Sikkim earthquake: Lonely in Lachung

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I somehow get to visit exotic locales when tragedy strikes. When the earth shook on the evening of 18th of September , with its epicentre at Mangan in North Sikkim, my studio in Noida shook too, and so did my laptop, though very slightly and JUST for a few seconds. I was more worried about the camera lights falling off from the studio ceiling. Nevertheless as time passed by that Sunday evening, every single news update was driving home the realization that it was serious and the devastation would not be assessed too easily and quickly. So Monday early morning we flew down to Bagdogra hoping to reach Sikkim at the earliest possible .A silent prayer crossed my mind .I was hoping fervently for the devastation to be not as massive and heart breaking as in Leh Ladakh in August of last year. Overcast skies and Bad weather awaited us at the Bagdogra Airport, whose terminal too though just a couple of months old , had developed a few cracks. With a mike and logo in hand as we set out for Gangtok it seemed a never ending journey, what with no takers to drive us down or those willing to, go more keen at fleecing media teams desperate to reach the places where the stories were waiting to be told.

A journey which under normal circumstances would perhaps take three and half to four hours took us more than seven long hours. The terrain from Bagdogra to Gangtok via Siliguri, Sewak and Darjeeling is steep, treacherous and as winding as the complexities of life. For someone with Nepalese Blood and frequent travels to the mountains, both for work and otherwise , I found the roads both scenic and scary . National Highway 31 was blocked at various points across the way with fresh landslides greeting us every now and then. BRO and ITBP personnel ,JCB machines and bulldozers were a regular and in some strange way a disturbing yet comforting sight.The Teesta flowing in all its might was enchanting.

As I finally left behind the Bengal border and entered Rongpo in Sikkim, my first images were those of crowds of people out of their homes on footpaths or roads, seated in circles with a candle lit in the darkness, burning with hopes of survival. People were too scared to go back and sleep in their homes, whose four walls and roofs no longer held the promises of safety as before.Barely 24 hours since the 6.9 Richter scale earthquake had changed lives , the locals had too many fears to deal with and too many rumours already finding their way down to the villages.

After reaching Gangtok finally, late in the evening, we were welcomed by similar nervous, sleepless eyes and anxious voices. Beware the wrath of nature, as you play around with religion in a sacrosanct land, somebody warned in hushed tones. Others had already reached the conclusion that frequent blasting of tunnels to milk profits out of hydel projects had led to such grave consequences.

For the next two days we made failed attempts to reach Mangan .Fresh mudslides and blockades on North Sikkim Highway as well as alternate Dikchu roads had cut off the affected areas from the rest of the state.Volunteers came out on the streets of Gangtok with water supplies for a city facing water shortage and no electricity.Officers and Employees were moving their documents and equipment out of their offices at the Heavily damaged Secretariat with a sense of urgency. The state administrative machinery hurried into meetings and more meetings to chalk out disaster management plans. Calls from Centre assured of all support. But sitting in Gangtok it was difficult to gauge whether or not all this brain storming was resulting in concrete action that was trickling down to the worst affected areas of North Sikkim like Mangan,Chungtang, Lachen and Lachung. And so I decided to hound the sarkari babus. And after some threats of fasting the Anna way, my persistence paid off. Thursday morning we were dropped off to Lachung, 20 kilometres north of Chungtang in a Pawan Hans Helicopter. And the sound of the rotor blades were not to be heard again for the next three days as nature conspired against the mortals.

Lachung is breathtakingly beautiful.But it had a different story to tell. The central axis of the mountains were affected by the quake, the face e had cracked up, and the Precambrian rocks came tumbling down. Trekking through huge muddy, slippery piles of strewn boulders ,rubbles and cracked up roads with literally craters formed on the surface, we reached Phaka village where homes had been flattened or carried away by slush gushing down the mountains with force .Army and ITBP jawans were at work to remove the slush and debris and salvage if possible whatever dreams of house owners lay beneath them .

As one of the only two media teams to have reached this far, I decided to trek as much as possible to see the impact of the quake in Lachung. Around 300 odd houses were destroyed or had suffered major damages in adjacent villages of Thomchi, Singring and Bichchu. There were homes precariously perched on cracked up pillars on slopey edges with ground floors broken and lying in heaps of stones.Houses tied with cables and wires to giant stones flirting dangerously with the falling rains. The bridge in Bichchu had been washed out leaving people stranded. Even God had borne the fury of nature, as monasteries located in higher areas in Thomchi and Singring stood badly damaged.But people would still prefer them to their houses as the sun would set and darkness engulfed the villages.Community kitchens in monasteries and night centers in schools and other buildings sheltered the locals who gave strength to each other in these moments of grief and darkness lit up hazily by kerosene lamps.

Troubled thoughts constantly crossed my restless mind as I spent my first night in Lachung in the home of one of the villagers.It was a traditional home doubled up as an inn where many a tourists would have perhaps spent carefree nights in happier times.But we had immediate worries.Worries enhanced by two decently strong aftershocks that night.My camera person visibly shaken. Ears strained for any noise through the eerie silence interrupted by the falling drops that refused to halt.

With the first rays of light, we were more than happy to be up and awake and headed to the military helipad to take a chopper back or atleast find a sortie to send across my video tapes for uplinking from Gangtok.Some hundred odd locals too waited there in eager anticipation of evacuation.But that was not to be. The lush green mountains were suddenly covered in a mist of white. The clouds descended and the next moment I was walking in them . After some eight hours of wait , the army jawans called it a day. No choppers could land in such almost absent visibility. The villagers looked heart broken, but were not without courage and hope. They were angry ,very angry at the state government's response five days after the quake. Their food stocks were dwindling off ,and what was being air dropped off was few packets of biscuits and ration hugely disproportionate to the village population .And that too had stopped thanks to the packed up weather that ensured no chopper could land or hover at low heights.They needed medicines, But were instead getting gloves.BSNL , the only telephone service providers, had chosen to disrupt their services for reasons unknown, a fortnight even before the quake struck. No one had turned up to ask about them .Not even the SDM , who as and when he came in had to be provided a line of defense to ensure angry villagers did not assault him. Babies, young men, old women with deep furrows running across their faces...left back quietly for their homes praying that the ensuing night would not unleash upon them more miseries.

We headed to the Gurkha regiment camp for another night that would be long ,very long. I shuddered to think how manifold the disaster would have been had the army footprint not been strong in this area. Housed between mountains, and milky white Lachung Chu- the tributary of the Teesta, at a height of 9000 feet and above , and just a few kilometers away from the China Tibetan Birder , these jawans were working relentlessly to restore normalcy back. Despite my strong differences of opinion with the Army on issues like AFSPA (Armed Forces Special Powers Act) in Kashmir and NorthEast, I was filled with respect watching them from close quarters as they dealt with the disaster. The Chief Minister, Mr.Chamling who apparently thinks of helicopter rides as jinx, had not even surveyed the damage aerially. While the Army and ITBP Jawans worked day in and out to clear off roads, repair broken bridges and feed civilian and GREF mouths out of their existing stocks of ration supplies.

That night as we finished dinner, we saw streaks of orange light up the sky. Distant noises of stones falling through gorges sounded like peaks rumbling off. And the mudslides began. We had no option but to run for safety. Nobody could guess which channel would the slide follow. Our heartbeats raced. Dozen of us Huddled up at the Commanding Officers' chamber, prayed through the night that the rains would stop and the mountains would show mercy .No amount of tactical moves would have guaranteed outwitting this unseen enemy. Life in Lachung had become intrinsically linked with such prolonged moments of fear. For the next two days, if we found some time to catch a nap, we would prefer sleeping with our shoes on. Alert,to run if and when needed.

There was no electricity and zero mobile connectivity.With No BlackBerry Messengers and Social Sites to log into, I could think of things that we can do without and things that matter to us actually. Having landed at Lachung with the hope of returning the next day itself, I ended up being in the same set of clothes for three consecutive days,On the fourth day, it was udhaar ki zindagi with track pants, jacket and shoes borrowed from different Good Samaritans.

Each day as we travelled to the Helipad with hopes of flying out, I would find jawans and locals pressing chits into my hands with numbers of their loved ones scribbled on them .Letters that had to be posted. It had been several days since they had spoken to their families who needed to be assured of their safeties.Assured they were, but only once I managed to reach Gangtok after the weather cleared up finally, even if just for two hours, on Sunday afternoon and we were the luckier ones to be flown out on priority .

In the 21st century India vying for a permanent slot in the United Nations Security Council, this sort of communication failures and slow responses is so not acceptable. Much so in border areas where there is a greater risk of the sense of alienation running deep and strong. True, that thanks to the sparse populations, the loss to life in North Sikkim is not as terrible as was in Leh .and nowhere comparable to the Tsunami disaster. But damage to property is extensive. With entire road formations washed out, areas like Lachung will take atleast a month to be connected again to rest of the state via road routes. The treks otherwise will include serious dangers lurking at every bend and curve. And the state's response needs to be effective and timely. For if you make them feel Lonely in Lachung, they will ask you the one disturbing question, that was posed to me by every second villager : "Madam should we apply for a Chinese visa? Does the government want us to go off to China."