Wayanad: water, soil, banks and bodies

I arrived on the fourth day; it was nearly afternoon by the time I reached.

On my journey from Chennai to Wayanad, I passed areas teeming with volunteers. There were no buses, and I had to take lifts from strangers.

The place resembled a war zone with ambulances moving in and out. People were busy searching for bodies with the help of heavy machinery. Chooralmala, Attamala and Mundakkai towns were in ruins -- no signs of habitable spaces. The residents' lives were shattered, and they couldn't even recognize the bodies of loved ones.

The riverbanks were piled with debris and dead bodies, so rescuers and family searching for bodies used sticks to navigate the riverbanks and avoid sinking into the sand. My leg got stuck in the sand. It was impossible to identify the bodies, only their fragments lay scattered around. I have a deep connection to nature, but this experience terrified me.

Due to the language barrier, I could only be witness to the devastation. I held back from disturbing them. I had wanted to come here earlier but ill health held me back.

I walked roughly three kilometres, following the path of the flowing water. Houses lay buried in the ground, and some had disappeared completely. Everywhere I saw volunteers searching for bodies. Even the army were out conducting searches. I stayed for two days and during that time no bodies were found, but the search continued relentlessly. Everyone was working together, not giving up, sharing food and tea. The feeling of unity surprised me.

When I spoke to some of the residents, they mentioned a similar incident nearby Puthumala in August 8, 2019 where nearly 40 people died, and in 2021 where nearly 17 people died. This is the third time. Around 430 people are estimated to have lost their lives, and 150 people were missing.

When I left on the last day, I was informed that eight bodies were buried near Puthumala. Volunteers from all religions (Hindu, Christian, Muslim and others) were present and all rituals were observed. No one knew who the eight bodies belonged to but everyone prayed together and buried them.

There was no sound of weeping.  The rain continued to fall.

Why do such tragedies repeatedly occur here? The entire area looked like a mixture of soil and rock which could be a reason for the instability. While taking photos, I saw nothing but this mixture – not exactly a mountain or just rock.

The continuous rain was something unprecedented for the area, and the unstable ground caved in with the rain falling from one to five in the morning. Three landslides followed, at night. Every building and school I saw reminded me of this. Speaking with volunteers I realised that everyone was stuck there, even those conducting the search seemed lost. And the people who live there…they may never fully recover.