On the day after the earthquake, I went to the airport to try and get on to one of the evacuation flights sent by the Indian Air Force. Imagine the scene: hundreds of terrified Indians (major tremors still ongoing) waiting at a wire gate. There is no line and no system for who will get on a plane first. Two mothers have pushed their way to the front of the crowd and are screaming at army personnel on the other side to let them through: "My child will die!", "This crowd is crushing us!", "This little boy has not had food or water in 24 hours.”
There were three or four officials floating around. None of them provided any concrete information. Were there going to be any flights today? One plane? Five?
Around 3 pm, all of us were told to line up at another door inside a building severely damaged by the earthquake. There was a mad rush and I wondered whether it may be safer to go back to the city rather than die in a stampede. But going back would mean burdening friends who were already struggling for resources. It was worth one attempt.
Making my way to the women's line using brute force, I made the mistake of looking up. The women had been lined up next to a wall that was cracked through and one big tremor could bring the concrete down. But surrounded by so many, there was no way to move now.
When they opened the door, the masses would swell, those at the front trying to push their bodies and bags through. I made it through sustaining only mild injuries.
Two hundred and sixty of us made it on to that evening plane. There was a minimum of 20 Air Force personnel on board. They took endless pictures and videos of us as we streamed in. After eight hours of waiting, they did not offer us any food, or water, or help. Or provide any assurance that now that they were here, they would find a less traumatic system to evacuate all the unlucky people who were still waiting.
The people who had made it on to the plane clapped when it took off. I wondered why. We had gotten no assistance since we arrived. Apart from flying this plane to Delhi and then back to Kathmandu, what exactly were they applauding the air force for?
Of course the media was waiting with cameras when we got off in Delhi. And the men in uniform streamed forth to claim their coverage.
I know the army and the air force have done important work in providing relief across Nepal, braving dangerous situations to help pull people out of the rubble and distribute supplies. But for Indian citizens looking for a way out, the airport was a suspended nightmare and the media refused to acknowledge that.
We are lucky that no one died at the airport – it was a real possibility. – Alisha Sett
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There were three or four officials floating around. None of them provided any concrete information. Were there going to be any flights today? One plane? Five?
Around 3 pm, all of us were told to line up at another door inside a building severely damaged by the earthquake. There was a mad rush and I wondered whether it may be safer to go back to the city rather than die in a stampede. But going back would mean burdening friends who were already struggling for resources. It was worth one attempt.
Making my way to the women's line using brute force, I made the mistake of looking up. The women had been lined up next to a wall that was cracked through and one big tremor could bring the concrete down. But surrounded by so many, there was no way to move now.
When they opened the door, the masses would swell, those at the front trying to push their bodies and bags through. I made it through sustaining only mild injuries.
Two hundred and sixty of us made it on to that evening plane. There was a minimum of 20 Air Force personnel on board. They took endless pictures and videos of us as we streamed in. After eight hours of waiting, they did not offer us any food, or water, or help. Or provide any assurance that now that they were here, they would find a less traumatic system to evacuate all the unlucky people who were still waiting.
The people who had made it on to the plane clapped when it took off. I wondered why. We had gotten no assistance since we arrived. Apart from flying this plane to Delhi and then back to Kathmandu, what exactly were they applauding the air force for?
Of course the media was waiting with cameras when we got off in Delhi. And the men in uniform streamed forth to claim their coverage.
I know the army and the air force have done important work in providing relief across Nepal, braving dangerous situations to help pull people out of the rubble and distribute supplies. But for Indian citizens looking for a way out, the airport was a suspended nightmare and the media refused to acknowledge that.
We are lucky that no one died at the airport – it was a real possibility. – Alisha Sett
