DIY Resilience: Inside India's Grassroots Climate Recovery

Climate disruptions have now become a near-constant presence in India. Heatwaves have become longer and more frequent, rainfall arrives in erratic, short bursts, and ecological disasters, once considered rare, are now routine.  

On July 7 this year, a landslide tore through the Anakkampoyil-Kalladi-Meppadi tunnel project near Kalladi in Wayanad, Kerala, a project being built to connect Wayanad with Kozhikode. This landslide was triggered by close to 265mm of rain in 24 hours, nearly 10 times the average. The landslide killed several migrant workers and left others missing, while dozens of families were evacuated as a precaution. It struck barely two years after the catastrophic Mundakkai-Chooralmala landslide that devastated the same district. An infrastructure project meant to serve the region became the site of the next disaster.

In 2025 alone, the country faced 331 days’ worth of climate extreme events that led to 4,419 deaths and damaged 17.4 million hectares of crop. For the communities that suffer the aftermath, recovery has become a continuous process. While policy is more focused on infrastructure and long-term development, locals are no longer waiting for the government to rebuild. They are doing it themselves. 

In Himachal Pradesh’s Bilaspur district, this shift was seen when a forest fire in 2024 came dangerously close to a school. Science teacher Avnish Kumar realised how unprepared the school and the surrounding village were. Kumar turned this incident into a classroom lesson asking students to lookout for the possible causes of the forest fire and helped them understand the ecological reasons behind such disasters and the loss of vegetation that occurs after such incidents. What started in a classroom soon spread through the village and the community began to act collectively. According to Kumar, incidents of forest fires in the area have since declined.

As climate extremes become more frequent, many communities are no longer waiting for governments to rebuild. Across the country, local groups are restoring livelihoods, reviving traditional skills, and drawing on indigenous knowledge to adapt to an increasingly uncertain future. From bamboo-based enterprises in Kerala's landslide-prone hills to educators reviving forgotten crafts in Himachal Pradesh, these initiatives are quietly reshaping what climate resilience looks like on the ground.

Bamboo Villages as a Response to Frequent Climate Disasters in Wayanad, Kerala 

Few places illustrate this shift more clearly than Wayanad. Nestled in the hilly ranges of the Western Ghats in Kerala, Wayanad has been experiencing an increase in landslides over the past decade. Several news reports suggest that the rainfall pattern in Kerala has shifted, with an increase in precipitation in the highlands and midlands of the state and a decline in coastal areas. This shift is evident in the districts of Thrissur, Palakkad, Malappuram, Wayanad, and Kannur. 

According to a report by zone4solution, in 2018 alone, surveys identified 47 landslides, 45 land subsidence, and 155 land slips in Wayanad. T Sivaraj, a social activist and Managing Director of Uravu Eco Links, which provides green solutions using local materials like bamboo, mud, and other sustainable sources, says, “Rainfall that was once predictable and seasonal has turned erratic. Cloudburst-like events now dump days’ worth of rain within hours. Landslides that used to be a rare phenomenon have become much more common.”

In 2024, Wayanad faced one of the deadliest landslides, within a span of hours, Mundakkai and Chooralmala settlements of Meppadi panchayat were completely wiped out, killing more than 420 people, with 397 injured, and at least 118 missing due to excess rainfall. The debris flow also caused property damage, destroying over 1,555 houses, schools, dispensaries, 290 shops, bridges, and electricity infrastructure, while damaging 310 hectares of farmland.  

For residents of the affected villages, the disaster upended life overnight. Chandrika, 53, from Chooralmala settlement in Wayanad, which was among the worst hit, says, “I lost 4 members of my family in the landslide. My husband and I also lost our livelihood.” 

The reality of the tragedy continued to weigh on the survivors. “The bodies of the family members have still not been recovered yet,” she adds.

The worst-affected villages in Wayanad were deemed uninhabitable due to geological instability, and the residents of the villages had to relocate to rehabilitation townships. The Kerala government also announced a rehabilitation plan, by acquiring 64.47 hectares at Elstone Estate near Kalpetta for a “Wayanad Model Township” with 410 houses, roads, a health centre, an anganwadi, a market, and community facilities. This initiative was meant to be inaugurated on February 25 this year, but has now been postponed.

The hill station, which is known for its hilly terrain, plantations, trekking trails, waterfalls, and diverse wildlife, faces a big challenge from its own tourism spots and resorts. The district has undergone rapid transformation. Quarrying, road expansion, tourism infrastructure, and hillside construction have also altered the slopes and drainage patterns. The Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel (WGEEP) Report, published in 2012, tried to address this challenge by categorising the entire Western Ghats Mountain Range into three eco-sensitive zones. However, the report was rejected by the states, including Kerala.

This uncertainty has left people grappling with unanswered questions about their lives, livelihoods, and whether “normal” is something they can ever return to. It is within this atmosphere that some community-based efforts began to take shape, and one such effort focused on rebuilding the larger infrastructure of the area with the help of bamboo, and now it has begun to emerge as an alternative sustainable model for the people. 

It all started when a 2.5-acre abandoned quarry was developed into what is now called the Bamboo Grove by the organisation called Uravu Eco Links. In the grove, bamboo was planted, and ponds were created for cultivation. Now, this Bamboo Grove acts as an eco-tourism hub that is completely sustainable and is run by the local community. They prepare food for the guests that arrive there on a rotational basis to distribute income amongst themselves.

Sivaraj, who looks after the Bamboo Grove, says, “The community here has been planting lots of bamboo, and we wanted to bring in the use of it not just in small products such as baskets but also for the construction of furniture and housing. To build them sustainably so that they can last for a long time, we chose to build not in a conventional style but through innovation and sought help from institutes such as NID, NIFT, and IIT Bombay.”

Tourism is one aspect of the community-led initiative. With the help of the bamboo eco-system, the entire initiative is now divided into 42 small units, ranging from household-level enterprises to larger productions. More than 250 people are engaged in the work. 

Chandrika is among those who now work within the bamboo ecosystem. Before the tragedy affected her life, she crafted kitchen and household items from coconut shells. Now, she works from her backyard, focusing on creating products for the household and kitchen from coconut shells and bamboo. “This work has provided me with a sustainable income,” she says. “Although it’s not as much as I used to earn, I am doing well.” She also mentioned that her husband, who used to work as a welder, is currently searching for a job. 

She shared that before the disaster struck her town she used to earn ₹300 a day from her work and she has slowly started finding some work and is earning fairly well to sustain her household.

For organisations such as Uravu Eco Links, rebuilding is not just about income, it is also about giving the survivors a way to process their trauma through creative outlets such as art. People working at the bamboo village recently presented their artwork at Kochi-Muziris Biennale, India’s first and Asia’s longest running contemporary art exhibition. Their artwork was one of the regional pieces presented at the event. 

Pranav C Hari, who is the Chief Operating Officer at Uravu Eco Links says, “The Kochi Biennale has inspired us to hold a similar event here in Wayanad, where artists can present their work and the locals and victims of the landslide can also immerse in the artwork.” 

Efforts to rebuild community life also involved the youth and children, who were also affected by the tragedy. Recently, the first village level football tournament was held across the five villages in the region. Sivaraj says, “All of these activities are meant to help people in the region reconnect with each other. A batch of 40 families will be relocated in the area, which will also help rebuild a community.”

Educators Leading the Change in the Himalayas 

While communities in Wayanad are rebuilding their lives through bamboo-based livelihoods, similar forms of community-led climate adaptation are emerging near 2,500 kms away in the state of Himachal Pradesh. One community in particular is driving this change and that is educators. 

The region has, in the past few decades, witnessed the extent of the climate calamities that have occurred in the region. The scale of infrastructure loss has risen sharply, with 2023 and 2024 marking unprecedented damage across mountain states. In Himachal Pradesh alone, economic losses to infrastructure, including housing, farms and livestock, crossed ₹12,000 crore in 2024. Roads collapsed, villages were cut off, homes were destroyed, and livelihoods were pushed into uncertainty.

These figures raise an important question, after climate disasters in the Himalayan region, who is rebuilding, how are they rebuilding differently, and who is being left out?

State governments have announced multiple initiatives in response. In Himachal Pradesh, large-scale programmes, including the World Bank, supported recovery and resilience projects aiming to strengthen infrastructure, improve early warning systems, and involve climate risks into monitoring. But reconstruction has always followed a similar pattern, where roads are prioritised, public infrastructure follows next, and communities are the ones that are left behind. 

While many experts have believed that local communities should be at the centre of the transformation and the rebuilding of a city should be a bottom-up approach where people living in a disaster prone region are consulted and their lives are being taken into account. Dr. Reet Kamal, who is an associate professor at Civil Engineering Department, IIT Ropar, says, “Most of the policies that come for disaster relief fail to take communities and geological realities into account. Most communities living in the region are sustainable or have local knowledge of what works for them.” 

In this landscape, there is a small shift that is taking place. Some educators, numbering around 90 across the region, are helping reskill the people living in their villages. 

Manjari Mahajan, who currently serves as a social sciences teacher and the principal of a government school in the Hamirpur district of Himachal Pradesh, is trained in botany and is a long-time member of the Orchid Society of India. Mahajan has spent years closely observing the plant life in her surroundings. One such plant is Buggar grass, a wild grass native to the state. 

“A student told me about this grass. His father lost out on their livelihood as the craft of making handicraft from Buggar grass which was very popular in the region had lost its appeal. That’s when I thought of introducing this craft to students in a bid to reduce the plastic consumption and make the area plastic free,” says Mahajan. 

What began as a simple exercise for schoolchildren expanded beyond the classroom. Mahajan reached out to various self-help groups, as well as the panchayats of Bhaleth and Jandru, and engaged with women in the community. She taught them about the durability, versatility, and eco-friendliness of certain plants, demonstrating how these resources could inspire creativity in children and provide a viable livelihood for those who believed they could never return to work.

Mahajan says, “Women who earlier were not even aware of this have now started to promote their products at city level as well as have even showcased them at the state based emporiums. They are also constantly making innovative products out of it sustainably and are constantly evolving themselves to learn more about what new opportunities they can explore that are also sustainable to the ecology.”

Mahajan started this initiative with a group of 35 students and later became a wider community of 1,500 collaborators, which included village Pradhan and Up-Pradhan, ward members, school staff, students, local craftsmen, Self Help Groups. Mahajan has now applied for grants under Himachal Pradesh Council for Science, Technology, and Environment (HIMCOSTE) to set up an environmental lab to provide sustainable education to children. 

Just like Mahajan, there are other educators across the state trying to tackle issues relating to climate change and environment. Their work follows a similar pattern, which begins with children in classrooms moving beyond those four walls extending into the wider village, equipping communities with a better knowledge to prepare for future climate disasters.

Careful Rebuilding Process is a Necessity

For people in Wayanad and educators in Himachal Pradesh, the challenge is to maintain stability in the face of climate extremes. Dikshu C Kukreja, Managing Principal at CP Kukreja Architects, Architect, Urban Planner and a contributor to national discussions on liveable cities at G20 says, “Although community-led initiatives such are rooted in vernacular knowledge are important, they currently lack the policy support which will help them rebuild in a much better and efficient way.” 

He adds, “The Himalayas demand a fundamentally different approach to development. Architecture and infrastructure must be designed with a deep understanding of topography, climate patterns, and ecological balance. Sustainable design is no longer optional, it is essential if we are to ensure that economic growth does not come at the cost of environmental degradation.”

Similarly, T. Sivaraj, mentions that though the bamboo village in Kerala has so far not seen any outward impact from the climate disasters, but this year could be challenging. “This year, there is an uncertainty in the policy shifts in the state because of the elections and many people from the affected villages will be relocating here. It will be a test for all of us to see whether the community-led project that we’ve built will succeed or not,” he says. 

Sivaraj's words would prove prescient sooner than he may have expected. Just days after he spoke of uncertainty, the Kalladi landslide struck the Anakkampoyil-Kalladi-Meppadi tunnel project, a reminder that in Wayanad, the question is rarely whether another disaster will come, but when, and who will be left to rebuild after it.