Two days after the devastating earthquake in Nepal, a story appeared in the local press about Bhaktapur, a historic city in the wider Kathmandu Valley. Ram and Maiya Baasi were outside their home, now reduced to rubble, searching for ways to get in and recover something, anything, of value. Their injured daughter was in the district hospital, and needed to be transferred to another. But all their money and resources lay buried in the ruins of their home. Others warned them not to get too close, as severe aftershocks continued. The mother insisted on going in, but could recover little. Meanwhile, next door, four corpses were found.
My family lives only a few miles away, but it was luckier. Our house remained intact, and my father, who has limited mobility, was able to stay safely indoors. My mother was travelling in the eastern hills and was unhurt; she returned home the next day. When I spoke to her over Skype, she said that the constant tremors and aftershocks frightened her, but my father spoke more calmly, about the uselessness of panic. Bhaktapur is only ten miles from the central government district, but for almost four days after the earthquake, the state still had not been able to assess the loss there, reach out to citizens, or send rescue teams to clear debris and provide a measure of relief