As the monsoon rains hit Guwahati this morning, the city slipped once again into its familiar ritual — waterlogged roads, stranded commuters, and flooded neighborhoods from Jorabat National Highway to Chandmari, Beltola, and the ever-faithful flood zones Nabin Nagar and Anilnagar. If you thought this was breaking news, think again. This is the same old story that the city seems doomed to repeat every year, like clockwork.
Remember the government’s big promise during the eviction drive in Silsako? The one where we were told, with much fanfare, that 90% of the floodwaters would be safely diverted to the Silsako Beel? That natural basin was supposed to be our flood-saving hero. Yet, here we are, year after year, watching helplessly as the waters drown our streets and homes. If the floodwater diversion plan was a Bollywood script, it would be a comedy of errors.
The reality is stark: Silsako Beel has been more or less turned into an urban wasteland — thanks to rampant encroachments, shrinking wetlands, and zero maintenance. So much for that “solution.” It raises a glaring question: Was that promise ever more than just political theatre? Or has the city simply accepted that floods are its permanent monsoon companion?
The flood crisis is not just a matter of too much rain. It’s also a story of rapid urban expansion with zero foresight. Wetlands that once soaked up rainwater have been paved over or stuffed with illegal constructions. The city’s drainage systems—some decades old—have been ignored, clogged, and left to rot. All this means when the rain pours, the water has nowhere to go except through our streets and homes.
And if you think climate change is a distant problem, think again. Increasingly erratic and heavy monsoon showers are part of the new reality. But instead of smart planning or climate resilience, Guwahati’s response has been a shrug and a quick fix that never lasts.
For the people living through it, these floods are no joke. Traffic chaos, property damage, waterborne diseases, lost income—the annual misery is a cruel cycle. The most vulnerable bear the heaviest burden, their lives turned upside down every monsoon while the rest of us watch from dry sidelines, hoping this year will be different.
So what’s the magic formula to break this endless loop? Sadly, it’s not rocket science:
Restore the Wetlands: Instead of concrete jungles, protect and revive the natural basins like Silsako Beel that can soak up floodwaters.
Enforce Urban Planning: Stop the illegal constructions and expansion in flood-prone zones—yes, that means serious action, not empty threats.
Fix Drainage Systems: Clean, upgrade, and maintain the drainage networks regularly. It’s amazing how simple infrastructure can save cities from drowning.
Prepare for Climate Realities: Invest in early warning systems and climate-smart urban designs, instead of burying our heads in the sand.
Engage Communities: Flood preparedness needs to be a shared responsibility, not just the government’s headache.
But will these happen? Given the track record, one can only be cautiously optimistic. Every monsoon, the same promises are recycled, the same plans dusted off, and the same floods wreak havoc. Meanwhile, Guwahati’s residents are left wading through yet another “flood season” that never really ends.
If this city wants to move beyond being a monsoon punching bag, the time for platitudes is over. Guwahati needs real, sustained action, not just annual hand-wringing. Because floods aren’t just natural disasters here—they are man-made, year after year, by neglect and shortsightedness.
So as the waters rise yet again, Guwahati’s citizens might want to ask: When will the flood story finally end? And more importantly, who will finally be held accountable for letting this cycle drown us all?