It was supposed to be a flower-filled Onam for city-based management student Haritha Sanil and her parents, M.B. Sanil Kumar, a chartered accountant, and Renuka Sanil. Only, it was amid the famed flowers of Srinagar in Kashmir.
Little did they know that nature would put a huge dampener on their vacation, when the River Jhelum, which flows through Srinagar, overflowed its banks and inundated the city. The family soon found themselves stranded, along with thousands of other tourists and locals, literally cut off from the rest of the world. MetroPlus spoke to Haritha about the family’s ordeal...
“The day we landed in Srinagar, we were looking forward to staying on a houseboat on Dal Lake. Even as we drove towards the city from the airport, we could see that certain low-lying areas were water-logged. From our driver, Ravikumar, and our guide, Omar, we came to know that it had been raining incessantly for the past two days, even though it was bright and sunny outside. The houseboat plan was dropped over safety concerns and we were given alternative accommodation in the Grand Mumtaz hotel for the night, before checking into the Vivanta by Taj, as scheduled, the following day.
It was only the next day, September 7 (Thiruvonam) that we realised the gravity of the situation. Most parts of the city had been flooded; communication lines were down; we heard that power was out in most all parts of the city and almost all vehicular movement had come to a standstill. Yet, Ravikumar somehow managed to come get us and we proceeded to the Taj. That road to the hotel was mercifully dry but at one juncture we had to turn back because people were running the other way and shouting that the flood water was coming.
Ravikumar saved us with his quick thinking. It was only when we reached the hotel, which is situated on top of a hill overlooking Dal Lake, that we understood it was one of the safest possible areas in Srinagar at that point. Looking towards the valley, it was just murky water everywhere.
What followed was a seemingly endless wait. We had lost phone connectivity completely by then. But fortunately, before that happened we had managed to get through to my sister Shilpa, who was back in Thiruvananthapuram coordinating our ‘rescue’ efforts. Then, on September 9, the hotel authorities arranged for us and 10 other families to go to the Nehru Helipad, where army helicopters had begun evacuating people to the old airport.
We duly set off at 5 a.m., after a full breakfast. At first the queue was small, but as the minutes ticked by hundreds, if not thousands, of people, many of them migrant labourers, also turned up and it was soon just a sea of humanity. We were told that two helicopters would come at regular intervals, however, their arrival became more and more sporadic, consequently people became irritated and eventually the situation became almost riot like. You can’t really blame them for reacting that way. There was no food to be had, not even water. Some said that they had not eaten for days. Finally, by sundown, we had enough and we decided to walk back to the hotel.
By September 10, phone connectivity was partially back and we were able to send messages to friends and family. At this juncture, I must thank the hotel staff for their efforts in ensuring that all of us – there were some 300 guests by then – were well fed and comfortable, often at the cost of their own comfort. The receptionist, for example, told us that last she heard, her entire family was camped out on the third floor of a house. Other than running out of milk powder and diapers for a few babies of the guests, they didn’t let us want for anything.
The next day, an army person, sent by some high profile clients of my father, came to enquire about us and said they would take us to a helipad on the Golf Course. Uncertain of what to do, we decided to stay put and let two elderly guests in the 70s go in our stead.
Meanwhile Wing Commander G.G. Kumar, my father’s friend from Sainik School and now on deputation with the Border Security Force (BSF), flying the rescue helicopters, had been in touch with us all this while. He arranged for us to be flown to the old airport. The aerial view of the inundated city was truly horrific, the extent of destruction unbelievable. Since we already had our return tickets to Delhi booked for the day, airport authorities urged us to go to the new airport.
The scene at the new airport was a mess. It was jam-packed with thousands of hungry, thirsty people. It was dirty and it stank terribly. To compound to our misery, we had missed our flight by a whisker! We booked a flight for the next day and Kumar uncle then arranged for us to go to the BSF compound hoping that he could get us accommodation.
Their guest houses too were full – that was where many of the journalists who had come to cover the disaster were staying. There was no water and electricity. When the Inspector General of BSF P.S. Sandhu realised that we had no where to stay, he offered us accommodation in his own house! He also made sure we had breakfast before we flew back home the next day.
If not for the small acts of kindness we would probably have been stuck in Srinagar even now – Ravikumar, who came for us that first day, the Taj’s manager, people who went out their way to give us lifts, army and paramilitary personnel…
My biggest realisation, though, was that it is not Facebook or Twitter or any other form of social media that come to your rescue when you are in dire straits, but good old friendships that we have built up over the years. What an unforgettable Onam!”
