When the Floodwaters Rise, So Do Social Fault Lines
We must shift our gaze. Not ask: “How bad is the flood?” but “"whose world is it destroying?
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When the monsoon clouds gather, many of us pause to admire the streaks of grey across the sky, the thunder’s rumble, the rhythm of raindrops on rooftops. Some even step out to click a picture of that majestic skyline. Meanwhile, in another world just beyond our gated boundary or our well-drained street, water is creeping into someone’s bedroom.
This year, India has watched disasters ripple across states, creating headlines in some places while leaving other tragedies in the shadows.
A Nation Drowned in Loss
In 2025, floods have claimed hundreds of lives and displaced thousands. In Punjab, at least 51 people died, 1,900 villages were submerged, and 400,000 acres of farmland were ruined. More than 384,000 people were impacted across seven districts.
In Uttarkashi, Uttarakhand, a flash flood (triggered by a cloudburst or glacial outburst) killed at least 5 people, left over 50 missing, and swept away homes. In Kishtwar, Jammu & Kashmir, a cloudburst-led flood left dozens feared dead and many evacuated.
Altogether, the flood season of 2025 has extinguished hundreds of lives, rendered thousands homeless, and submerged crops worth crores. In Dehradun alone, 32 people died and damages crossed ₹211 crore. In Marathwada, 52 lives were lost, 12.8 lakh hectares of crops damaged, and nearly 3,000 homes destroyed.
Beyond human toll, the loss of resources is staggering. Fertile land washed away, livestock drowned, and critical infrastructure collapsed. In Punjab, 3,200 schools and 19 colleges were damaged, and about 1,400 clinics ruined. Such devastations take years to tally and even longer to rebuild.
Privilege in Plain Sight
When we read headlines about floods in Punjab or Uttarakhand, many of us imagine far-off villages. Rarely do we reflect on how close these victims are to our lives. Because in cities, we escape the worst—with drainage, backup electricity, and strong walls. Our inconvenience is a detour or a delayed evening. For others, it is the destruction of their only shelter.
In our comfortable homes, we grumble about a power cut, knowing inverters will hum back soon. Outside our windows, families may be watching water flood their beds. We vent at a blocked drain; they panic as whole rooms drown.
This is not just inequality—it is the everyday gap magnified by nature. Disasters do not strike equally. The privileged are shielded; the underprivileged are exposed.
In our comfortable homes, we grumble about a power cut, knowing inverters will hum back soon. Outside our windows, families may be watching water flood their beds. We vent at a blocked drain; they panic as whole rooms drown.
(Photo Credit: Juhi Sheokhand)
Some floods get “celebrity treatment.” In Punjab, the political announcements, relief packages, and promises of seed distribution. Yet, in Bihar, equally damaging floods barely made headlines.
In Bihar, when homes were drowning, political fights over “vote chori” dominated news cycles.
This selective visibility creates selective accountability. Where cameras linger, leaders act. Where stories remain invisible, suffering becomes anecdotal.
A Call to Reframe the Monsoon Through Humanity
To live as the privileged in an underprivileged society is to accept fragility as someone else’s norm. The skies do not discriminate—but our systems do. And when the skies break, inequality becomes stark.
We must shift our gaze. Not ask: “How bad is the flood?” but “whose world is it destroying? Whose voice are we not hearing?”
Natural disasters must be seen as mirror-events—reflecting how we design cities, distribute wealth, and value lives. We need disaster systems that prevent tragedies, not just relief camps after the fact. Reporting must not privilege populous districts alone. Infrastructure must uplift margins: drainage in villages and safe shelters in every district.
In the seasons ahead, when clouds darken, I will still stop to photograph the sky. But I will pause and ask: Which windows are under water tonight? Whose home is drowning?
Real privilege is not just living above floodwaters—it is lifting others above their deluge.
(Photo Credit: Juhi Sheokhand)
(Juhi is a psychologist and educator from Hisar with over nine years of experience. She is the founder of Peace Point, and writes passionately about mental health and education, drawing from her professional journey to inspire awareness and change. This is an opinion piece, and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)