Meppadi (Wayanad): When it rains in Meppadi, it pours inside the homes of Harsham, the state government's model rehabilitation project, built after the 2019 Puthumala landslide, which killed 22 people and wiped out 95 homes.

For little children like Aiman Hadi, it's a game -- splashing through rainwater collected in an old paint bucket and aluminium pot in the dining room. But for their parents, it's a relentless nightmare -- a house that never stays dry, and a roof that never holds.

"I keep mopping the floor. I have three children. They keep running around. So, that's my job…," says Shareeja P A, a homemaker, pausing between swipes of her floor cloth.

Water seeps in through the sit-outs; drips through the tiled roofs inside; walls stay damp; and the air inside grows musty. "The dampness on the wall has led to fungal growth. When we go out, we leave the windows open. Otherwise, we cannot enter the house when we return," says Nissar Kodakanchery, a construction worker who lives in the hilltop colony at Pothakolly, five minutes from Meppadi town.

The 49 homes here -- surrounded by rolling hills -- were built on seven acres donated by a charitable trust and funded by a cross-section of society — business groups, NGOs, and religious trusts. The government pitched in through the LIFE Mission, offering Rs 4 lakh per house and providing a uniform design: a tiled roof over the living room, kitchen and sit-out, and concrete slabs over the two bedrooms.

In Malayalam, Harsham means happiness. But here, it has been stretched into a backronym: Happiness And Resilience Shared Across Meppadi.

Come monsoon, and there’s no welcome mat here, just a squeegee by every front door. "There are 49 houses here. All 49 are leaking," says Saleema Mujeeb, president of the Harsham People’s Committee.

When the residents complained, the District Collector deputed officials from the District Nirmithi Kendra. "They said the tiled roofs were the problem. The design itself was flawed," Saleema says. The committee’s report recommended removing the tiles and replacing them with concrete slabs.

In December, the District Collector wrote to the government, citing this report and requesting funds for concrete roofing. Seven months on, all the residents can still see is the pitter-patter in their rooms.

A CPM Area Committee member has secured his house by wrapping the roof with tarpaulin sheets, a common sight in the colony. He refused to speak for this report, lest it might be used against the government. "I am a potential candidate for the upcoming local body election," he said, and directed Onmanorama to Saleema.

Junaid P, a floor tile mason and one of the residents, says, "It’s been four years since we moved here. We've complained to the Collector, the panchayat, and even to the Chief Minister during his Nava Kerala Sadas. Still, nothing has changed."

It is not just the rainwater on the floor. The problem seeps deeper. In some houses, water trickles down through the hollow bricks and reaches electrical outlets. "We are scared to go inside the rooms," says Sabira P, a homemaker. The beds in her house are covered with plastic sheets.

"When it rains heavily, we don’t even switch on the lights. We fear getting electrocuted," says Saleema.

That fear isn’t unfounded. "At least three families have moved out after suffering electric shocks. One house wall collapsed, injuring people," Junaid adds.

One of them is Sindhu (75). She was thrown to the floor when she tried to turn on a switch. She has gone back to her daughter's cramped lane quarters in the Puthumala tea estate. "What's the point in having a house when we cannot live there?" says her daughter, Yashoda.

In desperation, two families have begun rebuilding their roofs with ₹1 lakh each from the People’s Foundation. But the total cost is around ₹2.5 lakh -- money they’re now scrambling to arrange on their own.

"We had no choice," said Shareefa, a mother of three. “We used to keep fish crates inside the house to collect the water. The children would run around, slip and fall." Once the work began, her husband Abdul Naseer left for Saudi Arabia -- hoping to keep the family from slipping into a debt trap.

"It's a beautiful house," Saleema says. "But the moment it rains, we can’t stay in it."

Chooralmala ward member Noorudeen C K, himself a resident of Harsham, has a word of caution for the government: ensure that the 410 houses being built in Kalpetta for Chooralmala and Mundakai residents don’t end up like this. For the residents in Harsham, their homes are testing their resilience far more than giving them happiness.