Living on the edge: When your home is one flood away from being gone

In the flood-ravaged plains of Assam, the roar of the Brahmaputra is both a blessing and a curse. Each year, the river nourishes farmlands and sustains millions, but when the monsoon-fed waters swell and shift, it turns feral, devouring homes, fields, and lives.

In Satbhandi, Takimari, and Tariyarbita villages of Jaleshwar in Assam’s Goalpara district, the story is heartbreakingly familiar. Like in years past, the river’s banks are crumbling, homes are vanishing, and families are left staring at the sky from flimsy sheds—exposed to the lashing monsoon and the searing sun alike.

“I have nowhere left to go; my house, my fields, all gone. We’re surviving on whatever help neighbours can give us. The local MLA came once and gave us geo-bags, but the river doesn’t stop for geo-bags,” says a local, who now lives under a makeshift shed.

The local people say the Brahmaputra’s rage isn’t new — the erosion has been eating into villages since years, yet the administration’s response remains sluggish at best. “We were given 500 geo-bags this time, but the river took them all. Now it is taking us,” says a local farmer, looking helplessly at where his paddy fields used to be.

Despite the worsening crisis, villagers say they have seen little to no intervention from the Goalpara Water Resources Department or the district administration. Now they are pleading with Water Resources Minister Piyush Hazarika to visit and witness the devastation firsthand.

The river’s double blow: Floods & erosion

In Assam, floods and erosion go hand in hand — as the waters recede, they leave behind weakened embankments and loose soil that the Brahmaputra slowly swallows. Nowhere is this tragedy more visible than in Majuli, the world’s largest inhabited river island.

A spiritual and cultural treasure, Majuli is home to centuries-old satras and fertile farmlands. But the Brahmaputra’s relentless assault is threatening its very existence. Following the recent floods, areas like Bhakat Chapori have been ravaged by severe erosion, wiping out homes, farmland, and generations of memories.

In Bhakat Chapori alone, 16 villages are under threat. Families live in dread as the river creeps closer by the day. The greatest heartbreak for many is that a multi-crore project meant to protect them — the Pakupain embankment, built by the Brahmaputra Board — has itself been washed away. Nearly Rs 500 crore has vanished into the river, leaving behind only shattered hopes and broken promises.

“The erosion of the Brahmaputra is happening every day. People here depend on agriculture. If the river keeps eating our land, how will we survive? We feel abandoned by the government,” says a Bhakat Chapori resident.

A river enthralling its fury and breaking the embankment down

The tragedy of erosion is not just about land lost — it’s about repeated displacement that breaks the spirit. In 2004, the Tarun Gogoi-led Congress government settled 53 families at Dhekiakhowa region in Jorhat after floods displaced them from Salmara in Majuli. The new settlement is named Da Gasuk Indira Adarsha Gaon. Each family was also given half a bigha of land.

A call for urgent action

Erosion in Assam is not a new problem. Every year, hectares of fertile farmland are lost, thousands become landless overnight, and the government’s schemes and embankments often prove no match for the mighty Brahmaputra’s force.

Experts point out that long-term solutions, like dredging the riverbed, strengthening embankments with modern geo-materials, and relocating vulnerable communities, require sustained political will and robust funding. But in villages like Jaleshwar and Majuli, people say they feel forgotten.

“The Brahmaputra is our lifeline, but now it’s become a curse. We want the government to act before we lose everything. How many times must we rebuild our lives from nothing?” says an elderly farmer, whose family has been farming these riverine areas for generations.

Meanwhile, the government insists it has taken adequate steps to tackle soil erosion in several of Assam’s most vulnerable areas.

No place to stray, no place to graze

During a recent visit to Balijan in Chabua, Dibrugarh in June, Water Resources Minister Pijush Hazarika said the department was working on a “war footing” to contain the crisis.

He said that temporary measures — including the installation of porcupine structures to slow the river’s flow — have already been deployed to curb immediate damage.

Hazarika added that once the monsoon recedes, more permanent erosion-control works will begin — including the use of large geo-bags to reinforce embankments and protect surrounding areas in the long term.

For now, the people of Assam’s riverine communities wait under tarpaulins and broken roofs, hoping the authorities will hear their cries over the roaring river.

For them, every drop of rain, every swollen current, is a reminder that the Brahmaputra is always hungry — and it is their land, their homes, and their futures that feed it.