The Hindu Business Line : Shattered house, broken dream

When the head of the Coast Guard for the Andaman and Nicobar Islands Debesh Banerjee retired from the Navy in 2000, he and his wife, Shobha, had already chosen the place they would live the rest of their lives: Port Blair.

The couple had already spent six years and they found the place "absolutely beautiful."

"We had no doubt in our minds that this was the most beautiful place we had ever been to and we'd like to build our own house and live here," says Shobha, whose leg is still in a plaster cast following injuries sustained while fleeing from the very sea that she and her husband had found so dear.

Debesh, at present the President of the Rotary Club of Port Blair, chose the plot of land for his home close to the sea as ithad always fascinated him.

The stoic defence officer that he is, he has little to say about the loss of his beloved house, as he presides over the meeting of the Rotary Club. Not surprisingly, the entire session is devoted to the relief and rehabilitation work carried out by Rotarians along with aid agencies and NGOs.

All he says in his welcome address is: "I too lost my house." He then goes on to discuss the work done by Rotarians to help the tsunami victims.

But it is not difficult to see the trauma that he is undergoing. Says one of his friends, "In that house he lost his entire life's savings."

Shobha is more forthcoming than her husband. "We have been living here for 10 years and when the house was completed in 2001, he was so happy. ... He had planned every detail. I'd not be exaggerating if I say that he put his love into every brick. Actually, he loved this house so much that he could sit inside for hours just reading. He didn't need to go out. He was perfectly content inside." But when the tsunami came on December 26, it was the same story again — of two more people's fascination for the sea ending up in a tragedy.

"When the strong tremors came that morning, one after another, everything inside our house started shaking violently.

"By the time we got out, the earth had cracked and while running I fell down and tore several of my ligaments," Shobha says.

Even now she limps painfully. The couple has now shifted to a rented house and is in a dilemma about what they'll do in the future.

"My daughter lives in Bangalore. ... She came here for five days after the tsunami. My son lives in Mumbai and my mother in Delhi. All of them are insisting that we should shift to the mainland. But we don't know what decision we will take.

"We had chosen to stay behind in Andamans because this place is so peaceful and so safe. ... There are no murders, rape or crimes like these."

On whether there was any chance of repairing their dream house, which still stands, she shakes her head.

"It is so badly damaged that it will be impossible to repair it. Perhaps one could re-do the whole thing. ... but where do we find the will for it. Or the josh? I don't think we could do it all over again."

But even though her eyes get a little moist as she recalls the trembling walls that she got a last look at while running away, there are no tears.

"Of course initially we felt very bad, but now we think at least we were able to get away alive."

In saying this, Shobha displays the spirit you find in most people in Port Blair — in the refugee camps and outside. They have lost a lot, suffered a lot but they refuse to wallow in self-pity.

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Shattered house, broken dream