About 200 kilometres separates Srinagar, in the valley of Kashmir in India, from the wide and flat northern plains of Pakistan’s Punjab province, the land between Gujranwala and Sialkot. The river that links these two regions, on either side of the border between two countries, is the Jhelum and its many mountain-fed tributaries. From early September, rains that are torrential in volume and frequency for the region steadily fed the streams, swelled the rivers and then rushed through the settlements and towns of northern Pakistan and India.

On both sides of the Pakistan-India border the scene is depressingly similar. The toll of the dead will not be known until the waters drain, and even then will be estimates, as they always are. Until two days ago, 220 or 230 was the number of lives reported lost in both countries. The number of lives disrupted, displaced and reduced to misery is far greater – more than 100,000 have been rescued by the Indian Army in the state of Jammu and Kashmir. In Pakistan too it has been its army that has performed extraordinary feats of rescue and provided relief when every other administrative mechanism failed, but as the waters continued to gather in volume and speed, the September floods are already estimated to have affected more than a million in Pakistan.

There has been mourning and resignation, for lives lost and for homes destroyed, but there is also anger in both Pakistan’s Punjab and India’s Jammu and Kashmir. Economic need and the search for livelihoods has brought migrants into urban settlements, while older and more established households have sought to better their standards of living. Overlooked every single year, despite at least one emergency caused by natural phenomena, has been implementing the regulations needed for fast-growing settlements in flood-prone regions. Both countries have national disaster management authorities, and yet the complaint most commonly heard by those escaping floodwaters and by those seeking relief is: where was the warning and where was the help when we needed it?

The very recent history in India (the catastrophic rain and landslides in Uttarakhand in 2013) and in Pakistan (the record flooding of 2010) of natural disasters appears not to have led to the institutionalisation of a culture that is willing to learn from past misfortune. In both countries, media has reported scores of survivors praising swift and selfless action by the armed forces and at the same time condemning inaction by local and provincial authorities.

Climate change and its impacts has become a catch-all villain for the record floods and the devastation they have caused (and continue to). But amongst the complex menu of reasons for the failure of systems and responses, several others stand out in bolder relief. The encroachment by galloping urbanisation of river catchment areas, unregistered and illegal construction (both residential and commercial) along river banks and the blind conversion of wetlands into agricultural lands has, in both countries, turned historically familiar floods into fearsome deathtraps.

When the waters ebb and families can reunite, both Pakistan and India must together confront the real reasons behind the destruction and toll wrought by the floods of September 2014.