October is the month of festivities. It is the season of Dashain that different communities of Hindus in Nepal celebrate in their distinctive ways. Then it is the turn of five-day-long Yam Panchak combining Dhanwantari Jayanti.

For the Newa community, Mha Puja is the worship of the self as a manifestation of the supreme being, which also marks the first day of Nepal Sambat.

After Yam Panchak, it's the turn of Chhaith in Mithila when devotees light earthen lamps to pay homage to the setting sun and then pray to the rising sun the next morning for the health and wealth of the family.

Minorities in Nepal, too, mark the autumn in their own ways. This year, Eid-ul-Milad-un-Nabi honouring the birth of Prophet Mohammed, may peace be upon him, was observed with piety by the Muslims. For some women of the Hindu community, there was Karwa Chauth, and Christians will be celebrating Halloween.

In this part of the world, relatively calm October, with several varieties of evergreen trees sprouting fresh leaves as the old ones fall off their branches, can sometimes feel even better than the dry and windy month of April.

The best part of autumn used to be cloud-like cotton balls kiting untethered in the blue sky.

But the clouds turned out to be darker this year. Lord Indra, the Hindu deity of rain, used to come to Kathmandu to steal night jasmine, get caught and be released with a promise of prosperity. This autumn, he left his troops to devastate the land with unseasonal downpour resulting in the unexpected flooding of paddies just as the ripening rice crop was ready to be harvested.

Fallen paddies

Experts estimate that losses due to the unseasonal rains of October would run into billions of rupees. The projected GDP of the year is likely to fall by up to 0.6 percentage points. These numbers, however, tell only part of the story. Cultivation of rice is a significant part of the farming culture, and the sight of ripening paddies going waste in the flooded fields brings tears to the eyes.

The numerical expression can't match the year-long association of subsistence farmers. The cycle begins when the ripe crop is reaped, and the best of the produce is separated for the seeds. The straw sustains the livestock during the grassless winter in Madhes. Spring is for clearing the rice fields and ploughing the ground while the soil is still moist.

Summer months are for preparing seedbeds, dumping manure and irrigating seedlings so that the plants survive the scorching sun. Come monsoon, and it's time for muddying the paddies and transplanting seedlings in the softened puddle.

Floods of the late monsoon do sometimes wash away rice paddies, and occasional dry spells play havoc with the harvest. But rice is a crop of hope. Farmers pray and plant again, and when the yellowing plants turn green and then yellow with grains, it's an occasion to bow in reverence to the forces of nature.

The sight of freshly planted paddies being washed away by monsoon floods can be distressful, but to see ripened rice fall and rot due to autumnal rain is devastating. When grains grow seedlings while still on their stems, it signifies the end of the natural order of everything in life. I have been a farmer once, and my eyes welled up as I typed this sentence.

This October, the downpour turned the cooling relief from the humid heat of September into drenching grief of over 100 lost lives.

The government of Province 2 has announced token relief. Nobody is even talking about adequate compensation to the aggrieved families. Many agriculturists will blame their fate and get on with life. But it appears that the unseasonal rains may be an early sign of looming uncertainties.

A lay farmer may not comprehend the complexities of climate change. Still, the depressing sight of fallen crops and the ominous smell of rotting grains is enough to alarm them of the consequences of the uncontrollable fury of nature.

Broken lives

Almost a million people had left Kathmandu for their homes in the villages and towns of Nepal to celebrate autumnal festivals. At least 173 of those are reported to have lost their lives, and nearly 1,600 were injured in road accidents due to the risk of traffic rush and ill-designed carriageways compounded by damage caused by the inclement weather.

Excesses of the law and order machinery claimed at least four lives in Rupandehi while dozens of protestors were denied justice in Nepalgunj who had trekked over 500 kilometres to bring their grievances to the attention of the nation. Instead of a prompt hearing, all they got initially was arbitrary detention. Mercifully, an investigation has since been ordered into the cases of suspicious disappearances of Nakunni Dhobi and Niramala Kurmi; but as goes the adage, justice delayed is justice denied.

Caste-based hate crime took the form of the brutally beating of a Dalit to death in Chitwan. An alternative narrative is being built through a section of social media that seeks to blame the victim for his "drunkenness". The wheels of justice move excruciatingly slow when the perpetrators are from the dominant groups, and the victim comes from one of the several minority communities of the country.

The Covid-19 pandemic is projected to turn endemic even after the vaccination drive. Better management of health infrastructure will be needed to face fresh challenges.

History bears testimony that the unpredictability of weather and consequent natural disasters induce apocalyptic changes in polity and society. The impact of climate change upon the lives of the people living in the fragile region of the Himalaya is being observed, documented and analysed.

Hopefully, the warming of the Himalaya and its catastrophic consequences will come up for serious deliberations during COP26 that Premier Sher Bahadur Deuba is scheduled to attend. Combating the catastrophic effects of climatic change will require a concerted effort of the global community.

The poor have to bear the greatest burden of climate change. Their suffering can somewhat be alleviated through better governance. This autumn has been such a season of doom and gloom that just the prospect of the chilling winter ahead appears frightening.

This Deepawali, light a lamp in memory of the fallen paddies, lost hopes and broken families.