Suhail Khan
Who could have imagined that a single night would drown all dreams and sweep everything away? Who could have foreseen a calamity so immense that a lifetime of hard work could be destroyed in a moment for a family in South Kashmir’s Shopian, a family who were in the midst of preparing for their daughter’s marriage?
The excitement in our family was palpable, preparations for Sadaf’s (name changed) wedding, just a month away, were in full swing. The house brimmed with the joyful chaos of celebration. Children laughed and played, relatives had already arrived, and every day was filled with busy errands—cleaning, shopping, and eager conversations about what still needed to be done. The air was thick with anticipation and love.
Yet, no one could have guessed that all this fervor and joy would vanish in an instant—transformed into grief, sorrow, and utter helplessness. No one imagined that in the face of such devastation, a person can do nothing but stand still, completely powerless.
It was late on Wednesday night. While everyone was immersed in the wedding festivities, I felt a knot of worry tighten within me. The rain had been falling relentlessly. I remember hoping quietly that the weather would clear. But little did I know that before the skies could brighten, the floods would shatter our world.
Sadaf’s mother (name changed) now sits with tears she cannot hold back. Her eyes are red, her voice choked with disbelief. “What just happened?” she whispers. “How could the department’s negligence ruin our daughter’s dreams?” Despite approaching the flood control department again and again, their apathy washed away her future.
We lost everything we had prepared. In one cruel moment, our joys came to a halt. Our backs are broken. Our hearts are heavy.
A cloud of despair has settled over our home. Sazia (name changed), Sadaf’s elder sister, watched a year’s worth of effort scatter in the muddy water. “Those dreams are broken,” she says softly. “Our hopes are shattered.” This is the second time—the floods of 2014 also wrecked our home. But this time, it’s more than destruction. It has broken us.
Sitting alone in a corner, she murmurs, “It was supposed to be our big day… our sister’s marriage. Now we are left with nothing. We are at God’s mercy.”
Sadaf’s brother-in-law (name changed) adds, “This is the second time in ten years. The department’s neglect can drown a common person’s life work in seconds.” With just twenty days left until the wedding, everything is lost—everything spoiled, every dream shattered. The flood didn’t just take our belongings; it took our spirit, leaving us wrapped in grief.
This is how floods leave their mark: with a trail of pain. They destroy, they scatter, they break. They wash away not just things, but hopes—turning joy into sorrow, and leaving behind a silence that echoes with loss.
The memory of the 2014 floods, one of the worst in over a century, made the residents of Kashmir anxious again on Wednesday. Their concern grew as the overflowing Jhelum River and its tributaries caused flooding in several areas of south and central Kashmir, including the outskirts of Srinagar.
However, the administration claimed to have evacuated approximately 10,000 people from the flood-affected areas.
Chief Minister Omar Abdullah blamed the governments and administrations of the past 11 years, stating that the situation would not have been this bad (or so severe) if they had taken timely corrective measures, such as dredging the Jhelum and its flood channels.
