Over the last one year, Jaya Hariharan has relived the events of July 12, 2018 over and over in her head. The smallest details of what had started out as an ordinary day have come rushing back to her – it was a Thursday, she had rowed her boat from Thalamittam island on which she lives to the nearby Chambakkara fish market, picked up her share of fish, sold it, got back home by afternoon, cooked lunch, finished household chores, and talked with her 31-year-old son Harish late into the night. But, try however she might, she has not been able to figure out why her son skipped dinner, paced around the house, watched the rain inundating their courtyard, walked to his bedroom around midnight, latched the door, continued speaking to her, telling her that he was just there and would come out soon, and ended his life.
Jaya, a resident of Thalamittam island, at her house. A portrait of her son, who died last year, hangs on the wall. | Photo Credit: H. Vibhu
Seated on a plastic chair just outside that bedroom, the 59-year-old widow says the answers still elude her. A framed photograph of Harish hangs on the wall. She points to the cracks on the walls and the floor, and says, “The floods caused it. When officers came to take stock, I couldn’t tell them of all this damage. I still had not come to terms with my son’s death then.” Harish had often told her that he was fed up of their miserable life at Thalamittam, a tiny islet in the Chambakkara canal surrounded by mangroves and accessible only through boats. But, it had been an emotion voiced by all the six families of fish workers living on the isle, and she had not taken it seriously.
Harish’s body was taken to Chambakkara the next day by tying two country craft together. The heavy downpour and subsequent flooding worsened matters. “We risked our lives to get the body across,” says Shine P.S., councillor of Vyttila ward in the Kochi Corporation under which Thalamittam falls. The islanders recollect that the body had to be cremated on the roadside at Chambakkara.
Land erosion
Omana, a resident of Thalamittam island in Kochi. | Photo Credit: H. Vibhu
For them, Harish’s death was only an addition to their long list of woes. As the floods worsened in August, they were shifted to a relief camp. They came back to houses with cracked walls and weaker foundations, says Omana, a fish worker. The elderly woman says it was after the floods that the island was infested with snails and the amount of water entering courtyards during high tide increased manifold. Their long-standing demand for a retaining wall on the Chambakkara side of the island has not been met. The side facing Thykoodam is more secure as there is a retaining wall . The movement of barges in the canal has also led to land erosion on the unprotected shore. “The barges are reckless, they topple our boats and sometimes docked boats are completely destroyed,” says Ms. Omana. The islanders have been crying hoarse about it, but there have been no favourable results.
Family name
According to the residents, the region of Thalamittam was separated from the mainland at Thykoodam nearly 42 years ago after the canal was dredged to facilitate the free movement of barges.
The residents of Thalamittam island can access the mainland only through small wooden boats. | Photo Credit: H. Vibhu
“Thalamittam was my family’s name, which was then shared by the people who came to live here. Ours was the only house on the isle when it got separated,” says 51-year-old Sobha Sarasan. “Since this was ancestral property, my husband and I decided to stay back. And that’s how we ended up getting trapped here.”
No title deeds
While Ms. Sarasan owns the land her house stands on, the three families living on the Chambakkara side – Ms. Hariharan’s, Ms. Omana’s and Sukumari Sudhakaran’s – do not have title deeds. Ms. Omana says her family wound up at Thalamittam in desperation. “Disputes within my extended family drove us to this piece of land, 36 years ago. My husband, two children and I lived in our boat for the first few days.” They then set up a “shed” of sorts which grew into home. “When my husband and I went fishing, we would fasten a rope around the children’s waists and tie them to the shed. We had no one to turn to.”
Later, Ms. Hariharan and Ms. Sudhakaran reached Thalamittam. “We lived in sheds too, slogging day and night to scrape up money to build a decent house. And now, these houses are going to collapse,” says Ms. Sudhakaran, 59. “We understand when the authorities send us back, stating that it is difficult to issue title deeds for puramboke land. We are only requesting them to construct a retaining wall to protect the isle,” she adds. “When people die due to hardships, the government and society are quick to offer sympathies. Why won’t they lend a hand when we are struggling to live?”
Presence of snakes
Large packets of land, bought by private groups, lie unused on the island, harbouring poisonous snakes and many species of birds. The wild growth of plants and the slushy ground make even walks from one house to the other risky. “The droppings of some birds have resulted in respiratory diseases for many of us,” says Sarasan, a fish worker. “Pollution in the canal has resulted in a drastic fall in fish catch. Our earnings have reduced too; we cannot afford medical expenses.”
Mr. Shine agrees that the everyday life of islanders is fraught with danger. “No plans or proposals have come up to improve their lives. The government should help rehabilitate them,” he says.
A few families have already moved out of the island, unable to cope with the difficult living conditions. “The rest of us are stuck here because we cannot afford a life elsewhere,” says Ms. Omana. Gazing at the tall pillars of the Kochi Metro Rail project taking shape at nearby Chambakkara, she asks, “Does the government really not have the money to build a protective wall for us?”