By: Ganesh Saili
It had been a long Saturday night on October 19, 1991. My cousin Manohar’s wedding reception had stretched far into the night. Returning home, we had barely slept when the whole room shook. To my dying day, I cannot live down the ignominy of what followed. Even the fellow in the mirror who looks back at me refuses to forgive me. In an animal reflex, I grabbed my wife and darted out of the low French window in our bedroom, forgetting that our teenage daughters, both of them, were still asleep inside the next room.
How could I have done this?
‘An earthquake occurs,’ or so the clever ones remind us, ‘when we’ve forgotten about it.’
Early morning, the phone rang. It was my friend Nandu, the hotel owner. The previous night, as the party ended very late, he had generously offered the newly married couple a premium suite in his hotel. He complained: ‘I’m not pointing fingers, but my hotel rocked last night and the walls have cracked!’
It was well past midnight of 20th October 1991 when a low-intensity (6.8 on the Richter scale) but high-damage earthquake hit the hill station. Fortunately, no lives were lost here in Mussoorie, but the Uttarkashi earthquake affected the lives of some three lakh people, devastated 1294 villages, and left 768 people dead.
Later, I met Badri Prasad Jasola, who was then posted as an SDM in Uttarkashi. ‘The suffering of ordinary people in villages like Jamak and Didasari makes you want to renounce the world and become a monk.’ His eyes still well up at the memory.
The next morning, reports from the hill station spoke of concrete structures being hit. The older ones that were built of random rubble (lime mortar, gravel, and stone) and ‘jaffrey’ (bamboo, lime, and mud) were left standing. Today, we are all gripped by ‘lintel mania’ (sic), especially in the abutting villages of Kolti, Kanda, Bhatta, and Kyarkuli. The traditional stone-slate roofs that used to rest on ornately carved wooden tibaris, are all but forgotten.
Public memory, unfortunately, is woefully short.
The Kangra earthquake struck on the morning of April 4th, 1905, during the early hour of the morning, when most people were still asleep. The violent shock waves dealt summary destruction to life and property in the neighbourhood of the Kangra Valley and Dharamsala; it did serious damage to Dehra Dun, Mussoorie, and other towns in the north.
I find reports that mention that the springs at Mackinnon’s Brewery increased their discharge by 20 to 30 per cent, which showed a gradual falling off only after mid-May. The Great Indian Earthquake caused havoc, especially in the Barlowganj area, where the famous Trivoli Garden lost its pavilion and other structures. It was lost and forgotten – never to be reborn.
Along the Mall Road, the effect of the tremor on the clock in the steeple of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Kulri had one of our wits bursting into doggerel:
The Kulri clock has had a shock.
Enough to knock it off its block.
And make it rock—ah!
Hanhart and Bechtler both have tried
To titivate its shocked inside,
So now they’ve called Fisher.
The watchmaker and undertaker!’
Mr. Hanhart and Mr. Bechtler were proprietors of jewellery and watch-repairing establishments. About Mr. Fisher’s accomplishments, there was no secret.
Near Clock Tower, St. Emilian’s Church was completely flattened. Research reveals it was built by a wealthy jam and pickle merchant, who, in 1903, converted his boarding house into a church. Of course, he rebuilt the church (though on a much smaller scale), and this House of Worship was reopened in 1908.
The Bihar earthquake of 1934 wreaked havoc, especially in the Charleville and Savoy hotels, which suffered badly.
To put it baldly, we are going to be blindsided sooner than later. Already, I cannot go through Landour’s South Road without looking up at the dilapidated six-story buildings teetering on the edge, seemingly ready to fall at the merest nudge. I cower in fright.
And the next time the temblor strikes, only one thing is assured: there shall be no winners.
Ganesh Saili, born and homegrown in the hills, belongs to those select few whose words are illustrated by their pictures. Author of two dozen books, some translated into twenty languages, his work has found recognition worldwide.