The car comes to a screeching halt before Wandoor, gateway to the picturesque Jolly Buoy islands. ‘‘Rasta band hai (the road is closed). The waves have eaten it up,’’ says Hari, the driver.Stepping out, the stench nearly knocks you over. It’s Wandoor’s tomorrow rotting.‘‘Just look to your side, and you’ll know. This is the scent of our rotting paddy fields lying submerged in sea water. We are living in hell,’’ says Murugesan, a Wandoor farmer.
More than relief material and rescue, this village is haunted by the bigger picture: almost all the paddy fields are gone, the rushing seawater may have damaged them for ever.
Scientists at the Central Agriculture Research Institute (CARI), barely 15 km away from the neighbouring Choldhari village, admit they are helpless. Director Dr R B Rai suggests a drastic change in cropping pattern or even a paradigm shift—animal husbandry—to get the farmers back on their feet.
‘‘Our preliminary reading is that the sea has eaten up 3,000-5,000 hectares of agricultural land. As per initial estimates, the loss would be at least Rs 2.5 crore per year,’’ says Dr Rai.
CARI’s blueprint? ‘‘The cropping pattern has to change as the ingression of sea water has altered soil properties. We would advise farmers to grow beetroot or even watermelon, which can grow on saline soil. Traditional varieties of saline-sensitive paddy and other crops cannot be grown in the near future. For instance, we might have to procure saline-resistant variety of paddy all the way from Karnal,’’ says Dr Rai.
Then there’s the animal husbandry option, which Dr Rai seems quite excited about. ‘‘We would give 20 poultry birds to each farmer, the cost per person would be about Rs 200. In 60-70 days, they would be able to earn Rs 2,000 approximately. Goats can also be raised on saline ground with minimal resources,’’ says Dr Rai.
‘‘I am going to Delhi to appeal for Rs 1-2 lakh, so that we can provide the animals for free,’’ he says.
But for Wandoor, Dr Rai’s words don’t mean much right now.
‘‘We are poor farmers, who have no other means of livelihood. Everyone just comes and goes, making promises. We have requested so many people to get the sea water pumped out of our fields,’’ says Murugesan.
‘‘Unless that is done, we will all die,’’ says a group of farmers at a relief camp near the village. ‘‘Our only source of livelihood is choking under five feet of sea water.’’
On the road back, Wandoor’s devastation refuses to leave you. There are three little girls, playing hide and seek in what remains of the crumbling Coral Museum.
On the road alongside, lies an uprooted signboard pointing towards what was once a boat jetty. It says: ‘Welcome to Wandoor’.