Sixty-year-old Mithilesh Devi sat on a charpoy outside her flooded home in Delhi's Yamuna Bazaar, her sari damp and clinging. On the night of Tuesday, 2 September, the floodwaters entered her home, where she lives with her family of nine.
“It was around 3 am,” she recounted. “We hadn’t slept all night... we were awake, waiting for this to happen. And then it did. The sofa, the fridge, everything was submerged. We grabbed whatever we could and ran for our lives.”
Her husband, a frail man in his sixties, nodded silently beside her. He runs a small makeshift stall on a nearby footpath, selling paan, biscuits, and namkeen.
Mithilesh Devi is haunted by the memories of 2023 when they had lost even more. Back then, the Yamuna had crossed the 208-meter danger mark, displacing over 25,000 people in Delhi alone. Homes were inundated, and livelihoods washed away.
“We rebuilt slowly, piece by piece. And now we are going through this all over again. How many times must we start over?”Mithilesh Devi
On Tuesday morning, I saw several other families like Mithilesh's trying to salvage what little they had left. As the Yamuna river has risen once again, the narrow lanes of Yamuna Bazaar now resemble a crisis scene.
'I Remember the Fear...'
For those living through it, it is personal. It is like a betrayal by the very waters that have sustained them for generations. Like Tanya Mishra, a 15-year-old girl, whose modest two-room home, is now submerged in knee-deep water.
"See this," she said, pointing to the waterline creeping up the walls. “My school is near Chandni Chowk, but I couldn’t go today. How could I?”
Tanya was helping her family shift belongings to a government-set tent nearby. “I was younger then, but I remember the fear we felt in 2023. We slept on footpaths and then in a tent for days.”
On Tuesday, the Irrigation and Flood Control Department in Delhi issued a flood alert after water discharge from Haryana’s Hathnikund barrage surged to over 3.22 lakh cusecs, marking the season’s peak. According to the Central Water Commission, the Yamuna was flowing at 206.93 metres at the Old Yamuna Bridge at 11 am on Wednesday, above the danger mark of 205.33 metres.
Authorities cautioned that the water level might rise further due to intense rainfall in the upper Yamuna catchment areas. In 2023, the water level had reached 208.66 metres.
The Delhi Disaster Management Authority has set up an incident command post outside the tents, with helpline number 1077.
The alert noted that the discharge had crossed 3 lakh cusecs. “All sector officers are instructed to maintain close surveillance in their areas, take necessary measures at vulnerable spots, and ensure that residents within the river embankments are warned and relocated to safer locations,” the advisory stated.
“We are closely monitoring the situation round the clock. The thorough desilting efforts carried out in the Yamuna and drainage systems over the past six months are proving effective. All gates are fully operational, ensuring no water stagnation. The water is moving freely, matching the pace of the incoming flow,” Delhi Chief Minister Rekha Gupta said.
In an official directive, Shahdara District Magistrate Rishita Gupta ordered the suspension of traffic and public access on the Old Railway Bridge starting at 5 pm on Tuesday.
East District Magistrate Amol Srivastava, who also serves as the nodal officer for flood control across six districts, noted that tents and relief camps have been established in the affected areas—and that essential services like food and water are being provided.
'Yamuna Sometimes Turns Cruel...'
At one such temporary shelter, I meet 62-year-old Niladhar Kumar. His beard is streaked with gray, his eyes hollow. “I’ve lived here all my life. The Yamuna is our mother, but sometimes she turns cruel,” he said.
From the sudden breach that sent water cascading into the streets—forcing him to climb to a rooftop for safety—to nights spent praying the water level would go down, he recalled the crisis of 2023 vividly. Now, with the river swelling again, he fears the tragedy will repeat itself.
In another government tent, I meet Munni Devi who's forced to share the space with her husband, father-in-law, and three children. Their few possessions are piled in a corner.
As I sat with her family, the open side of the tent fluttered, revealing passersby on the road. Munni saw a few women using sarees and bedsheets to create makeshift curtains. Minutes later, she did the same. Changing clothes is a nightmare, she added.
The food arrived at 1 pm. There was a long queue outside the tent where packed, cooked food was being distributed.
The only source of drinking water was a lone Delhi Jal Board tanker parked outside the tents. In 2023, water scarcity had compounded the crisis, leading to desperation. Now, with the Yamuna bloated and polluted, that fear has resurfaced.
I saw labourers filling sand into large sacks. They were working tirelessly to stack these heavy sacks along the river’s edge, creating a makeshift barrier against the encroaching waters.
For locals, these barriers meant a chance to preserve what little remained, even as the looming fear of another breach hung heavy.
Adjacent to one tent stood a small Ganpati pandal, its idol of Lord Ganesha adorned with flowers, bells and diyas. A lady joined hands before it, her palms pressed together in prayer.
I watched as she whispered pleas for the Yamuna's waters to recede, for homes to be reclaimed.
(The author is a second-year MA student in Convergent Journalism at Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi.)
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