"When the Mountains Wept"

By [Mr.Ghani] — Special Report from Swat Valley, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa

Swat Valley, August 15, 2025 —

The mountains of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa are known for their silent dignity—snow-capped peaks standing guard over winding rivers and lush valleys. But this week, those mountains seemed to grieve. The torrential monsoon rains, heavier than any in recent memory, have unleashed catastrophic floods, claiming over 160 lives in the province and leaving thousands displaced.

From the hill above the village of Gulabad in Swat, the scene below looks less like a place and more like a wound—mud, debris, and fragments of homes where a thriving community once stood.

Voices from the Hill

When I arrive at the temporary camp, I find 19-year-old Zara sitting quietly under a plastic tarp, her younger brother Adil asleep beside her. She clutches a small cloth bag—the only possessions she managed to save: a few clothes, her mother’s old Qur’an, and a family photograph.

“The river sounded different this time,” she tells me, her voice barely above the sound of rain tapping the tarp. “It wasn’t just water. It was angry. Like it wanted to take everything.”

Her father, Rahim Khan, explains how quickly the disaster struck. “One moment, we were hearing announcements from the mosque telling us to move to higher ground. The next, we saw the river become a wall of water. We barely escaped.”

A Village Lost in Minutes

From their hillside refuge, the villagers watched their homes vanish under the flood. The local shop, the small school, and even the mosque’s courtyard—all gone within hours.

Among the debris floating in the brown waters, Zara recalls seeing an empty wooden cradle. She doesn’t know whose it was, and perhaps that’s worse. “It means there was a baby somewhere,” she says, looking away.

Rescue Turns to Tragedy

On the second day after the flood, hope briefly filled the air as helicopters approached, delivering aid. One chopper hovered close to their hill, preparing to drop supplies. Then, a sudden gust of wind caught its blades. Witnesses say it spun sharply before crashing into a nearby slope.

“The exploaion was so loud, everyone went silent,” recalls Adil. “They were coming to help us, and they died right there.” Officials later confirmed that all five people aboard were killed.

The Human Toll

In the relief camp, stories of loss echo from every corner.

A mother who has not seen her two children since the floodwaters came.

An elderly man who watched his livestock—his only source of income—swept away.

A young boy sitting alone, his parents still unaccounted for.

The provincial disaster management authority reports that in addition to the 160 confirmed deaths, hundreds more remain missing. Many remote villages are still inaccessible due to washed-out roads and collapsed bridges.

Aid and Aftermath

Relief workers from across Pakistan have arrived, distributing rice, clean water, and blankets. But aid is slow, and the scale of destruction is overwhelming. “We need more than just food,” says Rahim Khan. “We need homes, roads, and safety. We need to know our children will not face this again next year.”

Meteorologists warn that the rains may continue for several more days, raising fears of further flooding and landslides. Authorities have declared a state of emergency across Khyber Pakhtunkhwa.

When the Mountains Weep

Before leaving the camp, I ask Zara what she thinks will happen next. She pauses, glancing toward the distant peaks now hidden in mist.

“My father says the mountains have their own grief,” she replies. “When they cry, no one can stop them. But maybe, if we respect them more, they won’t have to cry like this again.”

Her words stay with me as I make my way back down the muddy track. The mountains loom above, silent once more—but their tears are still running through the valleys below.