Why the Ghost of Last Year’s Flood Still Walks the Streets of Srinagar
Last Saturday, on 28 March 2015, I woke up to a pleasant morning at my house in Rawalpora, an uptown locality of Srinagar. Spring was in full bloom, almond and plum trees had blossomed all around, and the withered grass of winter was slowly giving way to newly sprouted patches of green. The warm sun piercing through a thin layer of clouds barely gave any indication of what was to follow.
As the day passed, at around 3 pm, the clouds had begun to resemble a thick black canopy. By late evening, it was pouring. The rain was unrelenting, pummeling the tin sheets on my roof like stones, not drops of water.
The heavy downpour had coincided with the local meteorological department’s prediction that the rain would trigger flash floods and mud slides across the valley. For many residents, this was enough to recall the ghost of the devastating floods from last year, which had begun on 7 September 2014 and wrecked havoc in Kashmir. It had been the worst flood to hit the state in a century, submerging the historic city of Srinagar and other parts of Kashmir, snapping communications, and tearing down roads, bridges, houses, and river banks.
Thus began the panic. Social networking sites were pervaded by Kashmiris expressing their fears over a repeat of the September 2014 deluge.
“Ya Allah forgive us our sins. You are the most Forgiving, most Merciful. Make this rain beneficial to us and not as a curse from Thyself. We boast to be big in worldly gains but before You we are worthless and beggars hoping for Your Mercy,” posted Muhammad Salim on Facebook.
As the rain refused to subside through the night, netizens on my feed sought forgiveness from Allah to evade the presumed threat, and suggested vigils to appease the powers that be. Photographs carrying images of the water clogged streets, the overflowing rivers and streams flooded my newsfeed. To me, it appeared that the threat of a flood had already turned into reality as far as the virtual world was concerned.
Admittedly, the sentiment on the streets of Srinagar was no better. Amira Kadal—the commercial centre of the city—is a bustling market made distinct by its old decrypt wooden and brick houses, new shopping centres and vendors who line the district’s pavements. On Sunday, the vibrant piazza was a shadow of its former self, covered in murky water that imparted an ominous atmosphere.
The roads and by lanes of the main city square—Lal Chowk—were no different, and had transformed into a large expanse of water. As I waded along the street with my umbrella, I was greeted by the sight of vehicles labouriously ploughing through water that was now no longer knee-deep.
I walked to Hari Singh High Street—a road that runs through the heart of the city—which was not too far away. This stretch of road, lined with shops on both sides leads to other markets like Sariabala and Maharaja Bazaar, but on Sunday they had been rendered inaccessible due to the water logging. My solitary journey continued, and I spotted a throng of people wielding colourful umbrellas, in stark contrast to the grey skies, surrounding a fire tender as it pumped out the water that had engulfed the road. All the shops had been shut, and the owners stood idle on raised platforms, spectators to the pantomime that had unfolded in the backdrop of the rain. Not every owner had the luxury to do so though, some had to contend with the water that had flown in from the streets and into their shops as well. Barely anyone was cognizant of the cricket World Cup encounter between New Zealand and Australia, taking place that day. Every conversation appeared to be dominated by the approaching floods, and everyone was eager to formulate their own strategy to avert any danger.
“I lost my entire clothing business to the floods of 2014,” explained Manzoor Wani, a store-owner I ran into at Hari Singh High Street, who was sporting a polythene bag on his head to shield himself from the rain.
Wani and his workers were hurriedly taking out merchandise from his shop and shifting it to a nearby building.
“I lost more than a million rupees. I cannot afford any more monetary losses,” Wani told me. “The flood broke the back of our economy. I had no insurance cover then. I have not received even a single penny for the losses I faced during the last flood. I cannot take risks now. I have taken loans from the banks and utilised all the savings I had, to start my business again,” he added.
The Jammu and Kashmir government estimated that the loss to businesses in the state was nearly Rs 1 lakh crore, and a National Disaster Management Authority report stated that 45,594 houses had been damaged by the flood waters and close to 280 people had lost their lives across the region.
“This is the second time I am leaving for Bagh-e-Mehtab—on the outskirts of the city—along with my daughter, son and my husband in last six months,” Rafiq Begum, a resident of Raj Bagh, which comes under the Amira Kadal constituency, told me. “Those floods still haunt us. I remember when my family and I remained struck in the second floor of our house for four days. How can I forget?”
She was not alone. Several people, like Rafiq Begum, deserted their homes on Sunday, and made their way to safer regions that had not been affected by the floods last year. Their fear was not misplaced. In 2014, nearly four lakh people were stranded in their homes under 18 to 22 feet of water for more than seven days in Raj Bagh, Wazir Bagh, Bemina, Mehjoor Nagar, Pantha Chowk, Amira Kadal, Saraibala and other areas of the city. During my conversations with them, a lot of the survivors told me that they had not been rescued by either the army or the civil administration.
As the worried residents and traders collectively decided to move to safer places, no one seemed to be paying much heed to the instructions of the various government representatives, circulated through television channels and social media.
“The government in Kashmir is always in deep slumber when it comes to disasters,” said Doctor Amir Hussain, a resident of Tulsi Bagh, situated near Srinagar’s Civil Lines area. “I have decided not to listen to their advice. Last time I did and lost my all belongings to the flood. I lost my home. My family, including my seven- and ten-year-old daughters, underwent the trauma of being trapped for five days on the first floor of our house. I have shifted all the household goods to the upper storey of my house and have decided to leave for my in-laws home in Buchpora till the rain stops.”
In the aftermath of the floods of September, the state government did not appear to undertake any major repairs of the damaged infrastructure. Neither did it provide any compensation for the rehabilitation of flood victims who had lost their homes and other property. Even breaches in the banks of the Jhelum had not been filled with concrete. Truckloads of earth were stuffed into the embankments in a make-shift arrangement. I spoke to a few people who lived along the banks, and they told me that these fillings would give way easily upon the slightest push. After all, the legislators of Jammu and Kashmir had more important matters to attend to: the assembly elections that were held in the winter of 2014 and the government formation that followed after.
“People need not to panic,” Altaf Bukhari, the state’s minister for roads and buildings, said in an interview to Radio Kashmir on Sunday evening, knowing that most residents would be glued to the radio in the absence of electricity. “There is no threat of a flood. Six cabinet ministers are monitoring the situation. The water on the roads and streets is due to the choking of drainage system during last year’s floods. It is not flood water. It is water logging. We are ready to deal with any eventuality.”
On the same day, Professor Shakeel Ramshoo, an environmentalist, issued a warning on Facebook at 10.22 pm, hours after Bukhari’s message had been relayed. “Notwithstanding the pronouncements on part of the official machinery, we can’t afford to be complacent about the looming threat of flood in Kashmir,” he wrote.
Ramshoo went on to say that the government officials were shying away from giving the correct information and predicted that the water in the Jhelum would hit the danger mark at Sangam and Ram Munshi Bagh before midnight on Sunday.
This warning was enough to sound an alarm. It helped, perhaps, that this note of caution coincided with the news that water had breached into some localities of Bemina at around 10 pm. Similarly, reports poured in of inundation of certain areas in north and south Kashmir as well. Finally at around 12 am on Sunday, the government declared a flood alert and asked people to move to safer places. According to the latest press note that I was sent by the police media cell, around 647 families were evacuated to safety in Kashmir.
The levels of the Jhelum at Sangam in Anantnag, Ram Munshi Bagh in Srinagar, and Ashim in Bandipora were also continually broadcasted on social media. At all points, the irrigation and flood control department was updating its Facebook page with the water levels. A senior government official I spoke to confirmed to me that the water had run well over the danger mark—22 feet.
“An anxious, frightening night for people back home in Kashmir, as threat of floods looms,” renowned author Mirza Waheed wrote on Facebook at 3 am on Monday, adding, “Desperately hope a bright sunrise allays all fears.”
Was the threat of the flood this serious and scary?
Arshad Hussain, a psychologist based in Srinagar, told me that the floods last year had played a major role in creating panic and elicited a “hypertensive” response from the residents in Kashmir. He believed that the trauma from the floods had remained entrenched in their minds. Hussain added, “People have stopped listening to the administration which failed in alerting people in the past. The experiences of the last flood have taught them to be hyper vigilant. Hence you have seen a hyper response and preparation from the people to these rains”.
Finally, on Monday, 30 March, at around 4 am, the rains subsided and the duty officer from the metrological department told me that the total rainfall amounted to almost four inches in Srinagar alone.
There was no major breach reported in the banks of the Jhelum or other streams in Kashmir. However according to media reports, houses in Kashmir had sunk into the ground, triggering landslides and damage to more than a hundred structures. The heavy rains also led to the closure of the 300 km Jammu–Srinagar highway which was reportedly hit by landslides at several places.
Furthermore, in Kashmir’s Budgam district, a landslide swept away a village called Ledan, leading to the tragic death of sixteen people who were buried alive. Rescue operation teams were successful in recovering the bodies of fifteen people, although one of them continues to be lost under the mud and debris.
“On ground memories of the devastating deluge only seven months back are fresh in people’s mind. Though the current government has been quick in rescue efforts, people are taking no chance this time around,” Baba Umar, a senior journalist told me over the phone.
“People are offering special prayers in mosques and feeding travelers on the streets in a hope to evade the looming threat. Perhaps only God’s intervention can make it possible to extricate people from this period of fear and uncertainty which has kept them on tenterhooks. Look it is 1 April and it has started raining heavily again,” he concluded.