The Fault

By Amit Shrestha

In the spring of 2015, an immense earthquake shakes Nepal and ends the lives of many. Families are broken apart, as are relationships, as the country struggles to heal despite amazing tragedy. Some rise and help their suffering neighbors while others are reduced to the basest instincts of survival and prey on the weak and helpless.

What happens when mankind loses all that defines it as a person, a family, or a community? Civilizations, no matter how modern, are forced to rebuild following massive natural disasters. In the case of Nepal, citizens face a decision: rekindle the flame of resurrection and rebuild or surrender to feelings of hopelessness and die an apathetic death?

As friends and families face injustices and fight to survive, they also find small pockets of hope amidst the debris. Of course, others find nothing but hate. Two families in particular are bound together by loyalty and love. They experience loss, betrayal, and discovery while searching for redemption, despite the seemingly vindictive obstructions of Mother Nature

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Feb 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504301213

Amit Shrestha

Amit Shrestha was in the middle of the city, where the most destruction occurred, when the earth shook Nepal. He survived, while many others perished. He is a John Maxwell leadership and personal development coach and speaker who now lives in Sydney, Australia.

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Chapter 1

25 April 2015

Chautara, Sindhupalchok, Nepal.

H e looked around in alarm. Something seemed different. He had a strange, eerie feeling. What was it that was causing him such unease? What could possibly be affecting him this way? The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, warning him that danger was imminent yet he saw no reason to be afraid.

He looked back on the field where he had been sowing his crop of corn. The aroma of freshly turned earth was still in the air. He proudly regarded his handiwork displayed in the many neatly sown rows. Despite spending hours toiling in the soil of his plot, he felt as if he were disconnected from the earth itself. An odd sensation gripped him. He couldn't put his finger on the reason why. Perhaps it was the unseasonal weather that was causing this relentless uneasiness.

It was cold and the sky was low, weighed down with heavy, gray clouds that made the atmosphere quite gloomy. They threatened rain even though the monsoons weren't expected for months. These were unusual conditions for spring. Nevertheless he had chosen to work his field today.

He was pleased with his decision because his day had been very productive. He looked at his watch. It was coated with soil from his day of grubbing about the earth. Wiping the glass clean, he saw that it read 11:15am. It was nearly time to return home for lunch. He took another handful of corn and spread it evenly around on top of the ground. Satisfaction with his tidy work inspired generosity in his spirit to share some of his grain with the birds.

He gathered his tools and tied them together in a bundle to make it easier to carry them home. Hoisting his bundle over his shoulder he turned round to scan the horizon and all that surrounded him one last time. His efforts to determine the cause of his uneasiness were in vain. Still puzzling over the matter, yet resigned to its mystery, he finally turned toward home.

Standing about 5ft10in, with short, dark hair framing brown eyes that expressed an attitude of resignation, earlier that morning Narayan had reached for a pair of faded jeans and an old green T-shirt as he prepared to begin his day. He had risen at 4am. While the children still slept, he had collected water, fed the cow and returned to the house for breakfast, all the while patiently listening to the inane chatter of Bina, his wife, as she followed him about his morning rituals.

Once, she had been beautiful. Her unusual blue-green eyes had captivated him. Now her beautiful features were etched with lines and her gorgeous eyes only reflected bitterness. She offered a morning greeting more out of custom than actual warmth at seeing him awaken. She relentlessly nagged him about one thing or another from the moment he woke up until he joined her at the breakfast table. It was inevitable that dissatisfied tones would creep in and charge her words with the energy of accusation. Bina continued her banter throughout their first meal of the day together. She was determined that her husband should hear all that was on her mind.

Naina, their first born daughter, was turning into a very beautiful nineteen year old girl. She had inherited her mother's unique multi-colored eyes which were set in an open, friendly face. Her bright, quick smile displayed even teeth and revealed her playful nature. Narayan had secret dreams for his daughter's future, bright dreams that meant a better life for her. Bina had been pressuring him to let Naina live with her aunt, Bina's sister, in Kathmandu. She hoped the child could escape the poverty she herself had ended up in. Narayan did not want his little princess to go to the city. He knew what could happen to a beautiful, young girl with few resources trying to survive in the city. But Bina was relentless in her nagging. Bina, he thought bitterly, understood all too well what happened to a girl who married below her social and financial standing and escaping that misfortune was worth all the risk sending their beautiful daughter to the city might pose.

Brushing aside his memories of Bina's verbal assault this morning, Narayan set off toward home and his midday meal. He fully expected her to resume her arguments and steeled himself to be mercilessly nagged throughout lunch. However, even the thoughts of his aggravation with Bina over breakfast and his anticipation of a similar scene over lunch could not distract him from the present disquiet that continued to hound him with every step he took.

He stopped and once again looked about him. He examined every tree and outcropping carefully. He scanned the sky overhead. He just couldn't shake the feeling that something worrisome and wicked was about, yet just out of sight. He couldn't explain it, only that he sensed it just as surely as a baboon's nose could detect the scent of the wolves. It was as if a voice deep within him persisted in shouting to him, Beware!

Listening carefully, at last he realized the cause of his uneasiness wasn't because of something that was disturbing his surroundings. Rather, the reason things seemed all wrong about him was because of what was lacking. He was surrounded by silence.

Silence did not belong in the forest surrounding a plot of land that had just been turned and sown with corn. Curious and hungry birds should be cackling their messages back and forth sharing the good news that a feast was to be had on the bits of corn that remain uncovered. Where was the chattering of the birds? Why did he not hear the hum of insects? Why were flies and gnats not tormenting him as they sought to bite and dine upon his salty, sweat-soaked skin? Why was the song of the wind in the hills not comforting him as he journeyed home? He listened to this music every day, the earth herself singing to him and cheering him as he worked his small farm. But now a gentle breeze was all he could detect as it whispered an odd tune that sounded mournful and only added to his apprehensions. It was at this moment of realization of the unnatural quiet of his world that he heard a distant roar. As he quickly spun round to look toward the source of the noise, a violent shudder under his feet sent him reeling.

What the hell was that? he asked himself as he began to rise to his feet. Before he could regain his stance, another shudder threw him to the ground once more. As he lay there confused about what had just happened, he realized that the ground wasn't just trembling, it was moving violently to and fro, buckling and heaving. The bizarre ripples of movement inspired an image in his mind of Bina shaking the dust out of a rug.

Out of his peripheral vision he could see trees toppling over. Roots that were no longer buried deeply beneath the earth clawed upward toward the sky. Unable to understand how such a thing could happen, he once again attempted to scramble upright only to be violently thrown to the ground. He struck his head roughly upon the hardened dirt path. His vision blurred briefly as tears stung his eyes and they smarted from the pain. He lay still until the tremors subsided.

It seemed like hours had passed since the first quake had tossed him to the ground. He consulted his watch again and was surprised to see that only a minute or two had actually passed. Sitting up groggily and massaging the bump that was quickly punctuating the spot on his head where it had struck the ground, he looked around at what now looked more like a wasteland than a farm.

His freshly sown crop was completely destroyed. Uprooted trees and rocks were scattered everywhere. His field was unrecognisable. Gone were the neatly mounded rows that would produce his family's security during the monsoons.

This is impossible, he thought. Am I hallucinating? Am I unconscious from the fall and seeing a nightmare? My deepest fears? How can this be real? He tried to convince himself that what he was seeing was a mirage or hallucination. Bewildered, he finally managed to stand up. Struggling to maintain his balance and taking a cautious stance with his feet planted widely apart, he remained slightly bent in a semi-squat until he trusted that his feet were firmly planted beneath him.

Once again he turned toward home. Once again he was frightened by a terrifying noise. This was not a roar, however. He couldn't bring himself to believe what it truly sounded like. "What was that? he asked himself. It can't possibly be a bomb. It simply can't be!"

Confusion and fear were beginning to grip him to a degree that brought him to the brink of panic. Fueled by these emotions, he set aside his concern for the injury to his head and determinedly set out to reach his home and family. He stumbled and slipped down the hill as tremors continued to move the earth beneath his feet. He grabbed onto anything within reach that would help him stay upright. Very soon the pain in his head was accompanied by the pain of various cuts and bruises as the sharp edges of stones and branches tore at the skin of his hands, wrists, and arms. His knees also took a beating as he continued to lose his balance without warning when the ground would suddenly shift, throwing him immediately to the stony packed earth path.

As his anxiety increased, the throbbing pain in his head and tightness in his chest told him that whatever was happening was very bad and he must get home to his wife and daughters as quickly as possible. He was certain they would be terrified and need him. With a sense of foreboding that left a bitter taste in his mouth, the bile rising from his gut, he began to run, bruised knees be damned.

Bina did not regret the things she had said to Narayan that morning. Although she was disillusioned about her own future there was no need to feel the same way about her daughter's future. She'd had enough of living hand to mouth and knew her only hope of improving the conditions of her own wretched life was to secure a better future for her daughter. She refused to let her own fate become Naina's fate. If Naina married a wealthy husband, her daughter could, in turn, then raise Bina's position back to the privileged status she deserved. Bina had been borne into a wealthy family. She deserved much more than the life of a farmer's wife. In her eyes, Narayan was a failure. Naina was Bina's hope to provide for her what her husband had been unable to attain.

When they had met at the market so many years ago, he had been shy and captivated by her beauty. Her beauty as well as her status strengthened Bina with confidence. Boldly, she had pursued Narayan and swept him off his feet.

In truth, she had actually not done anything in particular. Her boldness was simply that she did not reject the attentions of someone who was not accepted within her social class. You see, the passion of his ardour had intoxicated her. She had felt flattered and thrilled by the excitement his attentions evoked. She also got a thrill from the attention she received from all those around who reacted with silent, shocked stares at her inappropriate behaviour. It excited her ego to know they were perhaps secretly envious of her daring spirit. She liked to believe that their shocked reactions were only that which society expected of them and that secretly they wished they could be as courageous as she was.

Not a single warning spoken by her parents could lessen the desire in her heart. She was in love and she knew he loved her in return with total abandon. Yes they were young and, yes, he was of a lower caste, and lower financial standing and, yes, he also had low self-esteem, but doesn't love conquer all? Well, doesn't it? Feelings as passionate as theirs couldn't possibly be wrong.

Ha! she thought, If only I'd known then what I know now. Yet again, they had argued last night about Naina. She had continued that argument as soon as they awoke this morning. She had every intention of launching into this argument again as soon as her husband arrived for their midday meal.

She desperately wanted a different life for her eldest daughter. She wanted her to experience some of the privilege she had once known. She felt that if her daughter's life turned out different than hers, she would enjoy great satisfaction at restoring some sort of status for herself through her daughter's achievement. In some ways she might be able to relive and reinvent her life by being touched by her daughter's elevation to a higher social caste. The dreams that she had failed to redeem for herself could become Naina's reality and then, in some small way, her once dead dreams could be resurrected and, hopefully, finally fulfilled. Bina would even be satisfied if her dreams were only partially fulfilled. Certainly that would be better than the conditions of her present life.

Her parting words with Narayan this morning had been bitter and twisted. Perhaps it was her age, but she just couldn't seem to hold her tongue anymore. Meanness and bitter, sharp words flowed out of her like poison. She blamed Narayan. Surely it was obvious it was his fault for not understanding what was required in order to secure a wonderful future for their daughter. Couldn't he see that Naina's future was mirrored in her mother's present life if he did not strive to open the door of opportunity for her? Why wouldn't he at least consider her words and try to see her perspective? He had to consider that she had a valid point. She relentlessly argued what she knew to be what was in Naina's best interest. She continually pointed out to him that their daughter's only hope in a suitable marriage prospect that would raise her out of the poverty of a farming community would only be found in the city.

Her beauty would certainly capture the attention and hearts of many eligible young men with a promising future. The fire within the hearts of young lovers could drive a wealthy young man to ignore the counsels of any who would seek to discourage him from marrying a poor, farmer's daughter. Why would a passionate, wealthy, well connected man care if his match did not secure even more wealth and increase his connections? He already had these things in his possession. All he lacked was the love of a beautiful, desirable woman. Didn't Narayan recognize that although his lack of wealth may prevent him from achieving security for his family, the beauty of his eldest daughter could compensate for this?

She thought to herself, Really, Narayan, look at how low I fell after eloping with you. The young couple had not even been able to have a proper wedding. Bina had become the laughing stock of her family for throwing aside a secure future with any one of the dozens of wealthy young men who would have been happy to secure a connection between their own family and hers just so she could follow her foolish young heart and marry a lowly farmer who had no hope of bettering his lot in life. Her entire family scorned her romanticized behaviour when she ran off with Narayan.

Shouldn't a better life than the one they had be his ambition for his eldest daughter? Isn't that what she deserved? Well, if she could not persuade him where Naina was concerned, then most definitely she could secure such a future for Sarita, their younger daughter. Bina had seven years to plan for Sarita's future and convince Narayan her plan was the correct course or, at least, nag him into quiet submission.

Sighing as much at the cold that stiffened her hands as at her frustration with her husband, with harsh tugs and yanks on the lead she tethered the goat to the post that stood before their modest little cottage. Lost in her own misery she did not register the distant rumbling until the ground shook violently under her feet. Thrown onto a mound of gravel and sod, she rolled toward the plank floor that was revealed by the open doorway of the little farmhouse. The ferocity of her fall had stunned her. She gasped for air as her breath was abruptly knocked from her lungs upon the impact of her body against the earthen pile.

Roaring, bleating, and crashing sounds of shattered pottery and glass accompanied terrified screams from all around her. She scrambled onto her hands and knees as the earth rumbled and trembled beneath her. Bina began crawling toward her home, desperately calling out the names of her daughters.

Narayan ran as a drunken man, battling to hold his ground. Once he stopped and stared in horror. The outline of his village was barely visible through a thick cloud of dust. He stumbled forward, his eyes stinging and watering. He did not recognize his own community. It had been transformed to a dusty pile of rubble. Each time the earth resumed its shaking, more buildings crumbled. No! he cried, stumbling forward. Bina, no, no, no! Naina! Sarita! No! Barely noticing the broken bodies of his neighbors and the debris from their fallen homes that obstructed his path, he vaulted over piles of broken bricks and clumps of sod to continue his haste in reaching what was left of his own home.

Devastated and trembling with shock, Narayan surveyed the surreal sight that confronted him. He saw what appeared to be the back legs of a goat, their goat, half buried in a pile of bricks that had belonged to the walls of his family's shed that had stood beside his house. Frantically he began clawing at the rubble, trying to get the goat free. As he dug, his hands became raw and slippery with his own blood. He uncovered a foot and quickly recognized Bina's shoe. No, Bina! Bina, no! he cried as deep sobs began to rack his body. He continued to pull more bricks away. He uncovered her crushed head. It was monstrously disfigured and covered in brown sticky mud. Vaguely he understood it was not just mud and blood caked upon her misshapen skull, but her brain matter was also mixed in. She had been directly under the front wall of the house when it collapsed, instantly crushing her. She lay dead with her arms stretched forward, toward the house. Her hands, now forever empty, had been reaching toward her children and her home when she was killed. He stepped back, shocked, and then thought as Bina had thought. He thought about his children.

Where were his daughters? Sarita! he screamed, Naina! Answer me! Where are you? Answer me, please! His screams dissolved into loud sobbing. He tripped over a pile of rubble where his shed used to stand. As he climbed over the carcass of his milking cow, one of her back legs twisted into an unnatural knot, he realized, with sickening horror that Naina's dress was sticking out from beneath the dead cow. No! Not Naina! Why, why, why, why? What is happening?! Why has this happened? he cried out within himself as he squatted and pressed a fragment of his daughter's dress to his dusty and tear-stained cheek.

He did not understand. What was this? What was going on? Where was little Sarita? Surely his baby would be saved from such a hell as this? His heart was filling with incredible fear yet he made his way around to the back of his home, or, now it should be said, the plot where his home and shed had once stood. The shed's iron roof was shaky and unstable. Half of it rested on what remained of the shed's back wall while the other half sat atop a pile of broken bricks and timber. Lying in front of the shed's toppled roof, in a pool of blood that was becoming thick, congealed mud, was Sarita's severed head. The eyes remained open, revealing an expression of shock on the face. Turning, he retched violently, emptying the contents of his stomach and screaming with anguish at the same time.

Chapter 2

S uddenly he felt his arm caught in a vice-like grip. He quickly turned, frightened, and came face to face with a grief-stricken woman. Her tears were making rivulets down her mud caked cheeks. Her whole body was covered with grey dust and she was shaking from grief as well as the shock of her ordeal. My baby, she cried, My baby is trapped. I can hear her crying. I can't reach her. Help me, please, help me. She continued to tug forcefully on his arm as she pleaded for his help.

Another aftershock shook the ground and more debris fell from the structurally compromised buildings surrounding them. The woman emitted an ear piercing scream and ran toward a heap of bricks and jagged remnants of lumber. A completely intact steel roof rested evenly atop the pile. It was a bizarre image. It was as if the house had gracefully dissolved into a pile of debris and left the roof untouched and resting eight feet lower than where it had previously been.

No! she screamed as the tremor shifted the remains of her home. Frantically she began tearing at the pile of debris. Narayan ran over and joined her in her efforts. Working feverishly for several minutes, suddenly he stopped. As he paused, he shushed the woman. Listening carefully he could hear the faint cries of an infant. Adrenalin now fired through his body and strengthened him. Invigorated with his renewed purpose to rescue what he now knew to be a living, surviving infant, he grasped at stones, bricks and pieces of wooden beams, carelessly throwing them behind him.

Kind voices approached unseen and said to the woman, Come, come. Other earthquake survivors approached their grief stricken neighbour. Their gentle hands led her away from the heap of the ruin that had been her home and away from the piercing shrieks of her baby. Deep, wrenching sobs tore through her body in uncontrollable waves.

Suddenly many men appeared around Narayan. They joined his efforts of pulling and digging at the rubble. Turning in astonishment, Narayan realized there were many more survivors in his village and they were all frantically moving rocks and handing them backwards. The villagers had lined up in a row, creating a chain to move the debris more quickly and efficiently. Looking back at the woman, he saw that she was now surrounded by the surviving women of her community who sought to comfort her. He saw one pick up a dusty blanket and place it around the sorrowful mother's shoulders.

In a short space of time a clearing was created which allowed several men to move the roof sideways. Once again they started digging. The cries of the baby were becoming louder. With a surge of hope, Narayan lifted a heavy piece of wall with the help of another man, and there, in a little pocket within the rubble was a miraculously unharmed, albeit very dusty, baby, screaming with rage and fear. Narayan gently grasped the baby, pulling it clear from the little oasis which encased it within the deadly ruin of its home. Hand to hand, the infant was passed down the chain to the arms of its weeping mother.

The woman turned to Narayan, tears streaming down her face. Thank you, she said. Thank you. Narayan just turned away slowly and wandered off, calling: Arjun! Shanti! Mahila! Kabita! As he walked and continued to call out, men and women moved to his side, joining their voices with his.

Narayan could see that the destruction was overwhelming but he knew he had to be strong. He must help his friends and neighbours find their loved ones. He knew his own family was dead and beyond his help and he knew where their bodies lay. Others were still searching for their wives, husbands, children, brothers, sisters and parents, not knowing if they were dead or in need of assistance quickly if they were to have any hope of surviving. Helping the others would serve to keep his grief and pain at bay.

Working together the men gathered what useful materials they could find and constructed a makeshift camp site with bits of wooden beams covered with salvaged sheets of plastic to shield them from the weather. They cleared an area outside what had been the northern edge of town. This was to be where they would lay out their dead.

Narayan could not face what used to be his home. He knew he couldn't face that inescapable loss -- not yet. Instead, he busied himself clearing rubble. He sifted through debris to find materials he could use to build a temporary holding pen. When he finished that task he set himself to gathering the surviving livestock and securing them within the confines of his newly constructed enclosure.

He turned as heard the man he had searched for earlier, Arjun, call out his name. Narayan! Come! Narayan, we have moved your cow. Naina is alive! Did you hear me Narayan? I said, Naina is alive! He dropped the brick he had been carrying. Running on legs that weakened and turned to jelly at this unbelievable joyous news, he rushed toward his old friend and the chorus of voices that were all calling out to him of the incredible news of his precious Naina. His beautiful princess was unconscious, but breathing.

The men hastily created a makeshift stretcher from salvaged bits of timber and a blanket someone found. The blanket was shaken to remove as much dirt, dust and debris as possible then secured to the broken pieces of lumber. Narayan tenderly lifted his daughter's limp, unconscious body and gingerly transferred her to the stretcher. Four men readily assisted to carry her to the newly erected shelter. Narayan walked alongside holding Naina's hand and weeping at this unexpected bit of good fortune.

Narayan attempted to make his daughter as comfortable as possible considering the miserable conditions. He covered her with another blanket and placed a bundle of rolled up clothing under her head for a pillow. He gently lowered himself so that he might sit beside her. He took a bit of cloth and began to gently wipe the dust from her nose, eyes and ears.

For the first time throughout the events of this interminably long, tragic, terrifying day, Narayan felt the effects creeping upon him, wearying him, weighing him down with exhaustion. It was actually only hours after the devastating earthquake but it felt as if he had been awake for days. Seeking comfort in the presence of his only surviving loved one, he lay down by the immeasurable gift of his eldest daughter. Sleep would not come but his thoroughly exhausted body and