<\/p>\n
Rising temperatures, rapid glacial melts and warming oceans are triggering a host of climate-related events.<\/p>\n
When Mohammad Hasan returned to his hometown in Gilgit-Baltistan last month, he was welcomed by a parched Skardu gasping for precipitation. The peaks encircling the town, usually hidden under a blanket of snow, looked livid with thirst.<\/p>\n
In neighbouring Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, \u2018hotspots\u2019 Malam Jabba, Swat and Kalam also failed to transition from brown to white. The cities\u2019 otherwise crowded streets only sported desperate shopkeepers cajoling disappointed tourists.<\/p>\n
Snow and rain had eluded the northern areas in the peak of winter.<\/p>\n
On the other hand, down south, floods wreaked havoc in Balochistan \u2014 that too in February. Gwadar received<\/a> over 2,200 millimetres of rain within a span of just a few days, while other areas of the province recorded freezing temperatures.<\/p>\n In the southeast, an \u2018unusual\u2019 cold wave left Sindh shivering. Karachi saw temperatures going down to 11 degrees Celsius earlier this month, recording the coldest-ever March since 1979.<\/p>\n Just three months into 2024, Pakistan already seems to be treading a path of extremities (no, I am not talking about the post-election situation). So what is making the weather bipolar?<\/p>\n Across Pakistan, January generally qualifies as the coldest month of the year and sees the highest amount of rain or snowfall, particularly in the upper regions. But in KP and GB, this year brought a \u201cbig and rare snow deficit\u201d.<\/p>\n \u201cBy this time of the year (December-January), the streets should have been covered with seven to eight feet of snow,\u201d said Hasan, a travel photographer. Instead, what he met were dry weather and dust pollution.<\/p>\n The average snowfall across the country during these months is 47.5 inches. But this year was very different because January was coming to an end and Pakistan had only received one to two inches of snow.<\/p>\n While the prolonged dry spell<\/a> in both KP and GB finally broke in the beginning of February, Chief Meteorologist Sardar Sarfraz said these new patterns were nothing less than \u201calarming\u201d.<\/p>\n \u201cSnowfall on the mountains keeps the flow in rivers and streams going during spring and summers,\u201d he told Dawn.com<\/em>, explaining that this water does not just help with domestic use but also produces electricity, helps with irrigation and feeds dams.<\/p>\n The snow in January, he continued, is solid, stagnant and lasts longer than other months. \u201cThe lifetime of the snowfall in February and March is less and it melts faster,\u201d Sarfraz said.<\/p>\n This means that the country may face a water and food shortage this year. But how?<\/p>\n The journey of water from up north down to the plains of Punjab and further south towards the Indus Delta is fed by snowmelts. For instance, water from the mountains of Kashmir feeds the Mangla and Tarbela dams, while the Indus River travels all the way from GB to the Kotri Barrage in Jamshoro.<\/p>\n \u201cIf the water flow is not good, these water expeditions will be affected and that would in turn harm irrigation,\u201d Sarfraz elaborated. For an agro-based country like ours, this poses a major risk.<\/p>\n Moreover, the economy of KP and GB primarily thrives on tourism. Every year, people from across the country, throng up to Naran, Kaghan, Hunza and other areas only to enjoy winters.<\/p>\n But many of those who made the tiring journey up north this year came back disheartened, and the reason was just one: no snow. Ali Sheikh, a Rawalpindi-based traveller, said the ski resorts of Malam Jabba and Kalam, once packed with tourists, were empty in January.<\/p>\n \u201cIt seemed as if a strange drought had hit these areas,\u201d he recalled.<\/p>\n This \u201cdrought\u201d had hit both the mountains and the locals alike. Shopkeepers and vendors who depend on tourists for their livelihood had to fend for themselves through alternative means.<\/p>\n Dr Tariq Rauf, a PhD scholar who works on disaster management in Kohistan, blamed seasonal shifts for these weather patterns. He explained that the number of seasons over the past several years, even up north, has reduced to just two \u2014 summer and winter.<\/p>\n \u201cIt is either the monsoon rains or the winter landslides. There is nothing in between,\u201d he told Dawn.com<\/em>, explaining that average temperatures have increased. \u201cEven in winters, temperatures are relatively warmer, which is forcing the glaciers to melt rapidly.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd when these glaciers melt at such a pace, they bring floods \u2014 similar to or worse than the 2022 disaster.\u201d<\/p>\n More than 1,400 kilometres to the south, just as February came to a close, a storm hit Balochistan. Record-breaking rains<\/a> ravaged several areas of the province, especially Gwadar \u2014 a city that the government boasts for its development and overseas investment \u2014 and neighbouring towns, and triggered floods.<\/p>\n \u201cIt rained for two consecutive days,\u201d said Muhammad Bizenjo, a resident. \u201cOur houses were flooded. The furniture in my house was swimming in waist-high water.\u201d<\/p>\n Next door, the walls of Yaqoob\u2019s room had caved in, forcing him to spend the night on the roof of their katcha makaan<\/em>. \u201cAt 3am, when there was no other option, I waded to my sister\u2019s house and have been living here with my wife and children ever since,\u201d the 34-year-old government employee said.<\/p>\n Two weeks on, Yaqoob has still not been able to return home. His house, located in the Thanawar area of Gwadar, bore the cracks of the rain assault. They were, however, now hidden with cheap plaster. Several of his neighbours had a similar story to tell.<\/p>\nSnow deficit<\/h2>\n
Gwadar deluge<\/h2>\n