भिडियो सहित हेर्नुहोस !
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It’s
April again, the time when dry winds pick up and blow roofs away. As the
winds twirl little circles of dust and the sky crack-les with a flash
of lightening, the heart starts pounding. Not far away from here,
someone’s home will be destroyed again.
How many times have they had to move in a year? How many times have they sat under their flimsy shelter and held on to the end of their tarpaulin sheets, or run with buckets to catch the rain? And in this daily struggle to survive, how many times have they wished they too had died in the earthquake?
From the day the quake happened, I’ve been reporting on it for Al Jazeera English. From that moment, all the Nepali reporters I know rose to the challenge of reporting the most momentous event in our lives--while after-shocks shook us. Disasters are times when the basic fabrics we so carefully stitch together in lives, fall apart. The memory of the shock and the visions of the dead, the endless broken houses and the expressions of people have become indelible in each of us.
How many times have they had to move in a year? How many times have they sat under their flimsy shelter and held on to the end of their tarpaulin sheets, or run with buckets to catch the rain? And in this daily struggle to survive, how many times have they wished they too had died in the earthquake?
From the day the quake happened, I’ve been reporting on it for Al Jazeera English. From that moment, all the Nepali reporters I know rose to the challenge of reporting the most momentous event in our lives--while after-shocks shook us. Disasters are times when the basic fabrics we so carefully stitch together in lives, fall apart. The memory of the shock and the visions of the dead, the endless broken houses and the expressions of people have become indelible in each of us.