Another Monsoon, Same Story

Every monsoon, Sikkim braces for the inevitable. Landslides, road collapses and disrupted supply chains have become as predictable as the rains themselves. And every year, NH-10—the state's only arterial link to the rest of India—bears the brunt. When this lifeline is severed, Sikkim is effectively cut off. Essential commodities become scarce, fuel supplies dwindle, tourism suffers, businesses stall, and thousands of travellers remain stranded. Yet, beyond temporary repairs and relief measures, little changes.

For decades, successive governments have promised an alternative highway. It has found a place in political manifestos, election speeches and policy discussions, only to disappear once the votes are counted. The need has never been in question; the political will appears to be.

A state dependent on a single road is a state perpetually vulnerable. With climate change triggering more intense rainfall and increasingly frequent landslides in the Himalayas, relying solely on NH-10 is no longer merely an infrastructure challenge—it is a strategic risk. Sikkim cannot afford to have its economy, healthcare, education and emergency response hinge on the fate of one fragile highway.

The alternatives remain equally uncertain. Sikkim's only airport at Pakyong has remained virtually non-functional for over two years, defeating the very purpose for which it was built. The Sevoke-Rangpo railway project promises to improve connectivity, but progress has been painfully slow. Even when completed, questions remain about its long-term resilience and maintenance in one of the world's youngest and most fragile mountain ranges.

It is time to stop treating connectivity as an election slogan and recognise it as a matter of economic security and public safety. The alternative highway must move beyond the drawing board. Existing roads need climate-resilient engineering, emergency bypasses must be identified, air connectivity restored, and rail infrastructure developed with scientific caution.

Sikkim cannot continue to live from one monsoon to the next, hoping NH-10 survives another season. A resilient state deserves more than a single road—and far more than decades of unfulfilled promises.