Shimla, Aug 7,
The recent destruction in Dharali village of Uttarakhand’s Harshil Valley and the earlier devastation in Himachal Pradesh’s Seraj Valley point to an unsettling trend in the Himalayas—disasters that appear natural but are deeply amplified by human actions. While a detailed report on the Uttarakhand tragedy is still awaited, initial visuals and accounts suggest that, like in Seraj, the fury of flash flood was worsened by human interference in natural water pathways. Dharali’s riverside development, close proximity of homestays, hotels and roads to vulnerable slopes, raise familiar concerns. The parallels may not yet be quantified, but the patterns already resonate.
In contrast, Seraj’s tragedy has been documented in greater detail. A civil society assessment by Himalaya Niti Abhiyan offers a demoralising picture of how decades of planning failure and encroachment turned a natural event into a large-scale human disaster. On the night of June 30, 2025, flash floods and landslides across a 35-40 km stretch in Seraj Valley left 7 dead, 21 missing, over 400 families homeless, and caused damage worth an estimated ₹500 crore. The state government, even weeks later, had not released an official damage assessment—prompting activists to step in.
The report identifies multiple reasons for the magnitude of loss, most notably unregulated construction in flood-prone zones. Over the past four decades, the Thunag region, once a small settlement with 20–25 homes, transformed into a bustling administrative and commercial hub. Government offices, markets, residential clusters, and court buildings were built close to or directly along the Bakhli Nala, a seasonal stream known for swelling during monsoon. As infrastructure crept into the floodplain, it left little room for water to disperse—when the rains came, the water simply reclaimed its original course, destroying everything in its path.
The report also highlights how past flood events in the region were ignored. Despite three to four earlier instances of flooding in Thunag, no significant relocation or structural mitigation measures were undertaken. Encroachments were allowed to continue, and temporary damage was repaired without rethinking long-term risk. This time, 622 houses and 350 cowsheds were completely destroyed. Around 150 shops in Thunag Bazaar were damaged or swept away entirely. Electricity and drinking water supply were disrupted in over 25 panchayats. Public buildings like schools and courts suffered structural losses. A 13 MW hydropower project was entirely washed away.
Agricultural losses added another layer of despair. Thousands of bighas of farmland and apple orchards were obliterated, with debris from uphill landslides burying not just crops but livelihoods. Polyhouses used for floriculture collapsed, leaving farmers in financial ruin. In many villages, fertile land has now turned into fields of boulders and rubble.
Another key reason identified in the report is widespread deforestation and slope destabilization in the surrounding areas—from Magrugala to Bakhli and beyond. Large swathes of forest land have slipped, taking thousands of trees and topsoil with them. This has contributed significantly to the increased volume of debris and water runoff, overwhelming both natural drainage and man-made infrastructure.
The Himalaya Niti Abhiyan report also notes a critical failure in institutional response. Relief camps are still housing many affected families. Roads remain blocked or dangerous, with major routes like Chail-Janjehli and Thunag-Kalhani rendered impassable for days. In some areas, basic services like electricity have yet to be restored. The government’s delayed damage assessment and slow rehabilitation effort have only deepened the crisis.
Ultimately, Seraj’s disaster is not an isolated case—it is the result of a slow-building crisis rooted in administrative neglect, planning lapses, and ecological blindness. It serves as a documented warning for the entire Himalayan belt, including places like Dharali, where similar developmental choices are unfolding. The cost of ignoring these lessons is no longer theoretical. It is measured in lost lives, broken homes, and communities struggling to rebuild from ruin.
Until we stop building over rivers, on unstable slopes, and in defiance of the very ecosystem we depend on, the mountains will continue to remind us that they cannot be subdued—only respected.
About the Author
The HimachalScape Bureau comprises seasoned journalists from Himachal Pradesh with over 25 years of experience in leading media conglomerates such as The Times of India and United News of India. Known for their in-depth regional insights, the team brings credible, research-driven, and balanced reportage on Himachal’s socio-political and developmental landscape.
