Beep from the Himalayas

By Richa Khandelwal Bhat

I had sat down with my hot cup of green tea this afternoon and with my laptop to begin writing a script. The silence of the room was just perfect to begin a new tale, a new adventure. My phone began beeping incessantly. Just when the timing is the worst, this phone tends to assert its existence. I rolled my eyes and tried to push it away. One more beep and the urge to check everything coming my way via this necessary devil, I picked the phone and checked the innumerable video messages from singer Sandip Bhai from Joshimath. I assumed they were some performance videos, as he belongs to a community of folk singers in Chamoli District. 

But the videos looked different. Along with them, there was a message in Hindi, which said, “Forward to everyone to stay away from the river.” I watched the videos that unveiled the horror that ushered down the mountains this morning. Along with the deafening roar of the Ganga blasting down my favourite route towards Badrinath, I could hear local people screaming in disbelief to see what they were witnessing right in front of their helpless eyes. 

In the video I saw the recognisable structure of the NTPC plant, that used to bring a smile to my face everytime I crossed it, because it was a sign that the endless journey from Rishikesh to Badrinath was near end. A few seconds on, in the same video, I saw the plant being washed away like a bunch of matchboxes by the furious Ganga, my beloved Ganga. 

That moment, I could imagine this humongous, unstoppable force of nature charging head-on towards Rishikesh and Haridwar, where Kumbh Mela would be held in a week’s time. Those familiar places enroute were once again at the mercy of nature, reminding of the horrifying scenes of 2013. 

I began making frantic calls to all my friends and colleagues in Uttarakhand, who were in close proximity of this belt of Tapovan, where the tragedy was known to have occurred. A friend said he was driving towards Vishnuprayag, and was nearing the calamity site, when he got the news and turned his car back in time. 

Another acquaintance said his friend’s brother had been swept away in Tapovan. A collaborator heading an NGO told about his colleagues who had gone missing from Tapovan, which had been an important location for their activities for years and that he was driving towards the calamity site. 

I couldn’t reach out to some friends in the morning and haven’t heard from them till now. It’s 11 pm, and it’s rather unusual for them to be unresponsive for so long. I will wait with the phone in my hand, and hope it will beep soon. A script got written today, very different though from what I had in mind this morning.