4 min readPuneJan 25, 2026 09:32 PM IST
First published on: Jan 25, 2026 at 06:14 PM IST
Written by Ananya Shetty
When the 2001 earthquake struck Bhuj, Vaishali Joshi was a 21-year-old postgraduate student of literature, preparing for examinations and assuming, as most young adults do, that life followed a stable path.
At 8.46 am on January 26, that assumption collapsed.
“At first, I thought something was wrong with me,” she recalls. As the ground shook violently and buildings around them began to give way, her father gathered the family together inside their four-storey apartment. “This is not our home,” he told them. “This is just a building. Home is where we are together.”
They fled soon after, leaving behind their belongings. With aftershocks continuing, the family spent several nights outdoors. Bhuj lost electricity, telephone connectivity and medical facilities, while damaged roads cut the city off from surrounding areas.
Although her family escaped without serious injuries, the disruption was complete. Her brother’s small computer business was destroyed. With homes damaged and reports of thefts in abandoned neighbourhoods, the family moved temporarily to Mandvi, nearly two hours away, staying on a farmhouse.
When the initial shock gave way to the long process of rebuilding, Joshi returned to Bhuj this time as a volunteer. She worked with the area development authority on compensation claims, rehabilitation processes and town planning. Many residents had lost ration cards, property papers and proof of identity in the collapse.
Vaishali Joshi’s experience in Bhuj continues to influence how she teaches. (Express Photo, enhanced with AI)
Officials brought in from outside Gujarat often struggled to communicate with local residents who spoke Kutchi. Joshi, a local, was able to bridge that gap. “People needed to explain what they had lost,” she says.
Relief camps revealed the human cost of the disaster more starkly than broken buildings. One incident remains etched in her memory: a young child rescued alive from a damaged structure after her entire family had died inside. Moments later, the building collapsed. The child, traumatised by what she had witnessed, did not survive. “That was when I understood how temporary life is,” Joshi says.
As Bhuj slowly rebuilt itself, with stronger infrastructure and planned development, the earthquake continued to shape Joshi’s inner life. “Before that, everything felt centred around studies, career and material goals,” she says. “After the earthquake, I realised how quickly all of that can disappear.”
Over time, she says, the experience reduced her attachment to money and property. “What stays with you is not what you own, but who you are with, and how you treat people,” she says. Humanity, kindness and brotherhood began to matter more than accumulation.
In 2016, Joshi moved to Pune after her marriage, following her husband’s service transfer. He works as Deputy Director at a forensic science laboratory. She returned to her academic training and took up teaching English literature.
Her experience in Bhuj continues to influence how she teaches. “Before becoming engineers, doctors or professionals, students need to learn to be human,” she says. For Joshi, literature is not only about language, but about understanding human relationships and moral responsibility.
Teaching, she feels, gives her a way to pass on what the earthquake taught her — quietly, without spectacle to younger generations who may not have faced such loss themselves.
Bhuj and Kutch, she says, have rebuilt themselves steadily over the years. For Joshi, the earthquake was not only a moment of destruction, but the point at which life demanded a deeper understanding of what truly matters.
(Ananya Shetty is an intern with The Indian Express)
Rescuers and local people during search and rescue operations after the Bhuj earthquake in 2001. (Express Archive Photo) 
Vaishali Joshi’s experience in Bhuj continues to influence how she teaches. (Express Photo, enhanced with AI)
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