Bhuichalo Aayo!! Part: End

The earthquake and all its baggage brought about a lot of changes in Nepal, including this blog. What was supposed to be a lighthearted crack at all things I could poke fun at almost turned into a series of serious posts on the nature of life with important lessons on humanity and/or the lack thereof, aid politics, and what I refer to as 'the Hero complex' (or maybe the 'social media hero complex' would be more fitting). Thankfully, the EQ hangover has receded, taking away its side effects of potentially quality of life threatening somber contemplations. I'll leave that task of self analysis and pseudo critical thinking to others who are better temperamented. I'm busy trying to find better ways to pass my time.

Well, we did learn in school that every cloud has a silver lining. As an apology to my non existent followers, here's a collection of EQ humour stolen from the Internet. What's life if you can't laugh at it, huh?

I like where he's going with this

It was stuff like this that fanned the #GoBackIndianMedia fiasco,

 

Giving rise to other gems like these

 

 

But this guy doesn't get it. I've blocked his @handle so you can't follow him

 And here's another keeper, I'd follow his @twitter if I could be bothered.

 

So everybody, be safe and hold tight. This too shall pass, and we'll laugh another day.

Bhuichalo Aayo!! Part 1: Fear

I wish I'd been fucking when the earthquake happened. Then, I could in all seriousness ask her with a straight face, "Did I just rock your world, baby?"

Bad jokes aside, the last two weeks have been quite the mash up of a range of emotions. I think I'll create a cocktail called Earthquake 6.2 - it will be a 100 ml shot with a mix of the most potent spirits I can find (maybe absinthe and aila set on fire) followed by two 50 ml shots that you must down within the next fifteen minutes. Loud music in the background compulsory. Order version 7.9 if you want something stronger.
 
We knew it was coming, we'd even had a few warning shakes in the past years, but of course we didn't pay attention. And like the proverbial woman scorned, she came and ravaged. A short shake, almost effortless, how coolly Mother Nature reasserted her dominance over us and our grandiosity. And added over a hundred more reminders, just to drive home the point.

As the realization hit that it was actually an earthquake disrupting my Saturday, the 'duck, cover, hold' wisdom went out of the window. Though my conscious brain remembered, in a split second decision I was favouring my instincts to be out in the open as soon as possible. I jammed my phone into my pocket, unplugged the TV which for some reason I thought may short-circuit and cause an electrical fire, leapt over falling flowerpots, and was out from the first floor room before the last of the shudders.

The first emotion I remember feeling was relief. I saw some of my neighbours also out in the open, all the houses around were intact, and there were no gaping cracks in the earth. I thought to myself that this was just another one passing by like in the past, albeit a much scarier version. Trying to appear calm and collected, I thought I'd go over to chat with the neighbours. 

More neighbours had started arriving in the open space, a motorcycle workshop that was almost closing up for the day. I think it was as we were exchanging stories of what all of us were doing that exact moment and how we'd managed to make good our escape that the first aftershock hit. 

I believe it was then that I understood it was not an ordinary quake. Even the aftershock felt so violent. The fear in everyone's faces was unmistakeable. Mine gripped me with a heavy hand at the base of my stomach and left a metallic taste in my mouth. I had to make an effort to steady my legs, suddenly gone rubbery. It was an awful physical sensation. But even more than the fear, I was distressed to feel so completely helpless. There was absolutely nothing you could do about it. It wasn't a fire you could run towards to douse or run away from to escape. It wasn't a wild animal you could try to scare away instead. It wasn't even a highway truck bearing down on you full speed that you could try to sidestep. All you could do was crouch on all fours for better balance, and hope the shaking didn't last too long.

A son comforts his mother, and everyone else tries to contact loved ones

Taking refuge in the middle of the street

With every aftershock, the elderly women were pressing down on the earth with their thumbs, trying to calm the trembling earth. One of them urged all the males to raise their hands up to the heavens and yell, "Haaaaaa" for the gods to hear and stop this obscenity. I felt stupid doing it, but did it anyway to calm her nerves.

Another neighbour just bicycled in. He brought news of the outside world - Dharahara has fallen!!

The fear was palpable and contagious. Fear and despair.
With all phone lines jammed, I missed knowing if all my family were all right.