28/07/2025
Monsoons once meant that one extra holiday on a rainy day—and cuddling under my grandmother’s soft navari saree, which became my favourite makeshift quilt. I remember walking back from school, pausing with friends to share a freshly roasted corn by the roadside.
The season brought with it long drives and short escapes to the outskirts of Mumbai to watch the Sahyadris come alive.
Now, each monsoon arrives with a warning. Flash floods. Landslides. Overflowing rivers sweeping away homes—and lives. A single day’s rainfall often breaks seasonal records.
In a recent conversation on climate change, a participant shared something that stayed with me: “I have met fishermen who no longer want their children to venture into the sea. Instead, they dream of their kids working in cities, in corporate jobs.”
That statement said more than any climate report ever could.
The sea, once a source of identity and income, now feels like a threat. Generations of knowledge—of wind, water, and tide—are being left behind. And this, too, is climate change.
It’s not activism. It’s reality. It’s in our kitchens, at our doorsteps, on our roads, and even at those beautiful destinations pinned on our travel wishlists.
