Human madness and nature’s fury sounding the death-knell of hills

India’s hill states are collapsing under the combined weight of political negligence, unscientific development, and ecological disregard. The recent disaster in Dharali, Uttarkashi is not an isolated event—it’s a brutal reminder of what happens when nature’s limits are ignored. From reckless highway projects to unchecked deforestation, fragile ecosystems are being sacrificed at the altar of vote-bank development and tourist revenue. Despite multiple expert reports warning of imminent collapse, neither Parliament nor the media seem interested. This op-ed exposes how greed, distraction politics, and environmental apathy are pushing the Himalayas to the brink—and how continued silence from our leaders could make disasters like Dharali the new normal across India’s hill regions

On one hand, the Himalayas groan under the assault of unrestrained development. On the other, political discourse drowns in absurd distractions, ignoring nature’s growing fury.

The opposition echoes Donald Trump—his baseless peace claims, laughable remark that India’s economy is “dead,” or ignorant comments about Operation Sindhoor. This blind parroting erodes India’s dignity on the world stage.

But the real war is in the mountains. Not with guns—but with concrete, bulldozers, and ignorance. What’s being called progress is mutilating the Himalayas—guardians of the Indian subcontinent for millennia. Cloudbursts, landslides, flash floods, and glacial lake outbursts are no longer rare—they are all nature’s retaliation.

The August 5 disaster in Dharali, Uttarkashi, was another warning. A catastrophic cloudburst unleashed a deluge that swept away homes, hotels, shops, and roads. Nature declared: “Exploit us endlessly, and you won’t survive.”

Every time the Kheer Gad River swells, villagers don’t run—they climb rooftops to watch what’s left. The river, a trickle for most of the year, becomes a monster when cloudbursts hit Srikanth Parvat. It rips through lives and landscapes. Locals remember time not by festivals or elections—but by floods. The flood of 2010 that soaked the school; 2012 took a shop; 2018 buried orchards and now in 2025, the market vanished in 34 seconds.

Two days later, the scale is evident: a 500-metre-wide swathe buried under 50 feet of sludge. Two bodies recovered, while 16 were missing, including nine army personnel. SDRF IG Arun Mohan Joshi calls it an unprecedented operation, with debris as high as rooftops. The army had to airlift a JCB to Matli using a Chinook helicopter.

From 2010 to 2018, despite destruction, no lives were lost. Nature, it seemed, was being merciful. But not any longer. Cloudbursts are now routine. Climate change plays a role, but the deeper blame lies in reckless, unplanned human interference in one of Earth’s most fragile ecosystems.

Central and State governments must face the reality. Deforestation, unregulated construction, slope blasting, and unscientifically built roads are pushing the region to collapse. Dharali is not alone. From Uttarkashi to Chamoli, Kinnaur to Mandi—entire districts are under siege from their own governments. The mountains once nurturing rivers and civilisations are now being blasted apart in the name of “development.”

Even the Supreme Court has warned: if this continues, Himachal Pradesh may vanish—not literally, but ecologically. With steep slopes and fragile soil, the state is already vulnerable. Cut down forests, dig tunnels, build hotels on riverbanks, dump waste in streams—and expect nature to retaliate. Tourism, though economically vital, has become a double-edged sword. The uncontrolled boom in hotels, lodges, and homestays—many dangerously perched on unstable and vulnerable slopes—has reduced the land’s capacity to absorb floods. These structures clog natural drainage, creating deadly bottlenecks. Lack of proper EIAs, poor drainage, and unchecked mining make every rainfall a potential catastrophe.

Still, we dig deeper and build higher-racing toward environmental suicide.

It’s not ignorance—we know better. Several landmark reports have warned us:

The National Landslide Risk Management Strategy (2019) urged hazard zonation, slope stability norms, and improved building codes.

The Gadgil Committee Report (2011) recommended protecting ecologically sensitive zones in the Western Ghats. The Kasturirangan Committee Report (2013), though diluted, still called for strong regulation. But these reports ask for restraint—and restraint doesn’t win elections. Our politics, driven by greed and showmanship, ignores science. Many politicians themselves are invested in the real estate industry. Debates on ecological collapse are buried under noise about Trump’s ramblings or social media squabbles. Legislatures have become battlegrounds for vendettas, not platforms for national survival.

Do MPs from Uttarakhand or Himachal even know what the Gadgil or NDMA reports say? Have they ever raised these issues? Or are their voices drowned out by bulldozers and hollow slogans?

The media is equally complicit. It treats disasters like Dharali as just breaking news—some shocking visuals, a noisy panel, and then silence. No accountability. No follow-up. Just another TRP spike.

But Dharali is part of a larger pattern. Blasting for the Char Dham highway has destabilised slopes and filled valleys with debris. Thousands of trees have been cut. Without roots holding soil, even moderate rain can unleash deadly landslides.

Natural drainage channels are blocked by construction debris and mining waste. So, when it rains, water floods villages instead of flowing into rivers. Villagers have long warned about this. Ecology experts have pleaded. But bulldozers speak louder than warnings. Asphalt is laid. Mountains bleed silently.

It’s time we stop calling these “natural disasters.” These are man-made catastrophes—entirely preventable, tragically predictable.

Had we followed sustainable designs, conducted proper environmental assessments, reforested slopes, and regulated construction, much of the Dharali devastation could’ve been avoided. But the greed of real estate and the hospitality industry and gross negligence by the state government in permitting large scale constructions like star hotels in the riverbed and laying of roads and providing infrastructural facilities is highly condemnable. Development is necessary but for that one need not exploit the riverbed and add to the miseries. Hotels and motels should be constructed at safer places and during non-flood period tourists can be brought there by buses or private vehicles to enjoy nature and go back safely.

The mountains are not mute landscapes for plunder. They are living ecosystems with limits and laws. Break them, and consequences are swift. Hope all the politicos who are into real estate will learn some lessons and open their eyes at least now. The Modi-led government at the Centre and all Chief Ministers of hill states should immediately address this issue on a war-footing if they are serious about protecting nature and prevent tragedies.

Dharali’s destruction is more than a flood. It is a message—delivered in stone and water. If we continue this blind, arrogant path, the next disaster may not leave survivors to reflect on our folly.

We must shed the illusion of dominion over nature. The Himalayas, Western Ghats and Aravallis are not just terrain—they are the lungs and spines of the subcontinent.

Treat them with reverence or prepare for a future where disasters become our national calendar.

Because mountains always maintain the score—and we are losing.

(The author is former Chief Editor of The Hans India)