Read about how Malayalis and the world came together to pick Kerala up from one of the worst disasters of the century below. Report for The Incisive Journal, from Kerala.
“It is a terrible time to be alive in a
terrible world. I have decided not to procreate. My progenies deserve better
than what the world now could offer them.” I declared to my mother the other
day. She nodded routinely as she continued the postprandial drill in the
kitchen. I reiterated that I was serious as I scrubbed away grease from a pan
aggressively. She reminded me that she was listening. This pattern of dialogue
happened regularly. I had given up hope in the world. But the past week makes
me rethink.
Kerala and its
rains are inseparable. Monsoons are welcomed with great familiarity. The amount of rain it receives annually is thrice as much as the national average. Apart from the fact that it feeds most of our 44 rivers enough to keep us green throughout the year, only marring the map with isolated water logging, it has also been a
part of cult literature. What better example than P. Padmarajan’s Thoovanathumbikal and its “rain swept love”. Rain is as much a meaty character in the saga as it has been in our lives. This was my first monsoon back home in years. I have to be honest. Mumbai monsoons are not as enticing as movies make it sound, to someone from Kerala. Naturally, I was as happy as I could be to relive it. This monsoon too was pretty uneventful excepting a few incidents of water logging and flooding in Kuttanad, an area that is always hit. That was until the 8th of August, 2017.
Incessant rains lashed the state, now estimated at a 164% excess in just the last one month. Rains flashed a face of it to us that we were hardly familiar with. The excitement of watching the sluice gates of Idukki Dam open after 26 years soon turned to anxiety and anguish. Landslides and mountain erosion in various parts of Kerala added to the severity. 35 out of the 42 dams in the state were now open simultaneously. The rains showed no signs of subsiding. Rivers swelled with flood waters taking down 12 of the 14 districts. Even after continuous warnings, cautions and alerts, most of Kerala was caught unprepared – the rich and poor alike.
Disasters have always been something I have watched on the news and sympathized with. Nothing too real. Just enough to may be make me contribute to a relief fund set up. On the morning after the 71st Independence Day of India, Malayalis all over were busy connecting to friends and family spread across the state. Some were trapped in their buildings, others trying to move out of it. Regional news channels were abuzz with horrifying telecasts of the flood and the allied rescue operations. The state forces already in alert were up and active and were soon joined by the central defence in how much ever numbers they were deployed in, but compared to the sheer magnitude of impact, it felt like a needle in a hay stack. Government machinery functioned meticulously, spreading helpline numbers, delivering accurate hourly updates via social media handles. Meanwhile, water kept devouring entire houses and soon we realized that this was a disaster like never before. By the end of the day desperate calls for rescue began appearing on social media either posted by victims themselves as the last of their phone battery drained away or by relatives or friends panicking as they lost contact with trapped kin. Hours of uncertainty followed.
Let me pause and circle
back to where we started. To the fundamental question of whether I would
procreate? May be, yes, I now would. What changed my mind? People around me
did.
As soon as calamity struck, I watched in awe as local people stepped into ground zero without second thoughts, putting together make shift rescue boats and floats. Using storage barrels to inflated tires, to making human barricades held together by trust and sweat, they helped thousands to safety, either assisting the existing rescue forces or by themselves. No one waited for orders or promises of rewards and accolades. They just took charge.
Social media was
instantly put to good use. There was an explosion of, mind you, all valuable
information, from a constant supply of helpline numbers to sharing google map
locations or coordinates of victims. When non-resident Malayalis posted panic
stricken messages about how they lost contact to their families, they were
immediately pacified by hundreds who helped share information until they
reached the right hands. I remember making around four calls that day to rescue
teams to report stranded families of people I have never seen before and
bursting into bouts of happiness when someone retracted a post announcing the
families had been rescued. Meme pages that are constantly accused by the older
generation as nothing but mere distractions, turned into control rooms
orchestrating rescue operations. Actors, comedians, comic creators or simply
put, anyone with a sizable social media following became a source of
information. Brilliantly, IT department of the government launched keralarescue.in to
integrate the activities of government officials and volunteers. Anbodu Kochi,
an initiative that started in 2015 to extend support to Chennai during floods,
had already started the groundwork for the next important phase after Rescue –
Relief. And while the national media seemed to want to disregard the
catastrophe, individuals circulated the news via social media to gain national
and international attention and assistance. Local news channels refrained from
third rate ‘discussions and debates’ and stuck to reporting the situation at
ground zero with the help of their many brave and driven journalists. Take
notes, national media!
From flood affected areas came out stories of trapped families redirecting rescue workers to more vulnerable areas especially single storied houses where the inhabitants now had nowhere to go as water gushed above the ground floor into the terraces, thereby prioritizing and ensuring that relief was received where most needed. I heard of people determined to survive, rationing supplies among the many present, collecting rainwater to drink and pacifying each other. I am sure all of us were jittery as we saw a woman in labour being lifted into the helicopter, who was dropped at a hospital just in time to deliver a hale and
hearty baby. Many such stories, some heart wrenching, some heart-warming, filled the news.
Soon
enough, came the most important of all the heroes Kerala witnessed in the last
few days. The Fishermen. The ones who really picked us all back up from
despair. As soon as the news of the gravity of the situation spread, 2884
men picked up 642 boats and traversed long distances from as far as
Thiruvananthapuram over trucks to reach affected areas of Thrissur,
Pathanamthitta and Ernakulam districts. They cruised through unknown lands of
varying water levels, all in the hope that their valuable skills of handling
rough waters, would help them through the harsh currents to save lives. And
they did so splendidly. Of the two lakh rescued from severely flooded areas, it
is estimated that more than a lakh have been by these heroes, without capes,
but with paddles and propellers. Many were injured in the process and their
boats were severely damaged. But they smile heartily sharing that they were
even prepared to sacrifice their own lives if they had to, to save another.
Kerala just can’t seem to find enough words to thank their own “army” as they
have been rightly described by the chief minister, Shri. Pinarayi Vijayan.
Pinarayi
Vijayan. He will always be remembered as the man who kept Kerala away from
scattering into a million panic-stricken pieces at the time of a calamity of
this magnitude. I often joke that this man has been suffering since he pledged
to be our chief minister. Ockhi cyclone in 2017, Nippah outbreak earlier this
year and now the worst flood Kerala saw in a century. Had he panicked or not had
his well-oiled machinery prepared to carry out every bit of his action plan to
the best of human ability, the extend of death and destruction would have been
much higher. He remembered to be self-assured in the face of uncertainty and
lead us into believing that we, as a team, were enough. That is a lesson I
shall take with me to my grave.
Officials worked round
the clock. Rescue operations went late into the night only pausing briefly
until day break due to visibility issues. The teams flung into action again at
the break of dawn since a single second wasted could mean another life lost.
Army and Navy helicopters had the difficult task of rescuing people from the
rooftops of houses inaccessible by boats due to extremely harsh water currents,
while ensuring that the wind did not cause further damage to rooftops and
roofing sheets and thereby to humans near it. From cabinet ministers to
opposition leaders and party members, everyone were directly involved in
coordinating the rescue and relief efforts. MPs, MLAs and members of local
bodies ensured their constant presence and extended cooperation by uniting
beyond petty politics. The health department under the very efficient Shailaja
Teacher focused on ensuring medical assistance in camps and containing the spread
of water borne diseases that usually follow catastrophes such as these. Revenue
department employees worked through the night scanning through piles of
information and let me not forget to mention the Kerala State Electricity Board
employees who worked through pouring rains to re-establish electricity at times
of power failure to assist rescue and avoid casualties via electrocution from
damaged wires. A big salute to all of the Kerala Police Force who have been
working tirelessly for days now. Though underappreciated, they are still very
much involved with rescue and maintaining law and order through these tough
times.
The young and feisty District Collectors were at the forefront inspiring, invigorating and integrating volunteers and relief activities. Most importantly they made sure that no one took undue advantage of the calamity. Shopkeepers marking up prices excessively at the time of shortage were caught red handed. In case individuals were reluctant to hand over resources vital to rescue, it was ordered to be handed over to the police.
But
the most inspiring thing about the past one week has been that we managed to
find the true meaning of the word “heroism” and we managed to find it inside
each one of us. When I started making calls to random numbers I was passed on
by another set of strangers, most of who were not even physically present in
the state, to see if I would be able to manage any resources at all for my town
which was cut off from the rest of the world, I was instantly linked to a group
of similar individuals and groups trying to do their bit just like me. And
together I felt we could move mountains if we wanted. I came across individuals
who transferred materials and money to each other without having spoken
previously at all, united by a need to overcome. I spoke to people who were
constantly travelling from camp to camp, chipping in whatever meagre amount
they could, losing out on valuable days of work. None of us asked each other of
our political preferences, skin colour, affluence, caste or religion and any
similar attributes attached to us by mere accident of birth.
And
when there were, as my friend rightly and profoundly said, “thoughtless morons
who could be considered outliers compared to the sizable number at the centre,”
who were spreading gross and selfish
lies disregarding the damage and impact,
we pacified each other reminding this was not the time to be distracted. This
was the time to move ahead of what happened, to move forward, to “make history.”
You can help us rebuild
and rehabilitate the lives of hundreds among us by making donations
at https://donation.cmdrf.kerala.gov.in/ . Every
rupee counts. Remember, together we can move mountains!
(Please
note that I do not own the rights to any photographs above. Please let me know
if you have an objection with me using your creatives and we shall get it
removed as soon as possible.)
