Fury for the Folly

Since people did not learn lessons from the fury of nature—as witnessed in the 2021 washing away of the NTPC dam under construction and the Kedarnath tragedy of 2013—nature replied back on August 5, 2025. The serene Himalayan village of Dharali in Uttarkashi was obliterated in mere minutes. A devastating cloudburst, or possibly a lake burst or glacier lake burst, triggered a catastrophic flash flood and mudslide along the Kheer Ganga River, reducing homes, hotels, and livelihoods to rubble. It is reported that at least four lives were lost, over 70 to 80 people remain missing, and 40–50 buildings, including 20–25 hotels and homestays, were swept away like leaves in a torrent. Of the missing, several people, their cattle, and wildlife are feared buried in mud. While the immediate cause was a natural phenomenon, experts like me and informed locals have been constantly writing to and warning authorities to stop unchecked human activities—unscientific construction on vulnerable slopes, rampant tourism, and environmental neglect—as the true architects of this tragedy.

This article delves into this disaster, its cultural and ecological toll, and the urgent need for sustainable solutions to prevent such man-made calamities. Dharali, a picturesque stopover on the way to Gangotri, was bustling with activity on August 5 despite the monsoon lull. Around 1:40 pm, a thunderous roar signalled the onset of chaos. Massive waves of mud, water, and debris surged through the village, swallowing everything in their path. A few fortunate people were seen struggling with the furious current to extricate themselves. Eyewitness Subhash Chandra Semwal, a 60-year-old resident of nearby Mukhba, described the horror: “We heard water and stones flowing at high speed. We blew whistles and shouted for people to run, but the floodwaters overtook them.” Videos circulating on social media captured the nightmare—buildings crumbling like sandcastles, people fleeing in vain, and a car vanishing into the deluge. Jai Bhagwan, a local hotelier, narrowly escaped as he was at a temple during a local festival. His 40-room hotel, a lifeline for his family, was washed away. “It flowed away like a leaf,” he recounted while showing video evidence of his loss. Fortunately, the low tourist turnout during the monsoon prevented a catastrophe on the scale of the 2013 Kedarnath floods, but the destruction was mind-boggling. Nine soldiers from a nearby Army camp in Harsil were also reported missing.

The rescue operations, involving the Indian Army, NDRF, SDRF, and ITBP, were swift but hampered by debris and severed connectivity. By August 9, 825 people had been rescued, including 190 from Dharali, with helicopters and manual digging deployed to locate survivors. Though Chief Minister Pushkar Singh Dhami announced Rs 5 lakh aid for affected families, for survivors like Dharmendra Negi, who lost his hotel, the loss is irreparable. Dharali’s tragedy is not just a loss of infrastructure but a blow to Uttarakhand’s cultural and spiritual heritage. The village, nestled near Gangotri, is a vital stop for Char Dham pilgrims and tourists seeking the serenity of Harsil and Mukhba, the winter seat of Gangotri Dham. The disaster struck during a local festival at Someshwar temple, drawing more people to the area. The destruction of homes, temples, and livelihoods has left communities grappling with grief and uncertainty.

What is beyond comprehension is the fact that people built houses, hotels, and homestays right in front of the river’s path. Common sense dictates that heavy water gushing down the hill will take away everything, and yet the greed of locals, coupled with the incompetence and negligence of officers and political leaders, allowed such ill-planned and ill-conceived development.

In Indian culture, the Himalayas are revered as the abode of gods, and rivers like the Ganges are considered divine. The reckless exploitation of this fragile ecosystem betrays the principle of non-violence and respect for nature embedded in Indian traditions. The disaster asks us all—how can India balance its spiritual reverence for the Himalayas with the demands of modern development? While the immediate trigger was a suspected cloudburst or climatic factor, the disaster’s severity was amplified by human actions, a deadly mix of global warming-fuelled monsoon extremes and unscientific, unsustainable construction. One of the climatic changes in rainfall patterns being seen in Uttarakhand is the reduction in the number of rainy days but heavy rainfall within a few days, as reported in the 2013 ICFRE report on Forest Types of India. Over the past nine years, the state has faced 18,464 disasters, averaging over 2,000 annually. Climate change has intensified monsoon patterns, with glacier melt and warming oceans contributing to erratic rainfall and glacial lake outbursts. Further, the lopsided development has blocked the natural drainage systems in the hills, and the rampant loss of Deodar trees is a matter of serious concern, as these trees bind the soil.

To prevent future tragedies, Uttarakhand must adopt a multi-faceted, sustainable approach that respects its geological, geographical, cultural, and ecological heritage. The Union Environment Ministry cannot escape accountability, as it has failed to ensure a safer environment. All kinds of lobbyists are appointed to head environmental committees, who do nothing but enjoy patronage. The mandarins sitting in government must enforce zoning laws to prohibit construction near riverbanks, vulnerable steep slopes, and floodplains. Regular audits of existing habitations and resource inventories at the block level upwards can identify and relocate high-risk settlements. Both the people and the government must invest in eco-friendly infrastructure, such as elevated buildings and flood-resistant materials, designed to withstand Himalayan weather patterns. One of the key areas of intervention is to change the policy of rampant hill cutting for road construction. Roads in vulnerable areas should be planned on pillars, as in China, and the technology used in hydropower generation must be reassessed. The unsustainable flow of floating tourist populations in Uttarakhand—four to five times its resident population of a little over one crore for the majority of the year—must be capped. Environmental laws must be firmly imposed for hotel and homestay construction, and local people must be trained in disaster response, with villages equipped with early warning systems for cloudbursts and landslides. In fact, atmospheric studies and monitoring by radar and satellites must be conducted during June to August, when most cloudbursts occur, so that cloud gathering can be tackled in time by inducing rains through cloud seeding. Uttarakhand must integrate climate-resilient adaptation into its policies, starting from district-level development activities, while addressing glacier melt and erratic monsoons.

Let us hope the people, the government, and social activists rise to the occasion. Till then, the nation pays homage for the loss of innocent lives and receives a grim reminder of what this writer saw in a YouTube news channel Parvat Vani — a dog furiously searching for his master in the deluge. This dog is the biggest reminder to people to stay away from harming nature.

The writer is former Director-General and Chancellor in the Ministry of Environment and Chairman of Centre for Resource Management. Views expressed are personal