Every year, as the Rapti River in Balrampur begins to swell, life in the floodplains of eastern Uttar Pradesh slows to a fragile rhythm. The people living here – farmers, labourers, and families who have known the land for generations – speak of floods not as events, but as seasons. The water returns every year, often without warning, washing over their homes, their fields, and their sense of stability.
In villages across Balrampur, Bahraich, and Shrawasti, the threat of flooding is constant and layered. It comes from the rising river and from sudden upstream water releases that can raise river levels by two feet within an hour. “When the water is released from Bahraich, it reaches us before we even know,” says one resident. “We have no time to move our animals or save anything.” Bridges get submerged, handpumps disappear underwater, and families retreat to makeshift chokis – small wooden platforms built above the floodline – to survive days surrounded by water.
The homes here are mostly kuccha – built from mud, thatch, and bamboo – and stand side by side with the fields that sustain them. This proximity, while practical for everyday life, leaves families doubly exposed. When the water rises, they lose both home and harvest. “During one flood, I had a newborn in my arms,” recalls a woman from a nearby settlement. “We could not sleep. We feared the house would collapse any moment.”
Agriculture remains the heart of life in these villages, and with it, an ongoing tension between hope and risk. In summer, farmers prepare the soil and transplant paddy seedlings, their feet sunk deep in muddy water. “All the good harvest will be lost if the floods come,” one farmer remarks with a resigned smile.
Others have already stopped cultivating during the monsoon, unable to bear repeated losses. Those who persist often lease land through local sharecropping arrangements known as adhiya – a gamble that can end in complete loss when the river shifts course. “I had eight bighas under cultivation,” says a farmer in Balrampur. “I invested everything – Rs 10,000 to 12,000 in seed and labour. The river swallowed it all. Officials came, took photos, but we have received nothing.”
The process he describes – khatan – is the slow, relentless erosion that eats away at the land. Over the years, the Rapti River has moved from two kilometres away to barely a hundred metres from some homes. Fertile fields have turned to baalo – barren, sandy stretches where nothing grows. In some villages, only rented migrants now attempt cultivation, paying ₹500 per bigha for land that might not last the season.
Livestock, too, suffer during floods. Fodder stored near homes gets soaked or swept away. “Should we buy food for our animals, or for ourselves?” a farmer asks. The few public toilets and relief shelters available offer little safety. Built at ground level, they are among the first to go under. Even during Janmashtami, community members say they cannot gather because there’s no elevated safe space or Panchayat Bhavan left for use.
It is in these settings that SEEDS (Sustainable Environment and Ecological Development Society) – a humanitarian organisation working across South Asia to build resilience against disasters and climate emergencies – began its anticipatory action initiative earlier this year. The approach resonates closely with the adaptation and resilience priorities being discussed at COP30 in Belém, where nations are calling for timely, people-centred action before disasters strike.
Through its resilience framework – anticipate, survive, recover, adapt, and aspire – the non-profit worked with communities in Balrampur, Bahraich, and Shrawasti to bridge the gap between warnings and responses.
The trainings were designed to have community-led task forces monitor risk and alert their members and neighbours promptly. Sessions on flood preparedness brought together residents, experts, and officials to map vulnerable zones, discuss erosion-prone areas, and identify safer shelters. “When we saw our own names marked on the map,” one participant said, “we realised how close the danger really is.”
This locally led approach reflects one of COP30’s central discussions – that resilience must be community-driven, equitable, and informed by local knowledge. The programme also focused on practical resilience – how to store grain and fodder on raised platforms, protect livestock, secure essential documents, and maintain safe access to water. Elevated handpumps were installed, though even these, residents note, can submerge in extreme floods. “Earlier, we didn’t know what to do,” says another villager. “Now at least we can prepare when the river starts to rise.”
These efforts may not stop the water from coming, but they have begun to change how communities face it. From waiting helplessly for rescue, families are now starting to anticipate, share alerts, and act early. Across the floodplains of the Rapti, this quiet shift – from reaction to readiness – marks the beginning of a deeper resilience. It is not just about survival, but about reclaiming agency in a landscape long shaped by uncertainty.
At COP30, leaders and experts continue to stress anticipatory action and early warning systems as critical tools to reduce loss and damage – particularly for countries like India that face recurring climate extremes. SEEDS’ model in Uttar Pradesh shows how these global commitments can translate into real, local change.
SEEDS Co-Founder Dr Manu Gupta, acknowledging the support of generous donors such as H&M, said, “With sudden extreme climate events, action before disasters is the only way forward. We are helping the community build their resilience and to take action and be the first responders for their own communities.”
His words mirror the call at COP30 for human-centred climate action – ensuring that those most affected by climate change lead their own preparedness and recovery.
This initiative was carried out with trained volunteers of Tarai Environment Awareness Samiti in Balrampur and Panchsheel Development Trust in Bahraich and Shrawasti. Most of these motivated young people are, in fact, the critical link between survival and the looming dangers during an unprecedented climate event. When communities take charge of their environments and are alert to information that can be shared with them, community preparedness against a disaster is much stronger.
