The Indus River roars with a force that has tested Sindh time and again. As a learner of flood management, I have been directly part of the 1994, 1995, 1997, 2010, 2015 river floods and the 2003, 2005 (Balochistan), 2011 and 2022 rain-induced floods. And now, in just three to four days, a very high flood looms over the province, threatening to engulf us yet again.
The water is expected to surpass 700,000 cusecs with a 10-20 per cent margin of uncertainty, pushing possible peaks and likely hitting 775,000 to 850,000 cusecs. Upstream, Punjab and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP) have already been battered by floods that have claimed hundreds of lives and shattered infrastructure, most of which was built in the waterway or flood plains of the rivers.
I have said this before, and I will say this again: people may forget, but rivers remember their ways.
In KP, forests, once lush green, have been shaved bald, causing fatal landslides. On the other hand, unplanned urbanisation, an inadequate flood-resilient infrastructure and poor river management have all aggravated the situation.
One mission
When it comes to Sindh, where 1.65 million lives are at stake, we stand at a pivotal moment: falter under criticism or unite — government, institutions, communities — in a singular mission to guide this flood to the sea and save our people, our province, our country.
The Sindh Irrigation Department, charged with taming this colossal flow, faces sharp scrutiny. Decades of weak flood infrastructure planning and execution, political interference, and systemic corruption across federal and provincial governance have eroded its capacity, a malaise echoing through Pakistan’s disaster management framework, laid bare by the 2010 and 2022 historical floods that displaced millions and caused over $30 billion in damages.
Yet, the department remains a cornerstone of flood-fighting, its engineers holding the line where newer entities such as the National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA) and Provincial Disaster Management Authority (PDMA) fall short. The revenue department and district administrations, despite inefficiencies rooted in their colonial and bureaucratic character, wield immense power to mobilise resources, coordinate relief, and enforce actions.
If we can shake off their rigid, outdated ways and rally them to the mission of saving the country and its citizens, their authority can turn positively for the vulnerable people and areas. Blanket criticism, especially now, risks breaking the spirit of those on the frontlines.
Between panic, criticism, and actions, the truth rings clear: saving lives comes first. Let us sharpen our critiques to target specific weaknesses — unrepaired barrage gates, riverbank encroachments, private embankments — and act swiftly to mend them.
The challenge
Sindh faces a unique challenge: the Indus flows on an elevated ridge, higher than the surrounding land, with no breaching sections or escape routes for excess water. When the river breaks free, as it did in the 2010 Tori Bund breach, it carves paths hundreds of miles long, flooding areas like Manchhar Lake and drowning Khairpur Nathan Shah.
Since 2010, promises of projects for river outlets and flood escape canals have stalled, leaving us with one task: to guide the floods to the sea safely. The province’s 1,400 miles of embankments, with 875 miles as the first line of defence along the Indus, hold over 140 vulnerable points prone to erosion, scouring, or breaches. The water’s speed demands we fortify this first line of defence at Guddu first, then almost immediately at Sukkur, and finally at Kotri barrages.
At the heart of this crisis are 1.65 million people in the riverine katcha areas across 14 districts — Sukkur, Larkana, Dadu, Hyderabad, Thatta — where 273,000 families, their homes, crops, and livestock face peril. Once, indigenous floodplain communities thrived through nomadic resilience, moving to higher ground with ancestral knowledge of the river’s rhythms, and knew exactly at what river discharge, what coping mechanism was to be applied.
But the rise of an aggressive agriculture-based economy has rooted permanent settlements — concrete homes and farmlands — that now stand vulnerable. Encroachments for crops have choked natural flood channels, heightening risks of erosion and breaches, as seen in past devastations.
Landowners in these areas deserve economic benefits, but these must align with historical practices, British-era surveys, water laws, and our Constitution, ensuring no one’s profit endangers another’s life.
Bracing for the upcoming water flows, evacuations have begun with over 24,000 people moved to over 300 relief camps. Yet, many cling to their katcha homes, unwilling to abandon their livestock (read: their lifeline).
Chief Minister Murad Ali Shah and Irrigation Minister Jam Khan Shoro are inspecting sites, including the Guddu Barrage, their presence signalling urgency. To reach katcha residents, mobile relief units — equipped with boats, emergency supplies, and veterinary support — must deliver aid on-site, honouring traditional coping strategies while addressing modern risks.
The agony and pain of camp life were demonstrated in the 2022 floods, and the same echoes in Punjab’s recent flood camps — a horrible experience, especially for women and the elderly.
The plan
From decades of facing floods, a clear path emerges — a multi-layered strategy to safeguard Sindh.
First and foremost, fortify the frontline. Urgent repairs to embankments and barrage gates must begin with Guddu, then Sukkur, and Kotri. The “three Ms” — man, material, machinery — are the foundation: active camps, trained staff, excavators, bulldozers, flood-fighting equipment, and open supply routes.
At the same time, small details matter — mosquito repellent for workers, life jackets for those measuring river levels by boat. Real-time monitoring through satellite data and field river gauge observations, with alerts in Sindhi and Urdu, will keep us ahead of the flood. It must be round the clock, not leaving the frontline unattended for a spur-of-the-moment.
The next step is the mobilisation of all institutions, from the revenue department to the local administration. They must shed their colonial bureaucratic shackles, enforce actions, and join the engineers of the irrigation department who hold “unity of command” per the Bund Manual — a document detailing rules for river channel operation and maintenance.
Narrow bridges, like Dadu-Moro, choke floodwaters, as seen in 2010 when a cut in the approach road saved a city. Inspect and widen bridge approaches now. The 2022 Sindh Indus River Commission’s plan to expand all bridges must move forward, no matter the cost, once we have safely handled the current floods.
Separately, local leaders and residents must support watch posts and patrols, armed with spades and torches. Social media can dispel rumours or confirm threats, but only if we visit sites and act. Updated data on private embankments — ordered removed post-2010 by the Supreme Court — is critical. Have they returned by 2025?
Next comes delivering relief, particularly to those who need it the most. Start with evacuating women, children and the elderly. Camps need food, water, medicines, and document pouches, with mobile health units to curb disease outbreaks.
A national emergency can align federal and provincial efforts, with the NDMA leading to ease Sindh’s isolation. The authority has both power and money, but they are least linked with communities on the ground. Here, the irrigation department and other organisations can provide links and connectivity.
Transparent resource allocation, overseen by opposition leaders and civil society, will silence corruption allegations. Ad hoc task forces, guided by neutral bodies like the Supreme Court-mandated water commission, can mend institutional gaps.
Coming together
This flood exposes deep challenges.
The PPP’s governance since 2008 has faced accusations of prioritising elite projects over resilient infrastructure, while federal-provincial disputes over water persist. Pakistan’s reactive flood management, stalling reforms, amplifies climate-driven risks. The National Flood Protection Program IV has been in the doldrums for the last eight years or so.
Yet, in this moment, the Quran’s wisdom guides us: “Whoever saves one life, it is as if they have saved all of humanity.”
With hours ticking down, all relevant public sector departments, and all of Sindh must unite — shedding bureaucratic inertia for a mission to save lives, Sindh, and Pakistan. Long-term reforms — vulnerability mapping, anti-encroachment drives, sustainable agriculture — await, but today, we guide this flood to the sea, as the Indus waters wait for no one.
Header image: Residents wade through a flooded road, following the monsoon rains and rising water level of the Chenab River. — Reuters
