April 25 was Saturday, but as a journalist I needed to rush to Hotel Shangrila at 10 am to attend an important program. On the way back to office with cameraman Krishna, exactly at the entry-point to Thamel, I noticed a flock of birds making unusual sound in the sky and few motorbikes falling off the road like slipping.
After few seconds in confusion and in vain, I realized it was an earthquake. We immediately got out of the vehicle; the camera was already on record mode till then as reporting comes first for any journalist. I just exchanged few words with people lined up in the middle of a busy street as all seemed terrified with a big shock in their face. Some were crying out of fear and most of all busy in mobile set trying to connect with beloved and near ones. In-between, I tried to contact my family members who were on their way to home but mobile line was already out of network.
Keeping all family-worries aside, we immediately shot some of the destruction around and rushed to office to disseminate the news and video as early as possible. But our bad luck, before knowing about the magnitude and epicenter of the quake, internet connection was already cut off in the office. After rendering the fresh footage and writing few lines about biggest tragedy in my small but beautiful country, the reporting-journey began with a sort of heavy heart and bewilderment.
The first spot was nearby our office in Kamalpokhari, where police personnel were trying hard to rescue survivors from two completely collapsed houses. Unfortunately, a dead body of an old woman covered with blood all over was brought out, the first live casualty I saw.
Whose heart doesn’t cry to see the cruel death? But I managed to be strong as I was on my duty, to inform the people of all over the world about disaster in this Himalayan nation.
It was really horrible to witness such heart throbbing scenes in the nation’s oldest Bir hospital National Trauma Center, which was filled with the fresh injured people in devastated state, some with broken legs, hands, few with head injury and the clothes soaked in blood. Then, to realize that Dharhara, the historical monument was no more and our favorite Basantapur Durbar Square was devastated, where I and my friends used to gather in evenings for local tea and just for roaming pinched me a lot.
Within few seconds, the picture of Kathmandu changed completely and the increasing death tolls from the highly-affected districts shattered our patience. But the reporting did not stop. The team grew stronger with the presence of Chinese colleagues for disaster reporting from Hong Kong, India, Bangladesh, Afghanistan, Australia and Fiji.
After few days of disaster, I travelled to Kavre and Sindhupalchowk district, which were the two most-hit districts, the latter having the largest number of death tolls. Interviews became tough as the people were not able to come out of what they have gone through, as most of all had their houses damaged and family members lost. The most recalling incident is of Barhabise, Sindhupalchowk where I and my team had set-up a tent, but stayed awake for whole night by chatting with friends in mobile. And the only reason was fear of landslide. Big rocks were ready to scramble us, which had already taken lives of many in the Tatopani and Khasa area. I couldn’t sleep a single night in fear of landslide; I wondered how those locals were managing to stay in the same place.
Another most recurring incident was Dolakha trip, which was an epicenter of second massive quake. When my team reached Charikot, the district headquarters on the third day of quake, the tall buildings were either collapsed or completely cracked and people were all in streets in fear of aftershocks. We found the live footage of a rescue team recovering two bodies from the five-storey Paradise hotel, which had turned to rubbles. The hotel-owner burst into tears when I asked her about the disaster as her earning of whole life was lost in front of her eyes.
I could not help her, but shared only few words that ‘House can be rebuilt. Being alive is a greatest boon’. Everywhere we went, there were only devastations, homeless people and their broken hopes. Moreover, their only expectation from the state was a single tarpaulin sheet and something little to fill the hungry stomach, and the wait was long. In many places, people looked us with expecting eyes, but all we could do as a journalist was only to console and motivate them for better tomorrow.
During reporting of disaster in many places for more than a month, I could not be a good daughter as I was not at home when my parents expected me to be with them in time of crisis. But when I reached home late night after a hectic day of covering tragic scenes, I could proudly whisper to self, “I did justice to my job by bringing out the stories. The world needs to know this”.
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| Captured from mobile at around 12 pm on April 25, 2015 |
After few seconds in confusion and in vain, I realized it was an earthquake. We immediately got out of the vehicle; the camera was already on record mode till then as reporting comes first for any journalist. I just exchanged few words with people lined up in the middle of a busy street as all seemed terrified with a big shock in their face. Some were crying out of fear and most of all busy in mobile set trying to connect with beloved and near ones. In-between, I tried to contact my family members who were on their way to home but mobile line was already out of network.
Keeping all family-worries aside, we immediately shot some of the destruction around and rushed to office to disseminate the news and video as early as possible. But our bad luck, before knowing about the magnitude and epicenter of the quake, internet connection was already cut off in the office. After rendering the fresh footage and writing few lines about biggest tragedy in my small but beautiful country, the reporting-journey began with a sort of heavy heart and bewilderment.
The first spot was nearby our office in Kamalpokhari, where police personnel were trying hard to rescue survivors from two completely collapsed houses. Unfortunately, a dead body of an old woman covered with blood all over was brought out, the first live casualty I saw.
 |
| Police personnel trying to rescue survivors in Kamalpokhari |
Whose heart doesn’t cry to see the cruel death? But I managed to be strong as I was on my duty, to inform the people of all over the world about disaster in this Himalayan nation.
It was really horrible to witness such heart throbbing scenes in the nation’s oldest Bir hospital National Trauma Center, which was filled with the fresh injured people in devastated state, some with broken legs, hands, few with head injury and the clothes soaked in blood. Then, to realize that Dharhara, the historical monument was no more and our favorite Basantapur Durbar Square was devastated, where I and my friends used to gather in evenings for local tea and just for roaming pinched me a lot.
 |
| People gathered at Tudikhel seeking safety on April 25 |
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| Dharhara at around 3 pm on April 25 |
Within few seconds, the picture of Kathmandu changed completely and the increasing death tolls from the highly-affected districts shattered our patience. But the reporting did not stop. The team grew stronger with the presence of Chinese colleagues for disaster reporting from Hong Kong, India, Bangladesh, Afghanistan, Australia and Fiji.
 |
| Xinhua Kathmandu Bureau Team |
 |
| Behind me is remaining of Dharhara (7th day of quake) |
Another most recurring incident was Dolakha trip, which was an epicenter of second massive quake. When my team reached Charikot, the district headquarters on the third day of quake, the tall buildings were either collapsed or completely cracked and people were all in streets in fear of aftershocks. We found the live footage of a rescue team recovering two bodies from the five-storey Paradise hotel, which had turned to rubbles. The hotel-owner burst into tears when I asked her about the disaster as her earning of whole life was lost in front of her eyes.
 |
| Helicopters rescuing the injured from Dolakha to Kathmandu |
During reporting of disaster in many places for more than a month, I could not be a good daughter as I was not at home when my parents expected me to be with them in time of crisis. But when I reached home late night after a hectic day of covering tragic scenes, I could proudly whisper to self, “I did justice to my job by bringing out the stories. The world needs to know this”.
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