Dharamsala floods: Apathy, indifference, mindless exploitation of fragile ecosystem exposed

The sound of gushing water, once a symbol of serenity in Himachal Pradesh’s mountain valleys, turned into a deafening roar of destruction in Dharamsala’s Manuni Khud as the year’s monsoon hit the state last week.

The flashfloods ravaged the region, claiming many lives and sweeping away years of fragile stability. As the waters receded, it has left behind more than debris, which expose the ugly truth of decades-long political apathy, administrative indifference and unchecked exploitation of a fragile ecosystem.

A visit to the under-construction hydro-power project site on the Manuni Khud shows less of development and more of devastation. Massive scars run across the hillsides. Raw wounds, where slate stones have been mindlessly extracted by the mining ‘mafia’, are visible.

The slate-rich mountains around Manuni Khud are geologically fragile, part of the lesser Himalayan formations that are young, unstable and highly prone to landslides and seismic activity. Yet, the mountains have been drilled, blasted and razed without environmental assessments

or slope-stabilisation measures.

The stone crushers, installed without proper permissions, dot the landscape. Dust, noise and the ominous grinding of machines, symptoms of development that has spun out of regulatory control, echo through the valley.

In several places, one could see the natural flow of Manuni Khud diverted by narrowing it’s bed and obstructing its channels. The power generation house of the hydel project has also been constructed on the riverbed by diverting its flow.

So, when torrential rains hit the catchment areas, the swollen rivulet had nowhere to go. Denied its natural path, the water turned violent. It burst through the embankments, swept away the tin sheds and homes built carelessly for the labourers along its banks, and claimed multiple lives.

In the past few months, the government departments didn’t turn a blind eye entirely. The mining department issued notices, even levied penalties—but enforcement remained confined to paperwork. The mining continued and construction surged ahead. Nature, as always, watched and waited for a tragedy to happen.

An inquiry conducted by a Sub-Divisional Magistrate had earlier found unregulated constructions. Yet, that too was buried under bureaucratic files, gathering dust.

And, when the flashfloods tore through the region this monsoon, it wasn’t just a natural calamity, it was a brutal consequence of human overreach- that carried away many lives and natural beauty of the region.

The political leaders in power, rather than questioning the unregulated construction works, appeared more concerned with protecting “development” narratives.

The bureaucrats passed the buck. The environment activists were ignored.

The villagers who raised concerns were silenced with vague assurances and administrative indifference.

The local community, once hopeful of development bringing jobs and connectivity, now feels betrayed. “They told us this project would change our lives,” said Ram Thakur, a resident of the nearby Khaniyara village. “It did but only for the worse.”

Atul Bhardwaj, a local environmentalist and an RTI activist, demands that the power project be halted until an independent technical audit is conducted by experts. He demands environment compensation, accountability, and assurance that such a tragedy won’t strike again. Until then, rivulets like Manuni Khud will remain reluctant messengers—reminding us, in the most brutal way, of the cost of ignoring nature.