When Fields Drowned, Hope Floated

The numbers themselves are stark. Acres of ripening paddy-worth billions in economic terms and  priceless in the lives of farmers-vanished. Families fled in panic as rising waters swept away  homes, schools, and livestock. For many, it wasn’t just property that was lost, but the certainty of  their next meal, their next season, their next year.

Human Consequences Beyond Statistics

Behind every number lies a human story. In Pathankot and Gurdaspur, families huddled on rooftops  for days, signaling with makeshift flags until help arrived. In Fazilka, villagers tied belongings to  trees in the hope of salvaging something when the waters receded. In Tarn Taran, women carried  children in metal tubs across flooded lanes.

The floods were merciless. They did not discriminate between wealthy farmers and landless  laborers. Fields, homes, and memories disappeared at the same speed.

The First Response: People Themselves

And yet, as has been the case throughout Punjab’s history, the first line of defense wasn’t official  machinery. It was the people themselves. Neighbors ferried neighbors on tractors that doubled as  lifeboats. Families shared flour, sugar, and firewood. Gurdwaras opened their kitchens almost  immediately, serving langar to anyone in need-strangers, migrants, and the displaced.

It was chaotic but deeply familiar. Punjab has faced floods before-in 1988, 2004, 2008, 2010,  2013, 2019, and 2023. Each time, the reflex is the same: don’t wait, act.

Organised Relief Efforts

Soon, larger forces joined in. Multiple NGOs mobilised. The Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak  Committee sent teams to set up temporary shelters. The Sukhmani Sewa Society in Fazilka  coordinated food distribution and basic supplies. Grassroots groups gathered donations from the  diaspora and local residents.

Among these collective efforts, The Kalgidhar Society, Baru Sahib, distinguished itself for the scale  and speed of its response. Known primarily for running 130 schools across rural North India, the  Society quickly repurposed 15 of its Akal Academies into relief camps.

Schools Into Lifelines

These academies became far more than just emergency shelters. Classrooms that once echoed with  lessons now held displaced families. Courtyards turned into ration warehouses. Kitchens churned

out thousands of meals daily. Even playgrounds found new roles-some as medical clinics, others  as repair workshops where villagers fixed water-damaged machinery and equipment.

The transition was seamless, almost instinctive. An institution of education became an institution of  survival.

Partnership With Authorities

The Society did not work in isolation. Its volunteers coordinated closely with the National Disaster  Response Force, as well as local administrators-the district commissioners (DCs) and sub divisional magistrates (SDMs). With this partnership, powered boats were deployed to rescue  stranded families. JCB machines cleared blocked roads and built makeshift embankments.

Thousands of volunteers, many of them students and alumni of the academies, joined the effort.  Langar kitchens cooked through the night. Medical teams provided care, from treating fevers and  wounds to preventing outbreaks of cholera and dysentery.

After the Floods: The Silent Crisis

When the floodwaters began to recede, the scale of destruction became clearer-and so did the new  challenges. Pools of stagnant water turned entire areas into mosquito breeding grounds. Carcasses  of animals lay rotting in fields and courtyards, creating a public health nightmare.

Here, too, The Kalgidhar Society’s volunteers took on the work that is rarely seen in headlines but  is crucial in recovery. They dug trenches to drain water. They buried dead animals with lime and  salt to contain disease. They disinfected villages with chemicals and basic cleaning tools.

This was dirty, backbreaking, and often demoralising labor. But without it, the cost of the floods  would have been measured not only in crops lost but also in lives taken by epidemics.

Rehabilitation: Building Homes, Not Just Shelters

Relief eventually shifted to rehabilitation. Here, The Kalgidhar Society again stepped forward with  an innovative approach: prefabricated homes.

These aren’t tarpaulin tents or makeshift huts. They are one- and two-bedroom units, complete with  kitchens, toilets, and verandahs. They are safe, quick to assemble, and designed to restore dignity to  families who had lost everything. For people who once had brick houses but returned to find only  ruins, these structures offered not just shelter but stability.

Corporate partners provided critical support. Amazon, Infosys, Nestlé, Sigma Corporation, Indus  Valley, Donatekart, and The Better India pooled resources, materials, and logistics to sustain the  effort. The result was not just temporary relief but the beginnings of long-term recovery.

A Broader Lesson

The floods of 2025 will be remembered for their scale. But they should also be remembered for how  Punjab responded-first through its people, then through its institutions. Relief here was not charity,  nor was it a transaction. It was seva, service rooted in duty and compassion.

Punjab’s story, then, is not only about flooded villages and drowned fields. It is about farmers who  still offered tea to journalists in half-submerged homes. It is about volunteers who disinfected entire

communities without expecting thanks. It is about organisations who turned classrooms into  dormitories and kitchens into lifelines.

In the face of disaster, Punjab refused to be defined by loss. It chose to be defined by resilience. In Punjab, the floods may drown the fields, but never the spirit.

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