Nature's Fury (or Human Folly?)

Calamity seems to have a natural inclination towards populations already challenged by tough adversities of human and natures forces alike. Just look around the magnitude of the killer earthquake in Bhuj or Uttarkashi, drought in Bidarbha, or, the most recent addition, the Ailacyclone in the Sunderbans. There is a lot of talk regarding the keenness and fondness of nature by the people who live in close quarters to it (One may recall the Chipko Movement in Garhwal Himalayas, and more commonly, the micro-initiatives to preserve nature in its pristine form undertaken as a daily routine by indigenous population much away from the media-glare!). Then why, almost in a regular fashion the wrath of nature is cast on these hapless humanity?

 

For the uninitiated, Sundarbans is a unique ecosystem into itself and the largest riverine delta in the world. Mangrove forests, swamps and a cobweb of rivers, tributaries and estuaries dot the land (and islands) which is also home to about 400,000 humans. Often relying on primitive communication channels (country-boats, mostly) and bare means of sustenance, these people exemplify the Darwinian doctrine-- one only survives in the badabon if he can regularly prove his physical and mental toughness. Across wide expanse of this tide-country (borrowing the term used by Amitabh Ghosh in The Hungry Tide) the State reigns but not rules. Public infrastructure is severely wanting and the rudimentary apparatus is woefully inadequate. With only earthen dams to cushion them from the saline water and high tides and reliance on fate as the only weapon in their armour to meet the challenges to life and property, Sundarbans is the classic forgotten land, only to be resurrected before the elections by swarms of leaders in spotless whites keen to show their care and concern (sic) for the lesser mortals.

 

Calamities and catastrophes are not new to the people of Sundarbans, and their seems to be a unique pact between the lands under India and Bangladesh regarding the share of the elements! Even then the Aila of the infamous May 25 was hitherto unseen and uncomprehended. Lashing waters and gushing winds virtually leveled signatures of human existence and almost overnight a majority of the people was left without a farthing of wealth and a morsel of grain. Sluggish, and often callous and unplanned response of the public authorities to the crisis added to their woes, and even after a good 10 days after the calamity, relief and rehabilitation of the affected people is yet to reach all. 

The public health aspect of Aila is more frightful. Acute scarcity of potable drinking water, decomposing remains of animals and marine life and ruthless hunger, have transformed the entire region into a nursery of communicable diseases. Clearly, Sundarbans have an epidemic in waiting. But, is the State prepared enough? Finances, it seems is not the problem, with help trickling from all quarters. What is most wanting is proper planning and execution, as also reaching the farthest nook and corner of the remote islands. Media reports have highlighted utter chaos in the entire relief exercise, multiplied by the do-no-gooders politicians of all hues (exceptions, as always, of course proves the law). A look at the government figures and few available documents on Sundarbans brings to the fore the lackluster performance of public health infrastructure and their inadequacy in meeting the people’s needs. Now, even the umbilical link to the public health facilities has been broken and the masses left at the mercy of a few paramedics and mostly on the informal physicians (quacks). Ironically, the challenge to diffuse the possible epidemics and in case of an outbreak, the management of it, rests on these little or untrained providers with all talks of quality healthcare provision left in the wilderness of the badabon.

 The Indian State machinery has a typical tendency of having a knee-jerk reaction every time a crisis falls on the masses. But even then, the reaction is mostly a patchwork of incoherent responses stitched together, justifying on paper the finances meant for it. Do we still have a National Calamity Management Strategy? I am not aware of any worth mention. As for Sundarbans, were the administration so naïve as failing to comprehend the need of adequate system, with physical and human infrastructure that can thwart the havoc of such catastrophes to the minimum extent? And, more importantly, recognizing the vulnerability of the area, could we not have a better network of health facilities and an effective, fast disaster management apparatus? Shunning away the usual blame-game (which is the easiest solution, hence so dearly loved by the politicos!), its time the policy makers work out an honest and effective strategy that can mitigate the effect and aftermath of such crisis. What Sundarbans needs is a deeper, effective presence of the Welfare State delivering services regularly with a humane face. The landscape and terrains of Sundarbans cannot and should not be changed, as also future threat of inclemencies ruled out. But we can definitely scale up the prehistoric preparedness of today into a more planned and effective response.