Pakistan has once again been battered by a brutal monsoon season and flash floods, leaving behind a trail of destroyed homes, submerged farmland, collapsing infrastructure and heartbreaking loss of life. Among the most tragic stories was that of one-year-old Zara, whose relatives and rescuers were seen wading through knee-deep floodwaters searching for her small body. She had been swept away in flash floods in Sambrial, northern Punjab, in August. The bodies of her parents and three siblings had already been found days earlier.
Her grandfather, Arshad, recalled how quickly the water rose. “We suddenly saw a lot of water. I climbed up to the roof and urged them to join me,” he said, pointing to the narrow dirt road where the powerful current tore his family away before they could reach safety. All six were lost to the raging floods.
Such tragedies have become grimly routine in Pakistan. The monsoon arrives every year, but its intensity and destruction continue to grow. Starting in late June, this year’s rains turned deadly within weeks. In just three months, more than 1,000 people were killed, while at least 6.9 million others were affected, according to the UN’s Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs. The disaster unfolded even as Pakistan contributes barely 1% of global greenhouse gas emissions, yet disproportionately suffers from the consequences of a warming planet.
For three months, the media travelled through the country—from the mountainous north to the southern plains—documenting how climate change is reshaping each region. A single truth stood out: the poorest citizens are paying the highest price. Families who lost homes, crops and loved ones expressed the same fear—that when next monsoon arrives, the chaos will likely return.
In the northern territory of Gilgit-Baltistan, climate change is playing out in its most dramatic form. The world’s highest mountain ranges—the Himalayas, Karakoram and Hindu Kush—contain more than 7,000 glaciers. Rising temperatures are melting them rapidly. Meltwater collects into glacial lakes that can burst without warning, unleashing devastating torrents onto villages below. Hundreds of homes and key roads were destroyed this summer by such floods. Early warning systems are being developed with support from the World Bank, but the rugged terrain and lack of mobile connectivity make alerts unreliable.
Amid the destruction, ordinary community members have saved lives. Shepherd Wasit Khan was startled awake by roaring water filled with ice and debris. Unable to warn everyone from his village, he ran to higher ground to find mobile signal and began calling neighbours. His efforts helped dozens escape in time.
Further south in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, a cloudburst triggered sudden flash floods that washed away homes and triggered landslides. Villagers dug through rubble with bare hands, waiting helplessly for excavators that could not reach because roads were blocked by rocks and fallen trees. In one area, silence fell as two young children, covered in thick mud, were pulled from the debris. Even rescue helicopters faced danger—one carrying relief supplies crashed in the stormy weather, killing its entire crew.
Urban planning failures have worsened the impact. Despite laws prohibiting construction within 200 feet of rivers and tributaries, many large structures have been built directly in flood zones. Climate experts blame local corruption and weak enforcement. Former climate minister Sherry Rehman described it bluntly as authorities “looking the other way,” while vulnerable communities face the deadly consequences.
By late August, Punjab—Pakistan’s food-producing heartland—was underwater. Some 4,500 villages were submerged, crippling agriculture in a country already struggling to afford food imports. For the first time, three major rivers—the Sutlej, Ravi and Chenab—flooded simultaneously, prompting the largest rescue mission seen in decades. Syed Muhammad Tayyab Shah of the National Disaster Management Authority called it the year’s “most important anomaly,” another sign of a changing climate producing unpredictable and destructive patterns.
As Pakistan grapples with grief, economic losses and displacement, many fear the worst is yet to come. With each passing monsoon, floods grow stronger, warnings come too late, and the poorest communities face the unbearable task of rebuilding lives that could be swept away again next year.
