- By: Dr. Muhammad Tayyab Khan Singhanvi (Ph.D)
Rain is a divine blessing. But when it collides with human negligence, failed planning, ecological disruption, and the incompetence of state institutions, it turns into a calamity that devours thousands of lives. Today, the northern and mountainous regions of Pakistan Buner, Shangla, Bajaur, Swat, Gilgit-Baltistan, Azad Kashmir, and Mansehra stand on the brink of what can only be called a minor apocalypse. Torrential rains, devastating floods, and deadly landslides are painting a tragic chapter in human history. Water pours from the skies, the earth caves in, rivers rage, mountains crumble, villages vanish and all we do is count: corpses, losses, promises, and claims.
The recent torrential rains in Gilgit not only altered the course of the Hunza River but unleashed a wave of destruction across the entire Baltistan Division one that will haunt memories for years. Naltar, once a paradise for tourists, now resembles a mournful image of washed-away roads, powerless homes, and stranded families. A major portion of the Naltar Expressway has been swept away. Three powerhouses have ceased operations, and electricity supply has been completely severed. In Skardu, the Sadpara powerhouse has stopped functioning, cutting off electricity altogether. Tourists, local residents, and rescue personnel all stand helpless.
The region of Beshoonri in Pir Baba, once a spiritual and cultural hub, is now nothing but a shadow of its past completely erased from existence. No house stands, no street remains, and hundreds of people are missing. In the last 48 hours alone, 204 lives have been lost in Buner, though some sources report the death toll as high as 213. Buner, the worst-hit district in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, is draped in mourning. Funerals follow funerals. Multiple bodies in a single row, mass graves in one village, and such a high number of deaths that coffins have run short.
Rescue agencies, local administration, and the Pakistan Army are doing their best, but when roads vanish, bridges collapse, mountains block access, and water breaks through barriers human efforts fall helplessly short. The search for bodies from the debris continues. Local people, by their own means, are still trying to retrieve the dead. Other regions Tor Ghar, Mansehra, Bajaur, Swat, Battagram, and Lower Dir face the same catastrophe. Thousands of homes are destroyed, livestock swept away, fields ruined, shops and vehicles lost to raging floodwaters.
A conservative estimate places the death toll from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Gilgit-Baltistan, and Azad Kashmir at over 351. In Gilgit-Baltistan alone, since June, 35 people have died, 35 have been injured, 318 houses have been completely destroyed, and 674 have been partially damaged. Every district of Baltistan, Diamer, Hunza, and Ghanche has been severely impacted. In Shangla, flood fatalities have reached 37; villages like Koz Pau, Choga, and Puran now resemble post-apocalyptic landscapes.
A new and more intense spell of monsoon rains has begun. Cities across Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Peshawar, Mardan, Swabi, Abbottabad are experiencing flooding, landslides, and destruction. A cloudburst in Swabi triggered havoc: 25 people were swept away in floodwaters, dozens of homes destroyed, many trapped under rubble, 35 injured, and over 40 still missing. Some people remain stranded on rooftops. The operation to retrieve bodies and rescue the injured continues. In Peshawar, Swat, and Mingora, heavy rainfall persists, causing streams and rivers to overflow and enter homes. The Karakoram Highway is blocked. Roads in Karak have washed away; communication and power systems lie in shambles. In Galiyat, landslides occurred in several locations. A pickup truck in Havelian was swept away. With connecting roads shut, rescue teams face severe challenges. Fifty children and several women have been rescued from the floods.
In Swat alone, 400 houses and 124 schools have been affected. According to the National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA), as of now, 660 deaths have been confirmed due to this monsoon season: 392 in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, 164 in Punjab, 29 in Sindh, 20 in Balochistan, 32 in Gilgit-Baltistan, 15 in Azad Kashmir, and 8 in Islamabad.
In Swabi’s remote and mountainous Gandaf region, villages like Dalori Bala and Sarkoi Payan witnessed cloudbursts and lightning strikes. Torrential downpours caused dozens of houses to collapse. Twenty-five people, including women, children, and the elderly, were confirmed dead, and dozens were injured. In Dalori Bala, 20 lives were lost, and in Sarkoi Payan, two women and their children perished. In Colonel Sher Khan Kalay, a young man named Talha drowned in the floodwaters. Landslides at Bada village trapped several vehicles, and in Kola Gar, roofs collapsed, burying livestock. The causeway connecting Marghuz and Zaida was swept away. Entire families are now homeless. Crops have been destroyed. Power and mobile communication systems are down. Army helicopters reached the villages to assist in evacuation. Rescue teams and local volunteers retrieved the dead and injured, but the harsh terrain delayed operations. Heavy rainfall has flooded homes and shops in Swabi, Zaida, Marghuz, Tindkoi, Anbar, Chota Lahore, and beyond. Low-lying areas have submerged. In Mingora, streams have overflowed, and in Haripur, water torrents blocked the Karakoram Highway and shut down Silk Route traffic on both sides.
This is not merely a natural calamity it is a consequence of our collective negligence. In 2022, nationwide floods affected 33 million people and caused billions in damages. But what followed? Was any comprehensive national policy devised? Were NDMA and the Provincial Disaster Management Authorities (PDMAs) equipped with modern resources, manpower, and autonomy? Were environmental assessments conducted in high-risk areas? Were early warning systems modernized? The answer is silence. A deafening silence that echoes through valleys where the past buries the future.
Climate scientists have warned for years: Pakistan is among the nations most vulnerable to climate change. Sharp temperature rises, disrupted monsoon patterns, rapidly melting glaciers, and increasingly intense rainfall were all glaring signs that demanded urgent action. But our development plans, political rhetoric, and budget priorities were directed elsewhere. And now, we stand at the edge of a disaster where mere words of sympathy are no longer enough we need action.
Cloudbursts have been forecasted in Punjab’s Mianwali, Chakwal, Talagang, and Attock districts. The collision of eastern and western air currents is expected to intensify this monsoon spell. Urban flooding and cloudbursts may soon engulf major cities. Are we prepared? Are our hospitals, shelters, drainage systems, food supply chains, and communication infrastructures equipped to withstand this intensity? The answer remains a resounding no.
In the face of this crisis, temporary relief is important but far from sufficient. The state must immediately formulate a comprehensive national strategy for environmental protection, water conservation, and disaster preparedness. This must include improved water reservoirs, modern drainage systems, relocation of vulnerable populations, and trained local emergency volunteers. Additionally, NDMA and PDMA must be given full autonomy and resources. Provincial governments and district administrations need both authority and funding. Public awareness campaigns are vital.
What is happening right now in the affected regions is no movie scene or myth it is real. A brutal reality that buries hundreds of families alive each day. A scene no camera can fully capture. Cries drowned by the roar of rain. Silent sighs buried beneath river waves. And the haunting question buried with each corpse: “Had we been prepared, could this life have been saved?”
If we still fail to act, this minor apocalypse will escalate into a major one in the coming years. And then, history will remember us not just as victims of natural disasters but as culprits of our own downfall.