When the Dogra rulers governed Kashmir in the nineteenth century, they grasped one truth that remains unchanged: the Jhelum cannot be controlled, only respected.

They watched the river swell with snowmelt each spring and spill over its banks. And instead of trying to resist, they gave it room.

Floodplains were left untouched. Swamps and marshes were allowed to breathe. To protect Srinagar, they carved the Rambagh flood channel by hand, mile after mile, with spades and shovels, carrying water safely away from the city’s core.

These choices were practical, rooted in survival. The Dogras understood that the river’s moods had to be managed with patience, not arrogance.

Srinagar’s canals, now remembered in poems and old photographs, were also part of this defense. They eased pressure on the Jhelum, siphoned excess water, and gave the city a resilience that modern machinery has never quite replicated.

That caution has faded.

Each monsoon, the valley is reminded of what it has chosen to forget. The Jhelum rises slowly, its brown tide creeping into fields and........

© Kashmir Observer