If marriages are made in heaven, Munambam makes for a charming wedding destination with its palm-fringed land and backwaters. There is a striking irony though; the residents here can't find brides and grooms anymore.

The Waqf land dispute has turned marriage proposals into questions of survival and security. Residents said the uncertainty over the ownership of land has left families hesitant leading to aborted proposals and prospective weddings suspended.

The parish records of the Velankanni Matha Church in Munambam’s Kadappuram reveal a grim reality: while 18 marriages were solemnised in 2021, only five took place in 2022. The following years show no real recovery – just 13 in 2023, 9 in 2024, and a mere 3 so far in 2025.

“From 2022 onwards, we saw marriages fall drastically,” said Fr Antony Xavier Tharayil, Vicar of Velankanni Matha Church. “Parents fear sending their daughters here. Even if a man has a good job and land, they worry he will lose everything because of the Waqf issue. Families don’t want to take that risk.”

For Megha Siju, a young resident, the crisis feels deeply personal. “Some of my friends are well-settled – bank officers, professionals, with acres of land. Yet, they cannot find brides. The moment a proposal reaches the bride’s family, it ends when they hear about the dispute. Even for women here, grooms pull back for the same reason,” she said.

Traditionally, marriages in Munambam were funded by families by mortgaging their land deeds. The residents, mostly fishermen, don’t have much savings or financial stability. But today, those deeds are worthless in the eyes of banks. “Even if a proposal is agreed upon, many families cannot afford the wedding because they cannot raise money. Fishermen’s earnings are unstable, and without loans, they have no way. And banks now don’t validate our deeds and simply deny loans,” Megha explained.

A dispute that stole ownership
The issue dates back to 1950, when a businessman named Muhammad Siddique Sait endowed 404 acres of Munambam land to Farook College in Kozhikode. Over the decades, hundreds of families, mostly Christian and Hindu, purchased land directly from the college, built homes, churches, and even a cemetery. They paid taxes and believed they were rightful owners.

That belief collapsed in 2019, when the Kerala Waqf Board declared the land as waqf property. Overnight, residents became “occupants.” Their documents turned into what they now call dead assets that are unsellable, unmortgageable, and legally paralysed.

“Back in 1990, a cent of land cost ₹5,000. Today, it’s worth around ₹5 lakh. On paper, many families here are millionaires. But in reality, they cannot sell or use that land. It is wealth that does not exist,” Fr Tharayil said.

The consequences have been even bleaker. Fr Tharayil said while the number of marriages decreases, deaths are rising in Kadappuram. Church records show 12 deaths in 2019. By 2021, the number touched 20. In 2023, it was 18, and by mid-2025, eleven lives have already been lost.

“We believe it is because people cannot afford treatment now,” Fr Tharayil said. “Earlier, they mortgaged their property to raise money for surgeries. Now, they have no option.”

The ripple effect extends beyond marriages and health. Jessy Xavier, another resident, said youngsters with admission offers abroad have been forced to give up. “When they go to banks for education loans, the deeds are rejected as collateral. One girl even tried to take her life after the dream of studying overseas collapsed,” she said.

With banks refusing their plea for loans, families are pushed into the hands of private moneylenders who charge crushing interest. Debt has entwined Munambam’s people. For widows like Mary Antony, the fear is unbearable. “I have lived here for 59 years. My husband died a decade ago. Now they say it is not my home and land. If I lose my home now, I have nowhere to go. We have begged the government for help, but nobody listens.”

For Elsy Thomas, whose home is a crumbling shed standing on just one cent of land, the fight is deeply symbolic. “Even this small place is disputed. But I will not give it up. I will fight till my last breath,” she said, sitting at the hunger strike site outside the church.

Out of the 610 families affected nearly 400 are Christians and the rest are Hindus. Fr Tharayil said that the Hindus and Christians protest together, fast together, and pray together at the church premises to fight for their lands. “We are united by the fight for our lands and homes. Religion is secondary,” Fr Tharayil said.

Even the Velankanni Matha Church and its adjoining cemetery, where generations of ancestors lie buried, stand on contested ground. “Our memories and our faith are at stake,” said Jessy. “If this issue is not resolved, we lose everything.”

For Munambam’s fishers, the sea was always the challenge and they have survived fighting cyclones, hunger, and uncertain tides. But today, the real storm is on land. It is not waves they are fighting, but courtrooms and paperwork.

“They can conquer the sea,” Fr Tharayil said quietly. “But can they conquer uncertainty written on paper? For them, the dispute is not about property lines. It is about dignity, survival, and the right to say “this home, this land, is ours,” Fr Tharayil said.