The fallout in terms of lives lost and property destroyed in Japan is still being counted even as the aftershocks of the tsunami of March 11 are still being felt. But what is rarely noticed is that the effects of a tsunami can be palpably felt some thousand miles away. There might not be loss of life or property but the deadly power of the sea is there for all to see, to feel and dread.

When the tsunami hit the Tamil Nadu coast on December 26, 2004, its effects were seen as one sat sipping a beer in a beach shack at Palolem in South Goa. That day waves from the Bay of Bengal traversed that patch of the Palk Straits touched the Indian Ocean and travelled along the Arabian Sea for a distance of nearly 904 kilometres to strike the silver sands of Palolem beach in South Goa.

The beach, well - known for its nudes, was crowded with mostly western tourists. The hardier souls were splashing in the sea when an almost imperceptible quietness descended on the usually noisy sea. One moment it was quiet with the steady rolling of two or three foot high waves. It was another three hours to go before the High Tide when all of a sudden the sea seemed to rise and darken and the next second the waves had turned into one long single monster wave that stretched for miles and at least five foot high.

The bathers were first startled and then terrified. Imagine a gigantic wall of water about to engulf you, you will get the idea. You will never again venture into the sea when you have seen one of these monster waves.

When that wave rushed to the shore, there was a mad panic stricken scramble to the shore and a race to higher land. People ran screaming towards higher ground including this writer while others climbed coconut trees or the roofs of the houses of the local fishermen. Several beach shacks at Palolem were partially submerged. Hoteliers waded in furious waist high waters to retrieve what they could. Eyewitnesses like this writer watched from the roof of a fisherman’s hut the sea seemingly swell and literally grow bigger as the crowd rushed back away from the beach.

Even the Mandovi River, which flows past Panaji into the sea some 75 kms from Palolem, looked as though some powerful and unseen force was pushing it back to its source. The Panaji ferry seemed to rise vertically in the water. There was no crashing sound of waves but an almost eerily silent surge of the sea which is what made one fear the sea. All sea - faring people on the east or the west coast know that the sea is to be respected, not feared.

One interesting fact that emerged much later is that the gulls, crows and the ever present dogs that live off the scraps from the beach shacks had suddenly vanished at least an hour before the sea showed its might against the puny humans. Birds and animals always seem to sense when a natural calamity is about to occur. That is another story.

The placidity of the sea is often misleading. It only takes a few high waves pulling at your feet like a giant sucking sea creature to put the fear of god in one. Indeed the fear quotient after that December calamity was so high that for days after one dreaded to enter the sea or even lie soaking in the sun on a sun - kissed beach when there was the fear that the gentle wave that washed over one, might turn out to be a huge six-footer that drags one effortlessly as a rag doll into the depths of the sea.

If one has lived on coast one will understand that waves roll in regular intervals. There is an inexorable steadiness in the way the waves hit the shore. The rolling of the waves begins as small ones and every succeeding wave gets larger and larger till it is rolling and roiling around the watcher's knees. Then the waves subside till the next set of waves begin the journey to the beach all over again.

The change that occurs when it is time for the high tide is also imperceptible. This is the reason why on any good policed beach there are tidal warnings posted, when the high tide will occur and so on. On full moon nights, the waves, indeed the very sea, seems to loom higher than ever.

The tsunami that hit the Tamil Nadu coast on December 26, 2004, wiped out entire families. As many as 43,804 families, including 1.88 lakh people, were affected in the coastal areas of Kanyakumari district. Around 1,000 persons were killed by the giant waves.

The death toll in the tsunami that hit Japan is still being toted up and it will be only a few days later that the real story will be known. The seas are once again calm. But all it takes is one earthquake somewhere else for the sea to turn into a raging monster.

Then again it need not necessarily a subterranean earthquake but just strong under - currents and submerged sandbanks that can lure the frolicker to his or her death. In the less crowded Candolim beach in North Goa, every year at least five to 10 deaths occur as the sea claims its levy of death.

The sea - faring fishermen know the sea, they know about currents and use the stars and the moon to guide their way to fishing grounds and back to the safe harbour but even they admit that the sea can be unpredictable and deadly. But does this mean that one should avoid venturing out into the sea or even the shallows of a well - frequented beach?

The answer lies in the millions who flock the beaches of the world knowing or unknowing that the sea will always claim its own. The lure of sea is irresistible, tsunami or no tsunami.

Courtesy: Star of Mysore

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