In Pics: Kerala Is Fighting, But the Disaster Is Far From Over
These photos prove that though Kerala is rebuilding at a phenomenal pace, they could use all the help they can get.
advertisement
Kerala: Deivathinde Sontha Naade (God’s Own Country)
Walking along the moist grass with coconut trees swaying in the wind and the pitter-patter of rain as a backdrop, monsoon is a delight in Kerala – usually.
This year, nature had other plans.
A few days of unending, unseasonal rain in August turned Kerala into a wreck. Help poured in from everywhere, despite the national channels headquartered in Delhi waking up to the crisis late. Now, the state is limping back to normalcy, but the rebuilding will be painful.
The MLAs and Panchayats are working like a model democracy, sending kits of clothes, provisions and cleaning equipment to all those affected by floods.
Doctors are conducting medical camps everyday to ensure every person in these areas has taken a vaccine protecting themselves from leptospirosis (rat fever). They are even providing counselling to help people come out of post-traumatic stress and anxiety. It’s still not enough.
But these pictures and their stories are proof of how Kerala is rebuilding at a phenomenal pace, and could use more help.
“How did all my colouring books get wet ? How did my neighbour find my colour pencil box in her house? Why are random people scrubbing our cots? Why can’t I go to school?”
Safe and dry but still holding on tight, just in case.
Shiju and his family escaped the worst, as they lived in a 3-storey building. But they didn’t sit quiet at home. With the small boat they owned, they went rowing around for hours rescuing people.
Today, days later, the people who were saved are helping them clean up to show their gratitude.
It is heart-warming to see volunteers barge into people’s homes and help them clear debris, scrub cots and pans, share a joke or two to make them forget their misery and remind them, “It is alright. We are in this together!”
It has been more than a fortnight since the floods struck, but even today, the houses and fields of Kuttanad are inundated.
The bell on top of the temple still rings loudly, breaking the silence that has taken over the flooded homes.
Sarojini still sits in a daze not able to believe that she is alive today.
She was with her husband, stuck in their house the day the floods struck. They tried standing on furniture for a while and then began using tables and chairs to guard themselves from the doors breaking open. Soon, the two drifted apart to different rooms. When the rescue team arrived, they entered the terrace to find a man on the brink of death. Sarojini was holding on to the bars of a window with water up till her nose.
Viny’s marksheets, books, clothes, bags and entire house is gone. But she smiles, posing for the camera saying, “Let’s be glad for all that is left with us. We are alive! Isn’t that enough reason to smile?”
Dorai’s smile is contagious.
“My 100-year-old parents, my wife and I were stuck in our house. I can’t walk and neither can any of them. But help found us. So did hot food, clothes, utensils and so much love. Yes, we lost everything. But look! We have been given most of it back. So what is there to weep about?”
Of broken toys, homes and dreams.
Driving past the roads of Chengannur, I noticed pass books, cheque books and bank forms laid out in the sun. These bank officials are yet to completely clean their houses and get back to normal life, but are already here and ensuring the bank is up and running.
When Sister Soli had left that Sunday for church, she had locked the dormitory where the kids were sleeping. Within an hour, it began raining heavily and she rushed to find water up to waist level at the home. Today, the children are in relief camps and guardians’ homes but Soli has been working day and night to get the home ready for the kids to return. Volunteers of Guardians of Dreams have been cleaned up the entire building and are arranging for utensils, fridge, motor and school uniforms.
It was touching to see the volunteer forcing her to list out all that was ruined by the floods and that will need to be replaced – Soli was hesitant. She replied with a smile, “Look at our home already! I never thought I could give my children their home back so soon but today because of angels like you, we are doing better than so many. We will manage with all this, you should help someone else.”
Kit 1: Nightie, lungi, towel, banian, inskirt, T-shirt.
Kit 2: Dettol, Floor cleaner, toilet disinfectant, mop, washcloth, broom.
Kit 3: Sanitary napkins, shaving kit, undergarments, soap, shampoo, detergent.
Kit 4: Rice, pulses, oil, utensils, salt, chilly powder, masala powder.
No, this isn’t a relief camp, but the office of the Paravur MLA.
These were just a few of the kits that were distributed to houses in Paravur.
Today, most of the relief camps in Chengannur have been closed down and people have returned home.
But for a few who don’t have a building in the address they once lived in, where can they go? The Chengannur College of Engineering continues to be their humble abode.
When the floods struck, people ran to higher ground. But as the water levels rose, they panicked. Holding on to each other and tying ropes they reached the terrace of a house. Seventy-one of them spent three nights waiting for help. They made stew out of whatever leftover vegetables they had, fed the little drinking water available in the tank to the kids and pregnant women, while the others survived on just rainwater.
Ammachi is one of the 71 who were saved from the terrace that day. Today, all of them are staying in a school, cooking food and living together. They have designated jobs for cleaning, cooking, drawing water, cutting vegetables and fetching firewood.
They don’t want to cry over the incident but are glad that they all came out alive and made a whole new family.
When I was about to leave the place, Ammachi dragged me down and said, “Dosa kazhichittu thanna ponam.” (You can leave only after eating my dosas.)
The floods are over but the disaster isn’t.
Leptospirosis, 'rat fever', infests flood-battered Kerala, and health camps are being conducted to ensure everyone takes their vaccines.
No one is in the mood for a wedding right now. But the show must go on, after all.
So Sandesh and his crew are drying out the floral decors on the bridge. The men who work for Sandesh are from Calcutta and this disaster has left them shaken. They were marooned in a dark room for four days before food, water or help reached them. Their families want them back home, but they are staying for now.
“This land has given my family and me three plates of food everyday. I am not giving up on this beautiful place because of a little rain. We are all together, right?” said one of them.
(At The Quint, we question everything. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member today.)