By: Aqib Javed Katoch
A doctor and his wife and two kids were asleep in their rented accommodation—just a short walk from the Ramban hospital they were posted at. In the din of the night a massive hailstorm struck the area followed by torrential rains. The couple woke up and knew this wasn’t normal. Rain soaked the hillside behind them and low rumble stirred the earth.
After sometime, mud crept in slowly through their kitchen window. What started as a slow seep turned into a surge of mudflow in the fraction of minutes-the window shattered! A flood of mud crashed into their home, sweeping away their belongings as they escaped from there anyhow. By now the whole town was buried under this mudflow in a matter of an hour or two. The devastation was not only tragic—it was revealing, unearthed a darker truth.
Chenab Valley sits with a gun to its head. On one side are the dams that dictate the river’s course and the valley’s fate and on the other side the geologically fragile, young mountains being chopped, drilled, and dynamited to carve highways and tunnels. All in the name of utilitarianism.
Utilitarianism, in theory, seeks the greatest good for the greatest number. But here who’s good is being served here when local lives are buried under debris and boulders? If progress comes at the price of instability, we are definitely not advancing — we are actually circling disaster. This is not sustainable development. It is disaster, only to be deferred.
What agitates the wounds is the hypocrisy. After every landslide, every deadly rockfall, a predictable cycle begins: media buzzes, experts warn, committees are formed, and environmental concern resurfaces. Yet on the ground, nothing changes, blasting resumes, hills continue to be hollowed out- The next disaster only to be scheduled in!
After the 2023 Pernote subsidence in Ramban, the National Green Tribunal (NGT) directed the J&K government to investigate after which a committee of top national experts was formed. The findings were clear: it wasn’t just nature—it was us. Poor drainage, reckless construction, and neglected wastewater systems were named culprits. But once the headlines faded, so did the urgency. As if nature hadn’t spoken clearly enough.
Chenab Valley is the candle that burns itself to light the nation.
Home to hydropower giants like Baglihar, Pakal Dul, and Dul Hasti, the region generates electricity for millions. Yet its people remain in the dark. According to NITI Aayog’s debut MPI report, Ramban tops the poverty charts at 35.26%, followed by Doda at 28.92%. The irony is stark: the valley lighting the nation is looming under darkness of poverty, illiteracy and unemployment, living the proverb—”chirag tale andhera”
Chenab valley is notorious for highway accidents and natural calamities, is often in the news for all the wrong reasons. It has become an experimental lab—where infrastructure projects are started, destroyed, renovated and stalled at will, without adequate compensation or concern for the local population that bears the brunt of this. The district bleeds silently for national progress, offering its chest cut open to carve engineering marvels like the Nashri Tunnel, the Pir Panjal Railway Tunnel, and, earlier, the Jawahar Tunnel. Yet, despite these sacrifices, Ramban remains the most impoverished and educationally backward district in Jammu & Kashmir. Adding insult to injury, the region has been overlooked for developmental schemes and critical reservations like the Pahari status—largely due to weak and indifferent leadership that fails to advocate for its people.
So here we are again:
The mud has settled. The machines are back. New tunnels are planned. And the people? Still waiting. For accountability. For infrastructure. For light—beyond just electricity.
The doctor couple returned to their duties, tending to heal the very people falling prey to the same cycle of disasters. But the future may not be as kind & forgiving. If we keep poking the land & surroundings without pause, one day, even candles won’t be enough to light what we lose.
Because a candle can only burn at both ends for so long before it’s gone.
The charity must begin at home
The writer is a resident of Ramban. aqibat.aj@gmail.com
