The Lost Island of Gulhi: How a Palm-Fringed Paradise Near Malé Vanished Beneath the Waves

Aerial view highlighting the tranquil waters of Gulhi Falhu Lagoon and Gulhi Island, historically serving as a quarantine zone for sea travelers.

The image in question is a haunting night time or low-light aerial photograph of Gulhifalhu (also known as Gulhi Falhu), the crescent-shaped lagoon in North Malé Atoll, Maldives. Captured before or during the early stages of its massive reclamation, the photo immortalizes the ethereal beauty of a classic Maldivian Falhu , a shallow lagoon or shoal. A bright turquoise reef rim glows vividly against the inky blackness of the surrounding ocean and the deeper, darker waters of the central lagoon. A yellow marker on the lower right edge labels it simply “Gulhi,” reflecting the long-standing naming confusion with the inhabited island of Gulhi in South Malé Atoll. This visual dramatically illustrates what Gulhifalhu once was: a protected, crescent-shaped inner lagoon lying just west of Malé, between Villimalé (Villingili) and Thilafushi.Gulhifalhu literally means “Gulhi Lagoon” or “Lagoon of Gulhi” in Dhivehi. Gulhi (ގުޅި) refers to a small cylindrical earthenware or clay pot traditionally used for carrying water on boats, while falhu (ފަޅު) denotes a lagoon, shoal, or shallow reef-enclosed area. The name itself preserves the memory of a place once associated with a “Gulhi”-type feature.

According to local oral histories, including accounts linked to Major (Retired) Ahamed Naeem of the Maldives National Defence Force and Maizan Umar Manik,

A small island of approximately 10 hectares, the size of half of Viligili or Vilimale' Island, once existed within or at Gulhifalhu. Covered with coconut palms and typical Maldivian vegetation , lush greenery that stood out vividly against the blue waters , this modest island was a picturesque spot easily reachable from the capital Malé. Residents of Malé would visit for picnics, relaxation, or day trips, drawn to its natural charm and proximity

Aerial view of the initial phase of land reclamation at Gulhifalhu, initiated in January 2012 during President Mohamed Nasheed's administration, showing sand sourced from Gulhi Island.

Over decades, the island faced severe erosion and largely disappeared. Sand mining (the extraction of sand for construction projects in the rapidly growing capital Malé) is widely regarded as a major contributing factor. This practice, common in the Maldives for many years, accelerated the island’s decline when combined with natural wave action, tidal forces, and sediment dynamics. It transformed from a verdant, palm-fringed islet into a shrinking sandbank, and eventually into an open lagoon feature.

Divers, shell collectors, and ornamental fishers who worked in the area have reported seeing human bones, roots of palm trees and other trees still embedded in the seabed during dives at the former location of the small sandbank.

These underwater remnants serve as silent witnesses to the island that once stood there, confirming the oral accounts of its former lush vegetation even after it had vanished from the surface.

“In olden times, this island was used a quarantine zone, infected travellers in sailing vessels were taken here. Furthermore, based people hearsay, there used to be mass graveyard here. I have discovered human bones while I performed diving work here. The infected diseases include chicken pox, leprosy, and small pox.” - Major (Retired) Ahamed Naeem .

This personal account, corroborated in oral traditions by Major (Retired) Ahamed Naeem ( Captain Naeem ) and Maizan Umar Manik, blends historical anecdote with firsthand experience.

The observations of tree roots by shell collectors and ornamental fishers add tangible underwater evidence to these stories: a once-accessible, vegetated place used for isolation in sailing-ship days, later reduced to submerged remains where divers still encounter traces of its past.

The Claims: Quarantine, Graves, and Disease

The assertion that Gulhifalhu (or the small island within it) served as a quarantine zone in “olden times” fits plausibly within the broader maritime history of the Maldives. As a seafaring nation, isolated lagoons and uninhabited islands were practical sites for

detaining infected travelers and their vessels to protect the capital, Malé.

Diseases like smallpox, leprosy, and chickenpox were serious historical concerns. Leprosy, in particular, has deep roots in Maldivian history, with affected individuals historically isolated on separate islands. While no official archives definitively name this specific site, the use of remote falhus for isolation aligns with traditional strategies.

The claim of a “mass graveyard” and the diver’s discovery of human bones is anecdotal but geologically credible. Human remains can become embedded in beachrock , cemented coastal deposits. A famous example is the “Reef Woman” of the Maldives, discovered embedded in beachrock and dated to around AD 1150. The accounts from local divers, defence personnel, and fishermen may reflect genuine discoveries or form part of rich oral history in Malé Atoll.

In 2020, Gulhifalhu added a documented modern chapter to this quarantine legacy. During the COVID-19 pandemic, authorities built a 665-bed facility on the partly reclaimed land in just nine days.

From Lagoon to Artificial Island

The glowing reef edges highlight the shallow coral structures , and the submerged remnants of that once-green island , that were later transformed. Between 2019 and 2024, Gulhifalhu underwent one of the largest land reclamation projects in the Maldives. The Dutch firm Royal Boskalis pumped millions of cubic meters of sand (dredged from nearby borrow areas), creating approximately 180–192 hectares of new land from what was once lagoon, small reef islands, sandbanks, and the eroded remains of the 10-hectare island. Today, this area is a developing district of Malé City, designated for a new commercial port, industrial zones, warehousing, and residential housing (envisioned as “Villimalé 2”). The project reflects the Maldives’ urgent response to land scarcity and climate challenges, even as it has sparked controversy over environmental impacts.

Conclusion: Folklore Meets Modernity

This single image and its overlaid text beautifully encapsulate the duality of Gulhifalhu: a place where natural beauty, local legend, erosion driven by sand mining, and rapid modern development intersect. The crescent lagoon, once home to a vibrant 10-hectare island with palm trees and greenery that welcomed visitors from Malé , now symbolizes the Maldives’ resilience amid limited land, rising seas, and the constant reshaping of its geography. Underwater sightings of palm tree roots by shell collectors and ornamental fishers provide living proof of the island that disappeared beneath the waves. Accounts from Major (Retired) Ahamed Naeem, Maizan Umar Manik, and other locals enrich the narrative, bridging personal memory with collective history. Whether rooted in verifiable records or enriched oral tradition, these stories add profound depth to the tale of transformation. As bridges and infrastructure link the new land to Malé, the glowing falhu of the past remains preserved in photographs like this one, reminding us that every reclaimed island carries echoes of what came before , from lush green islets to submerged roots and histories.

Such images and personal accounts are invaluable threads in understanding not just the physical geography of the Maldives, but its rich cultural, maritime, and emotional landscape as well.