Blogs

 

Shraddha Manandhar, Research Officer at HERD shares her experience of fearing and facing the earthquake. Read and share!

I was in a tempo on my way to Patan to join the Saturday Mahotsav. The tempo had just reached Ratnapark when it happened. The tempo was shaking and the passengers were bumping against each other when the driver suddenly stopped. I was furious at the driver for driving so rashly. What was he thinking? Driving a tempo like that. He slammed the brakes so hard that we were all pushed forward. Some of the passengers screamed at the driver. Some had already realised that something had gone wrong. It was an earthquake. A big one! The driver said, “The ground is shaking. I could not balance the tempo.” The passengers started panicking. Call me slow, but I was still just processing what others had already comprehended. The tempo was still shaking. By then, even I had realised that we were middle of an earthquake.

“Just a long one. Nothing to worry about”, I thought. I turned around to see a cloud of dust rise from Durbar High School, Jamal. One side of the school building had completely collapsed! I realised with sickening urgency and a heavy heart that there were shops and a footpath full of people where the rubble had just landed. I froze. The passengers had started getting out of the tempo. I looked around and saw people crying, kneeling down and praying while the ground continued to tremble. I looked back at the rubble from the school and was a little relieved to see that policemen and some other people were helping the injured. I wanted to help too. I really did. But for some reason, I couldn’t.

I was scared. I wasn’t prepared for this. What was happening? I saw people frantically trying to call their loved ones. My family was home. Mom, Dad and my brother. We live in a crowded area! I took out my cell phone and dialled my Mom’s number. Network busy!

I realised I had walked towards Rani Pokhari from Ratnapark. I kept calling my family members one by one but couldn’t get through. Dazed, I began walking home. My phone beeped. A text from home. “We are safe. Are you okay?” Relief surged through me. “I am safe too”, I texted back.

I reached home and found my family was in an empty space behind a neighbour’s house. “Phew! It’s over”, I thought, with absolutely no idea that the terror had only just begun.

A month has passed. We haven’t slept in our house in a month out of fear. We’ve experienced hundreds of aftershocks. I am sometimes more scared than I was on that day. I experience intermittent episodes of fear. I get nervous while walking the streets. I realise I am often conscious in the office, scared of the next aftershock. The thought of bathing gives me the same feeling in my stomach that I used to get when I thought about ‘bungee jumping’. I do realize that we are lucky. I am luckier than many others who’ve lost their homes, lost their loved ones. Their pain is much worse and unimaginable for me. Yet, I am fighting my own silent battle with the disaster.

I am gradually leaving April 25th behind. I hope to see my family and the country at peace again.