The Bridge we crossed hundreds of times to reach our colony is absolutely swept away.
The recent catastrophic flash floods in Nepal’s Trishuli River have deeply saddened me. For others, the images show a terrible natural disaster; for me, they show the destruction of a landscape intimately connected with an important chapter of my professional and family life.
I worked at the Trishuli Hydel Project for nearly two years, from around mid-1973 until March–April 1975, as a young engineer. Trishuli was about 70 kilometres from Kathmandu, and reaching it through the young and fragile Himalayan hills was an experience in itself.
The Trishuli Bazar shown being swept away by the flash floods.
At the entrance to Trishuli Bazaar stood the familiar bridge that we crossed while coming from Kathmandu. Just across it was the bus stop for buses travelling between Trishuli and Kathmandu. From there, we passed through the bazaar and followed a winding road for a couple of miles uphill to our project colony, safely located on higher, relatively flat ground.
The colony was a little world of its own, with residences, offices, workshops, a guest house and a club. Many Indian engineers, technicians and skilled workers had been deployed there as part of India’s assistance in developing Nepal’s hydropower system.
At the construction site in 1974.
My engineering work was particularly associated with the enormous quantities of silt carried by the Trishuli River. The balancing reservoir had become heavily silted, and the water had to pass through desilting arrangements before being fed through the system and penstocks to the powerhouse downstream. I was closely associated with this work.
The Barage where we had picnics in the evening times.
Today, much of what we knew has been devastated. The flash floods have swept away the familiar bridge and severely damaged or destroyed the 60–70-year-old barrage and the desilting works on which we had worked. Downstream, the old powerhouse has also been badly affected, while another hydropower project about ten miles farther downstream has reportedly suffered major destruction.
The powerhouse building.
Even more tragic is the human loss and the destruction of homes and livelihoods. Trishuli Bazaar has changed enormously since our days. Then, there were mostly modest kachcha structures. With electricity and development, multi-storeyed buildings gradually sprang up along the river. To now see so much of that development devastated by the raging waters is heartbreaking.
I cannot forget this site view of Trishuli Project when we must have passed tens of times.
Life in these young Himalayan mountains was never easy, particularly during the four months of monsoon. Heavy rains brought enormous silt, landslides and frequent road closures. Sometimes the Kathmandu–Trishuli road became so badly blocked that two jeeps had to operate from opposite sides. We would travel in one jeep up to the landslide, cross the broken stretch on foot, and board another jeep waiting on the other side to complete our journey.
As young parents me and Harvinder with 30 days old Shiv.
My memories of Nepal, however, go far beyond engineering. These were also very important years of our young married life. Harvinder had a difficult pregnancy while I was posted at Trishuli. Since proper medical facilities were unavailable at the remote project, we moved to Kathmandu for the delivery. I took nearly two months of leave to remain with her through that difficult period, and there, in Kathmandu, our handsome son Shiv was born.
Harvinder before Shiv was born in Balaju coronial gardens.
That event gave Nepal and Trishuli a permanent place in our family history.
There was also a project worker Kamal Bahadur who became very close to us and helped take care of little Shiv, almost like his nanny. When I returned to Delhi, I brought him with us and later helped him obtain a government job in office canteen. He eventually retired with a good pension. I also filled out his application for a DDA flat; fortunately, he received an allotment and subsequently developed a multi-storeyed home in Rohini, where he lives comfortably today.
Kamal Bahadur Adhikari.
After hearing about this disaster, I called Kamal Bahadur again today to learn more about the damage and, above all, to ask about his family in his native area. It was a great relief to know that they are safe.
More than fifty years have passed, yet I can still clearly visualize the bridge, the bus stop, Trishuli Bazaar, the barrage and desilting works, the powerhouse, the winding road to our colony, our offices and workshops, and the community of engineers and workers with whom we shared those years.
Nature has altered much of that familiar landscape within a matter of hours.
My heart goes out to all those who have lost family members, homes, businesses and livelihoods. Rebuilding in this difficult Himalayan terrain will itself be an enormous challenge.
As one grows older, one realizes that places become part of our lives just as people do. A bridge is no longer merely concrete and steel when you have crossed it hundreds of times. A powerhouse is more than machinery when you have worked around it. And a colony is more than a collection of buildings when it was once your home.
For me, Trishuli will therefore never be merely a place on the map of Nepal. It remains the land where I worked as a young engineer, where Harvinder and I spent an unforgettable period of our early married life, and where, nearby in Kathmandu, we welcomed our son Shiv into the world.
Today, I remember Trishuli with affection, gratitude and profound sadness, and pray for the people of this beautiful Himalayan valley as they rebuild their lives.
