'We've moved our home eight times—now there's nowhere left to go'

Every monsoon, a silent battle begins along the banks of the Teesta River. It is a fight against the river, against nature, and often against fate itself. While some people sleep peacefully, others stay awake through the night, listening to the roar of the river, fearing that by dawn it may swallow the home they spent a lifetime building.

For over sixty-year-old Afeza Begum, a resident of Kellapara in Paschim Chatunama village under Jhuna Gach Chapani Union in Dimla Upazila of Nilphamari, that battle has become a way of life. She has spent most of her life struggling against relentless river erosion.

"When I came here after my marriage, the Teesta was far away," Afeza Begum recalled. "We had a tin-roofed house, fruit orchards, and farmland. One by one, everything has disappeared. We've moved our home eight times. Now there's nowhere left to move it. How many more times must we lose our home before a permanent embankment is built?"

As she spoke, Afeza repeatedly wiped away tears. Behind her, the Teesta roared relentlessly; before her stood the edge of the eroding riverbank, threatening the last shelter she has left.

Afeza's story reflects the reality faced by hundreds of families in Kellapara and surrounding villages. Every monsoon brings renewed uncertainty. Families keep their essential belongings packed in advance, ready to dismantle and relocate their homes in the middle of the night. Others can do nothing but watch as the river devours their houses.

After the Teesta recently flowed above the danger level, floodwaters inundated low-lying areas. As the water receded, severe riverbank erosion began. A visit to the affected area revealed that at least five families have already lost their homes to the river. Many others have hurriedly moved their houses to safer locations, while some have taken shelter elsewhere.

Fresh erosion has appeared in homesteads, courtyards, and farmland across the area. Families with alternative land are relocating farther away. Those with nowhere else to go are rebuilding just a short distance from their previous homes, hoping the river will spare them for at least a little while longer.

The erosion has also disrupted daily life. Many families have been unable to cook for days and are surviving on dry food. Shortages of safe drinking water, food, and medical services have further worsened their hardship.

Local resident Amena Begum said, "We don't want relief aid. Relief cannot sustain our lives year after year. We want a permanent embankment so that we no longer have to live in constant fear of losing our homes."

Another resident, Abu Taleb, believes the only lasting solution is the implementation of the long-discussed Teesta Master Plan.

"For years we've heard promises, but we have yet to see any real progress," he said.

Rahima Begum echoed the same frustration.

"I no longer have the means to rebuild my home again and again. Every monsoon I fear this time I will lose my last remaining possession."

Meanwhile, the Bangladesh Water Development Board (BWDB) has begun emergency efforts to control the erosion by placing geotextile bags in vulnerable areas.

Amitabh Chowdhury, Executive Engineer of the BWDB in Dimla, said that geobags worth approximately Tk 2.8 million are being placed in the Kellapara area to curb riverbank erosion. "If new erosion occurs elsewhere, necessary measures will be taken accordingly," he added.

Dimla Upazila Nirbahi Officer (UNO) Imranuzzaman said the local administration has been providing dry food and other essential assistance whenever rising water levels leave people stranded.

Yet the people living along the Teesta continue to ask the same question: How long will these temporary measures continue?

They say they no longer want an annual cycle of geobags, relief aid, and repeated relocation of their homes. Instead, they hope the long-awaited Teesta Master Plan will finally be implemented, freeing them from the recurring nightmare of river erosion.

For now, however, that master plan remains, for the people of the Teesta basin, less a reality than an elusive dream.