
In 2004, like many other islanders of the Andamans, I experienced something that I didn’t even know of. An earthquake that had its epicenter in the Aceh Island of Indonesia had triggered an unprecedented Tsunami. Early in the morning of December 26, 2004, when my bed shook for a long time, I realized that an earthquake of very high magnitude had hit us. I quickly woke everyone up. Carrying my son, who was just a few months old, we got to an open space outside the building. My extended family had also gathered there. The shock was so strong and long that we all thought it was Doomsday. Standing on the ground was also a challenge, and everyone was looking for something to hold or somewhere to sit down. Sometime later, we heard people shouting, ‘The island is sinking, water is gushing in.’
Even though my house was close to the shore and on a hilltop, I immediately realized I had to take my family to a much higher ground. I began making trips with my motorcycle to drop each family member off at the Chand Mari ground, known for its higher altitude. It is the same place you see when the flight lands at Port Blair Island.
Until then, we islanders had no idea of the water or the damage done. It was only later in the day that we got the first information. There was an earthquake, followed by a huge tsunami that may have devastated not only parts of the coastal mainland of India and the Andaman Islands but also the entire Southeast Asia region. It was during this time that we, the islanders, first learned about these giant waves known as tsunamis.
On that day, my father, a merchant navy officer, was deputed to southern Nicobar Island, which was the worst hit. There was a complete information blackout. I quickly rushed to the Port Management Board (PMB), where a few of my relatives and friends worked, to see if they could establish contact with the ship on which my father was onboard. On the third day, the PMB managed to connect with a naval vessel that was conducting a rescue operation near the island of Kamorta. When the commanding officer of the naval ship got in touch with the PMB to provide information about the death and damage on the island, he also shared details about the ship that my father was on. Since it was double-bang parked, my relatives were able to speak to my father for a very brief moment. He was informed about our well-being. When my relatives told me, I rushed home and told my mother.
When the tsunami occurred, I had a crockery business. Three days after kin and kith were accounted for, I opened the shop. The crockeries that we would proudly display were no longer on the showcase. They were shattered into pieces on the ground. A visit to the warehouse revealed the same. It was a huge loss. My uncle and I also supplied material and stationery to different islands. Due to the destruction caused by the massive waves, the supplies and the documentation had gone missing. It was very clear to me that the next few months would be financially difficult. Not wanting to lean on family, a quarter or so passed with me and my wife having one meal in the day.
One day, I went to a relief camp in Port Blair where people from the Nicobar Islands were seeking refuge. I met a family I knew, and the head of the family was also a friend of my grandfather. He was a known businessman of a prospering family. They had lost everything, yet they remained positive, saying they would rebuild again. Many families were residing in the camp. The wealthier ones were sleeping in their cars at night because of fear of aftershocks.
Throughout my early childhood and university years in Kolkata, I was prepared to serve the community. My late principal and mentor, Fr. Peter Arul Raj, always encouraged me to participate in social causes, strengthening my commitment to serve as part of my core values. Now, at 24 years of age, it was gradually dawning on me that I, who had an appetite to work hard and earn more, had suddenly lost the lure and ambition. Stories of the darker side of humanity emerging from the post-disaster made one thing very clear to me – money does not save you from the threat of such a hazard. In the camps, there were people from all strata of society.
I decided to serve the community in the relief camp. I was part of a youth group managing relief camps. A group of 25 of us volunteered ourselves to the district administration. Every day, we received various tasks. Sometimes, we were asked to fetch relief supplies or to list the number of people in the camp, and other times, to organize playgroups for the children to keep them occupied. At the end of those difficult days, I knew I was helping my people.
While still searching for work to support my family, a friend informed me of a vacancy at a national non-governmental organization called SEEDS. My friend also provided information on how SEEDS functions and helped me apply for the position of Logistic Officer. I underwent the interview and was selected. My wife and my father supported my decision to join – even though we all knew we would not be able to return to what we had financially. All the work we did as volunteers came in handy in the first year of my work at SEEDS. In the next year, supported by Microsoft, SEEDS launched the Swayam microfinance project, and I was assigned to manage the project. Subsequently, I was made Regional Manager at Port Blair, leading the local team.
In 2008, I was transferred to the SEEDS Delhi office to support the national team. Although money no longer matters to me, I recognize that the fraternity also works not for money but for humanitarian causes.
During my tenure here, I have supported some of India’s most devastating disasters. Since 2005, disasters have become more complex and difficult to manage due to lack of experience. However, the lessons I learned from the tsunami remain relevant even today. The key is to think and act like the affected community. When you do that, the shoe will fit you better and meet the needs of those affected. The three significant learnings for me are: one, it is important to blend science and local wisdom. Traditional and cultural knowledge are appropriate for the community. However, with the changing climate, the appropriateness of local wisdom is also losing its contextuality. Two, when we are scientifically informed, the outcome is always better. Three, ‘Do No Harm’ – while working in the best interest of the community, one should still be cautious that the impact of your action should not lead to harm, whether in a short time or a longer duration.
I often recall being individually blessed by Mother Teresa as a student. I am grateful to be alive, to learn, and to serve others. It brings me joy and contentment to see families happy when they receive support. I have deep empathy for those families that are helped after a disaster. While you may not receive everything you desire, when you and your family find happiness and contentment, you know you are on the right path.