By Sardar Khan Niazi

Nature seldom strikes without warning. Yet, when the rivers that flow from India into Pakistan swelled recently, bringing devastating floods into our plains, it felt as though we had been ambushed. The deluge submerged villages, swept away livestock, and displaced thousands. While the waters may have arrived suddenly, the danger was not unforeseen. This was a crisis that demanded foresight, preparation, and resolve — qualities we, regrettably, did not exhibit. This year’s floods were caused in large part by the release of excess water from India’s eastern rivers. Under the Indus Waters Treaty, India is within its rights to manage and utilize the eastern rivers — Ravi, Sutlej, and Beas. However, sudden and excessive releases, particularly without timely communication or coordination, have downstream consequences. Pakistan, being the lower riparian state, pays the price. Climate change is altering South Asia’s monsoon patterns. Glacial melt, erratic rainfall, and extreme weather are pushing river systems beyond historical behavior. What once was predictable no longer is. Infrastructure built decades ago — both upstream and downstream — is ill-equipped to handle today’s water surges. However, what’s even more troubling is our own state of unpreparedness. Pakistan has known for years that monsoon flooding, especially due to cross-border flows, is a growing threat. Yet, floodplain encroachments continue, early warning systems remain underfunded, and inter-agency coordination is weak at best. When the rivers rose, provincial and federal disaster management authorities scrambled into action — but far too late to avert loss. There is a desperate need for reform at multiple levels. First, diplomacy must be sharpened. While India and Pakistan have strained ties, mechanisms under the Indus Waters Treaty must be reinvigorated. Timely data-sharing, advance warnings of water releases, and cooperative flood management protocols can save lives. The Permanent Indus Commission exists for a reason — it must not be allowed to become a symbolic body with no real-time utility. Second, Pakistan must confront its own infrastructural shortcomings. Our river embankments, drainage systems, and flood diversion channels are aging and under-maintained. Budget allocations for flood resilience are minimal compared to the scale of the threat. A national audit of flood infrastructure is needed, followed by decisive investments. Third, and perhaps most critically, we must stop treating floods as seasonal anomalies and start seeing them as structural risks. This means incorporating climate adaptation into national planning — from agriculture and urban housing to transportation and water storage. Floodplain zoning laws must be enforced. Encroachments on riverbanks, often by politically connected actors, cannot be tolerated any longer. What happened this monsoon was not just a flood — it was a failure of governance, planning, and diplomacy. The rivers may have carried water from India, but the damage was multiplied by our own inertia. And for every family displaced, for every child who now sleeps under open skies, the cost of that inertia becomes painfully human. In the long run, climate shocks will only grow more severe. It is up to us whether we remain passive recipients of disaster or active builders of resilience. Water may flow from upstream, but accountability must flow from within. Pakistan cannot afford to be caught off guard again. The next flood will not wait for us to be ready. The tragedy is that for every family now displaced, every child without a school, and every community poisoned by waterborne disease, the real failure lies in our inertia. This must change. We need accountability, data-driven diplomacy, and infrastructure hardened against increasing extremes. We must reclaim floodplains with science and discipline–not leave them to bulldozers and squatters. Climate shocks are no longer rare; they are the new normal. Let this flood be our final wake-up call.