Drowning in Deluge: The 2025 Bihar Flood Crisis

The damage wasn’t merely physical; it was structural and systemic. Over 11,600 livestock died, and more than 3.9 lakh hectares of agricultural land, mainly under paddy and maize cultivation, were destroyed, leading to a projected loss of ₹10,000 crore for the rural economy. Over 4,700 government schools remained closed, compromising the studies of lakhs of students. Medical camps were set up late, and health infrastructure in the flood-affected areas quickly collapsed, with rising cases of diarrhea, skin infections, and leptospirosis. The State Disaster Response Force (SDRF) deployed 28 teams, and the National Disaster Response Force (NDRF) added another 12 to rescue over 34,000 people and relocate more than 2.7 lakh to temporary shelters. However, the state’s efforts were abysmally insufficient given the scale of the crisis. Only 37.6% of the total flood mitigation funds allocated to Bihar between 2019 and 2024 had been utilized according to a July 2024 CAG audit. Moreover, most embankments — over 3,800 km of them — had not undergone pre-monsoon maintenance. Unsurprisingly, at least 31 embankments breached this year, including critical ones on the Bagmati and Gandak rivers. 

Is this Bihar’s destiny? Are its people condemned to relive this tragedy year after year? Or is this what happens when empathy ends with headlines and policies remain on paper? Some say it's nature's wrath—we can't control the rain. But isn't it the government‘s duty to prepare, to protect, to preserve life? The rain may not knock before arriving, but our responsibility shouldn’t begin after the damage is done. What hurts most is not just the loss, it’s the repetition. Bihar floods have almost become an annual event. We have accepted them like a seasonal ritual. But this is not normal. This is not acceptable. Because every year, behind every statistic, there are drowned dreams, delayed futures, and hopes buried in the silt. We must stop seeing this as a natural disaster and start seeing it as a failure — the failure to learn, the failure to care, the failure to act. How long will we refer to it as a misfortune when misfortune is something that happens once by chance. This is the result of chronic negligence, ignoring warnings, and prioritizing short-term fixes over long-term solutions. Somewhere in all this, there is a deep wound that Bihar has been carrying for years — a sense of neglect and of being forgotten. Time and again, promises are made, grand announcements, aerial surveys, crores in aid, but real change rarely reaches the people on the ground. Bihar does not ask for pity; it asks for presence, for consistency, for respect. They want plans. They want pre-emptive actions. They want embankments that hold, not break. They want dignified camps, not shoddy tents. They want school continuity plans, access to clean water, and insurance that actually pays. They want what any other Indian state is entitled to. Because when 1.5 crore Indians suffer, it is not a “Bihari problem.” It is the very idea of India as a union of equals. The 2025 floods must not be filed away as just another disaster. They must be remembered as a moral reckoning. If India still wants to call itself a just, united nation, then Bihar must no longer drown alone.