How Arctic ice melt is linked to India’s floods

THE sight of flooded fields in Punjab has become a grimly familiar image. But the roots of this year's devastation may lie thousands of kilometres away, in the icy reaches of the Arctic, where India maintains a vital research station. Since 2008, the modest base called Himadri has operated at Ny-Ålesund in Norway's Svalbard archipelago.

According to the National Centre for Polar and Ocean Research (NCPOR), "Himadri… is India's first research station located at the International Arctic Research base, Ny-Ålesund, Svalbard, Norway… inaugurated on 1 July 2008."

Here, a handful of Indian scientists monitor glaciers, sea ice, aerosols and ocean currents. Their data feeds directly into the climate models that attempt to predict the monsoon. For farmers in Punjab, Bengal or Maharashtra, what happens at Himadri may decide whether their crops ripen or rot.

Seasonal rainfall has been 8 per cent above normal this monsoon, but that bland statistic hides devastation on the ground: breached embankments, collapsed bridges, ruined fields and entire villages marooned. From the Himalayan cloudbursts of Kishtwar to the inundated lowlands of Bengal, this season has reminded the country that climate shocks are no longer local accidents, they are national in scale.

In Uttarakhand and Jammu and Kashmir, cloudbursts and flashfloods swept away schools, orchards and pilgrim camps. Maharashtra's Marathwada saw floods that marooned thousands and drowned cotton and sugarcane fields. In Andhra Pradesh's Godavari basin, more than 1,200 villages were inundated after upstream releases. In Karnataka's Bhima river basin, bridges went under water, cutting off entire taluks. Kolkata recorded its heaviest 24-hour rainfall since 1988, killing at least 12 persons and paralysing the city with waist-deep water.

As one wire service noted the knock-on effect in Punjab: "The floods have hit farmers hard… damage is likely to reduce supplies and push basmati rice prices higher."

The link to the Arctic is becoming clearer. An NCPOR study with Korean partners concluded that "the reduction of sea ice in the central Arctic region causes increased rainfall in central and northeastern India, while low sea ice in the Barents-Kara Sea delays the onset and intensity of the monsoon." Lead author Avinash Kumar explains: "These findings will help… provide better strategies on agriculture, water resources, and disaster management."

Vikash Kumar, another NCPOR scientist, adds: "Arctic glacial melting is a factor considered very important to the Indian monsoon… the monsoon doesn't occur in isolation. Factors such as El Niño, La Niña and changes in remote Arctic and Antarctic affect monsoons as they contribute to its variability on various timescales."

A long-term paleoclimate study found that "warm Arctic conditions were linked to intense rainfall over the Indian subcontinent while cold conditions were associated with weak spells of rain over the past 1000 years."

This year's disasters illustrate the stakes. In Punjab and Bengal, farmers saw entire harvests of rice lost. In Marathwada, villages waited for helicopters to drop food. In Andhra Pradesh, families scrambled onto rooftops as the Godavari rose.

Volunteer spirit has filled some gaps. As one local media report from Sultanpur Lodhi noted: "Floods recede, but chardi kala endures; volunteers continue work… over 300 tractor-trolleys have arrived (to plug a Beas breach)."

But the bigger challenge is prediction. If Arctic ice loss can intensify Indian rains, then monitoring Svalbard's glaciers is not academic; it is essential to protecting villages in Punjab, Bengal, Maharashtra and beyond.

The Arctic is warming nearly four times faster than the global average. For India, that acceleration is not just about polar bears or shipping lanes. It is about farmers in Ludhiana, cotton growers in Latur, shopkeepers in Kolkata and orchardists in Uttarkashi.

India's Arctic engagement also has diplomatic value. The country became an observer in the Arctic Council in 2013, joining a club where Russia, the US and China all jostle for influence. But the strongest argument for sustaining Himadri is not prestige, it is survival.

The monsoon has always been India's blessing and curse. Today, it is also hostage to melting ice thousands of kilometres away. As the flooded fields of Punjab rot and the streets of Kolkata lie under water, the message is stark: what happens in the Arctic no longer stays in the Arctic.

For India, the future of food security, urban resilience and rural livelihoods may depend on scientists huddled at a research hut in Svalbard. In their measurements of sea ice thickness and glacial retreat lies the key to predicting the floods that are now rewriting life across the subcontinent.

Shyam Bhatia is London Correspondent, The Tribune.