I have been thinking about Nepal a great deal these past few days.
Like many Nepalis, I have watched the images, read the accounts and wondered about the families whose lives have been changed forever. When a disaster happens, we often talk about the number of people affected, the houses damaged and the roads washed away. But behind every number is a person, a family and a life that will never be quite the same again.
The water will recede. The debris will eventually be cleared. Roads will be rebuilt and homes repaired. But for those who have lost someone, there is no rebuilding of what matters most.
That is why, beyond the immediate response and relief, I keep returning to one question:
What can I do differently?
I ask this not as a climate scientist, but as someone who has spent much of her professional life in public health. Public health has taught me the value of prevention. We invest in vaccination so that children do not become sick. We promote safe water so that disease does not spread. We build early-warning and preparedness systems because acting before a crisis saves lives.
Climate change demands the same way of thinking.
We should be careful about attributing any particular disaster entirely to climate change. Events such as the recent tragedy in Nepal have many contributing factors, and scientists are still examining what happened. But there is little doubt about the broader direction. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has found that human-caused warming is increasing climate risks and changing many weather extremes. The World Health Organization considers climate change one of the greatest threats to human health.
For Nepal, this is not an issue for another generation to worry about. It is already part of the environment in which our people live.
And when climate-related hazards strike, the consequences are deeply human. A damaged health centre can mean a woman cannot receive essential care. A blocked road can delay medicines or an ambulance. Contaminated water can bring disease. Displacement can take away not only a home, but also a person's sense of security and belonging.
This is why climate change belongs in the public-health conversation.
Of course, governments have the greatest responsibility to prepare communities, strengthen early-warning systems, protect the environment and build infrastructure that can withstand increasing risks. Institutions and businesses have important responsibilities too.
But there is also a quieter responsibility and that is the one that belongs to each of us.
I have begun asking myself how I travel, what I consume, how much food I waste and how much energy I use. Could I take a train or a car instead of flying? Could I walk instead of taking the car for a short distance? Do I really need to buy something new? Can I use less electricity? Can I waste less food?
None of these choices, by itself, will prevent a flood in Nepal.
But that does not make them meaningless. Our individual choices, multiplied across millions of people, influence the way we use energy and resources and the emissions we collectively produce.
So, I want to make some personal commitments.
I will avoid unnecessary flights and join meetings virtually where I can. I will use public transport, walk or share journeys whenever practical. I will be more conscious of what I consume and try not to waste food. I will use electricity, particularly air-conditioning, more responsibly. I will use digital documents wherever possible, reducing unnecessary printing. I will reuse what I have and repair rather than replace when possible. And I will continue to speak about climate change as a health issue, because prevention must begin long before the next emergency.
These are small things. I know that.
But perhaps we should stop asking whether one person's action is big enough to matter. The better question is whether we are willing to be part of the change we expect from others.
We cannot bring back those we have lost in Nepal. We cannot undo the destruction or turn back the water.
But the next disaster has not happened yet.
There is still time to prepare better. To live more responsibly. To make different choices.
And perhaps the most honest way to honour those we have lost is not simply to remember them, but to allow their loss to change something in the way we live.
For me, it begins with a simple question: Do I really need this, or do I simply want it?
Because perhaps climate responsibility is not always about doing more. Sometimes, it is about choosing less.
Less waste. Less excess. Less consumption.
And more thought. More responsibility. More care.
I know what I will change. What will you?
#MyClimateCommitment
-(Dr. Kishori Mahat is a Public Health Specialist)
