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By:

Minal Sancheti

2 May 2026 at 12:26:53 pm

Mumbai Faces Sharper Monsoons, Rising Heat: Report

A report by the Azim Premji University warns Mumbai could see 16.8 percent rise in southwest monsoon rainfall by 2040. Mumbai: The city could witness a 16.8 percent increase in southwest monsoon rainfall by 2040, according to a climate crisis report released by the School of Climate Change and Sustainability at Azim Premji University. The report, titled Indian Coastal Region: Climate Protection 2021–2040, was discussed on Friday during a session led by scientist and professor Santonu Goswami....

Mumbai Faces Sharper Monsoons, Rising Heat: Report

A report by the Azim Premji University warns Mumbai could see 16.8 percent rise in southwest monsoon rainfall by 2040. Mumbai: The city could witness a 16.8 percent increase in southwest monsoon rainfall by 2040, according to a climate crisis report released by the School of Climate Change and Sustainability at Azim Premji University. The report, titled Indian Coastal Region: Climate Protection 2021–2040, was discussed on Friday during a session led by scientist and professor Santonu Goswami. The study examined the growing impact of climate change on citizens, ecosystems and traditional livelihoods across India’s coastal regions. The report states that suburban Mumbai is projected to experience summer maximum temperatures rising by 1.3°C by 2040, alongside intensified monsoon activity and longer periods of heavy rainfall. Researchers estimate that the city could face almost an additional week of intense rain during the monsoon season. Wider Shifts The findings also point to wider climatic shifts across western India. Surat and Bhavnagar in Gujarat are expected to witness southwest monsoon surges of 23 percent and 24 percent, respectively. According to the report, rising wet-bulb temperatures - a measure combining heat and humidity that determines the body’s ability to cool itself through sweating - are already making several regions increasingly vulnerable. Researchers warned that traditional knowledge systems, including Kerala’s Nakaih wind calendar, are becoming unreliable because of erratic weather patterns. “The window for adaptation is rapidly narrowing,” said Goswami, warning that the 1.5°C warming threshold could soon be reached across India’s administrative regions. The report highlights a range of climate threats facing coastal India, including rising temperatures, dangerous wet-bulb heat, intensified west coast monsoons, sea-level rise, coastal erosion, salinity intrusion, cyclone risks and growing public health concerns. Traditional livelihoods are also under strain. Members of Mumbai’s Koli fishing community have reported business losses as unpredictable rainfall disrupts the traditional drying of prawns. Goswami stressed the need for accessible climate data to strengthen local resilience planning. “Climate data democracy is essential for climate action. We are in the middle of a data tsunami. Yet we are not at a stage where anyone interested can readily download data,” he said. He added that governments, policymakers, journalists, students and activists would all play a crucial role in driving climate action. Anurag Behar, CEO of the Azim Premji Foundation, said climate change was no longer a distant concern. “Climate change is not some distant future challenge but the reality of today. 2040 is just 14 years away,” he said. Shashwat DC, Head of Research Communications at the School of Climate Change and Sustainability, called for urgent investment in climate-resilient infrastructure. “We need to think about our infrastructure for some time. We need a discussion on climate resilient infrastructure,” he said. He further noted that the climate crisis disproportionately affects daily wage labourers and gig workers, who remain among the most vulnerable to extreme weather events.

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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