The Longest Night: Reflections on Wayanad’s Landslide
I woke up at 7 am, just like any other day, and after drinking my tea, I stepped outside. The rain had been pouring for two days straight, transforming the streets into rushing rivers. These are the kind of weather you expect in Wayanad. It reminded me of the COVID lockdowns when I was stuck at home for long stretches, with the rain being just as unstoppable and heavy. I asked my parents about the weather alert, and they informed me that an "Orange" alert had been issued, but the weather felt more extreme than usual, making me wonder if it should be a "Red" alert instead. To check the latest updates, I turned on the TV and saw breaking news about two massive landslides in Wayanad. Was bit curious about the locations, I found out they were Mundakkai and Chooramala near Meppadi, just 20 km from my place. I was instantly shocked, and such incidents had become increasingly common in Wayanad since 2018.
After discussing the news with my parents, I turned off the TV to attend my 9.30 am office meeting. During the meeting, everyone was asking about the landslides, and I casually explained the situation, assuming it was similar to past events. Suddenly, someone mentioned that the casualties had nearly reached 30. Although I was concerned, I didn't fully grasp the severity at that moment.
After discussing the news with my parents, I turned off the TV to attend my 9.30 am office meeting. During the meeting, everyone was asking about the landslides, and I casually explained the situation, assuming it was similar to past events. Suddenly, someone mentioned that the casualties had nearly reached 30. Although I was concerned, I didn't fully grasp the severity at that moment.
As the day went on, I returned to the news and saw live footage of the devastation. The casualty count was much higher than in previous years, and it made me anxious. I turned off the TV and immersed myself in my work. At the same time, I noticed my mom receiving many concerned calls from relatives and friends. I kept myself busy with various tasks and had lunch, but an uneasy feeling lingered. Despite usually avoiding naps after lunch, I was exhausted and my shoulder hurt from an awkward sleep the night before, so I took a nap.
When I woke up at 4 PM, the house was quiet except for the rain tapping against the window. My mom had made tea, which smelled comforting. I turned on the news, and it showed the casualty numbers were higher than I had imagined. Looking outside, I saw it was still raining heavily. I started worrying about my own place, which was close to a mountain where a minor landslide occurred a few years back. As the day progressed, the rain’s intensity increased, and it became colder. The news continued to be unsettling, so I tried to distract myself with work.
After dinner, I went for a walk to clear my mind but found myself shivering in the cold. I returned to my room and read random articles on my laptop. I soon heard my dad receiving a flurry of calls and saw my mom looking increasingly worried. She told me that our neighbors had left their house due to fear of a landslide, and many people nearby were contacting my dad. We also received an audio message from a ward member advising us to stay alert, and some were asked to consider moving to government shelters or safer locations. Fear gripped me, something I never thought I would feel. I knew I had to act brave for whatever situation might come.
The place I always thought of as a safe haven seemed to crumble inside my head. There is no true safe haven in this world; it’s just a perception. Considering what we have done to this world, it feels like nature is playing its part. From leaving Bangalore due to a water crisis to now dealing with excessive rainfall, it was a stark reminder of the consequences of our actions. I knew this was going to be my longest night and most probably one of many in the future.