How many more homes must the sea swallow before the government keeps its promise to build the tetrapod sea wall?
Every year, like clockwork, the sea comes roaring into Chellanam. And every year, like clockwork, the authorities remain silent spectators to its wrath. Unlike earthquakes or landslides, which arrive unannounced and uncontrollable, coastal erosion along Kerala’s vulnerable belts especially Chellanam is neither surprising nor uncertain. It is an annual assault we know will happen. And still, nothing changes.
We can predict with certainty that the sea will breach the shores during monsoon. We can also say, with equal certainty, that the only barrier capable of holding back these waves is a tetrapod-built sea wall. The irony? What is clear to the common man, whose home is washed away, remains invisible to the government bodies tasked with his protection.
Two years ago, when tetrapods were installed along the 7.35 km stretch between Chellanam Harbor and Puthenthode in Kannamali, a miracle happened not a single wave dared trespass. Not one house was destroyed. Not a single person had to run for their life clutching wet bags of clothes and shattered dreams. That project was both proof and promise. A promise that the remaining 12 km up to Fort Kochi would be fortified in the same way. Two years later, that promise lies in pieces just like the homes that the monsoon has already claimed this year.
Four houses have been swallowed by the sea. Twenty more are badly damaged. Families now huddle in the relief camp at Cherikadavu Church Parish Hall, not knowing whether they will have a home to return to. They are not victims of nature they are victims of human neglect. The waves may be violent, but the silence of governance is what truly devastates.
To make matters worse, the seawalls that were previously built are collapsing like soggy sandcastles. Ask the authorities why they aren't being repaired, and the answer is laughable: there's not enough granite. One wonders, then, how thousands of loads of granite were moved for the Vizhinjam Port. When it comes to big-ticket projects, no resource is ever too scarce. But when it comes to protecting fisherfolk and the working class, suddenly the coffers are empty and the laws immovable.
And so, geobags filled with sand are once again thrown onto the frontlines a temporary patchwork solution paraded as protection. The waves have learned by now that geobags are no threat. They do not tremble before sand. The sea will laugh at your half-measures until it swallows what remains of this coast.
Why is it so difficult to build a tetrapod wall when its effectiveness is proven? A tetrapod is not some space-age invention. It is a two-ton concrete structure simple in design, immense in defense. In Chellanam, most of the unprotected land belongs to the Navy. If six or seven kilometers of tetrapod barriers can be installed, this entire area could be shielded. The cost of inaction is not theoretical it is paid every year in homes, in lives, in mental agony.
Is this delay due to politics, bureaucratic laziness, or sheer apathy? Or is it because Chellanam doesn’t feature in glossy tourism brochures and election manifestos? Whatever the excuse, it has worn thin.
There is no room left for silence. This is a clear-cut case of failed governance, not failed weather. The next wave will come not because nature is cruel, but because the government is.
If the State cannot act where certainty exists, where proof has already been laid in stone (and tetrapods), then what is the point of governance? This isn't about development it is about survival. And survival should never be left to the mercy of waves when concrete answers exist.
It is not the waves that are the greatest threat to Chellanam it is the willful ignorance of those who refuse to build the walls that could stop them.