When the Brahmaputra swelled last monsoon and flooded large parts of Assam, Amir Hussen knew the inevitable: his home would have to be rebuilt yet again.
“I have lost my house 17 times to riverbank erosion,” the 47-year-old from Kharballi village in Barpeta district said. Houses, fields and livelihoods perched on shifting riverbanks are regularly swept away. Families repeatedly move, often settling on borrowed land or the narrow strips left behind by the receding river, only to face the same destruction later.
The loss is not limited to shelter and livestock. Floods also wash away identity papers and land records — documents that have taken on heightened importance in Assam amid recent citizenship verification drives. Losing paperwork can spark legal problems and even jeopardize people’s status. Hussen noted that when people leave their villages for work in cities such as Guwahati, authorities sometimes file cases against them. His maternal uncle, despite holding documents dating to 1913, was branded a “D-voter” (doubtful voter) and had to fight in court to prove his citizenship. Others have suffered worse: Hussen recounted a neighbor who spent two years in the Matia detention camp before a court freed him, by which time the family’s property had been sold and its life shattered.
This vulnerability is not unique to Assam. Across India, climate change is making floods, cyclones and droughts more frequent and more severe, while the costs fall unevenly. Religious and social minorities living on floodplains, coastal strips and erosion-prone islands are often the first to lose everything and the last to get help. They are usually poorer and politically marginalized.
Temporary relief, recurring ruin
In Bihar’s flood-prone Supaul district, which borders Nepal, the pattern is familiar. Abdul Rauf, a 40-year-old teacher, has watched the Kosi River — nicknamed “the Sorrow of Bihar” — inundate homes and fields for years. He estimates roughly 80% of the local population is affected by floods. The poorest and lower-middle groups suffer the most. “If people had resources, why would they live in the floodplain?” he asked.
Relief often arrives quickly but disappears just as fast. “They give polythene sheets, dry food, some compensation,” Rauf said. “But people come back after a month or two and face the same fate next year. They have no choice.” In Araria district, 23-year-old Aftab Alam described villages turning into islands each monsoon. He quoted local leaders’ saying “jal hi jeevan hai” (water is life) and countered, “for us it is death.”
A 2024 assessment found that roughly 82% of families in north Bihar were temporarily displaced by that year’s floods. Many were forced to sell or mortgage jewelry, livestock and land. About 91% of affected households reported cutting food intake, and 75% borrowed food. Alam recalled catastrophic flooding in 2017, when embankments failed and entire settlements vanished in a single night. His family spent a night on a highway — the only available high ground. He criticized state compensation as inadequate and unevenly distributed: “The rich and privileged manage to take it. They don’t even live here.”
“Nobody cares what happens to us,” he said of the official response.
Erosion, unpredictability and official neglect
Kharballi has been steadily eaten away by the Beki River, a tributary of the Brahmaputra. What was once inland village is now largely gone. Nearly all of Kharballi’s roughly 300 families have been displaced multiple times. Flood patterns are also changing: “Earlier, floods used to come during July or August,” Hussen said. “Now the pattern is shifting. Sometimes floods come two months earlier or later. Sometimes there’s torrential rain. Sometimes there’s drought. It’s as if the air itself is changing.”
Beyond the physical damage, residents say they face bureaucratic indifference. Officials visit, measure land and compile lists, Hussen said, but “the lists remain lists. We haven’t received a single penny.” He believes the neglect is rooted in marginalization: “We belong to the minority community. Nobody cares what happens to us.”
Compounded losses
The harm persists long after waters recede. “Climate change is ultimately about who has the means to absorb loss,” said Vimlendu Jha, an environmentalist and climate activist. Poor families rely directly on land and weather; when shocks hit, their incomes collapse first. For people like Hussen, each flood piles onto earlier losses: land and documents disappear, undermining food security, schooling and any ability to plan beyond the next monsoon. Hussen remembered sitting for high school exams decades ago after days without food while living in a makeshift shelter. His children have faced similar disruptions; his daughter, who was a promising student, could not continue her education because of the family’s precarious situation.
Fertile but risky floodplains
Across Assam and Bihar, many of the most productive floodplain soils are home predominantly to Muslims, Dalits and other marginalized groups. “These are active floodplains,” said Ishfaqul Haque, a remote-sensing scientist with BhoomiCAM, which monitors rainfall, soil moisture and rivers in eastern India. The fertility draws agricultural communities, but when floods strike, those without resources are least able to recover. Wealthier families can relocate, rebuild or absorb losses; the poor stay exposed. “So it is a double whammy for the marginalized,” Haque said.
Jha added that repeated displacement fuels distress migration and deepens insecurity. Government responses tend to be reactive — focused on short-term relief — while long-term resilience planning that could reduce recurring harm and support sustainable rebuilding remains largely absent.
The reporting for this story was supported by a grant from the HRRF Journalism Grant Program. Edited by Darko Janjevic.