Reporter's Diary - Niha Masih in Nepal

A man walks his dog past Bharosa Guest House which toppled over in the quake yesterday in Gongabu area, Kathmandu.

Mohan Lal, our driver, who took us from Lucknow, drove for 20 hours non-stop to make sure we reached Kathmandu on Sunday last week. He slept in the car for many nights worried about the quake, but never once did he complain about driving us hundreds of kilometres to reach places which had remained inaccessible.

Ghanshyam Das and his team at Yellow Pagoda, who fed us and others in a hotel full of journalists, through the disaster, even as they themselves suffered damages in the quake.

As Death Toll Mounts, 15 Men Perform Last Rites on 500 Bodies

His brow furrowed with concentration, 65-year-old Ashok Dhital is stoking a funeral pyre with a log, going around it in a circle. His thin limbs glistening with sweat are visible from under his dhoti which has turned a dirty brown. He places a packet of ghee on top, then covers it with straw, which throws up a hissing smoke and Dhital moves back.

In the sacred precincts of the Pashupatinath Temple compound, funeral pyres like these have not stopped burning since the devastating quake. Dhital is one of the 15 men working over time at the crematorium to give those who died in the quake, a dignified farewell. He says "Usually we would get 20 bodies in a day but these days over a 100. Since the earthquake we have had 550 bodies"

These days his day begins at 6am and ends whenever the influx of the bodies stops at night. One of the hardest part of the job he says is lifting the bodies onto the pyre as each weighs over 150kgs.

An electric crematorium that could have come in handy in this hour of crisis has been in the making for the last two years at the temple compound but is lying incomplete.

With long exposure to the fire and smoke, most workers suffer from poor eyesight and respiratory problems. Dhital smiles widely flashing his one tooth, "I have been lucky to not suffer from any of these, thanks to the Gods". Pointing his finger in the direction of the revered temple.

An Orphanage Orphaned



Clutching her one-eyed doll, 8-year-old Sushmita smiles brightly as the camera starts rolling. She only nods when asked if the quake was scary but she is glad her doll was recovered from the house. She is among the 70 children of an orphanage in a Kathmandu suburb, orphaned by the devastating quake.

The Belgian director of the home says the children - well-versed in the earthquake drill - waited for the trembling to stop before running out within minutes. The facade of the multistoried house stands, but the damage is so immense that it leans dangerously over to the next.

The children have been forced to seek refuge in the open skies, bundled under a tent.

The scars of the tragic Saturday are still fresh in the mind of 14-year-old-Sarah who admits, "Most of the children didn't cry but I cried a lot".

The rains over the last two days made life difficult under the flimsy tent. But for now Sarah doesn't mind. She grins and says "at least we are safe in the open".

An Island of Devastation in the Middle of the Valley

The climb to Ganesi village is not easy for those of us who live in the plains. Nestled in a nook of the Himalayas, it is now an island of destruction.

Of the 30 houses, only two remain. The rest are just an ignominious heap on the ground. Outside one house lie kitchen utensils scrubbed clean, along with red bangles and pink plastic flowers.

Asked how they managed to save their lives when the quake struck, not once but several times, 65-year-old Rampyari, gets emotional.

"It was terrifying, the ground was shaking continuously. Part of the collapsing roof fell on my head."

Her grandson Saroj is looking for exam answer sheets amid the rubble.

A teacher at the local school, he is worried that once the school reopens, the children will ask for their marks. The only hitch -- he is not sure when the schools will reopen.

On a cracked wall of the neighbouring house, hangs a clock, frozen at quarter to one -- a tragic reminder of the first big jolt. Behind it, the entire house has collapsed.

As we head down the slope, a man, teary-eyed, says we are the only ones to come here.

Pointing to one of the two intact houses, he says, "One of the girls there jumped from the roof to save herself."

The house stands tall in the flattened village. But its residents have pitched tents with everyone else.

Fear still looms large.

A Pile of Bodies and a Lost World

A long row of neatly lined dead bodies. Each with a small sticker pasted hurriedly on their forehead with their names or areas they died at. From under the white shroud, a hand clutching a cellphone peeks out.

These were the bodies that had been recovered from the debris on Monday by the Nepal police squads carrying out rescue missions across Kathmandu. Three policemen have been tasked with identifying each of them.

"104 bodies have come since morning," one of the policemen tells us in a tired voice. And it was only 3 in the afternoon.

Inside the emergency ward of BIR Hospital, Dr Sandesh had been on a 36-hour-shift. And it doesn't look like it will end soon. "We are doing all we can to treat as many patients, but it is not easy," he says.

Pointing to a man wearing an oxygen mask, he says, "This man needs to be on a ventilator, but none are free". The man was brought by the police and he is yet to be identified.

In the next row of beds, 7-year-old Nirmala Parihar is lying unconscious. Her leg had to be amputated after she got trapped under a collapsing wall, says her father.

He stays silent for a while, then says, "Our world is lost".



More ground reports from Nepal

Bustling Bhaktapur Turns Into Ghost Town

Kathmandu's Open Grounds Turn Into Camps for Frightened Residents