Washed Away: Punjab’s Farmers Face Ruin After Record Monsoon Floods
GURDASPUR, Sept 16 — The fertile lands of Punjab, once brimming with golden harvests and the scent of basmati rice, are now submerged under the murky waters of despair. Record monsoon rains have left behind a trail of destruction, rotting crops, collapsed homes, and broken lives across India’s agricultural heartland.
The devastation has been likened to the catastrophic floods of 1988, with this year’s deluge swallowing farmland nearly the size of London and New York City combined. In the worst-hit areas, the stench of decaying livestock and spoiled grain has replaced the fragrance of freshly turned soil.
Punjab, long celebrated as India’s “food bowl,” is now drowning—both literally and economically.
India’s Agriculture Minister, during a recent tour of the region, didn’t mince words: “The crops have been destroyed and ruined.” Punjab’s Chief Minister echoed this grim reality, calling it “one of the worst flood disasters in decades.”
Seventy-year-old Balkar Singh of Shehzada village, north of Amritsar, said he has never seen water rise with such fury. His fields are now marshes; his home, cracked and unsafe. “The last time we saw this was in 1988,” he says with a tremble in his voice.
This year’s monsoon dumped nearly 66% more rainfall than average in August alone, killing at least 52 people and affecting over 400,000 others. Entire villages like Toor, nestled between the Ravi River and Pakistan, were submerged within minutes as waters surged up to 10 feet high.
Surjan Lal, a farmworker from Gurdaspur district, described the moment the water arrived: “We were all asleep. By the time we realized, we were on rooftops watching everything—our animals, our beds—just float away.”
For farmers like 37-year-old Rakesh Kumar, the economic cost is unbearable. “I had taken extra land on lease this year. Everything is gone.” And with winter crop sowing season around the corner, time is running out. Fields must dry. Silt must be cleared. But for now, everything is still submerged.
Mandeep Kaur, a landless labourer, now sleeps under a tarpaulin in her courtyard. Her house has vanished, and so has the work she relied on to feed her family. “We worked on the landlords’ farms,” she says. “Now there are no farms left.”
Punjab’s prized basmati rice, known worldwide for its aroma and grain quality, may become a luxury item soon. Exports are expected to take a massive hit, especially as international buyers already shy away due to rising prices and US tariffs.
Even more troubling, Punjab opted out of the federal crop insurance scheme, assuming its strong irrigation network would shield it. That decision is now haunting many.
Back in Shehzada, Balkar Singh stands in knee-deep water, unsure what tomorrow holds. “I’ve seen floods,” he says, “but never hopelessness like this.”
Let us not just move on.
Let us not leave behind the cries buried under silt and tarpaulins. These are not just stories of floodwaters; they are stories of families, futures, and faith being tested. Climate change is no longer a distant threat. It’s here, uprooting lives one monsoon at a time. The time to act, plan, and stand with our farmers is now.