Tashi Sharma
Hundreds of dead, lakhs displaced, bridges swept away, and whole towns marooned – the Himalayan deluge has pushed Jammu & Kashmir back by years, exposing fragile infrastructure, man-made blunders, and the merciless force of geography.
A Valley and a City under Siege
The 2025 floods have battered Jammu and Kashmir with unrelenting fury. In Srinagar, the rain-fed Jhelum spilled over its embankments, submerging Lal Chowk, Rajbagh, Bemina, and adjoining colonies. In Jammu, the Tawi roared like never before, tearing down bridges and flooding entire neighbourhoods such as Jewel Chowk, Bhagwati Nagar, and Canal Road. By the end of August, the average rainfall had crossed 600 millimetres in just three weeks, nearly three times the normal monthly average of 220 millimetres for the region. Some districts like Ramban, Udhampur, and Doda recorded rainfall 350 to 400 percent above normal, according to the Indian Meteorological Department.
Cloudbursts and Torrential Surprises
The floods were aggravated by several cloudburst events across the state. In Kishtwar, Kathua and Doda, sudden cloudbursts unleashed torrents of water that swept away houses, roads, and even small bridges in minutes. Ramban, Reasi, and parts of Udhampur saw similar incidents, with water levels rising so fast that villagers could barely evacuate. These violent bursts reminded everyone that nature can act without warning, and human settlements along vulnerable slopes or floodplains are always at risk.
The Weight of Rainfall and the Slush of Despair
On a single day, gauges in Jammu recorded 92 millimetres of rainfall within 24 hours, the heaviest since 1988. Srinagar touched 75 millimetres in 12 hours, pushing the Jhelum to flow 3.5 feet above the danger mark at Ram Munshi Bagh. The deluge loosened fragile Himalayan soil, triggering more than 250 landslides across Doda, Kishtwar, Ramban, and Udhampur. Entire stretches of the Jammu-Srinagar National Highway were buried under mud.
The Memory of 2014, the Negligence of 2025
The floods eerily recall the nightmare of 2014, when nearly 300 people were killed and five lakhs displaced across the state. Omar Abdullah’s reminder hits hard: “The only lesson we learned from 2014 is that we learned nothing.” Eleven years later, the same mistakes resurface-poor drainage, encroachments on floodplains, and the absence of effective disaster management infrastructure.
Development or Delusion?
Ambitious projects such as the Tawi Riverfront and the artificial lake in Jammu were touted as development milestones. 80% of the phase one project of Tawi beautification cost nearly 191.15 crores. Yet today, those same embankments have cracked, and posh neighbourhoods resemble stagnant lakes. The Sabarmati model-a non-perennial river tamed in Gujarat was blindly copied without acknowledging that the Tawi is a volatile Himalayan River with seasonal floods. Geography has delivered its verdict.
Rising Death Toll
The devastating floods in Jammu and Kashmir have claimed a heavy toll, with official figures confirming 7 lives lost in Kathua, 34 deaths near Mata Vaishno Devi, and over 64 casualties in Paddar (Kishtwar district), a number that is still rising as search and rescue operations continue. Many remain missing, and countless families have been displaced as swollen rivers and landslides swept away homes, bridges, and livelihoods. Each statistic reflects a profound personal tragedy and the collective grief of communities struggling to cope with nature’s fury.
Infrastructural Collapse: A State Pushed Back in Time
The fury of the 2025 floods has not only claimed lives but torn apart the very backbone of Jammu and Kashmir’s infrastructure. The collapse of the Seher Bridge, the Vijaypur Bridge, and the Bhagwati Nagar Tawi Bridge has choked connectivity across crucial arteries. These are not mere stretches of concrete, they are lifelines that connect markets to villages, schools to students, hospitals to patients. Their loss has not only stalled daily life but pushed the state back by years in developmental progress.
But it is not just these prominent landmarks. Dozens of smaller link roads all across have been washed away, isolating entire hamlets. Culverts and causeways, which serve as everyday connectors for villages, have caved in, leaving communities marooned. Electric poles and transformers have been uprooted, plunging hundreds of areas into prolonged darkness, while drinking water pipelines have burst under the pressure of the floodwaters, leaving thousands to depend on unsafe sources. Even government schools and health centres in flood-prone belts have seen partial collapses, with walls cracked, roofs leaking, and entire facilities rendered unsafe for use.
The banking of the Tawi and Ravi rivers has eroded dangerously, eating into farmland and chewing away at road foundations. In Jammu, the very streets that once symbolized progress including residential colonies and commercial hubs now resemble lakes, stagnant and suffocating. Engineers estimate that even with urgent intervention, it will take time for the state to regain infrastructural pace and only if rebuilding is pursued with sustainability and foresight. For now, every broken bridge and every fractured road tells the same story: a state pushed back in time, a people cut off from their own land.
Encroachments, Mining, and Man-Made Traps
Over forty percent of the Jhelum floodplain in Srinagar has been encroached upon by residential colonies and shopping complexes. Illegal sand mining along the Tawi has hollowed the riverbed, weakening natural defenses. Stone quarrying in Udhampur and Reasi has destabilized hills, making them landslide-prone. Experts argue that these man-made traps magnified the disaster, turning what could have been controlled flooding into widespread urban submergence.
Diseases loom in the Aftermath
The stagnant water in colonies like Rajbagh in Srinagar and Bhagwati Nagar in Jammu threatens an epidemic of cholera, typhoid, and dengue. Experts warn that if drainage does not improve, post-flood casualties could double due to health crises. For survivors cramped into makeshift relief camps, the fear of disease now haunts more than the memory of water.
State under a Curse, People under Fear
People whisper that this flood feels like a curse-nature’s revenge for greed and neglect. In Jammu, where the artificial lake was once celebrated, locals bitterly remark: “We built a lake for tourists. Now the entire city has become one.” The paradox is painful-development meant to uplift has instead drowned the very state it promised to modernize.
The Revenge of Geography
The 2025 floods of Jammu and Kashmir are not just another natural calamity; they are an ecological indictment. Cloudbursts, unplanned settlements, illegal mining, and encroachment combined to amplify nature’s fury. The floods remind us that when ecology is compromised, the economy collapses. When rivers are treated as real estate instead of lifelines, they eventually reclaim their space by force. Unless lessons are learned, this will not be the last time the state is brought to its knees by its own rivers.
Looking Forward: Lessons in Resilience
If there is one takeaway from this calamity, it is that Jammu and Kashmir cannot afford cosmetic projects that defy geography. What is needed is investment in floodplain zoning, embankment reinforcement, early warning systems, afforestation drives, and urban planning that respects river pathways.
A central disaster resilience fund must prioritize states like J&K where fragile topography amplifies every climatic event. Only by restoring ecological balance-reducing encroachments, regulating mining, and strengthening drainage networks can future tragedies be minimized. Development must now be measured not in glass facades and concrete embankments but in resilience, preparedness, and harmony with nature.
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