The monsoon has arrived in India’s hills, not as a lifeline but as a threat.

In Himachal Pradesh, more than 78 people have lost their lives since the rains began on June 20, following a season of extreme downpours. The state has received 203.2 mm of rainfall between June 1 and July 8, far above the normal of 152.6 mm for this period. Some districts like Mandi, Shimla, and Una recorded excess rainfall of 110%, 89%, and 86% respectively. 

As the hills crumble under the weight of extreme weather and failed planning, the consequences are severe. Cloudbursts, flash floods and landslides have left entire villages isolated. Roads have been swept away. Bridges collapsed and beneath the debris lies the quiet collapse of critical public services. 

The total estimated damage? Rs 692 crore and rising.

Manufactured disaster

What’s unfolding in Mandi, Kullu, and Shimla is not simply the result of heavy rainfall. Climate change may be intensifying monsoon extreme, but it is our model of urbanisation that’s turning rain into a disaster. 

Mandi, the epicentre of the damage, has expanded rapidly, vertically and laterally with little regard for terrain, drainage, or carrying capacity. Despite clear geological warnings, construction has continued on unstable slopes. Natural drainage channels have been encroached or buried under roads. The town’s growth has outpaced its infrastructure. 

So, when cloudbursts struck this month, 8-10 in a single night, there were no systems left to absorb the shock. Even public officials were caught off guard, pointing to the absence of dedicated relief funds or formal cabinet roles to coordinate a response. What should have been a moment of leadership instead revealed the deep institutional fragility, a governance failure that amplified the physical collapse. 

Mandi is not a town hit by misfortune, but rather a warning of what lies ahead when fragile geographies are overbuilt and underprepared. It is a glimpse of what the future holds for other Himalayan and North Eastern towns if we do not course correct urgently. 

The WASH system

This crisis is not just about roads and bridges. It is also about water, sanitation and public health, the everyday systems that sustain life but are often overlooked in disaster planning.  The State Emergency Operations Centre confirms that 174 water supply schemes have stopped functioning. In places like Seraj, Thalout and Dharampur, intakes have been buried in debris, pipelines ruptured, and pump houses submerged. Meanwhile, on-site sanitation systems, mostly septic tanks and soak pits have failed under landslide pressure. Sewage has mixed with storm water, toilets have overflowed and groundwater is likely contaminated. 

These disruptions increase the risk of water-borne diseases, affect menstrual hygiene and cripple disaster recovery. Hospitals and relief camps cannot function with safe water. Schools and anganwadis remain shut. Recovery is delayed not only by the need to rebuild infrastructure but also by the time it takes to restore basic services. 

These patterns are not unique to Himachal. Sikkim, still recovering from the October 2023 glacial lake outburst that claimed over 100 lives, faced landslides again this monsoon. Assam and Mizoram saw dozens of deaths and the displacement of thousand due to extreme flooding triggered by the early June rains. In Uttarkashi, cloudbursts once again washed away the bridges and roads. 

The warning signs from the hills are not isolated, but systemic.

Urban growth

Migration, Tourism and Regional development have pushed small towns in hills into rapid urban expansion. But one can avoid the compounding of climate risk by reckless planning. Many of these towns are expanding on unstable slopes and ridge lines. Building codes are either outdated or unenforced. Natural buffers like forests are sacrificed to real estate and road projects. Drainage infrastructure has not been updated for decades. As a result, when there are frequent, extreme bursts of rain, towns flood, hills slide and systems collapse. 

Who is most vulnerable to these failures – households on the periphery, relying on shared toilets or common water connections are the first to lose access. Women and adolescent girls bear the brunt of water shortages, sanitation failures and disrupted health services. 

Redesign

This is the moment to shift from crisis reaction to long term redesign. The monsoon has exposed our fault lines – of terrain, infrastructure and governance. If we choose to rebuild differently, we can build back better. That begins with reimagining our water and sanitation systems. In mountain regions, WASH infrastructure must be designed not just for routine service delivery but for resilience. Gravity based systems need greater protection against landslides and erosion. Storage capacities must be expanded to buffer erratic rainfall. And decentralised solutions such as rainwater harvesting, mobile treatment units and container based sanitation must become mainstream. 

Planning too needs a fundamental overhaul where hazard maps do not sit idle in bureaucratic silos but rather integrated into urban development decisions. Construction on unstable slopes, near riverbanks or landslide prone corridors must be restricted, not rewarded. The cost of ignoring risk is now measured in lives and livelihoods. Across the region, critical infrastructure such as drinking water pipelines, community toilets, storm water drains must be retrofitted to withstand higher intensity rainfall and shifting soil conditions. 

Local governments stand at the frontline of this challenge, yet many are ill-equipped to respond. Strengthening their ability to plan, prepare and act means going beyond post-disaster compensation. It means consistent funding, real-time data and technical support embedded within local institutions. Redudancy must become the core principle with back up water sources, emergency toilets, distributed water storage and slope stabilisation structures. These are our layers of resilience which will protect our towns when the next shock comes. 

Disasters have confirmed that the ground beneath our feet is shifting both literally and figuratively. What remains is the political and administrative will to act. If we continue to flatted ridges, build vertical cities over forests, and carve highways into fragile slopes without regard for what the land can bear, the question is no longer if the next Mandi will happen, but where and how soon. 

India’s mountain towns deserve more than patchwork relief after every monsoon. They need climate smart planning, resilient infrastructure, and a governance model that represents the terrain as much as it serves the people who call it home. The rains will return and we shouldn’t be caught off guard again.

Ansu Susan Cherian is a technical expert of Integrated Water Management.

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