Even as I was writing this, my city, Delhi, was drowning. It had been raining since early morning and four hours of rainfall brought the city to a standstill. The Meteorological Department recorded 60 mm of rainfall in just about six hours, 90 mm in 24 hours, and with this the city made up its deficit of rainfall of the season. In other words, in just about 24 hours, Delhi and its surrounding areas got half as much rain as they would in the entire month of September. Delhi, like other growing cities of India, cares little about its drainage system — storm water drains are either clogged, full of garbage and sewage or just do not exist. Our lakes and ponds have been eaten away by real estate — land is what the city values, not water. So when it rains more than it should, the city drowns.
It is not only Delhi. This month almost all parts of the country are being affected by rains and floods. Little do we know about the extent of this havoc, since putting together news from across the country is difficult and the national media, obsessed with the antics of politics, fails to give an account of the vastness and magnitude of the breakdown and suffering. We also take it for granted that during this time of the year, there are rains and floods. We do not look for news in these events — that there is something unusual about the ferocity of the rain and the extent of damage it causes.
I say this as a keen recorder of these events. Each year, unfailingly, at this time of the year, I end up chronicling the floods that hit most parts of the country. But each year, as I learn and write, I find that change is afoot. Each year, the floods grow in intensity. Each year, the rain events become more variable and extreme. Each year, the economic damages owing to floods and rain increase — governments note that the development gain has been lost in one season of flood.
This year, for instance, the Himalayan state of Himachal Pradesh has said its bill for rain damage is Rs 334 crore, roughly half the year’s budget for roads and infrastructure. As many as 30 lives have been lost as rivers have spilled their banks, landslides have hit homes, hydropower stations have been shut and roads and crops damaged. What is worrying is the pattern that emerges. Chief Minister Prem Kumar Dhumal says that in his state rains were normal in June, deficient in July and hyperactive in August. A record 342 mm of incessant rainfall within 24 hours on just one day of August 13, 2011 left the state shell-shocked and deeply damaged.
In Gujarat, rains have left behind trails of damage. Over the past two months, different regions of the state have witnessed cloudbursts and incessant rain, which have led to flash floods, ravaged homes and killed 140 people. The common thread in the events is the manner in which the rains have come — abnormally heavy rain events with huge sub-regional variations. For instance, earlier this week, Becharaji taluka in Mehsana district of north Gujarat recorded 62 mm of rainfall, equivalent to a third of its annual average. In just one day, the otherwise dry region of Kutch received some 250 mm of rainfall, close to what it gets in an entire year.
Even as I write this, another region of India, Odisha, is struggling to cope with floods of horrendous magnitude. Some 0.7 million people are already displaced from their homes as flood waters are taking away everything. The Mahanadi has burst its banks in many places. My colleagues tracking developments there say this is mainly owing to the heavy rainfall in the catchment area of the massive Hirakud dam. As a result, in less than 24 hours, the Hirakud managers, without warning and notice, opened all its 59 gates, releasing huge volumes of water to the already swollen river. This part of the country, which recorded deficient rains of 40 per cent, is now in surplus. In just three days enough water has fallen to make up this shortfall.
Scientists will tell you there is a difference between weather and its natural variability and climate change — a pattern brought about by human emissions which are heating up the atmosphere faster than normal. Scientists who study the monsoon will tell you that they are beginning to make that distinction between a “normal” monsoon and what is now showing up in abnormal extreme rain events.
Clearly, it is time to accept that we are beginning to see the impact of climate change. It is also time that the world changes its ways so that this devastation does not reach catastrophic levels.
It is equally important that we change the way we deal with water in the future. We know rain is the real finance minister of India. So we need to make sure that every drop is harvested. Holding and channelling rain must become a mission. It is our only way to the future.
This means there is a need to safeguard every water body, every channel, drain and nullah, and every catchment area. These are the temples of modern India, built to worship rain, built for our future.
