Kashmir Floods: What Was Supposed to be a Holiday Turned into My Worst Nightmare

I’ve never been more excited to be on a plane than I was two days ago. Why, you ask? Because I was finally going home after being stranded in Srinagar for 7 days. Yes, 7 days of bare necessities, no communication with the family and being witness to a lot of suffering and misery. Lucky for me, my parents and I were staying in a hotel perched on the top of a hill, overlooking the Dal Lake. The day we arrived the lake looked more glorious than ever. I kept repeating the famous quote to myself, “agar is dharti par jannat kahin hai to sirf yahi hai, yahi hai, yahi hai...” (If there is paradise on the face of the Earth, it is here, it is here, it is here). Who would have thought that rain which is usually considered a good omen, would end up being an omen of devastation for Kashmir?

The night before the calamity we were returning to the hotel after dinner. There was something not right about that day; I had never seen so many people out on the streets. Later I realized, that they had been asked to evacuate their homes as a flood warning was sounded. All their life savings, their symbols of strife and success, gone in a moment. The next day things got even worse, all flights, including the one I was to be on were cancelled. The Airport road was submerged, and the alternative road had broken. The hotel staff told us that we couldn’t step out, as the water was now rising with every passing hour and filling up the streets.  My heart sank. I came out into the hotel lobby and the place was swarming with people. I met a number of families who had to vacate their homes, leave all their belongings and flee to safety. Our hotel was the safest place to be in right now. But not for too long. The stock was limited and it was the first time that I had seen a signboard in a hotel restaurant read “Do not waste any food”. A lady walked up to my mother and asked her if she had any medicine for Blood Pressure or Sugar. She was running out of supplies and there was no chemist shop around; the ones that were there had probably been washed away due to the floods in Kashmir. I overheard a newlywed talk on the phone, she was crying, her husband was stuck in the attic when the disaster struck and she couldn’t trace him. A member of the hotel staff, told me that her four-storey house was now completely submerged and that she couldn’t get in touch with her family.

Night time was the worst. The only thought that helped us get through it was that tomorrow would be a better day. But to no avail. We had spent five days in the hotel before an Army vehicle came to rescue us. We were taken to the Army Cantonment. The sight I saw en route will haunt me forever. There was a five kilometre stretch with people; young, old, families with infants, sitting on the streets, waiting to board the chopper, the only means to get to the Airport. They hadn’t even been given the basic necessities like water, and some accused the government of ignoring their plight. Many of them had been sleeping for five days on the street, hoping their turn would come.

That night we spent in the Cantonment. I was told to keep my bags packed. Next day we’d be going home. Out of excitement or rather nervousness, of not knowing whether I was going home in fact or if this was yet another false call, I woke up around 4 am. At 7 am we were taken to the Army base where we waited for our turn to board the helicopter. I saw the jawaans gobble their breakfast before heading out for duty. They were going to be taken in the chopper in lots of 7 for the rescue operation. One of them was probably 19, he had a smile on his face, or maybe it was him trying to put up a brave front. I could only pray for their safe return. I saw some helicopters land with supplies of food, water and medicines, while some had rescued stranded people. There were a number of medical teams of the Armed Forces Medical Services treating the injured and ailing. The relief operations launched by the Army for the Kashmir floods had been going on for days now. Looking at the sight and their devotion to the country I felt like my worries were so miniscule; these brave men and women deserve more honour and respect than they currently receive, and they still never complain. They work with a smile on their face, always.

It was probably around 11:30 am when a helicopter landed and about 15 of us boarded it to go to the Airport. I shouldn’t have looked down at that moment, because I couldn’t believe what I saw. The entire city of Srinagar had drowned, it was unrecognizable. As we descended, I breathed a sigh of relief. One step closer to home. It was a long wait outside the Airport, but no one complained. We were all just glad that the worst was over. As my name was called out I ran to get the slip, my pass to enter the Airport, and headed towards the Air India counter. And as my parents and I got onto that relief flight, I couldn’t help but think of the brave jawaans and their smiling faces. It’s because of them that I’m home now, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank them enough.