National

Left To Their Own Devices

While the rescue efforts have brought pilgrims to safety, help is yet to reach Kedar’s own people

Advertisement

Left To Their Own Devices
info_icon
  • Not for all: “Apada, apada!” the children cry. Vehicles passing by toss them biscuits, water bottles, food packets. But away from the roads, nothing reaches the villages in the interiors.
  • 50 major landslides have been reported from the Rudraprayag and Chamoli districts

***

The streets, the trees, the courtyards are wet with rain. And people’s eyes are wet with tears. The sky is covered with clouds, dark and ominous. The Mandakini roars in rain-fed fury, the rescue choppers overhead now and then break the dead silence of the valley, its villages, its villagers. There’s very little the people here have to say, but their pale faces and their sorrowful eyes speak fear. These are the people of the valley, who’ll be here rebuilding lives long after the last pilgrim is rescued and home-bound.

Advertisement

Roads, mountain paths, houses, whole hamlets have been washed away, with them the hopes of locals. The rain and landslides won’t let them resume their livelihoods. There is death everywhere: hundreds of bodies have been found and cremated, but many are rotting in inaccessible places or have become part of the riverbed, the soil.

Heading towards Triyuginarayanpur, we hear the cries of mourning. Smoke rises from the houses, the smoke of rituals for the dead. It was the same story in the 20-odd villages we visited in the Kedar valley of Rudraprayag district.

info_icon


Saroj Devi, who lost her husband Mata Prasad Bhat. (Photograph by Tribhuvan Tiwari)

Advertisement

Himanshu is eight, but has had to undergo an ordeal that would leave most adults shaken. The last time he saw his father, Jitendra Bhat, he was thirsty. The boy had gone looking for water and returned with some, carefully folded in leaves. But it was too late. “He closed his eyes before sunset,” says the boy, who slept with his father’s body two nights in the mountains opposite Rambara. “As the village started flooding, we had run to the top of the hills. It was there it all happened.” His mother is in hospital now. Losing her husband is perhaps as painful as the challenges of sustaining the family that lie ahead.

Mahavir Prasad Gairola’s son Ashish, 23, was employed with a private aviation company in Kedarnath. “He used to work so that people could fly, but he himself was unable to run or fly away when the floods came,” says his father. Triyuginarayanpur has lost some 20 people, most of them bread-winners.

Amit Awasthi, from Shounitpur, was helpless witness to the drowning of his brother. The bodies of many locals are yet to be brought back for last rites. Family members have searched the hills and buried the bodies wherever found. Badaasu, Lamgondi, Shounitpur, Nag­jagai, Sita­pur, Rampur, Kalimath and Kutma have similar tales to tell.

Advertisement

info_icon


Mahavir Prasad Gairola and his wife Vijayadevi, who lost their 23-year-old son. The youth worked for an aviation firm. (Photograph by Tribhuvan Tiwari)

Apada, apada (Disaster, disaster)!” children shout on the road to Kedar valley. Many private and government vehicles, laden with food, water and medicines, are heading for Guptkashi. They toss biscuits, bread and bottled water to the children. It seems relief material is reaching people. But enter the villages and the picture changes. Survivors have nothing: the bread-winners were doing good business during the peak tourist season, but all of it was washed away, often with those manning them. None of the villages has had visits from the administration, so there has been no assessment of the death and the damage, no compensation.

Advertisement

People are forced to buy basic commodities at inflated prices. Says Sailesh Vajpayee, a priest at Kedarnath, “There’s no grain. More than 150 families of pri­ests have been affected. The condition of those who had small businesses is the same. Do you think water bottles amount to relief? How long will they last?”

Trilochan Pant, of Tilwada, had spent all his savings in constructing a hotel-cum-market complex. Most of the building was washed away. “People were ready to rent shops there, but now, no one will come,” he says. The downside of constructions such as Pant’s is not lost on Dharam Singh, a retired government official.  He blames both the government and the people for unchecked constructions on the riverbed. From Sonprayag to Haridwar, people have encroached the riverbeds to build hotels and complexes. “Indeed, development has added to the loss and deaths,” says Dwarika Prasad of Lamgondi village.

Advertisement

We found people still returning home on their own despite rescue operations being officially declared over. Could more people be awaiting rescue? Lt Gen Anil Chait, who is heading the army operations, says, “It’s impossible to define ‘last man alive’ in such situations.” There are no plans to use drones to find people, but the army is using some electronic devices for the purpose.

Some have raised questions about the army operations, but most of the anger is directed at the state administration. Sehla Rawat, the Congress MLA from Kedarnath, got there only 10 days after the incident. People are angry and, in some villages, they let her know it.

Guptkashi is the closest base for relief and rescue but ironically neither the SDM nor the police have the resources to help people. We found cops either drunk or asleep on a rainy night in Guptkashi. “We have no resources here. Not even earthmovers, bulldozers or trucks to move the things. We are helpless and surviving on langars,” says a policeman. “Don’t blame us if we are unable to help people.”

Although pilgrims and tourists have been evacuated, the real challenge still remains: how do you rescue the way of life of the hill people?”

By Panini Anand in Kedar Valley

Advertisement

Tags

    Advertisement

    Advertisement

    Advertisement

    Advertisement

    Advertisement

    Advertisement