Just how safe is India from a big earthquake?
"It's a quake," my chartered accountant friend whispered. In the middle of dispensing advice on Personal Provident Fund, what he said made no sense to me.
"A cake?" I asked, bewildered.
"No, an earthquake" he said, with terse calm. I rushed to wish him and disconnect the phone. On the 14th floor of a high-rise in Gurgaon, he would later tell me that it took him 15 minutes to reach the ground floor. Keeping the phone down, I looked around me, as the second floor of my house shook. What would I take with me? I wanted to evacuate my pets. My free-ranging rabbit was somewhere behind a piece of massive furniture. There was no way to pick him up. And I wouldn't leave the house till every living thing was evacuated...
In another part of the city, my friend, who teaches in a school, was standing under a tree, along with students and colleagues. The students had vacated the building in five minutes, having previously been trained in earthquake drills.
In South Delhi, my friend rushed to pick up her infant and his bedding. For each person, there's a different lodestone, a centre of existence, that thing most precious that you would not want to leave the house without, if one was forced to leave one's home during a disaster. Sherlock Holmes cracked a case and developed an infatuation for the fabulous, cerebral Irene Adler, when she tried to protect her most precious possession (a concealed picture, the clue for solving the case) when she was in jeopardy. Her flushed glance at the hidden picture gave away its location, even as she realised her folly before the world's greatest detective did. That's true for all of us - we hasten to identify, grasp, and hold on to what is dearest to us, when in danger.
The objects may differ: from babies, to pets, to mobile chargers to single malts, but the same emotion binds us all. But still, these are all at personal levels, which may have no community impact.
With Nepal reeling under the cold death unleashed by an earthquake, we need to act urgently at an institutional level in Indian cities. Today, Delhi chief minister Arvind Kejriwal appealed to citizens "not to panic, and maintain calm", and said that his officials were in the field. This actually means very little. Instead of relying solely on officials (trained in disaster management or otherwise) we need to ensure that every person is able to evacuate safely, or is able to help those who cannot evacuate.
Like school children who are well-trained in fire and quake drills, the National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA) needs to make sure that each and every resident welfare association is trained. We can't wait for the next earthquake to build this expertise. In United Kingdom, a cold country with many wooden houses, the threat of fire hazard is taken very seriously. Even in hostels with temporary arrangements, tenants are asked to go through evacuation drills. The trick is to leave the building calmly but quickly, and then organise in two or three rows in which everyone stands at equal distance from each other. Each person is meant to note the person standing to their right or left, and this arrangement is not to be broken. This way, during a real emergency, a missing person can be quickly spotted and rescued.
At the towering glass and steel office buildings of Gurgaon, fifteen minutes for evacuation is far too long. "I felt like a rat," another friend told me, as hundreds of people tried to frantically leave the building. All office buildings have to urgently think of at least two exits, and systematic evacuation plans. This could involve creating ramps or additional staircases. Safe spots within buildings, such as indoor doorways (which may protect one from falling debris) need to be identified. In seismic zones, we have to seriously consider change in building bye-laws of buildings that house large numbers of people. What we cannot do is to carry on as usual, and change our buildings, minds and preparedness only after disaster has struck. Finally, can each of us, in our homes, schools and offices, be responsible for one other person during an extreme event?
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Last month, I was at a Gond village in Itarsi district of Madhya Pradesh. Struck by repeated hailstorms, many of the crops in the area have failed this year, just like last year. Houses too have been damaged. A 45-year old woman from Kala Akhar village told me that her neighbour's roof collapsed as "half-a-kilo big" hailstones relentlessly came down on it. The family had to leave the house. What would you take with you if you had to evacuate, I asked. "My kadhai (pan)" she replied, without batting an eyelid.
For all the kadhais, the single malts, photographs, money, photo ids, torches, children or cell phones - whatever hastily-snatched possessions we want to take with us as companions or necessities - we need better planning. Now is the time for the NDMA, chief ministers, municipalities and families to work together. Each person must be trained, and we must be prepared.
For in the end, prayers help, but so does preparedness.