I reported on Nepal earthquake. Here's why I returned home satisfied

During the last eight days that I spent covering the aftermath of the earthquake in Nepal, one scene never left my mind. At noon on April 25, my wife and I were standing in our building’s park, sheepishly smiling at each other and the neighbours who had rushed downstairs. There were those who kept looking at us from their balconies, hardly amused. Ten minutes, an internet search and a few calls later, the earthquake was over for us.

Around the same time, in Nepal and its adjoining areas, as we now know, more than 7000 lives had been snuffed out. Men, women and children, across the plains and hills were maimed, left homeless in a matter of minutes. For them, this was only the beginning.

I did what it took to reach Kathmandu at the earliest and hopped on to the Indian Air Force’s first helicopter sortie into the Nepali hinterland to assess the damage, with senior officials onboard.

As my colleagues landed and we covered ground, the directions were clear to me - head out and bring stories that no one else has. Thus I accessed Gorkha district, and in that Barpak village - the epicentre of the quake; the town of Lukla and Chaurikharkha and trudged beside countless, nameless settlements that the disaster had consigned to history.

As the aircraft revs up for a take off from Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan International airport to take me back home, I take along memories of meeting the kindest, purest and humblest people I have ever come across. That they showed me this side of theirs when they were made to face the unprecedented fury unleashed by nature, needs to be noted.

The scale of devastation that these villages, cut off as they are due to absence of roads, have faced often made me wonder if they will ever be rebuilt. I put this question to myself, to the very villagers, and still remain clueless on "how" and "when" that will happen.

So what did I do in the week I spent in Nepal? What was my mission and its outcome?

I did what I would and could. Research, reach and report. The only difference was that this was a foreign land. The Indian Air Force, Indian Army and the National Disaster Response Force (NDRF) were players in the background, helping Nepal and her people stand on their feet. The story was the people, their plight, their circumstances, their requirements and not how many Indian teams had reached and where all Indians had reached and what all the Indian teams accomplished.

Everywhere we went and worked, we were greeted with open arms and smiles. Contrary to the rants of many who only require a keypad and under 140 characters to run down intense efforts, the affected people did not forget to tell us how grateful they were that we came to listen to them when their own news organisations could not. Our visits to these places were followed by authorities coming there with help. This, for me, remains the biggest satisfaction. It obviously helped that the TV TODAY Network has a credible following among the Himalayan republic.

Was the government of India telling us what to do? Assuming this was the plan, at least I was never approached.

So, who was promoting whom? Then there was the charge that it was us, the journalistic fraternity, who were being promoted by the government of India. Unfortunately for the proponents of this theory, facts tell a different tale. IAF’s six helicopters and at least two more from Indian Army’s Aviation Corps combined made India’s presence highly visible. Are journalists from India to be blamed if they seek access through these choppers to places where there are no roads and, with due respect, where their Nepali counterparts could not do reach? In the subsequent time, I saw many a Nepali news crew onboard the IAF helicopters. Officers said they were welcome as much as the Indians were, and that was the case from the very beginning.

However, I must tell you that not all in Nepal were pleased with us.

There came a day when insecurity, irritation among a few Nepali authorities got the better of them. A clampdown was announced. Suddenly, the Indian press corps was persona non grata. We were ordered by out of sight by those very authorities. The Indian and the Nepali officials went into a huddle to break the deadlock, which they did subsequently. I also recall how a Nepali army officer yelled at me because I was not sitting inside a bus which was to carry the Indian press out of the aviation base to the Army headquarters for what eventually turned out to be poorly-arranged and coordinated press conference. I told him that covering the conference was not as important as field visits but he would not budge. He had orders. I did not let these hiccups bother me. Journalists have to learn to operate with as much efficiency under both favourable and unfavourable circumstances.

To conclude, the state of Nepal must brace up and address the palpable discontent among its citizens. It is hardly hidden how the airport at Kathmandu is overflowing with relief, while none of it is reaching those who need it. I saw people forced to live in their fields and greenhouses even in the upper reaches of the Himalayas, where the temperature dips to single digit. Accommodation in the form of tents, heavy equipment to clear the rubble, extrication of dead bodies to prevent disease among vulnerable sections of the population are but a few priorities that need to be established, and executed. The manner in which the Nepali army, police and civil society have risen to the occasion has been commendable. At Kathmandu’s iconic Darbar square, which is a mangled heap of bricks and dust today, I came across citizens so moved that they set aside their sorrow and came to help their city. However, the hollowness of the administration and the lack of direction at the apex level has been exposed.

The phase of rescuing people is largely over. The more difficult task of providing relief and rehabilitation has just begun. Nepal has months, if not years, ahead during which this tragedy will loom large and occupy the attention of its government, and rightfully so.