“I was buried under the mud all night long. My 12-year-old daughter died sleeping right next to me; I could not save her,” recounts Fendo Sangmu Bhutia, 35, her voice heavy with sorrow. Her nine-year-old nephew was also tragically buried in the same landslide. As tears well up, Bhutia recalls that they had traveled to their maternal home in Mirik to celebrate Dashain on October 2, Nepal’s most significant festival. The joyous occasion, meant to honor the goddess Durga’s victory, instead concluded with the heart-wrenching funeral of two innocent children.
[Image: One of the landslides in Mirik, Darjeeling district, that crushed two sleeping children and buried many others under the debris. Many were rescued, but the two children did not survive.]
In the early hours of October 4 and 5, torrential rains lashed West Bengal’s Darjeeling district and other areas of North Bengal. Over a mere 12 hours, the region received approximately 261mm of rainfall, triggering more than 110 major landslides. The catastrophic event left over 32 people dead, 40 injured, thousands stranded, and many still missing.
Mirik, a picturesque tourist haven nestled amidst alpine forests and a tranquil lake, bore the brunt of the disaster. Many residents assert that they haven’t witnessed such widespread devastation in three decades.
In many areas, the soil has become critically unstable, roads have vanished under thick layers of mud, and reaching homes now entails a perilous trek through sludge and crumbling rock, a dangerous dance between life, death, and the sheer mountain cliffs. Deep within this landslide-ravaged zone, Bhutia and her family grapple with their profound loss, searching for understanding in the wake of their children’s untimely deaths.
The Political Aftermath
As the full extent of the calamity emerged, condolences poured in from various political figures, including the Prime Minister, Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee, and Congress president Mallikarjun Kharge. The Chief Minister also announced a ₹5 lakh compensation for the families of the deceased, with the West Bengal government releasing ₹1.60 crore to the next of kin of 32 victims by October 10.
Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) State president Samik Bhattacharya swiftly visited the devastation site on October 6, followed by visits from Banerjee and the Leader of the Opposition, Suvendu Adhikari of the BJP, the following day. Predictably, the BJP and the ruling Trinamool Congress engaged in a political blame game, accusing each other of insufficient disaster preparedness and response.
Banerjee attributed the devastation to the Central government’s poor flood management, labeling the floods as “man-made.” She cited the release of water from Bhutan and the unchecked construction of hydel power projects on the Teesta river, which flows from Sikkim into West Bengal, as key contributing factors.
In response, the Bengal BJP president retorted, “It is foolish to expect a humane face from this government. No State in India has ever seen such an intolerant, vindictive, and incompetent government. This government has not made any effort to soothe the pain of the people of North Bengal.”
On October 5, following the intense flooding and landslides, the Bhutan government issued a flood warning. An alert from Bhutan’s National Centre for Hydrology and Meteorology urged preparation for “eventualities” and stated that information from Druk Green Power Corporation (DGPC) indicated that the Tala hydropower dam gates had failed to open, causing river water to overflow.
A Cry for Loved Ones
The Dashain festival had drawn many relatives back to their ancestral homes, filling them with joy and celebration. Just five kilometers from Bhutia’s house, Nisha Lama tragically lost both her parents and her sister to another landslide. The mudslide crashed into their home while they slept, exhausted from the festivities.
“We heard noises around 1:30 a.m., but we mistook it for the thunderstorm and ceaseless rain. It was only around 5 in the morning that we realized our family members had been buried under the mud in their sleep,” Nisha recounted. Her sister, Sadhna Tamang Lama, 35, who had traveled from her marital home in Nepal, returned in a coffin four days later with her grief-stricken husband.
The once pristine blue waters of Mirik lake have now turned a murky brown, choked with overflowing mud. At least eleven lives were claimed here. Amidst this backdrop, some mourn the loss of their dearest family, while others lament the destruction of businesses that sustained entire households. Unlike the raw fury of nature, human grief here is quiet, profound. The disaster strikes just three weeks before Deepavali, one of India’s most important festivals.
Nisha’s family home is currently being cleared of the thick muddy sludge. A massive tree trunk remains lodged inside a bedroom. She believes that if the mud had continued to flow for just ten more minutes, she too would have been buried with her family.
Broken Bridges, Snapped Communication
[Image: The main road between Siliguri and Mirik closed down after an iron bridge in Dudhia village collapsed.]
The vital main road connecting Siliguri and Mirik was severed after a significant iron bridge over the Balason river near Dudhia village collapsed under the forceful gush of water. Over 25 families residing along the river have been relocated to the Dudhia community hall, about a kilometer away. Anticipating danger, most fled their homes with only the clothes on their backs and essential documents.
Pukar Chettri, an 18-year-old Class 11 student, finds himself caught in this turmoil. As he sits in the relief camp, battling mosquitoes and striving to avoid contagious diseases amidst the lingering flood conditions, he grapples with the realization that his schoolbooks and uniform are gone, swallowed by the chaos. He worries it will take a long time to return to his studies.
“We tried to wake up as many people as we could; we searched for others with torchlight. The land beneath our homes has simply been washed away,” he says, pointing to the precarious state of structures partially stripped of their foundational earth. “Where will we go now?” Pukar asks, his voice filled with despair. Many are so traumatized that sleep offers no respite, haunted by the fear of sudden evacuation. Family members take turns keeping watch, allowing others a few hours of uneasy rest.
As dark clouds gather overhead and rain begins to fall, a palpable shift in mood sweeps through the relief camp—a blend of worry and renewed fear.
The Chief Minister has pledged the construction of a temporary bridge in the area until the permanent iron bridge can be rebuilt. For now, locals face detours that extend the journey between Mirik and Siliguri by over 50 kilometers and five hours, a stark contrast to the previous two-and-a-half-hour trip.
Manabendra Modak, executive director of the Gorkhaland Territorial Administration (GTA), the regional autonomous body overseeing the Darjeeling hills, confirms that restoration work is underway. “Over 110 major landslides have been recorded – the smaller ones are beyond counting. The devastation is unprecedented. All tourists have been successfully rescued. It will take considerable time to restore normalcy, given the scale of destruction,” Modak states.
Alongside local administration efforts, three teams from the National Disaster Response Force (NDRF) have been deployed to North Bengal, with one specifically in the severely affected Mirik region. In addition to the landslides and damage in Darjeeling and Kalimpong districts, the Dooars foothills, particularly Jalpaiguri and Alipurduar districts, have also suffered severe impacts.
Rescue on Ropes
Amidst the overwhelming weight of death and destruction, inspiring stories of courage and resilience have emerged. Over 130 kilometers from Mirik, a video of Jalpaiguri district’s Nagrakata Block Medical Officer, Dr. Irfan Mollah, went viral on social media.
Dr. Mollah was seen heroically traversing to Bamandanga village, hanging on a zipline rope between two mountains, to provide care to injured patients and expectant mothers stranded in the flood-hit areas. His actions garnered widespread applause from both locals and authorities, yet for him, the work had only just begun.
Since the morning of October 5, when the chest-deep floodwaters slowly began to recede, Dr. Irfan and his team have tirelessly traversed the block on foot, seeking out affected individuals. They soon realized that at least three villages had been completely cut off from all communication.
“We have found multiple bodies over the last three days. Children and parents have perished. We have provided the injured with first aid and basic medicines. Sorboshantyo hoye gache manush, (People are left with nothing),” Dr. Irfan adds, underscoring the utter loss faced by the community. The local administration has supplied the affected residents with clothes and food.
Preeti Goyal, the District Magistrate of Darjeeling, affirms that her team has been working relentlessly to reach and relocate people to one of the 33 temporary relief camps. “Our team members have walked up to six kilometers on foot every day to reach affected families,” she notes, highlighting their dedication.
A Citizenship at Stake
Manebhanjan, a village located at the Indo-Nepal border with an estimated population of 2,300, is known as the gateway to the Himalayan Kanchenjunga range and lies approximately 70 kilometers from Mirik. This village, also part of Darjeeling district, recently witnessed the tragic death of two children and three adults from the Chettri family, crushed by a landslide.
Locals here voice their frustration, stating that no media or government officials, apart from the Sashastra Seema Bal who assisted in recovering bodies, have visited them. “We live along the border, so our citizenship is constantly under scrutiny. But we are Indian citizens. Do we not deserve the same respect as others?” a local questioned.
[Image: Locals near Sukhiapokhri trying to clear out the debris to find remnants of their lives and make way for transport.]
Inside the devastated Chettri home, children’s toys and clothes lay strewn in the sludge. Bright sunlight streams through the broken windows, but Raju Chettri, who lost his daughter, remains enveloped in the profound darkness of losing his family.
The five surviving members of the Chettri family are now observing a 13-day period of seclusion, mourning their loved ones according to Nepali tradition, where no one is allowed to touch them during this time.
“I was not at home when it happened. I was leading a trek group when I got the news,” Raju, 37, a trek leader, shares, struggling to hold back tears. Born and raised in this small village, he asserts he has never witnessed such devastation in these parts before.
The Chettri family’s citizenship has been called into question, jeopardizing their eligibility for the government-declared ₹5 lakh compensation. Darjeeling Sub-Divisional Officer, Richard Lepcha, stated clearly: “All five of them are Nepali citizens. The Nepal government can give them compensation.”
However, Raju proudly presents his voter ID, noting that his deceased mother also possessed one, and his daughter had a birth certificate. Locals explain that the three other family members who died in the same house were guests visiting from Nepal.
In an otherwise serene place where hundreds of tourists flock daily to embark on journeys to Sandakphu mountain – West Bengal’s highest point offering a breathtaking 180-degree panorama of the Great Himalayas – travel now remains suspended. Anil Tamang, head of the Land Rovers Association, explains that 90% of the village’s population relies on tourism, and its suspension during peak season has left them without a source of income. As he laments their plight, he receives news that the roads are beginning to reopen, prompting a collective sigh of relief among his colleagues.
As these majestic mountains bear silent witness to nature’s unyielding fury, a powerful undercurrent of resilience continues to shine through the deepest shadows of despair.