The Toll of August 2025
In August 2025, Punjab was hit by its worst flooding in nearly four decades. The rivers Sutlej, Beas, Ravi, and Ghaggar burst their banks after days of relentless rain, overwhelming embankments and spilling into towns and villages. What followed was devastation on a massive scale: 13 districts severely affected, more than 2,200 villages submerged, and nearly 2.2 million acres of crops destroyed just weeks before harvest.
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.
