A little more than 50 years ago, Dhanushkodi was nearly wiped from the map. But those who call it home refused to stay away.

A land nearly lost

One of India’s most spectacular coastal stretches, Dhanushkodi is a spit of land perched off Tamil Nadu’s Pamban Island near the country’s southernmost tip. It lies 20km east of the town of Rameswaram – home to the Ramanathaswamy Temple, a renowned Hindu pilgrimage site – and the Sri Lanka border is only 18 nautical miles (33km) to the east.

During the early 20th Century, when India was still under British rule, Dhanushkodi was a flourishing trade town with a police station, church, railway station, school and more than 600 homes. Its location made it a critical connection between India and Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), and several ferry services ran between Dhanushkodi and Talaimannar in Ceylon, transporting travellers and traders alike. But the shoreline’s beauty masks a terrible past. A little more than 50 years ago, Dhanushkodi was nearly wiped from the map

Helpless against the fury

The sea dictates life in any coastal town, and Dhanushkodi, flanked on one side by the Bay of Bengal and the Indian Ocean on the other, has two bodies of water to contend with. Local fishermen call the Bay of Bengal ‘Penn Kadal’ (the ‘feminine sea’) as it is calmer than Indian Ocean. They fish on this side during summer; when the shifting wind turns the Bay of Bengal’s waters choppy, they move to the Indian Ocean where conditions are better.

Although villagers depend on the sea for their livelihood, they are helpless when it unleashes its fury. In December 1964, a massive cyclone changed the fate of this place forever, ripping apart the community and killing hundreds of people. “We were on the higher ground, so we survived,” said 66-year-old Muniyaswami. “My family and I walked all night to reach Rameswaram, when the water was almost to my shoulders.”

An abandoned town

The cyclone left the southern portion of Dhanushkodi – including a number of homes, roads and places of worship – submerged 5m below the sea. As a result, the town was declared ‘unfit for human habitation’ by the Indian government, and survivors were relocated to Rameswaram. But it’s difficult to keep fishermen from the sea; despite the government’s insistence that they rebuild their lives elsewhere, many villagers returned to live in the ruins of their former home. There is no electricity, nor is there piped water, medical services or any other amenities.

The roughly 400 villagers – some of whom survived the cyclone 50 years ago – get by with just a handful of kitchen utensils and basic fishing equipment. Life is by no means easy. They live in makeshift thatched houses and dig wells with their bare hands in search of drinking water, which are rendered useless by invading seawater within a week.

Upholding tradition

Dhanushkodi’s remaining residents fish the way their families have for generations. Some use a method known as olla vella, in which fishermen tie palm leaves (pictured) to the net to prevent any fish from escaping while the net is pulled in to shore. Others venture out at night to haul up fish in their nets, returning to shore in the early morning, relying on the wind, stars and waves to guide them.

Unflinching courage

Every villager is involved in the fishing business. Once the men return to shore, the women sort the fish and take them to sell at Rameswaram market. Some women even work side-by-side with the men to haul the nets to shore.

Amudha and Selvi were just two and five years old when their father left them and their mother 25 years ago. Selvi (right) started working when she was just eight years old, while Amudha continued her studies until she was 12. Now they earn up to a dollar a day for their work pulling nets and selling fish.

A dangerous business

The anglers risk their lives every day on the unforgiving seas. With the Sri Lankan Navy a heavy coastal presence in these waters, the fishermen of Dhanushkodi live in constant fear of being caught accidentally floating out of Indian waters. One local confided that they often switch off their boat engines at night for fear of the Sri Lankan Navy and row their boats across the pitch-black sea to reach home safely.

A journey of faith to land’s end

Inaugurated in July 2017, a road now stretches from Rameswaram to Dhanushkodi’s Arichal Munai (Erosion Point), the confluence of the sea and the ocean. It was here that the Hindu Lord Rama is said to have used the end of his bow to mark the spot where he would build a bridge, known as Rama Setu, to rescue his wife Sita from the demon-king Ravana, who held her hostage in what is now Sri Lanka. Hindus believe that the islets visible from Arichal Munai are remnants of Rama Setu.

Pilgrims come here year-round to perform the last rites of their loved ones, scattering their ashes in the sea.

An uncertain future

Dhanushkodi and the surrounding seas are known for their biodiversity. January brings migratory pink flamingos, and in July, sea turtle lay eggs on the beaches. Offshore, crabs, lobsters and exotic fish are snared and exported to different parts of India and the world.

Over the past 50 years, the villagers have come to depend on the preservation of Dhanushkodi’s environment – particularly its marine life. While older villagers pull in fishing nets, children fish by hand in shallower areas, pushing aside seaweed clusters to better see what lies beneath the water’s surface.

However, the villagers live in constant fear of losing their home once again. Last year, The Times of India reported that the local government plans to develop Dhanushkodi for tourism. Only time will tell if this will bring this fishing community new opportunities, or cost them their livelihood.

A new generation

Although the government doesn’t encourage residence in the village, it does provide assistance when possible. In 2006, the state administration established a public school in Dhanushkodi. The 50 or so children who attend have dreams of becoming engineers, doctors and government officials. Pavithra (centre) wants to be a teacher.

Dhanushkodi’s children share a love for the ocean that can be traced back generations. But there also exists a hope for a future beyond anything their parents could have imagined.