Inside One of India’s Widest Tunnels: ‘You Can’t Build by Fighting the Rock’

Deep beneath the mountains of Jammu and Kashmir, amidst the thunder of drills and the echo of labor, a tunnel is taking shape—one of India’s widest and most ambitious engineering marvels. Known less by its official designation and more by the awe it inspires, this tunnel is more than just concrete and steel. It is a testament to human persistence, strategic necessity, and above all, respect for the mountains.

This tunnel, part of the Udhampur-Srinagar-Baramulla Rail Link (USBRL) project, slices through some of the harshest and most unpredictable terrain in the Himalayas. Its scale is staggering: 14 meters wide, large enough to accommodate two rail tracks with maintenance walkways on either side. But its width is not just for comfort or speed—it’s about survival, resilience, and future readiness.

For those working inside it, the tunnel is not just a passage; it’s a living, breathing entity.

“We Listen to the Rock”

“In these mountains, if you want to build, you have to listen to the rock,” says Vikrant Singh, a senior geologist stationed at the site. “You can’t build by fighting with the rock.” His voice is calm but firm, echoing inside the tunnel as machines rumble in the background.

The rocks here are ancient and fractured. Every few meters, the geology changes—sandstone gives way to shale, and dry patches can suddenly release water under immense pressure. Singh and his team use ground-penetrating radars, seismic studies, and old-fashioned intuition to guide the excavation team.

The tunnel boring machines (TBMs), massive in size and intimidating in sound, stop often. Not because of failure, but because they must. The mountain must be understood before it is pierced further.

“Every Day is a Battle, But Not a War”

For Bhaskar Rao, a foreman who has been tunneling for over two decades across India, the USBRL tunnel is special. “It’s not just the size,” he says, wiping sweat off his forehead as workers drill into the rock wall. “It’s the mood of the mountain. Sometimes it lets you pass; sometimes it throws everything at you—water, mudslides, collapsing walls.”

They use a technique called the New Austrian Tunneling Method (NATM), which relies on constant observation and flexible reinforcement. It allows them to adapt to sudden changes in the rock behavior. For Rao, every shift is an unpredictable challenge. “You respect the rock, you don’t rush it. You reinforce where it’s weak. If you try to dominate it, it pushes back.”

Underground Brotherhood

Inside the tunnel, workers from different states—Bihar, Rajasthan, West Bengal, Tamil Nadu—share more than just space. They share danger, hope, and resilience. There is no caste, no language barrier underground, only the shared rhythm of survival.

The shifts are long, the air is humid, and every breath is tinged with dust. Yet, laughter echoes occasionally, as someone shares a memory from home or pulls a prank. “We are a family here,” says Mariappan, a technician from Tamil Nadu. “We eat together, sleep in nearby camps, and protect each other.”

Each worker wears a personal gas monitor, and the tunnel is fitted with oxygen injectors and fireproof cable conduits. Safety is paramount. Yet, as with any major infrastructure effort in volatile terrain, risks remain. A partial collapse during last winter’s snow delayed work by over two weeks. No one was injured, but it left the crew shaken.

Strategic Imperative

Beyond engineering marvel and human grit, the tunnel also holds immense strategic value. Once completed, it will offer an all-weather rail link to Kashmir, drastically reducing travel time and making logistics in the region more dependable.

In winter, the valley often remains cut off due to snow and landslides. The tunnel will bypass some of the most treacherous sections of the national highway. “This is not just about transport,” says Colonel Anup Rawat, who liaises with the civil administration on behalf of the Army. “This is about national security and economic integration.”

As tensions occasionally spike along the Line of Control, having uninterrupted connectivity could prove critical for troop movement and supplies. But Rawat, like the engineers, speaks not in terms of power, but preparation. “The mountains demand patience, whether in war or peace.”

Nature is the Final Architect

Outside the tunnel mouth, wildflowers bloom and clouds hang low on the pine-covered slopes. The contrast is stark—natural beauty cloaking the scars of construction. Environmentalists have raised concerns about ecological disruption. Forests have been cleared, and blasting disturbs wildlife.

To mitigate the impact, the project has included compensatory afforestation plans and wildlife corridors. Water draining from the tunnel is filtered before being released into nearby streams. Engineers insist they are working with nature, not against it.

“We can't undo all impacts,” admits Priya Malik, an environmental engineer associated with the project. “But our approach is to minimize and adapt. The mountains were here long before us—and we want them to remain long after.”

The Final Push

With the alignment nearly complete, the final phase is underway: lining the tunnel with concrete, laying tracks, and installing ventilation and lighting systems. The target date is ambitious, but achievable.

There is pride in the eyes of the workers as they see light beginning to filter from both ends of the tunnel. “When we see that light, it’s not just the end of a shift—it’s the proof that we did not give up,” says Bhaskar Rao.

The tunnel is more than a transport link; it’s a metaphor. In a region often defined by conflict and fragility, it represents continuity, connection, and courage.

A Passage Through Stone and Spirit

As dusk descends and floodlights flicker on, a soft chant rises from one of the camps. It's a prayer for safety—a ritual before night work begins.

Back inside the tunnel, Vikrant Singh pauses to observe a new fault line revealed in the rock face. He doesn’t look worried. “We’ll map it, respect it, and move forward,” he says.

Because in these parts, tunnels aren’t just built. They’re earned—inch by inch, through patience, science, sweat, and, above all, harmony with the earth.

“Can’t build by fighting with the rock,” he repeats, almost like a mantra. And deep inside one of India’s widest tunnels, those words echo truer than ever.