It’s a time when poverty grips the coast more tightly than ever. With the trawling ban in force, torrential rains and squally winds battering the shore, the fishermen’s tears are now boiling over in their kitchens, quite literally!

To make matters worse, anxiety runs high among coastal residents as they watch the sea inch closer to their homes. In many parts of the district, where sea erosion has been most severe, there are no protective sea walls at all. Some families have already fled, abandoning their battered houses. Others, with nowhere else to go, are holding on for dear life. We took a detour through their sorrows—an unsettling journey.

Wave after wave, home after home
At Ottamassery coast, what greets the eye is a long stretch of partially damaged homes. On walls that still stand, the waves keep pounding, relentless and loud. Most houses are now deserted. Some families have taken shelter with relatives as the sea's advance shows no signs of stopping. Coconut trees lie uprooted, strewn near these broken walls.

Ottamassery is one of the worst-affected coastal stretches in the district and is officially marked as a sea erosion hotspot by the Irrigation Department. Though the construction of a sea wall using tetrapod began six years ago, the project remains incomplete. Tetrapod structures lie unloaded near the shore and those laid last year were swallowed by the beach’s loose-soil. Without a sea wall, the roaring waves breach the land, with residents forced to stack sandbags and stones in desperate defence. Fishing is the only livelihood here and if forced to leave this place, how do we survive? ask the local residents here.

The kitchen that was swallowed by the sea
Kunnummal Benny’s makeshift kitchen, built on concrete pillars and covered with asbestos sheets, was swept away completely in a sea incursion two weeks ago. The sheets and debris now lie scattered across his yard, wrecked by waves.

“When sea incursion worsens, our neighbours move in with relatives,” says Benny. “But where do I take my wife, who cannot even walk?” His wife, Reethamma, is a kidney patient. She struggles even to get into a vehicle.

“When I built this house 22 years ago, the sea was at least 20 metres west. It’s now just a breath away. The damage intensified after a breakwater was constructed on the southern side. Everything is gone, even the stones from the old sea wall. Unless a new breakwater is built on the northern side and a proper sea wall constructed, our misery will not end,” Benny laments.

 Hearts skip a beat when the sea roars
“Whenever the sea storms in, we huddle together our children and grandchildren and pray inside the house. But where do we go if we leave?” asks Selin Joseph of Arukatil. She stands before her sea-splashed home, a structure battered by waves.

“The sea climbs right up to the roof. Water enters every room. The floor, the walls...everything is damaged by salt water. Waves crash over the tetrapod structures and straight into our house,” she says.

A sack for a shield
When sea incursions peak, the only help from authorities comes in the form of a few sacks filled with soil and placed along the coast by the panchayat. But they rarely last a night and get washed away easily by the waves, says Thomas Arattukulam.

Lisa Binu of Aratukulam left her home in Ottamassery with her children during the last sea incursion, seeking refuge in her maternal house at Pallithodu. But with school reopening, she returned the day before, only to find a mound of sand brought in by the waves to her yard and its walls damaged by seawater.

Now, even homes on the eastern side of the coastal road are under threat, as the sea continues its steady advance inland.

Stones for their tears
“Whenever people cry, the government brings stones to the coast. And when elections come, they bring promises too. After that, we’re forgotten,” say Thayyil Lilly and Thressia Justine, both workers under the employment guarantee scheme.

They’ve been tending to casuarina saplings to be planted along the coast—part of a tree belt initiative. But the effort feels like a farce in the eyes of a population that has long been demanding proper sea walls to stop the ocean's fury.