Juan Brignardello Vela
Juan Brignardello Vela, asesor de seguros, se especializa en brindar asesoramiento y gestión comercial en el ámbito de seguros y reclamaciones por siniestros para destacadas empresas en el mercado peruano e internacional.
The year 2024 has etched a grim chapter in India's history with a series of devastating landslides that have wreaked havoc across numerous states, claiming lives, inflicting injuries, and leaving widespread devastation in their wake. July, often characterized by its monsoon rains, emerged as the cruelest month, bringing with it a torrent of tragedy. On July 16th, the serene village of Shirur in Karnataka was shaken to its core as a landslide, triggered by a combination of relentless rainfall and extensive construction work by the National Highways Authority, resulted in the tragic loss of nine lives. The Geological Survey's findings underscore a national dilemma: the perilous intersection of infrastructural development and natural calamity. The landslide was not an isolated incident. The end of July witnessed a series of nine landslides in Vilangad, Kerala, a region already vulnerable to heavy rainfall. This spate of disasters annihilated thirteen homes and left many others partially destroyed, bringing sorrow to families and communities already grappling with the repercussions of nature's fury. Among these calamities, the landslide in Wayanad stands out as the deadliest in India’s recorded history. As the hillsides succumbed to the weight of heavy rains, 254 lives were lost, and 397 individuals were injured. Though heavy rains are a seasonal norm in Kerala, the scale of destruction witnessed this year has been unprecedented, largely attributed to rampant deforestation and indiscriminate construction practices that have destabilized the region’s fragile ecology. December also saw its own tragedy when a boulder, dislodged by rainfall atypical for the rocky terrain of Thiruvannamalai, crushed a house, claiming seven lives. The following day, another landslide struck, reiterating the dire consequences of unchecked construction in vulnerable areas. These events serve as stark reminders of the precarious balance between development and environmental stewardship. Earlier in the year, Uttarakhand bore witness to an astonishing 1,521 landslides within a mere 17 days. Roads, bridges, and homes were swept away, illustrating the consequences of development in the Himalayas—a region inherently susceptible to geological instability. The hills, while majestic, are draped in a delicate layer of soil, which, unlike the solid rock formations of the Deccan plateau, makes them particularly prone to landslides. In Indian tradition, land—revered as "bhumi"—is one of the pancha mahabhuta, or five sacred elements. Bhumi Devi, the personification of land, holds a sacred position as the spouse of Lord Vishnu. This reverence is echoed in the worship of Mother Earth across countless village temples. Yet, despite this deep-rooted respect, modern practices have often led to the neglect and abuse of the very land that sustains us. As we move forward from this year of devastation, the pressing question remains: how do we protect our soil and environment in the face of relentless development? It is imperative that we shift our focus towards sustainable practices that honor our cultural connection to land and recognize its fragility. Failing to do so not only jeopardizes our safety but also threatens the very essence of our heritage. It is time for a collective awakening to safeguard our planet for future generations, ensuring that we no longer take Mother Earth for granted.