Survivors in landslide-hit villages of Wayanad are trapped in the labyrinth of unemployment, psychological trauma & state apathy

Time of India

2 days ago

At the Puthumala mass burial ground where the victims of the Mundakkai-Chooralmala landslide disaster lie in eternal rest, the air still hangs heavy with grief. A solemn group of around 40 people including women and children stood in silence around two nearby graves — those of Panakkadan Shajahan and his young daughter Faiza — to offer their prayers for the departed.
As the cleric ended the death anniversary prayers with the supplication to make the graves expansive for the deceased (referring to peace in the afterlife), a sharp sob pierced the still air. A woman collapsed to the ground in anguish. "Poovi has fainted... It was too much for her," murmured an elderly woman, as others rushed to lift her.
Her grief had a reason and weight beyond words — the body of Shajahan's mother, Panakkadan Jameela, lay buried in six separate graves.
Her body was discovered in fragments and interred without identification until DNA results confirmed the unimaginable truth. "How can one find closure when she lies scattered like that?" asked Mohammed Koya, a relative.
The Panakkadan family alone lost five members in the disaster, including Jameela's husband Mohammed Ali and Shajahan's another daughter Hina, who was buried in the Rippon Mosque burial ground.
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Shajahan's wife and youngest daughter Naiza managed to survive the July 30 disaster.
The Puthumala burial ground in Wayanad, where over 56 unidentified bodies and 213 body parts of the landslide victims were laid to rest, remains a harrowing monument to the scale and violence of the landslide.
Even the ex-gratia compensation list released by the state govt underscores the tragedy's brutal nature. Of the 298 people confirmed dead or missing, the govt could provide the Rs 8 lakh ex-gratia amount to only 240 cases as 57 families had perished entirely and many deceased had no legal heirs or dependents left to claim the compensation, with some cases further complicated by legal uncertainties.
Five kilometres away, at the epicentre of one of the deadliest landslides in India's history, the villages of Chooralmala and Mundakkai —once vibrant and scenic communities nestled along the Punnapuzha river — lie in ghostly stillness as if frozen in time.
A year ago, just past midnight on July 30, Punnappuzha laden with landslide debris roared with lethal rage devouring the thickly populated habitats along its banks, two schools, plantations and lives along the 8km stretch.
Now, the eerie quiet is broken only by the sound of the flowing river, winding its way past the skeletons of crushed houses and buildings even as remains of mangled vehicles and huge boulders and debris of trees dot the landscape.
With the govt declaring most of the regions as uninhabitable, survivors say the home gardens in the abandoned villages have become the haunt of wild animals including elephants.
Grass and weeds creep over the scars of the landslide, but the emotional wounds run even deeper for those who lost everything.
Soon after the search and rescue efforts which saw unprecedented coming together of over 3,550 volunteers, apart from Army, NDRF and other agencies, Kerala govt mounted one of its most extensive disaster rehabilitation efforts in recent memory: Mass relocation of entire affected families, ex-gratia compensation of Rs 8 lakh to the kin of deceased, rental support of Rs 6,000 and livelihood aid of Rs 9,000 each being paid every month up to two members per family and a plan to rebuild homes from the ground at the proposed township at Elstone Estate near Kalpetta.
But even as officials cite progress in metrics and milestones, many among the villagers now live scattered in rented houses and remain adrift. Livelihoods have disappeared along with the land and mental health struggles continue to haunt many.
Though 402 disaster-hit families wait for their promised new homes set to be complete by Dec, gaps remain. Of the 402 families officially recognized —divided into three categories based on the level of damage and danger — scores of others, including residents from Padavettikunnu and Attamala who find themselves outside the disaster zone as per the John Mathai Committee report, continue protests seeking inclusion, citing unsafe living conditions near the disaster zone.
Also, 73 families who have been living in padis (estate accommodation) are left out of the list and are demanding inclusion.
Even among recognized victims, eligibility rules have left some behind. Chooralmala resident Vipin, for instance, lost his house — which he had rented out — without a trace but is not on the list, while the tenants were included in the beneficiary list.
Mental scars remain
Sitting in a modest rental house at Harsham — the housing project originally built for the 2019 Puthumala landslide survivors — at Poothakolli, Usman Bappu Koikkal, a native of Chooralmala, speaks in a slow, subdued, tone.
Even a year after the disaster, the trauma lingers for him.
The sound of pounding rain, the rumble of an earthmover or the sudden ignition of a motorcycle can still trigger panic attacks, says Bappu.
Faint reddish scars around his eyes are a visible reminder of that harrowing night when a wall of slush swept him several metres downhill.
"Ever since the landslide, heavy rain makes my heart race. I get chest pains and sometimes I get dizzy.
That night, I thought I wouldn't survive. The physical wounds have almost healed but mentally, I'm still struggling. I see a psychiatrist every month and take three tablets daily just to manage it," he said.
The post disaster needs assessment by the state govt underlines the psychological toll the landslide has taken. Of the 1,231 people assessed, over 35% reported sleep disturbances among other psychological symptoms.
Also, follow-up treatment has become an issue for many survivors. Though they were initially treated free of cost, the current system which has mapped survivors to local govt hospitals requires survivors to first approach the govt hospitals and only then can get referrals to private care, if needed.
Muneer, another Chooralmala native who suffered broken ribs, a damaged spinal disc and respiratory issues from inhaling sludge, says he would prefer continuing his treatment with the doctors who handled his initial care.
"But now I have to pay from my pocket for tests and follow-ups," he says. "I've shifted my psychiatric consultations to the Vythiri Taluk Hospital, though, as I simply can't afford the expenses." Muneer now drives an autorickshaw three days a week to support himself, but his health still prevents him from working full time.
Concerns over long-term livelihoods
While the govt has extended critical interim relief — offering Rs 9,000 per month to two members of each affected family, covering 1,133 individuals —long-term livelihood recovery remains one of the most pressing and unresolved challenges for the survivors.
Chooralmala native Jayesh, who worked for over two decades at the Sentinel Rock division of Harrisons Malayalam Ltd, had to stop going to work after being relocated to Kappankolly, 16km away.
"When we lived in Chooralmala, it worked because there were no additional expenses. But now, commuting that far daily on a wage of Rs 475 just doesn't make sense," he said.
Like him, many survivors who once relied on plantation work and small-scale farmers whose means of living have been upended now find themselves staring at uncertainty regarding livelihoods.
The situation is equally dire for the shopkeepers and small business owners who once formed the backbone of Chooralmala's economy. Though they have suffered losses running into crores of rupees, the state govt has not provided direct compensation to these traders and shop owners. However, Vyapari Vyavasayi Ekopana Samithi has stepped in, disbursing approximately Rs 2.3 crore to 55 shopkeepers as a partial relief.
The initiatives by voluntary organisations have remained a silver lining with 72 persons setting up new businesses including shops, textiles, bakeries and running autorickshaws as per the initiative coordinated by People's Foundation along with other agencies.
Though the state govt has been demanding the waving off of around Rs 18 crore of loans of the disaster-hit people, Centre is yet to take a positive stand in this regard.
Alongside livelihood aid, the state govt has been providing Rs 6,000 per month in rental support to 533 families, involving a financial commitment of Rs 4.2 crore. However, with rents increasing in areas around Meppadi due to sudden demand for housing following the disaster, nearly 50% of the families have had to pay more than the rental aid to get houses.
A comprehensive micro-plan prepared by the state govt has identified 4,636 individuals across 1,084 families as directly or indirectly impacted.
Of them, 4,900 people require short-term services, 1,027 need medium-term support, and 60 need long-term interventions. In terms of livelihood, 1,879 individuals have sought economic assistance, 629 need skill development training and 1,140 have requested livelihood loan support.
Officials say Rs 2 lakh is being made available for individuals to start their own enterprises. While the broader recovery plan targets over a thousand families, immediate attention is being given to the 402 most-affected households listed in the first phase.
When the devastating landslide struck Wayanad, district collector D R Meghashree had been in office for just a few weeks. The scale of devastation, she recalls, was unlike anything the district had faced before.
"The magnitude of the tragedy was overwhelming. For the past year, we have been in a constant firefighting mode, responding to challenges as they evolved with the focus of helping the survivors rebuild their lives," she said.
She pointed out the enormity of the response attempts mounted in the initial days of the disaster. "Wayanad had facilities to store only about 15 bodies at a time. But we were faced with recovering and managing not just dozens of bodies, but nearly 400 body parts. Still, we quickly set up space and coordination mechanisms. Many of the situations we encountered were unprecedented — be it finding hundreds of temporary rental houses, reopening the two destroyed schools, providing healthcare and livelihood assistance, etc.
, but we evolved our response on the ground, in real time," she said.
District panchayat president Shamshad Marakkar voiced concern over critical gaps in rehabilitation and said that the govt has unfortunately adopted a 'filtering out' exclusionary approach in finalising the list of beneficiaries for rehabilitation. He pointed out that the public had generously contributed ₹772 crore towards relief and just Rs 100 crore of it spent so far and therefore, the govt had a responsibility to adopt a more inclusive and compassionate framework in extending aid and recovery assistance.
"The Meppadi panchayat had initially submitted a list of 545 affected families, but it was reduced to 402 by the govt," he said. "Instead of citing technicalities to justify exclusions, what's needed is a humane, needs-based approach. Rehabilitation should reflect the scale of loss suffered by each family and should not be limited by rigid classifications."
As the earth settles and new lives begin to take root elsewhere, the once residents of Chooralmala and Mundakkai carry forward not just their pains — but their dignity, their resilience, and their fight to surmount the tragedy.
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He had 11 shops, Rs 50,000 as monthly income, now relies on aid
Perhaps no one exemplifies the personal loss of the Wayanad tragedy more than Pookkattil Aboobacker, once among Chooralmala's most affluent residents. He owned 11 shop units in the centre of the town which were all rented out and had a monthly rental income of Rs 50,000 apart from plantation land and other property.
Today, Aboobacker, who lost his wife when she was swept away by the debris flow right in front of his eyes, lives in a small, rented house near Muppainad.
He relies on aid from voluntary groups to support his 11-member family as the livelihood support provided by the govt is insufficient given the fact that he has to undergo dialysis three times a week.
"I built everything through decades of hard work. I began during my teen years by walking across Wayanad selling aluminium vessels door to door. My ties to Chooralmala and Mundakkai go back 50 years, I knew every person there.
Apart from my shop buildings, I also had a two-acre cardamom plantation. Now it's all gone — wild animals have taken over the land and there's no income," he said. Aboobacker is also burdened with Rs 14 lakh in unpaid loans.
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Chooralmala's sole surviving business — Vasu's scrapyard
Perhaps nothing captures the magnitude of loss more starkly than the transformation of Chooralmala. Once a lively townlet with nearly 60 shops and a close-knit community, it now stands abandoned — its streets silent and its buildings scarred with mud marks that rise to shoulder height, grim reminders of the violent debris flow that tore through the village.
Beyond the police barricades, only one business remains operational — a modest scrapyard run by Chooralmala native Vasu T P. A short distance before the barricades, two other establishments — a small hotel and a construction equipment rental outlet — continue to function.
In a land reduced to rubble, the grim irony is hard to miss — Vasu's scrapyard stands alone as a painful metaphor for a lost land where everything was broken and dismantled.
Vasu's own house, which once stood along the Chooralmala school road, was washed away. After he resumed business, he has helped clear debris from nearly 20 homes in his former neighbourhood. His scrapyard is filled with the remnants of what once were lives — crushed kitchen utensils, bent window frames, broken doors, remains of TV sets, schoolbooks and parts of cupboards.
"I've been in the scrap business even before the disaster. But now it's heartbreaking when people I've known for years ask me to clear out what's left of their homes and items that once meant much to them," he said, adding that for many who lost everything, even selling scrap has been a saving grace. I used to send out two pickup loads a week," he said.