By Sahana Bajracharya
CHITWAN, Nepal, Sept 1 (Reuters) – For four agonising days after floodwaters tore through Nepal’s Rasuwa district, Ayush Khadka’s family searched desperately for any sign that the 21-year-old civil servant was still alive.
The Khadkas were among thousands of families clinging to hope amid the chaos wrought by a glacial collapse that sent an unprecedented deluge of ice, rock, mud and debris crashing through valley towns and villages in Nepal and across the border in China.
Ayush had spoken to relatives the night before the flood, and his social media account even appeared to show him as online the following morning, a small sign that gave the family hope he had survived.
As reports of widespread destruction emerged on August 26, family members immediately began what would turn out to be a futile search.
For two days his paternal uncle, Ganesh Khadka, waited near the Nepali Army’s Maithali Barrack in Nuwakot, one of the main coordination points for rescue and recovery efforts near the flood-ravaged region.
Despite repeatedly sharing Ayush’s name, workplace and last known location in Timure with officials, the family received few answers, Ganesh said.
In a desperate attempt to learn more, relatives tried to reach Timure — the badly flood-hit town where Ayush had been stationed, hundreds of kilometres from the family home in Salyan district — but roads had been destroyed and all private helicopters had been requisitioned by the government for rescue operations.
Meanwhile, Ayush’s maternal aunt, Laxmi Thapa, was searching for him about 200 km (124 miles) away in Chitwan, where bodies had been swept downstream by the flood and were being recovered.
Unknown to most family members at the time, authorities had already recovered a body believed to be Ayush’s on the day of the disaster, which has killed at least 939 people and left about 4,000 missing.
On August 27, Laxmi visited a temporary holding centre where photographs of recovered bodies were being displayed on a television screen for identification by relatives. One image immediately caught her attention. “I was about 70% sure it was him,” she said.
She sent the photograph to other relatives, including Ganesh, for their opinions, but the family deliberately chose not to show it to Ayush’s distressed mother, Muna Khadka.
The family scrutinised every visible detail: a mole on the left side of the chin appeared to match Ayush’s, as did his beard. They also recognised a black religious protection thread, known as a ‘buti,’ that he regularly wore on his left arm but had slipped towards his wrist.
Still, they remained unsure, and for days the search for Ayush continued.
A FAMILY’S RACE AGAINST TIME
Information arrived in fragments, often through unofficial channels. The distance between Salyan, Kathmandu, Nuwakot, Chitwan and the flood-ravaged border region complicated every effort to establish what had happened.
The uncertainty became even more painful as authorities prepared for the mass burial of unidentified bodies.
The Khadka family feared that victims from distant districts could be buried before relatives had enough time to reach Chitwan and identify them.
It was not until August 30, four days after the flood, that Ayush’s mother was finally informed by the family that her son was dead.
The next morning, immediate and extended family members left Salyan at around 1 a.m. and travelled through the night to Chitwan. They arrived at around 8 a.m., exhausted after hours on the road but determined to obtain final confirmation.
There, standing before the recovered body, they confirmed what many had already feared.
Hours later, about 35 relatives gathered on the banks of the Narayani River to cremate a young man whose family had spent days searching for a different outcome.
“We were so happy when he was born, and equally happy when he passed the civil service examination at such a young age,“ Laxmi said. “And now, he has left us in tears.”
(Writing by Aftab Ahmed; Editing by Saad Sayeed)
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