When killer waves snuffed out six lives in Visakhapatnam
Under the humid Visakhapatnam sky, the fishing harbour, a roaring trade hub, has turned into a theatre of grief. The usual boisterous chatter about the
Under the humid Visakhapatnam sky, the fishing harbour, a roaring trade hub, has turned into a theatre of grief. The usual boisterous chatter about the vibrant catches among the fishermen has vanished, while people from the community sobbing for their missing family members has become a common sight in the past week. Inside the tin roofs of the Mechanised Boat Owners’ Association building, women wrapped in faded cotton saris stare blankly into the grey horizon of the Bay of Bengal. There are no tears left, only a hollow, exhausting silence. On Saturday (July 4, 2026), the mechanised fishing vessel IND-AP-MM-V5-83, carrying seven fisherfolk, capsized just 10 nautical miles off the Gangavaram coast in Visakhapatnam. Six of the seven fishermen who went into the sea for the catch have been presumed to be dead. “I survived, but I don’t know how. I watched my brother, my nephew, and other family members disappear one by one before my eyes. We kept swimming, hoping someone would rescue us, but there was no one,” Kari Chinna, the lone survivor and boat owner, says. Also read: Search called off for missing fishermen; three-member panel submits report to A.P. government Chinna recounts a brutal 18-hour survival battle in the rough sea conditions. While he recovered from severe exposure and saltwater aspiration at KIMS ICON Hospital in Gajuwaka, Visakhapatnam, families at the jetty mourned the six who vanished – R. Bandiyya, 43, Meda Chinna Ammoru, 48, Kari Chinnayya, 32, Kari Seethodu, 55, and two young men, Amara Appalaraju, 24, and Kari Garagayya, 24, who were the sole breadwinners of their families. On Wednesday evening, after a 72-hour multi-agency search operation, the administration quietly transitioned from a rescue mission to a recovery operation. A three-member fact-finding committee submitted its report to the Andhra Pradesh government with a cold, devastating conclusion: “The six missing fishermen are officially presumed dead.” As State Minister for Excise and Mines Kollu Ravindra distributed ex gratia cheques of ₹10 lakh to the bereaved families, the reality settled over the coast like a winter fog. The sea had claimed its toll, leaving behind deep structural questions, community finger-pointing, and a coastline scarred by sudden tragedy.
The last call The voyage had begun with the usual optimism on July 1. The crew, a tight-knit group of relatives and lifelong neighbours from coastal Visakhapatnam and neighbouring Vizianagaram districts, set off from the Visakhapatnam Fishing Harbour. The weather was typical for early July – choppy but manageable for a sturdy mechanised boat designed to handle deep-sea swells. For three days, the trip went according to plan, the hold gradually filling with the seasonal catch. But by July 4, the atmosphere over the Bay of Bengal had turned ominous. A powerful low-pressure system, which later weakened along the Odisha coast, developed rapidly, whipping up furious waves. On shore, anxious families tracked weather updates and called the crew, urging them to head back. At approximately 2.30 p.m. on Saturday, Kari Chinna speaks to his family over a crackling phone connection. “We are near Gangavaram,” he assures them while watching the coastline. “We will be inside the harbour gates within an hour.” It was the last time anyone on shore would hear those voices. Minutes later, the boat’s engine failed, stripping the vessel of steerage and leaving it broadside to towering four-to-five-metre waves. A massive wave smashed into its side, tipping it violently. “One of our boys, Kari Chinnayya, went below deck into the fish hold to secure the hatches,” Chinna recounts. “Within seconds, a second wave flipped us completely. Chinnayya was trapped inside the belly of the vessel. We could hear him, but we couldn’t reach him. He went down with the boat.” The remaining six fishermen scrambled onto the slippery, upturned fibreglass hull, clinging to it for six agonising hours through freezing rain. Around 9 p.m., the trapped air escaped, and the hull sank to the bottom of the deep. Thrown back into the water, they held hands and swam towards distant ship lights, but the powerful undercurrents tore them apart one by one. Chinna drifted until 9 a.m. on Sunday, when the Panama-flagged cargo ship MV Universal Wealthy, carrying Chinese nationals, spotted him, threw out a lifebuoy, and alerted the maritime authorities. Anatomy of an air-sea rescue The distress call triggered an immediate, large-scale search and rescue (SAR) operation across thousands of square nautical miles.
The BriefWire