‘What is the update about the rainfall and flood? Is your village also affected by the flood’?

The message/text above was one of many WhatsApp messages and some emails I received from friends, environmentalists from Northeast India and some independent journalists from Bangladesh. These messages, tinged with urgency and anxiety, were sent to me in the aftermath of torrential rains that began on 19 August 2024 and lasted until 24 August 2024. The heavy rainfall caused severe flooding in Tripura, an Indian state in the Northeast region and the adjacent eastern part of Bangladesh. More than 32 people lose their lives and causes significant damage to infrastructures and properties in Tripura. Most importantly, the rainfall causes the old Gumti Hydropower Dam in Tripura, commonly known as the ‘Dumboor Dam,’ to overflow and hence became topic of ‘contestations’. The dam is located at distance of 120 km from the upstream of the Bangladesh border.  

I received numerous messages not only because I am a native of Tripura, but mainly because of the column, I co-authored on the Dumboor Dam. The primary concern expressed in the messages were triggered from a Facebook post by the Deputy General Manager (DGM) warning about the Dumboor dam’s rising water level, which had reached 93.85 metres (danger level 94 metres). Constructed in 1974, since the dam has failed to generate its intended energy and the dam has not undergone major renovations. When the heavy rainfall caused the dam’s water level to exceed the danger mark, state authorities were compelled to release the dam water. But as soon as the dam water was released, accusations from Bangladesh surfaced.  It was alleged that the Indian Government exacerbated the flood situation by releasing dam water into eastern Bangladesh.

Notably, this accusation gained prominence in a number of Indian media outlets, with particular attention paid to the Indian government’s clarification/denial that the release of water from the dam was not responsible for worsening flood conditions in Bangladesh. Unquestionably, Bangladesh’s flooding, especially in the eastern regions, had caused a serious climate disaster, resulting in widespread displacement and death tolls. What stands out, however, is the typical pattern of media coverage in both national and international, which primarily tends to concentre on Bangladesh’s flooding while providing relatively little information about the floods that Tripura state’s marginalised communities have experienced due to climate-related flooding disasters.

Floods are a persistent problem in Bangladesh’s low-lying, densely populated landscape. Because of its vulnerability, especially to cross-border (via river) water flows, the country is regularly at the epicentre of South Asian flood-related calamities. Nonetheless, during severe floods, Bangladesh receives extensive media coverage, both India and international, underlining the massive displacement, loss of livelihoods, and infrastructure destruction. While this attention is certainly necessary but it has eclipsed the equally devastating experiences of the affected communities especially that live close to the Dumboor dam in Tripura.

Tripura, a small frontier state, tucked in India’s Northeast as the last state and bordered by Bangladesh in three sides (north, south, and west), suffers from huge flood disasters during August 2024 deluge. The Dumboor dam, perched within the state of Tripura, becomes a major source of contention, and blame during times of intense rainfall. Many large-scale development activities, which exacerbated flooding in the downstream villages of the dam were not considered. When the dam’s water level exceeded its carrying capacity, a regulated water released was necessary to prevent damages. However, the dam’s the released water causes torrents of water to rush into the downstream villages of Tripura. Heavy rainfall combined with the dam water release leads to the destruction of homes, crops, and infrastructure, yet these local community struggles with flood remain largely invisible to the global discourse.

For example, Romte a- 34-year-old woman from a village near the dam, told me in detail that how she and her villages were not informed about the dam’s water overflow and its planned release. Their hard-earned crops were destroyed in a matter of hours when the floodwaters, exacerbated by the dam’s release, swept across their paddy fields. Many marginalised individuals in Tripura, like Romte’s unheard voices, go ignored as the larger narratives of climate-induced flooding focus on Bangladesh’s predicament. As Romte told me,

When the night had fallen with heavy rainfall only in some areas like Amarpur of Gomati districts of Tripura around 9:00 p.m. a government jeep roamed the streets of the local bazaar, announcing urgent news over a loudspeaker: ‘The Dumboor dam gates would soon be opened.’ However, the announcement was confined to the marketplace, but where it mattered most, like our villages remained in the dark without information. With the threat of rainfall looming, the electricity lines had been pre-emptively cut by the government, leaving our villages without power. Internet connectivity, which was already weak in the village, was also disrupted by heavy rain, leaving us isolated with crucial updates. Due to this, many villages like ours were unable to get even the Facebook warning by DGM.

Many villages along the Gumti River’s banks, where the Dumboor dam is located, were severely impacted by poor connectivity. Power outages are common in many rural villages of Tripura, after a few drops of rain, which causes communication problems and leaving the villagers unprepared for the unexpected arrival of floods. For example, a 30-year-old young man named Sourav informed me,

We have never seen such a big flood in Tripura. However, the rainwater flood had already above normal level. We thought this was the worst until the dam water was released. Our house sits on top of a small hill. We were confident that the floodwaters would not reach our house. But as soon as the dam’s water was released, it began to seep in. Within a few minutes, it had touched our backyard. Other houses began collapsing in all directions with loud thuds and splashes. We just watched helplessly, fearing that our house would be the next one. The water kept rising till midnight. I did not sleep for the entire night. My blood pressure increased to 168/104 when it was measured by my father, a pharmacist. The next day, I noticed the water level dropping. As per my observation, it took 10 hours for the water to drop 18 inches. Although the water entirely subsided, all we can see around the village are broken houses, ravaged forests, damaged rubber plantations, fully mud-covered rice fields and people wandering around, crying for food and drinking water.

The villagers claim that, as the heavy rain fell, coupled with the dam water release, the stream/rivers of their villages swelled, causing their village waterbodies to join the smaller tributaries, turning a once-gentle stream into raging currents. Village streams that were once ankle-deep rose to the level of large rivers like the Gumti River, transforming downstream villages into isolated island. For example, when Santi Debbarma helped their cow cross the river, he drowned in the water. The force of the flood was overwhelming, sweeping away everything in its path, from elevated hillsides to paddy fields that lay below, unprotected, and unprepared for the flood. Thani – a 31-year-old young women, shared a similar experience with me.

What was once a small stream of our village becoming resembling like an ocean. The floodwaters eroded our fertile paddy fields and left devastation in its wake. We would have been at least prepared if the Government’s oversight had been more extensive. Their response to the flood was unplanned, making us vulnerable. They should have been more vigilant, and proactive in overseeing the dam’s operations. The dam water was released too late, only after it had exceeded its capacity in a desperate attempt to prevent the dam from breaking. But in this act, we became harsh flood victims.

 The impacted villages could not be reached due to a severe absence of dependable communication networks. Tripura villages were left helpless after heavy rain knocked out their limited connectivity, preventing them from receiving timely warnings about the dam’s water release. Crucially, the unregulated release of rainwater from the ageing Dumboor dam, which had long been neglected and unchecked, added to the worsening of the flood.

Despite these severe effects, the experiences of the affected communities in Tripura remain unheard in Indian and international narratives of a climate-induced floods. Tripura’s heavy rainfall is a testament to the ecological imbalance caused by anthropogenic activities, which has fuelled the state’s climate catastrophe. Tripura’s August downpour, which resulted in record-breaking flooding, serves as yet another warning sign of growing apprehension about future climate events. Because of the unstable forest environment and sedimentary rock beneath it, Tripura, which is located in a zone-v that is particularly prone to earthquakes, is at higher risk of experiencing seismic activity. This intensifies the fear that earthquakes may create more catastrophes. All things considered, climate change is increasing the frequency of natural disasters, leaving many marginalised people with a more precarious future, an increasingly uncertain livelihood, and ignored voices.  

Notes

1. Respondents’ names are kept pseudonyms
2. The images included in the essay were sourced from those shared-on WhatsApp group during August Flood 2024.

About the Author:  Thomas Malsom is currently a PhD Candidate at the Department of Sociology, North-Eastern Hill University, Shillong (India). His primary research interest areas are community development, natural resource extraction, environmental degradation, tribe/indigenous studies, climate change, water, and ecology. He can be reached at: mcthomashlutie@gmail.com