In 2023, while researching China’s engagement in Nepal’s infrastructure, I travelled to Rasuwa for fieldwork. Over several days, I interviewed residents, stakeholders, and key informants regarding three major projects involving Chinese investment: The dry port in Timure, the Chilime-Gyirong Transmission Line, and the Syabrubesi-Rasuwagadhi Road.After a five-to-six-hour bus journey from Kathmandu to Dhunche, Rasuwa’s district headquarters, I hitchhiked on a freight truck heading toward Gyirong. I stayed in Timure, a few kilometres south of the Rasuwagadhi-Gyirong border crossing. The hotel was filled with Indian and Indian-origin tourists journeying to Mount Kailash and Lake Mansarovar. From my window overlooking the Trishuli River, I watched dozens of Chinese electric vehicles being driven into Nepal by local drivers, with scores more lined up for customs clearance.AdvertisementAlso Read | As glaciers melt, prepare for a Himalayan challengeThe modest two-storey Nepali customs office nearby had more rooms than active officers, explaining the long queues of loaded freight trucks and EV imports. The next morning, standing on the Friendship Bridge while the border was closed for lunch, I marvelled at the contrast: Magnificent concrete customs facilities, administrative multi-storey buildings, paved roads, and modern logistics infrastructure on the Chinese side, compared to scattered huts, small shops, and basic structures clustered along the riverbank on the Nepali side.Less than three years later, virtually none of that infrastructure remains. A catastrophic flash flood on August 26 erased the imposing Gyirong port complex, the shelter housing Nepal’s border police, multiple hydropower plants, the old customs office, the nearly completed dry port, hundreds of parked vehicles, and surrounding hotels and settlements. Downstream along the Trishuli River, the surge swept away hundreds of homes across Rasuwa, Nuwakot, Dhading, and Gorkha districts.The sheer scale of the disaster, which has claimed over 900 lives, with thousands more missing, has drawn global concern. Many consider the damage worse than the 2015 earthquake. Climate activists warn that rising global temperatures are destabilising the fragile Himalayan ecology, emphasising Nepal’s vulnerability to a climate crisis it did little to create. Meanwhile, geopolitical commentators have advanced anti-China narratives, accusing Beijing of building oversized infrastructure and failing to share real-time hydrological data with Nepal.AdvertisementWhile climate change accelerates ecological instability across the Himalayas and bilateral environmental coordination remains insufficient, we must also examine localised practices. This disaster forces us to question current approaches to development and security, recentring human lives at the heart of state action.The flood demonstrates that nature’s forces transcend political boundaries. Escaping their wrath requires rethinking the role of the state, our definition of development, and our understanding of security.How do massive infrastructure build-ups and intensified surveillance in ecologically fragile terrain disrupt indigenous living, traditional socio-cultural fluidity, and cross-border commerce? Do top-down security enforcement and unsustainable development ignore historical cross-border dynamics, as well as the needs and grievances of local populations? We must reflect on whether closer alignment between Beijing and Kathmandu over the past decade has come at the expense of borderland communities. Were these wiped-out infrastructure projects genuine necessities for local residents, or were their lives and livelihoods collateral damage for politicians chasing grand visions in Kathmandu and Beijing?Governments could not have prevented the disaster entirely, nor should they abandon major infrastructure development. However, the tragedy in Rasuwa proves that prioritising people, respecting ecological constraints, and accounting for ground realities could have minimised losses. Despite the known risk of regular floods and landslides, political leaders and bureaucrats consistently pushed for aggressive construction. Even now, many in Kathmandu advocate for the Nepal-China railway, ignoring its profound ecological and financial unfeasibility.This episode offers urgent lessons for Nepal-India relations as well. Like China, India has steadily fortified security along its border with Nepal, often at the expense of centuries-old cross-border social realities. Both governments have focused on linking New Delhi and Kathmandu through capital-intensive connectivity projects: Upgraded highways, modern Integrated Check Posts, cross-border fuel pipelines, and proposed railway lines.Simultaneously, traditional cross-border ties, indigenous knowledge, and local practices are disrupted by heightened surveillance and border regulations, creating distance between communities on the ground.you may likeAs the floods have dramatically exposed, far larger ecological and demographic forces govern the shared reality between Nepal and India. Both nations face transboundary threats that carry severe humanitarian risks: Climate change, severe droughts, irregular monsoon inundation, depleted groundwater, religious fundamentalism, and illicit drug networks.To confront these shared vulnerabilities effectively, governments must place borderland populations at the centre of bilateral policy, prioritising human security and community well-being above all else.The writer is a PhD Candidate at the School of Law and Government, Dublin City University, and Non-Resident Fellow at the Centre for Social Innovation and Foreign Policy (CESIF), Nepal