Off Kerala coast, a washed-up container from a sunken ship sparks curiosity, conspiracy theories and some chemistry guesses

A constable has been deputed to clear traffic as people slow down vehicles on the narrow beach road to check out the container. (Express photo by Anil Sasi)

Around Paravur beach, men in khaki have been deployed to guard the container, lest some intrepid local falls prey to curiosity and tries to prise it open. A constable has been deputed to clear traffic as people slow down vehicles on the narrow beach road to check out the container. Taking advantage of the sudden rush of onlookers, an ice cream vendor has strategically shifted closer to this spot on the beach, adding to the problems of the constable who struggles to clear the occasional “block” – the term used for a traffic jam.

There are a bunch of people on the beach shooting reels and shorts with the container in the backdrop, as are children in uniform, who have taken a detour on their way home from school to witness the local spectacle. In this sleepy Kerala town, where the high point of the year are the fireworks at a local temple, the coming of the container is an assured selfie moment.

Valsala Srikumar, though, has a harried look. “I have barely sold anything. The same as Monday,” she says, standing metres away from the ice cream vendor, peddling a full stock of fish on a yard stool by the beach road.

Metres away, the container bobs gently as the waves crash into it. All around the container and further south along the coast, the water is white and foamy – one reason why people are keeping off fish.

Today, Valsala’s husband has ventured out “to the cleaner parts” seeking a catch, but it’s pointless now. “What is the use if no one is buying,” she says.

Fishing boats are moored along the beach, with little activity at the far end where the fisherfolk stay.

A kilometer away, at Oottupurayil restaurant in Paravur Kombolam, a market with a cluster of shops, waiter Anees says clients are shunning seafood. “This is just a phase,” he hopes.

Fishing boats are moored along the beach, with little activity at the far end where the fisherfolk stay. (Express photo by Anil Sasi)

Back on the beach, there are speculative guesses on the contents of the container. The locals, helped by WhatsApp forwards and their vestigial knowledge of the periodic table, rattle off names of the multiple chemical compounds the containers ostensibly contained – all the way from arsenic to zinc, lead and mercury.

For a populace fed on a steady diet of politics and media, conspiracy theories come easy. “Is Liberia linked to Pakistan… like Turkey?” a person in the crowd asks, a query that’s quickly dismissed by someone else who is more well-versed in these matters.

A ship’s flag state testifies to the country where it is registered, but much of this is determined by the tonnage tax advantages offered by jurisdictions such as Liberia or Cyprus.

Three days since MSC Elsa 3 sank, the Indian Navy and the Coast Guard are trying to contain any oil spill from the ship. Teams of scientists from the Central Marine Fisheries Research Institute, under the Ministry of Fisheries, Animal Husbandry and Dairying, are collecting water and sediment samples across locations on the Kerala coast. The onset of the monsoon hasn’t helped, with the surging tides making the operations difficult. While the containers are being removed from the coastline, one by one, a clean-up of the beach waters could be a long way off.

Until that happens, Valsala’s fishing business could be in some trouble. And despite the optimism of the Oottupurayil waiter, this phase could last a while.