The Cruel Irony: How Saving a Motorway Condemns Entire Villages to Oblivion

A silent tragedy is unfolding along the mighty Indus, a testament to the harsh choices societies sometimes make between vital infrastructure and vulnerable communities. In the relentless battle to safeguard the M-5 motorway from the river's insatiable hunger for land, an agonizing decision has been made – one that is systematically dooming entire villages to oblivion.

The M-5, a crucial artery for Pakistan's progress, found itself threatened by the Indus River’s aggressive erosion near the Ghotki and Sukkur districts.

To avert a potential catastrophe for the motorway, authorities embarked on an ambitious, yet devastating, strategy: constructing extensive protection bunds and spurs. These engineering marvels, designed to push the river away from the road, have inadvertently become instruments of destruction for those on the opposite bank, redirecting the river's furious currents straight into their homes and fields.

For the residents of villages like Janhanpur and Chohan Goth in Ghotki, and Pirani and others in Sukkur, the river, once their lifeblood, has become a relentless executioner.

These are not mere plots of land; they are ancestral homes, fertile fields that have sustained generations of farmers, and fishing grounds that provided livelihoods for countless families. Now, swallowed whole by the swirling waters, these vibrant communities are being erased from the map, one crumbling embankment at a time.

The despair is palpable.

Imagine watching your home, built with sweat and memories, slowly devoured by a river you once revered. Picture your fields, ripe with promise, dissolving into a muddy torrent. This is the daily reality for thousands who are forced to become environmental refugees, fleeing with what little they can salvage, often with nowhere to go and no hope of compensation or rehabilitation.

Officials, while acknowledging the dire situation of these villagers, seem caught in a moral quandary, prioritizing the motorway's survival above all else.

"We are saving a national asset," one might argue, but at what human cost? The engineering solutions, while effective for the motorway, have amplified the river's destructive power elsewhere, creating an irreversible cycle of loss for those on the receiving end.

Janhanpur, for instance, is not just eroding; it is facing a complete wipeout.

Families who have lived here for centuries are seeing their heritage literally wash away. In Chohan Goth, the river’s advance is so rapid that what was once solid ground is now a memory. The very protective measures meant to secure one part of the landscape are actively dismantling another, leaving a trail of human misery in their wake.

A Wapda official, speaking on condition of anonymity, confirmed the purpose of these protective works: to deflect the river from the M-5.

The effectiveness for the motorway is undeniable, but so is the devastating impact on the unsuspecting villagers. This stark reality exposes a painful dilemma: where does the responsibility lie when infrastructure development, however crucial, directly leads to the obliteration of communities?

As the Indus continues its relentless march, reshaping the landscape at the behest of human intervention, the plight of these villagers serves as a poignant reminder.

Their stories are a call for a more equitable approach to development, one that considers not just the grand projects, but also the fragile lives that often bear the heaviest burden of progress. Without justice, without compensation, and without a genuine effort for rehabilitation, the legacy of the M-5 motorway will forever be stained by the tears and displacement of those who lost everything to save a road.