Urvashi Sarkar

large_IMG_9315.jpg

medium_IMG_9315.jpg

small_IMG_9315.jpg

thumbnail_IMG_9315.jpg

IMG_9315.jpg

“I remember the storm arriving and heavy rain pounding away at my house. Then the house crumbled before my eyes and the [Muri Ganga] river washed it away,” says Purnima Bhuyan. She is recalling one of the many times her home in Khasimara was destroyed. <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0959378018301237"></a>

During the years that Purnima’s home was repeatedly washed away by the river (she cannot recall in which decades), she says she received no help from the government. It was only in 1993 that small plots of land – barely an acre – on Sagar island were allotted to families whose houses on Ghoramara had been destroyed. Given a choice Bhuyan would still live on Ghoramara. “Let me tell you why I love it. The people were more helpful. If a family lost its house, another would immediately offer its land for building a new one. That does not happen here,” she says with a sigh. Sadly, Khasimara village was completely submerged and Census 2011 recorded its population as zero. People still live in some of the other six villages on the island though – around 5,000 (Census 2011) across the Ghoramara gram panchayat area (and in the course of later years, this population has declined too). Montu Mondol, who arrived in Gangasagar in 1993 along with other families from Ghoramara, has not forgotten the hardships of the early years on Sagar island. The land allotted to him by the government could not initially be cultivated because of high levels of soil salinity. Besides, fresh water for drinking and bathing was also scarce. To earn a livelihood, Mondal, now 65, did daily-wage work like digging and selling dried fish. On his 1.5 bighas (around half an acre) of land, he built a house and, over time, was able to cultivate rice too.

When he lived on <a href="https://www.academia.edu/9978382/Island_Erosion_and_Afflcted_Population_Crisis_and_Policies_to_Handle_Climate_Change"></a>Ghoramara, the river had destroyed Mondal’s house twice. “Till about 10-15 years ago, it would take 2-3 hours to walk from the north of Ghoramara to the south. Now it will take you under an hour to cover that distance,” he says. Prof. Sugata Hazra at the School of Oceanographic Studies, Jadavpur University, Kolkata, says that the displaced villagers of Ghoramara are not recognised as ‘climate refugees’ by the government because they were forced to migrate within the country. “But they should be recognised as environmental migrants, a category which the government should create, and ensure dignity and justice for these helpless people,” he adds.

According to an activist on Sagar island (who did not want to be named), from the 1970s to the 1990s, when people moved from Ghoramara to Sagar island, there were tensions between the migrants and the locals. He says, “The locals were unhappy that the areas for fishing were given away to people from Ghoramara. The number of people who needed fresh water also increased. The tensions reduced as time passed.”Mondal and Bhuyan miss the kindness of people on Ghoramara island, but they haven’t made the trip back, even though it’s only a short boat ride away. Meanwhile, those who remain on Ghoramara have it tough. Sheikh Diljaan stands next to his cycle rickshaw near the landing point on Ghoramora, waiting to ferry people home. The island doesn’t have a jetty or a landing area at present – the river has taken it away. A precariously balanced wooden plank acts as a bridge between the boat and the island. Large parts of the embankment have eroded too, making the land difficult to walk on.

A few trips earn Diljaan Rs. 200-300 per day. To increase his income, he tried to grow paan leaves four years ago, but failed. “The plantation was washed away in less than a year. I did not expect the river to come so close to the land so quickly,” he says. Ghoramara’s saline soil and water limit agricultural options, and many on the island have turned to cultivating cash crops like paan. The sandy silt soil, though susceptible to salinity, is suitable for growing paan. Islanders are known to pray to goddess Bindubashini for the health of their plantations. But even that could not save Diljaan’s paan leaves. Besides limited livelihood options, the residents of Ghoramara also have to travel to Kakdwip city (a half-hour journey) for daily necessities like vegetables and food grains. One health sub-centre in Ghoramara caters to the basic health needs of the approximately 5,000 people on the island. For serious illnesses however, residents have to travel to the hospital in Kakdwip.

“I would be happy to leave this shrinking island with my wife and two sons,” says Diljaan. “But the government is not giving us land elsewhere.” After 1993, the government stopped resettling people on Sagar island reportedly because of a shortage of available land. The lack of work on Sagar island is increasingly forcing the men in many families to migrate outside West Bengal in search of work. There is another worry – Sagar island is also shrinking and eroding every year, and its residents are fearful of losing their lands and homes yet again.As we’re talking to Diljaan, who takes us on his rickshaw to a spot on the island where the river has swallowed up large chunks of land, Ranjita Purkait joins the conversation. Her house, which was washed away once, is a few metres from the river bank. “I might lose this house too. What has the government done? Nothing,” she says. “At least they could have strengthened the embankments! So many journalists come and take pictures and disappear. But our situation never changes. Will the government give us land elsewhere? This island is shrinking and our houses and lands are vanishing. Nobody cares.<a></a>”

‘Our houses are vanishing. Nobody cares’

'અમારા ઘરો ગાયબ થઈ રહ્યા છે. કોઈને કંઈ પડી નથી'

‘அழிந்து வரும் எங்கள் வீடுகளைப் பற்றி யாரும் கவலைப்படவில்லை’

‘आमची घरं नाहिशी होतायत. कुणालाच फिकीर नाही’

‘আমাৰ ঘৰ-বাৰী ডুবিব ধৰিছে, কোনেও ভ্ৰুক্ষেপকে নকৰে

‘हमारे घर गायब हो रहे हैं। किसी को परवाह नहीं है’

’ہمارے گھر غائب ہو رہے ہیں۔ کسی کو پرواہ نہیں ہے‘

‘আমাদের ঘরবাড়ি তলিয়ে যাচ্ছে, কেউ গ্রাহ্যই করে না’

“ଆମ ଘର ଉଜୁଡି ଯାଉଛି, କାହାରି ଚିନ୍ତା ନାହିଁ”

Ghoramara

At present, we can only accept donations in Indian rupees by Indian citizens. All donations made to the CounterMedia Trust are eligible for exemption under Section 80G of the Income Tax Act, 1961. Here is a copy of our exemption certificate.


India is bigger than New Delhi. And people need to know more about the rest of this vast nation.


Younger, media-saturated generations are growing up knowing little about their country, but a lot about the elites of a few metros and towns. For a narrowly-owned, commercially-driven media, the dumbing down of a nation is part of standard operating procedure. The last available data of the Centre for Media Studies (CMS, Delhi) show us that reports from New Delhi account for 66 per cent of news on the front pages of major dailies. The CMS data also found that just about 0.24 per cent of front page news came out of rural India. The TV channels are not much better.PARI exists to change that.We are a non-profit organisation. We publish under creative commons, and do not charge readers a subscription fee or put-up advertisements. Nothing is behind a paywall and we are completely free-to-access by anyone. We guard our independence and receive no direct grants from governments and corporations, nor any funding that could dictate our content. So, we are dependent on volunteer labour, donations from individuals, foundations and institutions that see value in independent and free media.PARI is changing the way Indian journalism reports and documents the rural.India is more than the elite of a few metros and towns. We report on rural lives and livelihoods, languages, communities, migrants and more. We need your help to pull off this most ambitious of Indian journalistic endeavours. The scale of this effort costs money. Donate generously - and spread the word about PARI.&nbsp;

Donate FAQs


Let’s get you acquainted

Welcome to PARI

All our content is, and will forever be free to consume. If you enjoy our work, you can support us by becoming a volunteer or by donating to help fund our work.

Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

IN TELUGU - Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

‘Our houses are vanishing. Nobody cares’

For decades, villagers from Ghoramara island in the Sundarbans have been migrating to Sagar island because the river and rain keep washing away their houses. They have received little help from the state

Related stories

A rain-scented walk in Sivagangai

Living on ravaged land

Biswas and the bamboos on his bike

Recycling energy, Godda style

Bhadels of Goa

Pookadai: still throbbing with morning life

Koli Kadlas

Malnourishment high among children of migrants: study

Wheels of the rural Indian West

Living Under a Red Cloud in Bellary

Vedla – earrings of the Maher community

Dreaming of water, drowning in debt

Kali: the dancer and his dreams

Farmer's diet worse than a convict's

In Yavatmal, life goes on

Suicides are about the living, not the dead

Death of a carpenter

Hoisa Shigmo!

Women farmers: weaving a life in Anantapur

Defiant in Dhinkia

Spice and all that's nice

Kerala's Green Army

The ‘jugaad’ not-a-mobile

Health as someone else's wealth

Calibrating in a Kudumbashree assembly unit