Journalism of Courage
In picture, Krishna Lama, lost his six-month-old son Sohin Lama, in the Nepal Earthquake. Sohin was special, the second son of Krishna and Janisa Lama who had lost the first son a few days after his birth. When Sohin was born, a doctor had told them that they might never have children again. They were very protective of Sohin and never left him alone,” a neighbour says. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
When the earthquake struck, Sohin was wrapped snugly in the arms of Nirmala Tamang, who often looked after the neighbourhood’s children. Neither Sohin nor Nirmala survived. Krishna had told his wife that they had to save for Sohin’s education, so the only toy they had spent money on was a small doll. Janisa cannot bring herself to look at the doll anymore. Krishna carries it with him wherever he goes. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
In picture, bag and slippers of Nirmala Tamang. Nirmala, 52, who took care of the neighbourhood's children, too died in the deadly earthquake. She was fond of children, and they were fond of her. They came to her for stories and the food she made. “She had a way with children. Even when we found her, six-month-old Sohin Lama was in her arms; she was protecting him,” says Nirmala’s son Umesh Tamang. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
Two years ago, her son had bought her a brown purse, with “Badier” in gold lettering in the front. Nirmala Tamang was proud of it, as she was of the “Kiss” sandals he had bought for her the year before that. There was only this bag in the house, so Nirmala also used the purse to store her toothpaste, toothbrush and comb. These and the slippers are all that is left of her. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
In picture the jar (lota) from which Santa Maya Tamang, 97, always drank from this steel lota. Santa Maya had lived her entire life in and around the stone house on top of the mountain, now home to four generations of the family. For the last two decades or so, Santa Maya had no longer been able to trek the two kilometres up or down the slope. Every afternoon, Santa Maya would carry her lota, full of water to drink, take it to a small clearing and look out into the mountains. When the earthquake came she was alone in the house. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
Sometimes she would recount her teenage memories of the big 1934 earthquake, when their mud house had crashed. Eight decades later, she was making her way to the clearing, lota in hand, when the walls collapsed. Sudha has now placed the lota at her great-grandmother’s favourite spot. The poor family doesn’t have a photograph. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
In picture, four-year-old Happy-- the pet dog of Chime Tashi. Chime Tashi, 26, tickled his pet behind the ears on April 25 and told his elder brother Ngawang Tsering that he was going to meet a friend. That was the last little Happy saw him. Three weeks later, Happy is still looking for Chime. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
Tsering, who broke his leg, says, “A wall fell on Chime as he tried to get out of his friend’s house. He was everything to Happy. He walked him, played with him, and slept next to him. We now take care of him.” Happy now lives in a tent but is often taken back to the house, which is now full of cracks. He rushes around and checks every room until he collapses on the floor disappointed. In the tent he plays with Tsering, but whenever new footsteps approach, his ears shoot up and he often runs out expectantly. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
In picture, the dress Sundari Kotju wove twenty years ago, which she only wore on Chaad festival. Sundari Kotju, 75, lived in Bhaktapur, the old city of Kathmandu where the narrow streets are paved with brick and nearly every home has a pagoda. She was a Newar and wove clothes for her family. Her seven children having been born into a generation of T-shirts and shorts, she often found herself at odds with them. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
When the earthquake came, Sundari Kotju was trapped inside, suffering from a broken leg. As always, she was weaving while her three granddaughters were watching cartoons on television. The girls survived; Sundari Kotju didn’t. In one corner of the home of relatives, where her husband Man Kumar Kotju now lives, the dress is kept as a memorial to her devotion to tradition. Around it, her children will not shave or wear anything on their heads for 49 days. That is the way the Newars have always honoured the dead. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
In picture, the transistor Badri Kapali bought when he was just 15. It was the first thing he bought when he began to work as a tour guide, it has “Phillips” written at the bottom, and on the right a speaker that blared out the one channel its antenna could receive. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
Badri Kapali, 73, would turn his grandchildren away when they asked him to watch television. “He listened to Newari songs and the news on that radio station all day long,” says his granddaughter Shreya. When the earthquake came, Kapali was at his favourite spot in the house, looking out the window out of a room on the first floor, listening to the transistor. His grandson Rohan was with him. They could save Rohan but Badri Kapali succumed. Now living in a tent, the Kapalis turn the radio on once a day. (Source: Express Photo by: Tashi Tobgyal)
