It was John Donne who famously wrote, “No man is an island.” Yet in the flood-stricken community of Kotli Loharan, the absence of proper drainage has turned neighbours into adversaries — each defending their patch of dry ground as if marooned in rising waters. The western precincts of Kotli Loharan, traversed by the Khannay Wala Nullah, are marginally more elevated than the eastern expanse.
Historically, this modest elevation spared the area from the worst of the floodwaters, which, upon overflowing, would meander through the labyrinthine alleyways in trickling rivulets, ultimately rejoining the seasonal drain. This time, however, the deluge defies precedent. The sheer volume of water now engulfing the town is both extraordinary and relentless — far beyond what the natural drainage channels can accommodate.
Both the eastern and western quarters of Kotli Loharan are now submerged, yet the disparity in flood depth is stark. While the eastern side languishes under nearly six feet of standing water, the western end, slightly more elevated, contends with inundation half that depth. This imbalance has ignited a fierce, deeply polarising local dispute.
Eastern residents, desperate for reprieve, have sought to dismantle the culverts that separate the two zones, hoping to redirect floodwaters toward the nullah. But this plan has met fierce opposition from their western counterparts — who, fearing further submersion, have actively resisted these efforts, even thwarting interventions by the district administration.
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The result is a tense impasse that has given rise to a bitter form of water politics. In a community already reeling from a deteriorating health situation — with stagnant waters fomenting disease and obstructing aid — these internal divisions have severely hampered coordinated relief and recovery efforts. “We’ve been completely cut off from Sialkot since August 26,” says Zafar Abbas Bukhari, a resident of the eastern enclave.
“Floodwater remains lodged in our homes. Our elderly and children are falling ill; we’re relying on relief camps and stray donations for medicine. Yet the core issue remains unresolved.” Inam, a local youth, recounts how he has been navigating the submerged town on a tractor trolley, ferrying essential groceries to his stranded household. “It’s dangerous,” he says, “but what choice do we have?”
Bukhari adds that government machinery had, at one point, brought in excavators to break the culverts and allow drainage. “But residents on the western side physically halted the operation. They argued that the redirected water would only exacerbate their plight.”
Deputy Commissioner Saba Asghar Ali, when questioned, laid the blame squarely on unregulated development. “Agricultural lands have been illegally subdivided and built upon,” she noted with frustration. “Once the settlements are established, their inhabitants begin to agitate for civic infrastructure — roads, sewage, drainage — none of which was planned for in the first place.”
The scale of devastation in Sialkot is enormous. On the night of August 26, a massive 400,000 cusecs of floodwater surged through Head Marala. Within hours, this volume had more than doubled to a staggering 917,525 cusecs, unleashing chaos downstream.
While government relief camps were set up, communication lapses meant that many residents never heard the warnings. Tragically, 22 lives were lost in Sialkot city and Sambrial tehsil, many of them asleep when the waters arrived.
The collapse of the Hanji Bridge on Nullah Dek further compounded the catastrophe, cutting off vital transport and rescue routes.
According to official figures, both the Dek and Palkhu nullahs exceeded their flood thresholds, inundating vast swathes of Sialkot tehsil. Thus far, the damage includes the collapse of two bridges, the destruction of 46 culverts and 36 roads, and the submersion of over 340,000 acres of cultivated land.
Yet, despite its industrial prominence and population density, Sialkot still lacks a modern drainage infrastructure. The existing system — an antiquated network that combines domestic sewage with stormwater runoff — is wholly inadequate for managing monsoonal extremes.
In response, the Punjab Intermediate Cities Improvement Investment Programme, backed by the Asian Development Bank, had initiated a comprehensive overhaul. But progress has stalled. Critical engineering issues — especially the desilting of the nullahs — remain unresolved, leaving the city vulnerable to further calamity.
In Kotli Loharan, as in much of Sialkot, the floodwaters have become more than a natural disaster — they are a mirror reflecting years of unchecked development, administrative inertia, and fractured civic trust.
