AROUND Valentine�s Day, Farzana Contractor and I were to travel to Thevanapattinam Village in Cuddalore, Nagapattinam district, Tamil Nadu, with Bollywood�s hero Vivek Oberoi. Thevanapattinam was the coastal village worst-hit by last year�s Boxing Day tsunami in India. In one fell swoop, as they say, the tidal wave came bringing with it destruction and death... and went taking with it property and life. And while the government�s ministers flew in choppers to survey the affected areas, and its bureaucrats drew up copious blueprints of rehabilitation plans, Vivek rolled up his sleeves and helped

Thevanapattinam�s villagers to come to terms with their loss and despair, and to get back to life. And he was not alone in this mission. His parents joined him there, choosing to live in the destroyed village with the homeless and the bereaved, so that they could share the pain and add more hands to the mammoth task of getting people to believe that there was still hope... that all was not lost, that they hadn�t been totally forgotten or deserted, and that even one man with determination, will-power and the willingness to work selflessly could make a difference. It was to do this story on Operation Hope that Farzana and I were to accompany Vivek to the village. But it did not happen that way. So Vivek, who is a dynamic and committed young man, sent us the details alongwith photographs. And then he called me and spoke, with a voice breaking with emotion and tiredness, of how hopelessness got converted to hope. This is his story:

�When I saw what was happening, on the night of December 26, I couldn�t sleep. The visuals were scary. I thought, if I was scared watching TV, what must be the emotions of the people who had experienced the tsunami? I felt like switching channels. But they had no luxury of switching off and escaping. The news was horrifying. I felt the urge to go there. I told my Dad and Mum that I wanted to go the South and help. My parents were wonderful. They said, �We�ll come with you.� We dropped plans to go to New York for New Year and went to Chennai instead.

�We called up the relief committee there, the collector, and asked what they immediately required. And we collected six truckloads of stuff from Chennai of medications, grain and foodstuffs, relief material that ranged from candles, baby food and plasticmugs to soaps, cooking oil and clothing. We rushed to Nagapattinam with them. Once there, I realised that the most desperate need was spiritual fulfilment of the people. I called my spiritual guru, Swami Chidanand Saraswati of the Parmarth Ashram in Hrishikesh, and told him, �Swamiji, these people need help, spiritual solace, counselling, they are broken people.� The biggest casualty was not the loss of homes and loved ones. It was the death of the human spirit.

�Then we learned from the collector�s office that in Thevanapattinam, a small fishing village on the east coast, the death and destruction was beyond description. I said, �Let�s go.� Nothing I have seen on TV, no news clippings I had read, could have prepared me for what was ahead. We got the smell of death from a mile away. We walked into the village and what a sight! The people were in a pathetic condition. Till yesterday, they were human, civil souls; today, they were crushed, wiped out in one stroke. Relief workers used to drop aid at the edge of the village and go, they were afraid of venturing inside. And a sea of hands would grab for whatever they could get. The people were like beggars. They had lost everything, now they were losing their dignity as well.

�One of the villagers told me, �Don�t make beggars out of our children. Don�t take way our marayada.� We decided to present the relief material in proper packets to them with water and medication. We wanted the trucks with these materials to go into the village. But the relief and medical workers were reluctant to do so. They said, �Sir, there is the fear of epidemic.� I replied, �Yes, but if you don�t go in there will definitely be an epidemic! Could you live with that? I don�t care. I�m going in.� And we did. Soon, one by one, the doctors and other relief workers joined us. And we reached the depth of the village, we supplied stuff to each home. I used an autorickshaw with loudspeakers to tell the people, �Go back to your homes, don�t cause a stampede and hurt yourselves, we are coming to you!�

�On the very first day, we reached 2,000 homes. We gave them clean water and medicines, took a census and gave each home a token, and determined that by December 31, no one in Thevanapattinam would go hungry. We set up a community kitchen and asked the women if they would help us feed the village. They agreed. We got vegetables, masalas, utensils, gas, and a local pujari offered us the use of his premises to set up a makeshift kitchen. People started bonding with us. They realised we were not there to just take photographs and go. We meant business. We repaired the pujari�s temple, erected barricades for people to stand in queues, and started giving them hot meals. It was their food the way they liked to eat it, not packaged food that smelled.

�By living with these people, eating, working with them, we rebuilt their village. Next was the college. Students were afraid that because the college had been destroyed, they would miss one year. I went up and asked them, �Will you help me?� They were upset and they let loose, �How can we help? We are students, not the government!� Picking up a broom, I began clearing the central hall of rubble. Five girls joined me, then ten boys, and by evening 600 of us has cleared up the place! We installed sintex tanks, got the laboratories in working condition, got apparatus, books, and started the college. The students were jubilant. �What can we do for you,� they asked. �Come to the village and help me,� I replied. �But time was coming for me to return home. I told my parents, �I can�t turn my back on these people. I�m staying here to help.� And they stayed behind as well! We were so depressed by the situation. Every evening, we�d break down and cry, then next morning pick ourselves up and go. Then the Army arrived and set up medical camps. The camps were a success. Every child that coughed, I would pick up and take for vaccination. An eye camp was held and 800 people were fitted with spectacles. In the middle of their pain, it was heart-warming to see these old people select frames and laugh at themselves. �Another fear that had to be overcome was of the sea. The children were scared of the water. To them, it was a killer. I lured them to the beach with chocolates, sat there talking to them, then slowly walked into the water. One foot at a time... and soon, there were about 50 kids dancing in the sea with me, tears of joy in their eyes. It was a fulfiling moment. I realised the kids needed psychological help. We set up a playground with swings, merry-go-round, tumbling box, see-saw, and my God, the impact was amazing. We next started repairing homes, giving people temporary shelters under tents, straw huts, anything to make them feel like they had homes. And we got the army engineers to help rebuild their boats. It was going to be Pongal soon, the Tamilian New Year, and our dream was to give a new beginning to these people.

�First another important ritual had to be performed. The last rites of those that had passed away. There was no closure to what had happened because so many bodies had not been recovered. So we got people of different communities to pray and worship as one for the peace and souls of all those hurt by the tsunami around the world. The whole village performed these final rites and then we went to the beach to immerse the ashes of the puja in the sea. Then came Pongal. And we gave every family of Thevanapattinam a stove and the ingredients to make their traditional dish, the Sakhara Pongal, at home. I said one katori from each home would be mixed in a community handi and that would be distributed as prasad. We distributed clothes to the people, chappals, toys and books to children, kitchen utensils, small comforts for a new beginning. And then we went to the sea. The fisherfolk were hesitant: return to the sea or not? I stepped into one boat and said, �Start it.� The kids joined me. And then everybody joined in, we had a fun race, and the men returned to sea for the first time since the tsunami.

�In the spirit of Pongal, we called our mission there Operation Hope, and on the closing day I got Shivamani, who is a dear friend, to come and perform for the village with his troupe. This in the truest sense was a tsunami aid concert. It reached out directly to the people affected. I sang and danced with them, the old and young joined in, and that helped them to move on. They forgot their pain, they stopped moping, and they got on with life. My parents and I returned home after that.�