Dreams of a bride-to-be end as Chenab sweeps away 5 of a family

Chisoti (Padder), Aug 19: For weeks, the Singh family of Chisoti village laboured under the summer sun, selling maize bread with vegetables to pilgrims, ferrying travellers on dirt roads, and running makeshift stalls.

Every rupee earned was carefully set aside for one dream of seeing 19-year-old Sangeeta Devi leave home as a bride this autumn.

Instead, they carried her out wrapped in white.

On August 14, Sangeeta and her mother, Kamlesha Devi, were manning their food stall on the banks of the Bodh Nallah, a tributary of the Chenab, beneath the hillock, when lightning cracked the sky.

A sudden cloudburst followed, sending torrents of water crashing through Chisoti. Their stall, their bodies, and the family’s dream were swept away.

“After the yatra, she was supposed to get married in autumn. Her engagement was already done in a nearby village,” said her brother, 22-year-old Sawant Singh. “We wanted to see her in gold, in the best wedding dress, and give a grand feast to friends and relatives. Never did we know she would leave wrapped in a shroud, not as a bride.”

The flash floods claimed at least 68 lives across Padder, with nearly 70 still missing.

But for the Singhs, the tragedy struck at the very core of their family. Chisoti, a maize-growing village of 500 households, comes alive every summer with the Mata Machail Yatra, a two-and-a-half-month pilgrimage that has sustained its economy since 1987.

Villagers put up stalls, tent services, and makeshift hotels. “Everyone earns their living in these two months,” said a local. “Otherwise, maize and a few livestock won’t suffice.” This year was no different.

Sangeeta and her mother sold maize rotis to pilgrims.

Sawant ferried travellers on a borrowed motorcycle, sharing profits with his friend from Kijoyi village.

Their married sister, Aneeta Devi, also set up her own stall to support both her in-laws and her parents.

“Everyone in the family was chipping in for her wedding,” Sawant said. “Our mother was excited. Maybe, she couldn’t bear losing her daughter, who was to be a bride, and left with her too.”

After a day of searching, rescuers recovered the bodies of Sangeeta and Kamlesha late evening from the debris of rocks, mud, and uprooted trees.

Her father, 60-year-old labourer Hari Chand Singh, was at work when the floods struck.

Her two younger sisters, Sureeta and Dalie, both in 11th standard, were spared only because they were rehearsing for the Independence Day parade at school.

But the floodwaters did not stop with them.

Her uncle, Kunj Lal Singh, a Village Defense Guard (VDG), was swept away near his stall.

Another uncle’s wife, Tulsi Devi, and their son Mandeep Singh, who pitched tents for pilgrims, remain missing.

Every coin earned from the yatra was meant for Sangeeta’s wedding.

“My friend Muzaffar lent me the bike, and whatever profit we got, we put aside for her marriage,” Sawant said.

Now, instead of wedding songs, silence fills their home.

“She was meant to leave as a bride,” Sawant said. “Instead, we carried her out in white.”

As if the loss of life was not enough, the family also lost the ground beneath them.

Their two-storey house on the banks of the Baud stream, where Sangeeta and her mother had lived, was completely washed away. Only a few walls remain, clinging to the collapsed land. “We can’t even build here again. The land is gone,” Sawant said. “Tell us where we will go.”

According to revenue officials, at least nine houses, including those of the Singhs, were washed away, with five more damaged. “The flash floods took away the houses along with their plinths,” an official said. “It is unsafe to rebuild there.” For the Singh family, the floods did not just wash away a daughter, a mother, and kin. They erased their home, their land, and the future they had dreamed of.