Standing Strong in Wayanad’s Darkest Hour

I was jolted awake by the sound of my phone ringing. It was Senior Fire and Rescue Officer Bineesh. When I answered, his voice carried a gravity that shook me to full alertness. A landslide had struck in Wayanad, and our rope rescue team was needed immediately. The clock read 3:00 AM. As I stepped out of my room, the tension was already palpable; my family was awake, aware of the flooding. I gathered my gear with a sense of urgency, and headed to the station, where my team was already waiting. We grabbed our equipment, steeling ourselves for the mission ahead. The roads were flooded, forcing us to navigate alternate routes to reach the Kalpetta station. Even before we stopped the vehicle, Fire and Rescue Officer Naushad was already running towards us, his face a picture of urgency. Several areas were submerged, people were stranded—we had to reach them immediately.

By the time dawn broke, we had rescued nearly a hundred lives, including a pregnant woman who urgently needed to be admitted to the hospital, and even a small puppy trapped in the rising waters. But our work was far from over. Another alert came in, directing us to Chooralmala with our rope rescue kit. We set out without delay. When we arrived at the scene, the devastation was far worse than any of us had imagined. Villagers who had lost everything were running through the mud, their faces etched with despair. Government officials and rescue workers were everywhere, their movements frantic, yet purposeful. The bridge connecting Chooralmala and Mundakkai had collapsed. On the Mundakkai side, people were injured, crying out for help, desperate to cross over to Chooralmala, where safety awaited.Our team moved into action, anchoring a rope to a large tree on the far side, setting up a makeshift lifeline across the abyss. Using this setup, we began transporting rescue workers, equipment, doctors, food, and water to the isolated side.

Following the doctor’s instructions, we prioritized the injured, ferrying them to the Chooralmala side where ambulances stood ready. The intensity of the situation was palpable; even seasoned rescuers couldn’t shake off a lingering fear. The whistle’s shrill sound echoed through the rain, a signal for rescuers to be on alert for another landslide. The river below, swollen and furious, roared as if in defiance. I had to use a hydraulic cutter to clear iron debris and cross the rope to reach the stranded people on the Mundakkai side. After handing over the equipment, I joined those pulling the rope from the other end, struggling against the thick fog that shrouded Chooralmala. Then, Dr. Lavana from the emergency department of MIMS Hospital, Kozhikode, approached us with a plea:a three-month-old baby and the mother needed to be urgently transported to safety.

Our team quickly devised a plan, first securing the mother, then preparing a plastic container to safely transport the infant across the treacherous divide. When the baby was handed to the doctor, a faint cry pierced the air, but then silence followed as the baby calmed down. I took the child in my arms, readying myself for the crossing. The mother’s eyes were full of fear as she prepared to entrust her three-monthold to a complete stranger. Sensing her anxiety, I said, “don’t worry. No matter what happens, our team will ensure your baby reaches the other side safely.” Her response, however, filled me with a courage I hadn’t expected: “We have faith in the Fire Force.” We got the mother across first, and then it was my turn. As I held the baby close, the sight of the river raging below stirred something deep within me—a surge of emotion that transcended the role of a rescuer, making me feel as vulnerable as a father. I pressed the container holding the baby tightly against my chest. Only when we reached the other side did a wave of relief wash over me.

After handing the baby over to the team, I watched until the doctors had the child safely in their care. Then, without pause, I returned to the rescue operations. With many still stranded on the Mundakkai side, we had to devise another method to get them across. Extending the ladder from the fire engine, we managed to bridge the gap, using a chopped-down tree trunk as a base, securing it with ropes, and laying planks on top to create a makeshift bridge. Without wasting any time, we successfully brought everyone over to Chooralmala. In the past, the army would have been called in for rescue operations of this scale. But times have changed. The Fire and Rescue Service is now equipped with advanced tools and precise training. The government has provided the necessary facilities, from equipment to modernization of our training programs, which emboldens us to act with confidence. That day, our team was unwavering, united in purpose. From the early hours of the morning when we first arrived, to well past 11:00 PM when we finally completed our search, it was us—resilient, steadfast—who were there until the end. Fear was absent from the faces of those who crossed that rope. These were people who had lost everything—their loved ones, their homes, their pasts—left with nothing but the clothes on their backs. What more was there to fear? Their faces bore a stoic acceptance, as if they had already braved all that life could throw at them.