On the morning of September 26, I arrived at the hospital around 9 a.m. as usual. Shortly after beginning my rounds, a fellow doctor informed me that a massive flood had struck the Nepal-China border area, with reports of human casualties already coming in. Amid the usual busy hospital environment, I did not initially pay much attention to the news. However, moments later, unease washed over me as I thought of my in-laws, Chausara Pun and Thambahadur Pun. They had departed from Dhorpatan for a pilgrimage to Gosainkunda.
Anxiety crept in, and to confirm their itinerary, I called my sister-in-law, who affirmed they were indeed heading to Gosainkunda. By then, news about flooding in Rasuwa was continuously arriving. I immediately asked my wife and other family members to try contacting them, but the response was heartbreaking: “Unable to reach.” Subsequent calls went unanswered, and eventually an automated message indicated: “Mobile is switched off.”
Not answering a phone and having a mobile switched off are quite different. This sudden change instilled a fear of potential tragedy. That day, the entire family was left to anxiously speculate about their journey. My wife, Dr. Sunita, went to the bus departure point, confirmed the bus number, and began contacting relatives and friends to identify the bus that had lost contact on the 26th. Official sources had reported a bus had fallen victim to the flood, but the bus number did not match the one they were on.
While that piece of news brought momentary relief, the tension only grew. We grappled with a faint hope: Could they be safe somewhere? Calls the following day continued to meet the same response: “Mobile is switched off.”
Final Location: Betravati
With no phone contact, our question shifted: how far had they managed to travel? If we could determine their last location, we could at least make some inferences. Queries at Nepal Telecom revealed their phone was last located near Betravati. We were surprised. Friends and family had underestimated the possibility of reaching Betravati so quickly on a pilgrimage via Dhading to Gosainkunda. Yet, considering the departure time, road conditions, traffic, and driver speed, such a difference in travel time was plausible. A faint hope rekindled—had they avoided the flood-hit region? Were they safe somewhere?
We headed to the Nepal Telecom office in Babarmahal, where many families had gathered seeking information. People inquired about last phone locations and searched for missing relatives. The telecom staff provided all available assistance. Witnessing this scene amid disaster was a profound lesson: natural calamities do not only bring sorrow but also teach Nepalese to support each other.
Memories of Nepal Telecom’s role during the 2015 earthquake came to mind. However, recent information from Babarmahal dealt a blow to our hopes. Betravati had been severely damaged by the flood—turned to a riverbed—and the bus they were on had not returned. Their last phone contact was from Betravati, where conditions were grim and no contact could be made.
Piecing together these facts, we reached an unthinkable conclusion. Social media offered a sliver of hope as we scrolled through Facebook posts, photos, and videos searching for signs that they were safe, or had been rescued. Every post was a possibility, every video a source of hope. Once, we even spotted a video featuring individuals with a physical appearance similar to theirs, which made our hearts race—only to find all faces turned away. Later, it was discovered that the video had been doctored, shattering what little hope remained.
Such fake news in the midst of a natural disaster is more than misleading; it intensifies the pain of families already suffering loss. Our own experience made this painfully clear. Therefore, I earnestly appeal: please refrain from spreading unverified news, especially in times of tragedy.
As reports came in that injured flood survivors were being rescued and brought to hospitals, our search turned toward them. We visited multiple hospitals, hoping to find news of our loved ones being admitted. But no positive information surfaced. The government requested DNA samples from families for unidentified victims; our son provided his sample, but the timeline for results was uncertain.
The extent of destruction caused by the flood gradually became clear—far beyond our imagination. As time passed, hope of finding them alive waned. After consulting with relatives, we faced the difficult decision to proceed with memorial rites and final farewell, despite not having their bodies. We performed the funeral rites symbolically, creating a symbolic body, and held the ceremonies with family gathered. On September 7, the 13th day ritual was completed. That same day, the government observed a national day of mourning to honor those who lost their lives in the Rasuwa flood.
The laughter lost in the Trishuli River, the smiling faces of my parents, in-laws—now remain only in memory. We still have no answers about where they are or how they disappeared. One thing is certain—their lives have become part of history alongside the rushing waters of the Trishuli.
This sorrow touches not just my family but thousands of others. Some lost sons, some daughters, spouses, or their dearest ones. Natural disasters do not just wash away homes, property, or roads—they tear apart dreams, relationships, and memories. Survivors are left with only one overwhelming question: how do we move forward?
In this national mourning, I extend my deepest condolences to all families affected by the floods. May those who lost loved ones find strength to bear the pain. We hope for the swift location and safe rescue of all still missing.
Yet, a question lingers in my mind—will we truly learn from this catastrophe? Because this is neither the first nor likely the last disaster. In the past, whenever calamity struck, we panicked, mobilized for relief and rescue, shed tears, and after days, returned to normal and forgot. But nature never forgets and will ask again. Before the next flood arrives, we must ask ourselves—have we truly learned from this one?
