Climate
Every Rumble Sounds Like the Mountain Falling Again: Inside Meppadi’s Second Landslide in Two Years
A community that survived one of India’s deadliest landslides is still relearning how to live with the sound of the hills coming down.
On July 7, 2026, around 11 a.m., a rumble echoed through Meppadi and a six-year-old boy ran. He had stayed home from school that day. The moment he heard the sound, he rushed to his mother, wrapped his arms around her, and refused to let go. He was trembling. For him, the sound wasn’t just noise. It was 2024 again.
The boy had survived the Chooralmala landslide that killed hundreds of his neighbours two years ago, and he has been in counselling ever since. On this day, a new landslide six kilometres away, at the Anakkompoyil–Meenakshi tunnel construction site in Kalladi, had reopened the wound.
“For him, it was like reliving the 2024 landslide,” his grandmother, Roshna Yusaf, a social worker and former Meppadi panchayat member, told EdPublica. “The moment he heard the familiar sound again, he came running and held on to his mother. He refused to stay apart.”
Meppadi is a small hill town in Wayanad, a hilly district in the southern Indian state of Kerala, set in the Western Ghats — a steep, rain-soaked mountain range that runs down India’s western coast and is globally recognised as one of the world’s biodiversity hotspots. It was here, in July 2024, that a series of landslides buried the neighbouring villages of Mundakkai and Chooralmala, killing hundreds of people in one of the deadliest disasters in Kerala’s history. Two years on, Meppadi panchayat — the local administrative area that includes both those villages, Kalladi, and the town itself — is still rebuilding. In July 2026, it happened again.
The Kalladi landslide killed eight people — seven migrant workers and the project’s construction manager — in a disaster that geo-scientists have since called preventable, pointing to inadequate geological and hydrological study for a tunnel driven through fragile Western Ghats terrain. Rescue operations ran for six days before all the bodies were recovered. Around 40 families from nearby Meenakshi were moved to relief camps.
For Meppadi, still rebuilding after the 2024 Chooralmala–Mundakkai disaster, it was not an isolated accident. It was a second interruption to childhoods, livelihoods, and a fragile sense of security the community had spent two years trying to rebuild.
When Childhood Is Interrupted
The six-year-old is one of many children in Meppadi still carrying the trauma of repeated landslides. For them, the sound of heavy rain or collapsing earth is enough to bring back memories they have spent months trying to overcome.
The latest disaster has again disrupted their education.
“It has been only one month since schools reopened. Now the children cannot go to school,” said Biji Zhacahi, a mother of two from Meenakshi.
“Every year, it is the children’s future that gets disrupted. Because of these repeated incidents, some children even become reluctant to go to school. As parents, we are always worried about their safety.”
Roshna pointed out how narrowly the community escaped a far larger tragedy. The Kalladi landslide struck at 11 a.m. — a school day, but after the morning rush.
“If the landslide had happened in the morning, many students could have lost their lives, because they usually board their school buses from the nearby bus stop,” she said.

For many families, interrupted schooling — and the fear of sending children to school at all — has become another fixture of every monsoon.
Women Living in Uncertainty
Repeated landslides have also reshaped daily life for women, many of whom manage households alone while their husbands work abroad.
“Women here have forgotten how to smile,” Roshna said. Years of facing one disaster after another, she said, have left many women emotionally exhausted.
“Every time it rains heavily, the same questions come back — what if another landslide happens, where do we run, how do we protect our children? The fear never really leaves.”
When Livelihoods Depend on the Weather
The uncertainty extends well beyond the home. It touches almost every livelihood in Meppadi.
“When it rains, it rains continuously for several days,” said Krishna Raj, a shop owner in Meppadi town. “Transportation becomes difficult. We have to travel to nearby towns to bring supplies for our shops, but during heavy rain that is not always possible.”
With roads frequently cut off, even running a small business becomes a gamble.
For jeep driver Mansoor Ali, every journey through the hills carries its own anxiety.
“It is very scary to drive here at night,” he said. “Whenever I hear a loud sound, I fear it is another landslide. In the dark, we don’t even know where to run. That is how most drivers here live.”
Many residents had already shifted from agriculture to tourism after repeated crop losses from wild animal attacks made farming increasingly difficult. Landslides, and the restrictions on tourist movement that follow them, have now unsettled that livelihood too.
“People moved to tourism because farming became difficult,” said Sijo, who works in the sector. “Now tourist visits and homestays have also been affected.”
For many families in Meppadi, there is no livelihood the monsoon has left untouched.
A Tunnel That Brings Hope — and Questions
Despite the tragedy at the construction site, residents largely continue to support the Anakkompoyil–Meenakshi (Kalladi–Meppadi) tunnel project. The twin-tunnel road is meant to cut straight through the hills separating hilly, landlocked Wayanad from the neighbouring coastal district of Malappuram, replacing the long, congested detour drivers currently take over the Thamarassery Ghat — a winding mountain pass notorious for accidents and traffic jams.
“We have great expectations from this project,” said Nishal, a resident of Meenakshi. “Better connectivity is something people here have needed for years.” At the same time, he added, residents are uneasy about how the construction is being carried out.
Roshna fears that soil excavated from the tunnel is being dumped on the slopes above her home. “If more soil is dumped above the mountain, many houses, including mine, could be affected,” she said. “I am 56 years old. I cannot build another house.”
Her fear echoes the explanation Kerala’s government has itself offered for the disaster: a state minister called it not a natural landslide but a man-made one, a clear case of lapse, and said the district collector had warned the tunnel’s contractor, Konkan Railway, in writing about the danger — a warning that went unheeded. Following the incident, the Kerala government suspended all construction on the Rs 2,134-crore tunnel project pending two separate investigations.
Nishal recalled that a strong artesian spring had emerged during the tunnel’s initial construction phase the previous summer. A paddy field near the site had also been cleared and filled in by the construction company, he said, and inadequate drainage afterward let water and loosened soil flow downhill. Many residents, he added, still don’t know whether they will eventually be displaced, because the project’s final alignment has never been clearly communicated to them.
“People have doubts because they don’t have clear information,” he said. “But almost everyone supports the project because we need better connectivity.”
The tension between that need and its risks is not new. A legal challenge to the tunnel had argued that it cut through an ecologically fragile region already prone to repeated landslides, and that environmental safeguards were inadequate. In April 2026, the Supreme Court declined to halt construction, calling the project one of significant public importance and leaving compliance to statutory regulators. The court settled the legal question. The Kalladi landslide reopened the scientific one.
A Disaster With a Familiar Shape
The parallels to 2024 are not just emotional; they are geological. Both disasters struck the same short stretch of hill country in Meppadi panchayat, where a thick layer of weathered, unconsolidated lateritic soil sits over highly fractured bedrock — a combination that loses its shear strength rapidly once intense rainfall raises pore-water pressure inside the slope. Researchers who studied the 2024 disaster concluded that this fragile geology, not any single cause, was what turned extreme rain into a catastrophic slope failure, and warned that the region’s concave slopes, which concentrate runoff, remain especially susceptible to future failures.
The 2024 Chooralmala–Mundakkai landslide remains one of the deadliest in Kerala’s history. Official confirmed deaths stood at 231 for months, before the state government declared all 32 people still listed as missing to be dead, in a notification issued on February 10, 2025 — a bureaucratic closing of the books that, for families, only formalised a grief they had already been living with. Independent researchers, using different counting methods, have since put the true toll considerably higher.
For Meppadi, that history is why an eight-death landslide at a tunnel site feels less like a new disaster than a recurrence — proof that a community built on some of the most landslide-prone slopes in the Western Ghats has yet to find a way to build, or to grieve, that outlasts the next monsoon.
A Town That Never Stops Recovering
For Meppadi, the latest landslide is not an isolated tragedy. It is another interruption in a recovery that never seems to end.
Children grow up carrying trauma. Women wait anxiously through every spell of rain. Workers wonder whether their livelihoods will survive another monsoon.
Yet amid the uncertainty, residents say it is the community’s solidarity that helps them move forward.
“From the NDRF and Fire and Rescue teams to local people, everyone stands together with one heart to rebuild the area,” said Meppadi Grama Panchayat President Ramla Hamza. “The resilience of the people, even after facing repeated disasters, makes these difficult times a little easier to bear.”
The rescue teams have left, and the roads will eventually reopen.
But in Meppadi, the true cost of living is not measured only in damaged homes or lost income. It is measured in a community forced to begin recovering all over again, every time the hills give way.
Ground report from Meppadi, Wayanad, Kerala, India. Some names of residents quoted appear as given to our reporter in the field.
Climate
From Lost Wages to Rising Medical Bills: How Extreme Heat Is Already Costing India’s Economy
India’s scorching summer may have ended with the arrival of the southwest monsoon, but the economic impact of months of extreme heat is only beginning to surface. The costs are visible at every level—from workers earning less because they cannot stay on the job, to households paying more for healthcare and cooling, and ultimately to the country’s economy losing billions in productivity.
New report by Adelphi Global argues that this “double burden” of falling incomes and rising medical expenses is one of the least recognized economic consequences of climate change. In a country where nearly nine out of ten workers are employed in the informal sector and households continue to shoulder a large share of healthcare costs, the financial consequences are particularly severe.
When Heat Cuts Working Hours, Incomes Fall
Extreme heat affects the economy first through labour. Unlike machines, people cannot continue working safely under prolonged exposure to high temperatures. Workers slow down, take frequent breaks or stop working altogether to avoid heat stress. Recovery from heat-related illnesses can take weeks, while severe cases may permanently reduce a person’s ability to work.

The impact is greatest in agriculture and construction, where work is physically demanding and carried out outdoors. According to the report, India already loses an average of 4.31% of annual working hours because of this. Under a moderate warming scenario, that could rise to 5.8% by 2030. In agriculture and construction, annual working-hour losses are projected to reach 9.04%, equivalent to nearly 22.5 working days each year.
For millions of workers paid by the day, fewer hours on the job mean less money taken home.
Informal Workers With Little Financial Protection
The losses are particularly severe because most Indian workers lack social protection. The report estimates that 90% of women workers and 86% of men work in the informal economy, where paid leave, health insurance and wage protection are rare. Missing work because of extreme heat often means losing income immediately.
Median daily earnings remain modest even before these disruptions. Women earn about USD 18.72 (PPP) per day, while men earn around USD 25.52 (PPP). Repeated income losses can quickly push vulnerable households deeper into financial distress.
The report warns that between 54% and 80% of informal workers globally already earn below median wages. In India, where nearly one-fourth of the population lives below the World Bank’s lower-middle-income poverty line, recurring heat-related work losses could push even more families into poverty.
Rising Temperatures Raising Household Expenses
The financial impact does not stop when workers leave the job site. Heat-related illnesses increase medical spending at a time when incomes are already falling. Although public spending on healthcare has increased, households still pay 44% of India’s total health expenditure directly from their own pockets.
Annual per capita out-of-pocket health expenditure reached USD 151 (PPP) in 2023—almost three times higher than in 2000. Extreme heat also raises everyday living costs.
Keeping homes cool becomes more expensive during hotter months. While wealthier households spend only around 0.2–0.25% of their total expenditure on air-conditioning, the poorest households may spend up to 8% of their household budget on electricity for cooling. Researchers describe this growing financial burden as “heat poverty”—where families struggle to afford adequate cooling despite rising temperatures.
Due to this, food prices are also expected to rise. Higher temperatures alone could increase global headline inflation by up to 1.18% and food inflation by as much as 3.23% by 2035. Together, these costs create a financial squeeze: households earn less while spending more.
The Bigger Economic Picture
The report argues that these household-level losses eventually add up to a national economic challenge. According to Lancet Countdown, India lost about USD 194 billion in potential income because of reduced labour capacity caused by extreme heat in 2024. That is equivalent to roughly 5% of the country’s GDP.
Globally, the economic impact is equally significant. Between 1981 and 2010, heat exposure resulted in the equivalent loss of 35 million full-time jobs and reduced global GDP by an estimated USD 280 billion. Between 1992 and 2013, climate-driven extreme heat caused economic losses estimated at USD 16–50 trillion worldwide.
The findings show that extreme heat is no longer only an environmental or public health concern. It is becoming a growing economic challenge, particularly for labour-intensive economies like India.
Rising Heat: Need for Economic Policy
Adapting to extreme heat requires more than emergency weather advisories.
It calls for stronger labour protections, income support for workers affected by heat, expanded social protection for informal workers and greater public investment in healthcare to reduce dependence on out-of-pocket spending. It also recommends increasing adaptation finance to address productivity losses and the economic consequences of heat-related illnesses.
As climate change makes India’s summers hotter and longer, the true cost of extreme heat will be reflected in shrinking pay packets, rising household expenses and slower economic growth.
Climate
Wayanad Landslide Death Toll Rises to Five; Search Continues for Missing Workers
The death toll in the landslide that struck a tunnel construction site at Kalladi near Meppadi in Kerala’s Wayanad district has risen to five, with rescue teams recovering two more bodies from the debris today. Search operations are continuing to locate the remaining missing workers amid challenging weather conditions and unstable slopes.
The landslide occurred on 7 July after heavy monsoon rain triggered a slope failure at the construction site of the Anakkampoyil–Kalladi–Meppadi tunnel road project. According to officials, around 18 workers were present at the site when the hillside gave way, burying workers, machinery and temporary site facilities. Nine workers were rescued with injuries and shifted to nearby hospitals, while emergency teams continue to search for those still trapped.
Wayanad Landslide: Rescue operation enters critical phase
Personnel from the National Disaster Response Force (NDRF), Kerala Fire and Rescue Services, Police and other emergency agencies are leading the rescue effort. Teams are focusing on identified high-probability zones using earth-moving equipment and sniffer dogs, but intermittent rainfall and unstable debris continue to slow the operation. Authorities have also evacuated nearby areas as a precaution against further slope failures.
Questions raised over construction practices
The incident has renewed concerns over infrastructure development in the ecologically sensitive Western Ghats. The Kerala government has ordered an inquiry into the landslide, including whether excavation activities or the dumping of excavated earth from the tunnel project contributed to the slope collapse. The construction company has denied the allegations, maintaining that the landslide originated from a natural hillside above the project site.
The latest tragedy comes less than two years after the Mundakkai–Chooralmala landslides of July 2024, Kerala’s deadliest landslide disaster. The recurrence of landslides in the Meppadi region has intensified calls for stricter geological assessments, improved monitoring of infrastructure projects, and stronger safeguards for workers and communities living in landslide-prone areas.
Climate
Super El Niño Can’t Explain Mumbai’s Deluge, But Climate Change Can
Climate change is intensifying Mumbai’s rainfall, making downpours shorter and more extreme. Experts explain why El Niño alone cannot explain the floods.
Mumbai Climate Change Rainfall: Mumbai’s recent deluge reflects a changing monsoon shaped by climate change as much as El Niño. Experts say warming oceans and a hotter atmosphere are driving fewer rainy days but far more intense downpours, exposing the city’s ageing drainage systems and growing vulnerability to urban flooding.
For most of June, the story of India’s monsoon was one of delay and deficit. A strengthening El Niño in the Pacific was pushing the Southwest Monsoon back, and by the end of the month the country was staring at a 40 percent rainfall shortfall. Then, within days, the sky flipped. As the monsoon shifted into an active phase, Mumbai and the rest of India’s west coast were hit by rain so intense that the national deficit collapsed from 40 percent to 20 percent in less than a week, as of July 6.
The whiplash has revived a debate among climate scientists that goes beyond this one season: it is no longer only about how much rain a city gets, but how that rain arrives.
A new briefing from Climate Trends lays out the case that a warmer atmosphere and rapidly heating oceans are loading the air with more moisture than before, which means fewer rainy days overall but far more violent bursts when the rain does come. El Niño, in this reading, still controls the timing and broad strength of the monsoon — but climate change is increasingly writing its character, turning downpours shorter, sharper, and more likely to overwhelm drains built for a gentler era.
Mumbai Climate Change Rainfall Intensifies Monsoon Extremes
Mumbai’s own numbers make the point. In the first seven days of July alone, the city saw four separate spells of triple-digit rainfall. The Colaba observatory logged 791 mm between July 1 and 7 — more than its entire climatological average for the whole month of 768.5 mm. Santa Cruz recorded 879 mm in the same window, brushing up against its monthly normal of 919.9 mm.
Mahesh Palawat, Vice President of Meteorology and Climate Change at Skymet Weather, pointed to a pile-up of weather systems as the immediate trigger. “Monsoon is presently in an active phase, with several weather systems prevailing across the country,” he said, noting a depression over Odisha and a cyclonic circulation over Maharashtra keeping both arms of the monsoon active, while continuous moisture from the Arabian Sea kept regenerating cloud cover over the state.
Dr Raghu Murtugudde, Emeritus Professor at the University of Maryland and a retired professor at IIT-Bombay, went further, arguing that the two forces driving this monsoon can no longer be pulled apart. “El Niño just cannot be separated from global warming anymore,” he said, describing how both the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal were firing at once, feeding moisture into the core monsoon zone that eventually rides the Western Ghats and dumps over Mumbai.
Rewriting the Monsoon’s Rulebook
Palawat said the shift is structural, not a one-off. Weather systems that form in the Bay of Bengal, he explained, have started tracking west instead of northwest, while the Arabian Sea’s record warming has added extra moisture to the mix, keeping clouds regenerating for days on end wherever a weather system parks itself.
Dr K J Ramesh, former Director General of the India Meteorological Department, framed it as a break from the monsoon India used to know. “We know that the character of the monsoon has changed forever due to global warming,” he said. “Rains will be in the form of short duration and high intensity, whether there is an El Niño or no El Niño.” He pointed to Rajasthan, Gujarat and West Madhya Pradesh, where Western Disturbances alone can no longer explain the volume of rain now falling — an added moisture feed from the Arabian Sea, he said, has changed the pattern across the region.
Research cited in the briefing backs this up on a larger scale: the Middle East has been warming almost twice as fast as the rest of the inhabited world, and that heating has been linked to nearly half — 46 percent — of the intensified rainfall over Northwest India and Pakistan between 1979 and 2022, by pushing moisture northward out of the Arabian Sea.
The Long-term Drift
Zoom out from any single storm and the trend holds. Comparing 1981–2000 with 2001–2024, average monsoon rainfall has climbed by nearly 15 percent in Mumbai and 23 percent in Pune, according to data from the Council on Energy, Environment and Water (CEEW).

Looking ahead, a separate report — Indian Coastal Region: Climate Projections 2021–2040 — suggests suburban Mumbai and parts of coastal Maharashtra and Gujarat should expect almost an additional week of heavy rain during the Southwest Monsoon in the coming years, alongside a projected 18 percent rise in the region’s already-massive 1,749 mm monsoon baseline. The same projections point to rising temperatures across the board, including a 1.3°C increase in both summer wet-bulb and winter minimum temperatures.
When Rain meets a City That isn’t Ready
Climate change, though, is only half the story of why Mumbai floods. The briefing frames urban flooding as a climate-plus-exposure problem — extreme rainfall colliding with a city whose drains, floodplains and green cover haven’t kept pace.
Ramesh was blunt about what that means on the ground. “It is no longer a matter of warnings anymore as substantial warnings have been issued well in time. It is now a preparedness and response issue,” he said, calling for full desilting of drains ahead of every monsoon and blaming unchecked concretisation for leaving trees with no room for their roots to breathe.
Dr Vishwas Chitale, a Fellow at CEEW, described the immediate toll of the past week’s rain — an orange alert in Mumbai and a red alert in Pune, both signalling rainfall heavy enough to disrupt daily life. He pointed to early warning systems and structured flood-resilience plans, like the one CEEW helped develop with the Thane Municipal Corporation, as the kind of groundwork cities now need. “We need to come out with some practical solutions on the ground to be able to manage urban flooding better,” he said.
Aarti Khosla, Director of Climate Trends, put the challenge in starker terms: extreme rainfall is no longer a possibility to plan around but a near-certainty to plan for. “The question is no longer whether extreme rainfall events will occur, but whether our cities are prepared to withstand them,” she said, calling for climate-resilient drainage, nature-based flood defences and urban planning that treats risk as a starting assumption rather than an afterthought.
The briefing’s broader point is a simple one: urban flooding happens when saturated drainage meets any of several triggers — torrential rain, storm surge, sea-level rise, groundwater seepage, or simply a city with too little permeable ground left to absorb water. Global warming is intensifying the rainfall trigger, and dense, paved-over cities are amplifying what happens next.
As one line from the briefing puts it, cities designed for yesterday’s climate are struggling to cope with today’s extremes — and, if the projections hold, tomorrow’s will demand even more.
-
Space & Physics2 months agoIndia Semiconductor Mission: ‘It’s Not About Fabs. It’s About Building An Entire Ecosystem’
-
Climate1 month agoThe Climate World Cup? How Climate Change Could Affect Player Performance at the 2026 World Cup
-
Society2 days agoWhat Is Civilisational Diplomacy? Understanding India’s Newest Foreign Policy Tool
-
Society4 weeks agoFrom Bell Labs to the Classroom: A Second Career in Teaching
-
Space & Physics1 month agoEngineers Develop Dual-Mode Propulsion System for Next-Generation Small Satellites
-
Space & Physics2 months agoInside India’s Semiconductor Push: ‘This Is a 100-Year Bet’
-
Interviews6 months agoGeometry, Curiosity and Finding ‘Her’ Place
-
Technology3 weeks ago10 Technologies That Could Change How We Power Homes, Fight Cancer and Feed the World


