Where Do We Go Now? Months After a Landslide, Khellani's Families Still Search for a Permanent Home

It’s been months, you know, really months, since the very ground gave way beneath them. The date, December 28, 2023, is etched into the memories of roughly fifteen families—a staggering seventy souls—from Khellani, a small, unassuming corner of Doda district in Jammu & Kashmir. Their world, quite literally, crumbled. And yet, here we are, well into the new year, and a permanent solution for their shattered lives remains, stubbornly, out of reach.

Imagine, if you will, the sheer terror of that day. Homes, built with years of hard work and dreams, simply vanished or became uninhabitable in an instant. The landslide wasn't just a natural calamity; it was a brutal eraser, wiping away stability, comfort, and the most fundamental sense of belonging. Since then, life has become a nomadic existence for these families. Some have found refuge in rented rooms, paid for, for now, by a meagre government relief fund. Others are squeezed into the homes of relatives, a generosity that, let’s be honest, can only stretch so far. A few, in truth, have even taken shelter in a government building—a stark testament to their desperation.

The initial response, you could say, was swift enough. Tents were distributed, blankets, some basic utensils, and yes, a bit of cash assistance. But these are bandages, aren’t they? Temporary fixes for a wound that demands deep, structural healing. The truth is, what these families crave, what they desperately need, isn’t another temporary arrangement. It's permanence. It's a place they can call home again, where their children can sleep soundly, where life can, with effort, begin to knit itself back together.

The urgency of their plea intensifies with each passing day. The specter of the upcoming monsoon season looms large, a chilling reminder of how vulnerable they still are. "Where will we go then?" one might hear them ask, their voices heavy with anxiety. It’s a perfectly valid question, honestly. How can anyone rebuild their lives from temporary accommodation, with the constant threat of yet another displacement hanging over their heads?

Adding another layer to this complex human tragedy, geological experts did indeed visit the site, as expected. Their verdict? Unequivocal. The affected area is unsafe, deemed unfit for human habitation. So, while the assessment is clear, the action, the decisive action needed for permanent rehabilitation, well, it seems to be moving at a snail’s pace. These families, many from Village Nai Basti Khellani, look towards the LG administration, hoping, praying, that their voices—their very real, human voices—are heard above the bureaucratic hum.

And this isn't Doda's first rodeo with such heartbreak. The district has a history, sadly, of similar incidents. Which only underscores the need for a robust, thoughtful, and most importantly, expeditious long-term rehabilitation plan. It’s not just about rebuilding houses; it's about rebuilding trust, restoring dignity, and ensuring that when disaster strikes, the aftershocks of displacement don't linger for months, threatening to become years. Because for these families, waiting is not merely an inconvenience; it’s a daily struggle for existence, a silent cry for the simple human right to a safe, stable home.