Each monsoon, our mountains replay the same nightmare: a sudden cloudburst, a roaring nalla, a wall of mud and boulders, and then silence where markets, camps, and homes once stood. Himachal Pradesh and Jammu & Kashmir have lived this story too many times. What links these tragedies is not fate. It’s where and how we build. Settlements, shops, hotels, pilgrim camps, and public offices sited on riverbanks and nalla corridors bear the brunt—every time.

This is not abstract. On 12th July 2021, a cloudburst above Dharamshala’s Bhagsu Nag sent a debris-rich torrent through a tight urban/tourist pocket, hurling vehicles like toys and ripping through storefronts within minutes. The catchment was small and steep; the rainfall was intense and localized; the damage concentrated exactly where the nalla runs through town.

A fortnight later, 28 July 2021, Honzar (Hunzar) in Kishtwar faced the same mechanics. A cloudburst drove a furious mix of water, boulders, and uprooted trees down a hillside channel cutting through the village. Houses within tens of metres of the nalla were obliterated; 26 died and many injured. Researchers and responders said plainly: with that volume and debris load, engineering alone could not have saved those riverside structures. Location sealed the outcome.

On 8th July 2022, the cloudburst near the Amarnath cave slammed a pilgrim campground set on a flood path below the shrine. Tents and community kitchens stood where a debris flow would naturally surge; the result was tragic loss of 16 lives and a massive rescue. Again, exposure—not only rainfall—drove casualties.

Then came 2023 in Himachal: a cluster of high-intensity rain and cloudburst episodes from Shimla to Mandi to Kullu. Situation reports flagged the same aggravators: encroached floodways, boxed nallas through towns, under-sized (and then blocked) culverts, road cuts that toe-sliced slopes, and infrastructure crowding river........

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