By Vidita Mishra, Grade IX, Cultural Secretary, The Laurels International School
The other evening, I was scrolling through news clips when I saw something that stopped me. A video from New York—yes, that big, famous city with shiny towers and busy streets—was underwater. Cars were floating, subways looked like swimming pools, and people were trying to cross roads that had turned into rivers. For a moment, I thought it was an old video from some coastal disaster zone, but no—it was this week.
That made me pause. Isn’t New York supposed to be one of the most developed cities in the world? Shouldn’t they have systems and plans to stop something like this? And if even they are struggling… what about everyone else?
It reminded me of the times our own cities have drowned in rain. We’ve all seen it—water rising in the streets, school buses stuck, homes flooded, people standing on rooftops waiting for help. In Surat. In Bengaluru. In Kochi. In parts of Delhi. I suddenly realised something important: it’s not about where you live or how rich your country is. It’s about how prepared you are. And sadly, we’re not.
In school, we are taught that floods are natural disasters. But more and more, they don’t feel very “natural” to me. I’ve started to feel that many of them are man-made. Not directly, of course—but through the things we allow to happen: building over lakes, blocking drains, cutting trees, dumping plastic in canals. These are the things that turn a heavy rain into a disaster. The skies may send rain, but it’s us who make it flood.
When I see news from around the world—whether it’s from Congo or Brazil, South Africa or Pakistan—the stories feel too similar. The same helplessness. The same mistakes. The same lack of planning. And almost every time, it’s the poor who suffer most, the ones who didn’t cause the problem in the first place. That makes me angry. But more than angry, it makes me feel responsible.
I may only be in Grade IX, but I understand that this is not just an environmental issue—it is a human one. It’s about how much we care about our cities, our people, our future. And I feel like we are sleeping through a storm that’s already knocking at our doors.
At Laurels, we are taught to ask questions—not just in exams, but in life. And I want to ask: why are we repeating the same mistakes again and again? Why is it that after every flood, there are promises and plans, but by the time the next monsoon arrives, the same roads are drowning again? Where is the long-term thinking? Where is the action?
Maybe someone will say, “You’re just a student, what can you do?” But I believe that’s exactly why I should care. Because if we don’t start caring when we’re young, we might grow up thinking this chaos is normal. And it shouldn’t be.
We can start small. Talking about it in assemblies. Writing articles like this. Asking our teachers how cities are planned. Visiting places that are doing better and learning from them. Even simple things—like making sure our drains aren’t blocked, or planting trees near our homes—can be part of the solution.
I don’t know if my voice will change the world. But I know that silence definitely won’t. And I don’t want to be silent.
When I saw New York underwater, it didn’t make me feel far away. It felt close. It felt like a mirror. And I hope we are brave enough to look into it—before we, too, are swept away.
