Punjab, once hailed as India’s food bowl, is drowning. Entire villages lie submerged, crops worth thousands of crores destroyed and lives swept away in torrents of muddy water. But as the state reels from its worst floods since 1988, a hard question echoes across the plains: was this really nature’s fury, or a disaster scripted by decades of human negligence?
The Scale of the Crisis
According to Punjab’s Revenue and Disaster Management Department, the toll is staggering. Over 3.87 lakh people across 15 districts are affected. At least 51 people have lost their lives. More than 23,000 have been evacuated and 123 relief camps shelter over 5,400 inmates. Agriculture - the state’s backbone - has taken a crippling hit, with 1.84 lakh hectares of crops destroyed.
In Gurdaspur alone, 40,169 hectares have gone under water, the highest in the state. Amritsar reports 27,154 hectares lost, Fazilka 19,036 hectares and Kapurthala 17,574 hectares. From basmati and cotton to sugarcane, Punjab’s fields lie drowned, raising fears of food inflation beyond the state’s borders.
Dams in the Dock
The first set of fingers point at the dams. The Bhakra, Pong and Ranjit Sagar dams—controlled not by the state, but by the Bhakra Beas Management Board (BBMB), a central body—have become a lightning rod of controversy. Farmer leader Balbir Singh Rajewal minced no words: “This is not a natural calamity. Reservoirs should have been managed better, water released in time and villages warned. Instead, they sacrificed lives and crops.”
Chief Minister Bhagwant Mann too alleged bias: “BBMB decides everything, Punjab suffers. Even the security of Bhakra dam was taken away from Punjab Police and handed to CISF. How can the state protect its people if stripped of control?”
Yet critics say the AAP government itself neglected flood-preparedness. Embankments were left weak, canals choked with silt and warnings brushed aside. Retired Lt General K.J.S. Dhillon told India Today: “Anti-flood bundhs in Punjab could have been as strong as the Great Wall of China. Funds were sanctioned but never used. That is not oversight—it is criminal negligence.”
A Political Deluge
The blame game has intensified. Union Agriculture Minister Shivraj Singh Chouhan accused Punjab of allowing illegal sand mining that weakened riverbeds and embankments: “Natural safeguards were destroyed by reckless mining. The state government must take responsibility.”
Punjab’s opposition, however, targeted the ruling AAP. Congress president Amrinder Singh Raja Warring alleged: “Farmers petitioned for bundh repairs months ago. Dams should have been emptied gradually. Instead, the government woke up too late. Now Punjab pays the price.”
Opposition leaders further claimed that while preparations should have begun in February–March, the AAP government was preoccupied with Delhi elections. “They ignored rain warnings and started preparing just few days before the monsoon hit,” one leader said.
Echoes of 1988
The present calamity has revived bitter memories of the ‘1988 floods’, when over 600 lives were lost and 9,000 villages inundated. The similarities are stark—sudden dam releases, swollen rivers, collapsing bunds and unprepared administrations.
Agriculture experts warn the consequences may last years: “This is not just heavy rain. This is the result of unplanned development, sand mining and neglected infrastructure. Punjab’s farm economy, already fragile, now faces a blow worse than 1988.”
What makes the present tragedy even more damning is that it comes barely a year after Punjab was ravaged by the 2023 floods. Then too, experts had warned about the urgent need to desilt dams, strengthen embankments, and prepare for extreme rainfall events. Reports were filed, committees were formed, but little changed on the ground. “It is as if the state learnt nothing from 2023 floods,” said water management experts, adding that the warnings were ignored both by the state government and central authorities.
A Law Overlooked
Ironically, the Dam Safety Act, 2021 - designed to prevent such disasters by mandating inspections and accountability—remains in limbo. Punjab resisted its rollout, claiming it gave too much power to Delhi. Experts say the result is a dangerous vacuum where neither state nor Centre assumes full responsibility.
The Food Bowl in Peril
The human cost is visible in flooded relief camps and ruined harvests. 23,000 displaced, 51 dead, nearly 2 lakh hectares of crops gone, and livestock losses still mounting. The government’s relief package Rs 20,000 per acre to farmers, Rs 4 lakh to families of the deceased - has been dismissed as token compared to the devastation.
For a state that once fed the nation, the question stings deeper: was Punjab struck down by a monsoon beyond control - or by years of negligence, political squabbles and institutional apathy?
The Spirit of Chardikala
Yet amid despair, Punjab’s resilience shines. Gurdwaras have thrown open their doors for langar and shelter, NGOs are running rescue boats, Punjabi film stars are mobilising funds and volunteers from across the state have rushed supplies to relief camps. Doctors, students and ordinary villagers are stepping up where governments faltered.
In Gurdaspur, a farmer who lost his standing paddy crop was seen cooking langar for stranded families on a roadside chulha, saying simply: “Jo rabb da hai, oh vad ke aunda hai. Today others need it more.”
It is stories like these that echo the true spirit of Chardikala (eternal optimism) showing that while politics may divide and administrations may fail, Punjab’s people stand tall, united in the face of disaster.