‘How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home’ - William C Faulkner
In Kunnapattu, a quiet village nestled between Mamallapuram and Tirukazhukundram in Tamil Nadu, around 40 Irula tribal families have lived for generations on land they call home. Officially classified as a Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Group (PVTG), the Irulars have long cared for, and drawn identity from this land. Yet today, nearly half the community finds itself in limbo — denied legal ownership and the basic rights that come with it.
While some residents possess legal land deeds (pattas), nearly 20 families do not. This lack of documentation not only strips them of land rights, but also denies them access to essential services like electricity. Despite multiple petitions — first for pattas and later for electricity connections — progress has remained painfully slow. Government officials have visited the village, and eight families were recently shortlisted for government housing. But residents say these measures have been largely symbolic, offering little relief on the ground.
“We are advised to send our kids to school. How will they study without electricity?” asked Lakshmi*, a resident, pointing to the irony of being denied even basic infrastructure on land they have occupied for decades.
On May 14, matters took a turn when the Thiruporur Taluk office sent an intimation to 20 families, stating that the land they occupy is classified as meikal poramboke (grazing land) and is therefore ineligible for patta allocation. Instead, the government proposed relocating them to alternative sites with the promise of legal deeds and housing support.
For the Irulars of Kunnapattu, this offer came as a shock. “We have only known this land since birth,” said Velan*, one of the residents named in the notice. “We work as agriculture labourers, cut wood and help the people living around us in every way we can. Then why are we constantly questioned by the officials about the way we live? Why is it that we are never allowed to live in peace?”
The very next day, the affected families visited the Taluk office and submitted a petition expressing their unwillingness to relocate. Officials reportedly attempted to reassure them, saying the relocation would ultimately benefit their children and grandchildren. But the Irula families remain unconvinced.
On May 19, the families submitted a fresh petition to the Collectorate. They said they are now hoping for a meeting with the District Collector to discuss their concerns.
Speaking to this correspondent, the Tehsildar at the Thiruporur office said the petitioners are just scared to move. “Isn’t it great that they have a chance at a better life with legal pattas? No one is asking them to move right away, but they should accept what has been carefully assigned,” the officer said.
A pattern of displacement
Issues faced by the Irula residents of Kunnapattu is far from an isolated case. Across Tamil Nadu, similar struggles are playing out in Irula communities that find themselves caught between urbanisation pressures, bureaucratic inertia, and legal grey zones.
Nearby villages like Arukundram and Kunnakadu have experienced similar struggles. Thanks to a proactive Panchayat President, Irula families in these villages were recently declared eligible for pattas during an event at the Chengalpattu Collectorate, coinciding with a visit from Tamil Nadu’s Chief Minister MK Stalin. However, despite the official recognition, many families are still waiting for their actual land documents.
In Ottiyambakkam, just 24 kilometres south of Chennai International Airport, an Irula hamlet sits atop a hilly stretch of land that feels worlds away from the sprawling city around it. Many families have lived here for over three (or more) generations, which is one reason they have resisted relocating to distant, potentially government-allotted lands.
“We would rather live as we do now than move into those free high-rises. They suffocate us,” said Kuppan*, a resident of Ottiyambakkam. “Where would we hold our ceremonies?”
For the Irulas, land is more than shelter. It holds their sacred Neem trees, allows their pets to roam freely, serves as the site of rituals, and keeps the community rooted. “That land over there used to belong to our family,” Kuppan added, pointing to a newly constructed three-story building. “My father gave it away for next to nothing. I don’t regret it — I have a home for my children — but I won’t leave again.”
Many Irula families, unaware of market dynamics, have sold off small parcels of land at nominal rates. Now, concrete buildings rise where mud huts once stood, often casting long shadows over the community’s remaining clusters.
Tradition meets urban expansion
In Iyankulam, a hamlet in Mambakkam now referred to as part of greater Chennai, high-rises have all but encircled the Irula settlement. Many families in Iyankulam have already been allotted land for relocation, but government processes have been taking time. Some families have managed to make alternative arrangements to build their own homes, though not all can afford to do so. The ‘Adivasis’ (translates to ‘original inhabitants of an area’) such as Irulas in rapidly urbanising areas often end up employed as domestic workers for the newcomers, sometimes without even a weekly day off.
Just a few kilometres away in Keerapakkam, around 35 Irula families struggle in a remote settlement with last-mile connectivity. In Kayar, villagers were recently allotted government plots in Chinnakayar, but development there is minimal. It may be a long time before fully finished concrete houses are available to the new settlers.
Like many tribal settlements, Chinnakayar lacks last-mile connectivity — posing a serious challenge for school-going children, daily wage workers who need to commute, and anyone facing a medical or other emergency.
In Nemmeli, a coastal village along the East Coast Road (ECR), 36 Irula families were given a shared patta 17 years ago. Yet, basic infrastructure is still missing. The road to the settlement remains unpaved, and many homes lack electricity. The design of the houses — two units merged into one — has also made upkeep difficult.
The joint patta, while intended to protect community land from piecemeal sale or loss, has ironically become a barrier to accessing individual entitlements.
“When we first got the water connection, we were told it was only for us. Now even non-Irula families use it, and we hardly get any water. In summer, there’s a shortage. During the rains, our homes and roads are flooded,” said Amuda*, an Irula resident of Nemmeli.
According to the local panchayat president, “unless the current joint ownership is converted into individual pattas, the government cannot provide new houses or electricity connections.”
Pockets of progress — and persistent gaps
Senneri-Hanumantapuram-Dargesh, a cluster of Irula hamlets near Chengalpattu, sits next to the Vallam Reserve Forest — one of the state’s few dry evergreen patches. Senneri is often cited as a model Irula village, with neatly lined houses, over 10 active self-help groups mostly focused on collecting and processing of medicinal herbs, a strong record of gender-inclusive education, and two Padmashree awardees (one of the highest civilian honours granted to two snake catchers, Vadivel Gopal and Masi Sadiyan, in 2023).
Yet the village is still working toward transitioning from huts to durable concrete houses. While the state government is proactive in supporting the area, funding often falls short of delivering well-finished, habitable houses on time. A few unfinished houses stand as evidence.
Nearby Hanumantapuram also has a handful of unfinished concrete structures — difficult to describe as homes — and a lone hut belonging to an elderly woman who has worked as a snake catcher for over 20 years. Having lost both her husband and eldest daughter, she now lives alone. She recalls how the once-dense forest around the village has steadily given way to farmland, making it harder to maintain traditional huts due to shrinking resources, lost know-how, and rising costs.
In the nearby settlement of Dargesh, a similarly serene setting hides the same struggles, with several huts facing deteriorating conditions and an urgent need for more sustainable housing solutions.
Across Tamil Nadu, Irula families continue to battle not only poverty but also neglect and exclusion. Whether it’s a lack of electricity, poor housing design, inaccessible locations, or inadequate infrastructure, the fundamental need remains the same: secure, sustainable housing anchored in legal recognition.
For the Irulas, this is not just about shelter. It is about survival, dignity, and the right to remain rooted in a rapidly changing world. Despite many challenges, what the Irulas need most is legal proof of land and safe, lasting homes. They need focused support that respects their way of life and their deep ties to the land.
All names have been changed to protect identities.
Dr Dalia Ghosh Dastidar is a wildlife biologist with two decades of experience in environmental research and sustainable development. She is currently an independent consultant on Project Kanimar, empowering Tamil Nadu’s Irula community through livelihood challenges.