A strong appeal

Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s call to Russian President Vladimir Putin that the world must move from an “endless war” to an “end of war” comes at a crucial moment. India has consistently advocated dialogue and diplomacy as the preferred means of resolving international disputes.

Mr. Modi’s message reinforces the view that military action alone cannot provide a lasting solution. The international community should support sustained diplomatic efforts and encourage all sides to return to the negotiating table.

Rukma Sharma,

Jalandhar, Punjab

Messi’s journey

The announcement by legendary Argentine footballer Lionel Messi that he will retire from international football has come as a rude shock to his millions of fans, many of whom still believe that he has enough football left in him to mesmerise them with his extraordinary skills and innovative approach to the beautiful game. His remarkable journey, from his early years in Rosario, Argentina, to becoming one of the greatest footballers the world has ever witnessed, is a testament to his unwavering passion, relentless perseverance and extraordinary consistency on the field. His willingness to mentor younger players and pass on his invaluable experience has further enhanced his stature as a sporting icon.

M. Jeyaram,

Sholavandan, Tamil Nadu

A warning from Nepal

What has happened in Nepal should not be treated as another disaster that will occupy the headlines for a few days and then disappear from public memory. It is a warning to the entire Himalayan region — and India, particularly Uttarakhand and the other Himalayan States, cannot afford to ignore it.

We have seen this pattern before: the 2013 Uttarakhand disaster, the 2021 Chamoli tragedy, and other Himalayan disasters. Yet governments seem to follow the same playbook every time: let the tragedy unfold, announce compensation, constitute a committee of experts, allow the committee to make headlines for a few days, and then wait for public memory to fade. Once the water and muck dry up, everything goes back to business as usual. The compensation becomes a lollipop; the inquiry becomes another file.

But the people who lost their homes, livelihoods and loved ones do not get to forget. For them, the disaster remains a horrible memory for the rest of their lives.

I say this as a native of Uttarakhand who has watched the transformation of the hills closely. There is a deeper problem here: ecological illiteracy combined with greed. A contractor sees a road; another wants a road. One person builds a hotel, and suddenly everyone races to build another hotel. Employment opportunities in the hills are limited, so contracting, construction, real estate and tourism become the easiest avenues for income. Political interests and private profits then reinforce each other.

The result is visible everywhere — roads, tunnels, bridges, highways, drains, hotels and ever-expanding construction, often without asking the most basic question: what can this fragile mountain actually sustain?

I remember a beautiful line from the school chapter Journey to the End of the Earth: “Take care of the small things, the big things will look after themselves.” We seem to have forgotten precisely this lesson.

The Himalayas are young and geologically fragile mountains. The recent Nepal disaster itself is being examined in the context of a high-altitude rock-and-ice avalanche, with scientists investigating how such processes can trigger catastrophic floods. Experts quoted in the report also point to a warming Himalaya and accelerating glacier melt. The lesson should be one of extreme caution, not greater confidence in our ability to engineer nature.

Yet our development model increasingly treats the mountains as if they were empty construction sites.

The Government proudly advertises highways, tunnels and roads by telling us that a journey that once took four hours can now be completed in 20 minutes. But what is the real cost of those 20 minutes if we are weakening the very foundations on which the hills stand? Not every tunnel, road or project can simply be justified in the name of development or strategic importance.

The private sector cannot keep looking at the Himalayas merely as a balance sheet, while governments cannot keep looking at construction as an easy symbol of development. Every kilometre of road, every tunnel and every hotel has an ecological cost. The problem is that the profit is immediate, while the ecological bill may arrive years later — and will be paid by ordinary people.

The same is true of reckless tourism. The hill economy is becoming dangerously dependent on uncontrolled tourism and real estate. Tourism can provide livelihoods, but when an entire regional economy becomes dependent on extracting profit from the same fragile landscape, the model itself becomes unsustainable.

We therefore need something much bigger than another committee after another disaster. Governments must rethink the development model of the Himalayan States. Hill economies need diversified employment and livelihoods beyond construction, contracting, real estate and mass tourism. Infrastructure projects must be subject to genuinely rigorous ecological and geological assessments, with cumulative impacts considered rather than each project being assessed in isolation.

Most importantly, local communities must be treated as stakeholders rather than merely recipients of compensation after something goes wrong.

Nepal’s tragedy should therefore force India to look into its own mirror. The question is not whether the next disaster will happen. The question is whether we will learn before it does.

Because governments will change, contractors will come and go, political leaders will move on, and committees will eventually disappear into files.

But the Himalayas will remain — along with whatever damage we leave behind.

Aditya Das,

Bhowali, Uttarakhand