A sucker punch of a storm

The super cyclone that hit Odisha in 1999 was far more devastating than Amphan. A ringside view

May 31, 2020 12:04 am | Updated 12:04 am IST

First responders: The National Disaster Response force in action in Digha after Cycone Amphan made landfall.

First responders: The National Disaster Response force in action in Digha after Cycone Amphan made landfall.

Watching Cyclone Amphan roar over Odisha and the quietly efficient actions of the State government to restore normal life, one was reminded of the super cyclone that struck the State on October 29, 1999, one of the most intense and destructive storms recorded in the northern Indian Ocean.

Making landfall near Paradip, the super cyclone came with winds reaching astonishing speeds of 270 kmph, producing a storm surge of more than 20 feet that pushed 30 km inland. Some 10,000 lives were lost — a few reports put the figure at closer to 30,000. The storm was unique in its relatively long life after landfall by battering the coast for two days with high-velocity winds and torrential rain, adding to the misery and despair.

At that time, the Agriculture Ministry served as the nodal authority in the Union government for coordinating disaster response and relief work. As a Joint Secretary in the Ministry, I had, so to speak, a ringside view of the action. When the super cyclone was crossing the coast, the Prime Minister directed Defence Minister George Fernandes to assess the situation and support the State authorities. Fernandes quickly marshalled a military aircraft for his team, which included Union Mines Minister Naveen Patnaik and Tribal Affairs Minister Jual Oram, both from Odisha. I was deputed to represent the Agriculture Ministry.

Terrifying winds

After a first foray had to be aborted because of terrifying winds, the team approached Paradip the next day to meet a scene of utter devastation: a sheet of water stretched to the horizon submerging paddy and sugar cane crops; carcasses of cattle and the occasional human body floated grotesquely in the mire; few dwelling units remained intact; and palm trees stood forlornly with their crowns snapped neatly off. Survivors gazed at our helicopter expectantly and surged forward as we sought a dry patch to land on.

As the first from outside to reach the area, we were seen by the traumatised people as saviours from another world. While the seasoned Fernandes plunged into the crowd offering comfort and reassurance, Mr. Patnaik, still a political novice and conscious of his weak Odiya skills, held back and reminisced about the love his father, the late Biju Patnaik, and these folks had for each other.

Realising, however, that we had nothing to offer but words, the crowd was becoming restive and the pilot became increasingly concerned for the safety of the helicopter. Frantic attempts to retrieve Fernandes from the thick of the throng were to no avail. The chopper got airborne after a struggle, its rotors whirling worryingly close to the heads of the mob and young men tugging at its skids. The local administration was nowhere to be seen.

So there was the military helicopter safe in the air, but with the Defence Minister abandoned on the ground! Fortunately, Fernandes was not one to be disconcerted. Displaying his mettle as a common person’s leader — as we circled anxiously overhead and watched with trepidation — he calmly played the crowd till it took him to a school playground where the helicopter could conveniently swoop down to collect him.

Later, at Bhubaneswar, we were again shocked at the wide-ranging havoc and chaos. A meeting had been arranged with the State authorities to review the situation and assess rescue and relief requirements. But with the administration thoroughly demoralised and seemingly paralysed, the deliberations were notably unproductive. Compounding the overwhelming devastation, the singular absence of leadership resulted in a response so lackadaisical that recovery was unconscionably prolonged. Partially in reaction to this, Mr. Patnaik’s party was voted to power and he found himself in the chair of the Chief Minister barely six months later — where he remains till today.

In contrast to 1999, even while Bhubaneswar was still being buffeted by Cyclone Amphan, a composed Chief Secretary confidently announced that though three precious lives had been lost and extensive damage caused to the State’s infrastructure, work was already in progress to restore essential services by the next day. Clearly, valuable lessons had been learned.

govind.nair3@gmail.com

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