Road. Most of all, we remember the utter collapse of the systems meant to protect us.
As people clung to rooftops, hope dwindling with the setting sun, the scenes of personal sympathetic gestures that spoke volumes of a profound concern .Criticism disaster management authorities is easy, but constructive accountability is urgent. In that vacuum , it was “We, the Youth of Kashmir – Our City, Our Pain” who emerged as the true first responders. With unmatched valour and a deep-seated humanity, they mounted rescue operations on shikaras and private boats, created impromptu relief camps, and provided an effective, compassionate alternative support system. They were the silver lining in an otherwise apocalyptic cloud.
In the aftermath, there was a predictable flurry of activity. There were speeches heavy with promises, political grandstanding, engineering columns in newspapers,futuristic action plans and seminar’s. Experts dissected the causes: unplanned urbanisation, the choking of the Jehlum’s flood spill channels, rampant encroachment, and a crippling gaps of preparedness. The lessons were clear, documented, and unanimously agreed upon.
Can we expect better response this time and another time?
A decade later, we must ask: What became of those lessons? Are we ready to tackle if challenged with similar situation , Was the dredging of the Jhelum adequately ,or has been sporadic and insufficient only relevant professionals and river engineering departments can assess. It was learnt that the flood spill channels remain vulnerable to clogging. And unchecked urbanisation continues its unchecked march, concretizing the very earth that should absorb the rain. The ‘comprehensive disaster management plan’ exists, now remains its on ground reality, hope and pray we dont test or taste it amid a disaster.
My personal memory from 2014 is a microcosm of this systemic gaps. Anxious and watching the rising water, I called a noted engineer in the Hyderpora area. My question was not of complex engineering but of basic humanity and preparedness: were there early warning signs? Was there an evacuation protocol? My elderly mother, an oxygen-dependent patient, needed time to be moved to safety. The answer I received was a lecture on river hydrology, not a plan for human salvation. Within thirty minutes, the water was at our gate. The half-submitted car in our driveway became a symbol of the state’s failed promise. We evacuated her ourselves, scrambling with oxygen cylinders and nebulizers through the rising tide, a scene of private panic mirrored in thousands of homes across the city.
Today, as the rain falls and the river swells, that panic returns. Have the evacuation plans been formulated? Are there clear communication channels to warn citizens, especially the vulnerable, the elderly, and the infirm? If a call for help is made today, will the response be another engineering thesis or a swift, coordinated rescue or an unanswered call ?
We are not asking for the impossible. We are not demanding that engineers perform miracles to control the weather. We are asking for the basic tenets of disaster governance, foresight, preparedness, and transparency on
early warning signs, evacuation plans, and traffic advisories; As water levels rise in the Jhelum and its tributaries, the first step is to recognize and act on early warning signs. Past experiences have shown us the consequences of unorganised evacuation advisory : people were asked to evacuate without clear instructions on where to go, which routes to take, or where designated assembly points were located. In places coming via Safakadal, Eidgah for Bemina bye pass , residents were trapped in floodwaters at Bemina simply because there were no traffic advisories or evacuation route maps.
Equally missed were preparedness checklists—essentials like medicines, documents, food, and water—critical for vulnerable populations, including patients on life support. Disaster management, traffic police, healthcare services, and flood control authorities must coordinate closely to prevent chaos, counter misinformation, and silence irresponsible voices and pseudo-journalism that thrive on social media during
First, preparedness is not a document; it is a drill, preparedness must be practiced. It has publicly known evacuation protocols; pre-identified shelters stocked with essentials. It is a trained community task force working in tandem with authorities and functional It is a dedicated emergency helpline that doesn’t ring unanswered. Relief should supplement rescue, not replace it.
Second, transparency builds trust. Consistent and public communication of river levels, weather forecasts clearly, consistently, and publicly. Timely advisories reduce panic and prevent the spread of rumours. Trust is not earned by hiding bad news, but by sharing the truth—especially when it is difficult.
Third , a recall on foresight that matters. It means heeding warnings, we already have enforcing zoning laws, removing encroachments from floodplains, and investing with unwavering resolve, and investing seriously in sustainable drainage systems and river management. It is a political will that must extend beyond the electoral cycle.
The valour of our youth in 2014 was born of necessity, not design. We cannot, and must not, have to rely on it again as our primary response. Their courage exposed the gaps it should not have to substitute for it permanently.
Summarising a social media post,”The devastating floods of Shaliganga and Doodhganga are not merely natural disasters but the outcome of Illegal riverbed mining, carried out with official complicity, destabilized riverbanks and redirected floodwaters into villages and farmland, destroying crops, homes, and bridges,the buck stops where?.
The Honble Supreme Court has condemned these lapses, upholding a ban on mining in Budgam’s Shaliganga and exposing flawed environmental clearances. Experts affirm that reckless extraction altered river flows and magnified the floods’ fury.
Pick and Choose!.Responsibility lies chiefly with the Geology & Mining Department and the Irrigation & Flood Control Department for vigilance on unsustainable practices and ensuring river safeguards.
The lesson is stark: Kashmir’s river health is inseparable from people’s safety. The Court’s ruling is both a rebuke and a call to enforce laws and secure justice for victims of this preventable tragedy.”
Jehlum’s tears in 2014 were a lesson written in water and pain. A decade later, the river and water bodies are asking us if we were listening. If we continue to choose debates over dredging, seminars over action, and meetings over meaningful change, the lesson will be taught again, harder and more cruelly than before. Forgetfulness, when it comes to nature’s fury, is a luxury we cannot afford. The time to learn is now, before the whispers of the Jehlum turn into another roar.
The author has contributed to major disaster preparedness plans and has trained stakeholders through disaster management manuals. As a columnist voicing civil concerns, he can be reached at drfiazfazil
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