A pale orange light spreads across Kovalam Beach as rows of multicoloured surfboards lean casually against the Surf Turf shack, their edges catching the glow. The sea is still deciding its mood. Waves roll in with a quiet insistence, folding into themselves, breaking, retreating. A group gathers on the sand—some nervous, some impatient, some already at ease in the rhythm of it all.
Dharani Selvakumar stands before them, barefoot, his arm moving through the air. He traces the invisible architecture of a wave—where it gathers, where it curls, where it lets go. Everyone watches his hand. Beginners are led just ten metres into the water. The sea here is forgiving, almost instructional. “Even if a person doesn’t know how to swim, that’s fine,” says Operations Manager Rohan Katari, watching from the shore. “We do everything very close to the shore.” The waves break softly, predictably—an ideal classroom. “The maximum distance beginners go is where the waves are breaking.”
Surf Turf, founded in 2012, has turned this stretch of coast into something like an open school. Children as young as four and a half begin here. “We’ve had people start at four and a half,” Katari says. Some of them don’t stop. “We have students who are now part of national teams and travel abroad.”
Several instructors once worked in fishing or related trades. Surf tourism now provides an alternate income to them.Dharani Selvakumar, surfer
The sport has also reshaped social dynamics within Kovalam’s fishing community. “Several instructors once worked in fishing or related trades. Surf tourism now provides an alternate income to them,” says Selvakumar for whom the ocean is also a form of escape.
The sport has found structure and support. “Recognition from both the central and Tamil Nadu governments has brought funding,” Katari explains. “Ten years back, most surf programmes relied on private funding, but recognition from both the central and Tamil Nadu governments has brought funding to this once elite sport.”
Selvakumar first attempted surfing in 2011 when he was nineteen. Today, he is 34, and works as a level three surf instructor in the same village where he grew up. “When I started, speaking English was difficult,” he says, pausing between instructions. “But surfing changed that.” The ocean, in its own way, became a language school. “My communication has developed a lot.”
Around him, the shift is visible. Men who once worked entirely within fishing now teach, guide, and train. The village itself has adjusted its gaze. “It changed my lifestyle and behaviour,” he says adding, “Even the village’s view of surfing has changed.” He looks out at the water for a moment longer than necessary. “When a good set of waves arrives, everything else in my mind disappears.”
In Kovalam, surfing has gradually opened another way of living. For many children growing up along this coast, the ocean is no longer only about livelihood. It has become a place where new ambitions begin.