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An eyewitness account from Visakhaptanam (Report: Oct 13, 2014 -- a day after Cyclone Hudhud)
Same day, another place, same situation. Last year, I was locked up in a hotel room in Puri as Cyclone Phailin tore through the coast at night, and now in Visakhapatnam I could witness Cyclone Hudhud reveal nature’s fury in broad daylight, albeit in blinding rain. From an unbeatable vantage point of a two-storey hotel overlooking Visakhapatnam’s beach front from about 500 metres, it was about as close to the action as one could get. And Hudhud, which was supposed to be ‘not as vicious as Phailin’ did not disappoint. In fact, it upped the ante in its spookiness (and that too in daylight) as the hotel turned into a kind of ghost house or someplace being attacked by aliens. From the pupil of the eye of the storm, it would be a day that would resemble a nightmare.
Since joining the development sector a decade ago, this was my third cyclone ‘experience, the third one being Cyclone SIDR which struck Bangladesh in end-2007. Even then it had everything new about it. First off, no one expected it to be as severe as it has turned out to be and so when it came and went on and on, it was a big surprise for many. As it happened, right from 1 pm when the eye of the storm hit the coast, there was not a minute’s let up till 6 pm.
During this time, from behind wet and grimy glass windows, one observed the ocean seem to simmer and spill out. The waves seemed to have forgotten in which direction they were supposed to flow. The omnipresent coconut tree stood tall and seemed to resemble a fan with its branches spinning round and round. Its flexibility that enabled it to turn in every direction under the cyclone’s brunt, only to revert back to its shape, were its testimony for its long association with the coast, for though its branches sagged after the prolonged whipping, its trunk stood tall and unbent.
Among the other things that one witnessed were some spooky ones. Straight out of an M. Night Shyamalan or Steven Spielberg film, one found that the door knobs seemed to turn on their own volition, there seemed to be some spirit outside that was hell bent on wrenching out all the windows and glass panes – some of these successfully and with ease too. The sound effects from outside, from the thumping sounds of banging objects, to the whistling winds and the sustained beat of a torrential downpour, all put together in a symphony that only can define the apocalypse. Water eking out of every possible space to fill every floor of the hotel was another effect (a bit like the sinking of a ship, remember Titanic!).
But even as all this drama was unfolding inside, there was no forgetting how the people who didn’t have the luxury of a strong structure such as the hotel might be faring. And, in a region where a large portion of people are tribal, including fisher folk who live in thatched huts on the fringe of the high tide line, it was indeed terrible to imagine what their plight might be. All across the state and, in New Delhi too, not many had believed that this cyclone would be as severe as it turned out to be. From the driver who picked me at the airport when I landed in Vizag a day earlier to the hotel staff, and of course the media, the officials and the NGOs too, people assumed that this cyclone would be much less ferocious than Phailin. The air of optimism and skepticism was valid since Visakhapatnam had never faced a major cyclone – at least in recent memory.
The hotel’s tightly fixed roof sheet over the balcony was plucked out and eventually flung over the roof to the other side of the hotel, several windows were pulled out of their frames too by an external force as if by magic, and trees – much larger and seemingly stronger than the coconut trees went through several contortions before giving way to the might of the persistent strong wind.
At night, once the cyclone was almost done, there was a need to find another hotel which had some power and a kitchen. Navigating through a portion of the city, one could see trees and electric poles strewn across the city, bus shelters and smaller shops were also damaged. Talking to a journalist from a news agency, I was later informed that in Visakhapatnam alone several homes have been damaged.
Today, the following day, I woke up and went around the city. Andhra University as well as every locality is riddled with fallen trees and electric poles. Students were getting into any form of transport to head to their homes. At petrol pumps – the ones that survive – there are serpentine queues. In fact queues for everything, including newpapers (given that there is no TV now), milk, and provisions. Driving on the highway which connects Chennai to Kolkata, whole stretches of forest have been mowed down, and the queues can be seen everywhere. Not all villages are accessible yet due to flooding and broken trees. There has been a lot of damage in the two districts of A.P. north of Visakhapatnam – Vizianagaram and Srikakulam -- that border Odisha.
Back in Visakhapatnam I reflect that if it were not for the fact that the eye of the storm was on the urban city, the damage could have been much worse in rural areas.
As the government, NGOs and the media reach out across Visakhapatnam and the other coastal areas for the assessment, we will surely find out more about that over the next couple of days.
Devendra Tak is National Manager, Media & Communication with Save the Children. Email: d.tak@savethechildren.in
