What’s the devil doing in God’s Own Country?

Water bodies are the lifeline of tourism and hospitality but we take them so much for granted that their upkeep has never been a serious concern for many of us.

On a recent visit to Kerala, I happened to spend two days at the mouth of the great Vembanad lake whose parameters are as legendary as its wanton beauty. Relaxing at the Taj Malabar, which occupies pride of place at the tip of the Willingdon Island in Kochi, hours would go by just gazing at the lake cavorting with the Periyar river and then falling into the mouth of the Arabian Sea in suicidal togetherness. Huge ships would appear suddenly on to the horizon of this unique confluence like unannounced predators, sometimes taking your breath away in the evenings when they would appear to be stepping out of the amber glow of a dilated sun falling into the sea in all its orange glory.

In fact, to call the Vembanad a lake seems such a shame when you consider it’s stunning bigness — the fresh water lake in India, 14 km at its widest point and 97 km in length, nursed by 10 mother rivers! It spans no less than 30 per cent of the total surface water resource in a river rich State of Kerala.

At its most beautiful while powering the backwaters of Kerala, crisscrossing the coconut lagoons and quaint villages along the Alleppey-Kumorakum-Ernakulum districts, the Vemaband is a beauty that defies description. The hordes of coconut trees swooning on its reflective green and serene waters all along its length across the State give peace and beauty an entirely celestial edge.

But where there are humans, there is corruption and Vembanad’s main corruption comes with an ever-increasing load of pollution of its till-now pristine waters.

A whopping more than 25 lakh people reside on the edge of the lake and a recent study by the Kerala State Pollution Control Board showed that the faecal coliform, bio-chemical oxygen demand and the pH value in the lake were very high.

Whereas a total coliform of just 500 in 100 ml water is permissible in the bathing area of the Vembanad, it was above 1500! The increase in the use of pesticides and the huge amounts of waste from houseboats are the main reasons for the pollution, the study said, pointing out how the fish population has declined and the lake area now is just 37 per cent of its original due to constant reclamation for development purposes.

Though the Government has allotted `10 crore for cleaning up the lake, it is a huge task which runs the peril of losing the race, much like the Dal lake in Srinagar which is so weed-ridden and red in the face now that experts say it is beyond redemption.

Scarily, the weeds are assailing the Vembanad too and they look really menacing. The Taj Malabar general manager, a young lad from Goa, says that all efforts by the hotel to weed out these floating weeds from at least around the property which sits on a gentle hill over the lake, have failed. “You clean one lot and another bigger one floats in,” he says, really concerned about his property losing the clean and serene USP of the location.

But the good part of this is, unlike the Dal which has no outlet, in Vembanad, the weeds flow into the sea regularly and that takes care of the problem to a certain extent.

But the floating layer of fuel due to the ferries, the houseboats, the speed boats, the fishing trawlers and what not, assault you like heartbreak. You wonder why certain States, like Kerala for instance, should be allowed to develop like any other metropolitan centre? It is God’s Own Country and that should have been enough for the authorities manning it to keep it out of bounds for crass and aggressive urbanisation.

Last when I visited Kochi some years ago, the development had just started — and the huge city was still on a horizontal spread. But today, the high-rise apartment complexes even on an idyllic Willingdon Island are an ultimate eyesore. Even Fort Kochi, the old pebbled island city, has been assaulted by land sharks with annoying ‘sea view’, ‘waterfront’ and ‘harbour’ apartments rising like monsters from amid the quaint thatched roofs of old-time residences which houses families right from the time of Vasco Da Gama.

Nature tourism is, and should be, Kerala’s main money spinner. The quaint villages peeping out of the lush green miles, strung along the serpentine tar roads which delightfully appear to be losing the battle to nature’s basket is what gives Kerala its celestial veneer. Big constructions are only managing to tear this heavenly veneer into shreds with the conscience of the devil. Someone in God’s Own Country needs to play angel and stop the collective dehumanisation of this chunk of bountiful Nature.

The speedier that is done, the better it will be for God, His country and the subjects of this country.

Published in The Sunday Pioneer, 19 February, 2012