I Returned from Rasuwa, but Waves of Questions Continue to Rise in My Mind

I returned to Kathmandu after spending 22 days in Rasuwa, the place where I was born and raised. Yet it feels as though only my body has returned to Kathmandu; my heart and mind are still with those villages, those faces, and those families in Rasuwa.

I stayed continuously in the disaster-affected areas from the third day after the Bhotekoshi flood. During those days, I visited many homes and met many families while assisting with rescue, relief, and support. More than the homes swept away, the roads destroyed, and the settlements devastated by the flood, what affected me most were the eyes of families sitting silently, waiting for their loved ones who had disappeared.

Many relatives and residents of the district are still missing. Their faces keep coming back to my mind. Sometimes, a part of me still hopes that perhaps they will return from somewhere.

But then another question immediately arises: Where did the Bhotekoshi take them? Where are they now?

There are no answers to these questions.

Seeing families living with this uncertainty up close made me realize how deep the pain of losing someone without knowing their fate can be. You can grieve when you hear the news of a death, but when you are left waiting for someone who is missing, even tears eventually grow tired.

The Hands That Came Carrying Relief

Amid such pain, people from different parts of the country came to Rasuwa because they remembered the suffering of the district. Some brought food, some provided financial assistance, and others gave their time.

Seeing people come forward to help despite difficult roads and risks made me realize that, in times of suffering, human beings truly become one another’s greatest source of support.

With the coordination of the local government, we also did our best to ensure that the assistance received reached the affected families. Even a small act of support can mean so much during a disaster.

I personally salute every compassionate heart that extended a helping hand.

The Life That Remains After the Relief Is Gone

But while distributing relief, one question kept returning to my mind: What happens after today’s relief?

Where will families who have lost their homes live? How will those who have lost their farmland sustain themselves? How will those who have lost their jobs rebuild their lives? How will families who have lost loved ones find the strength to move forward?

These questions made me realize that Rasuwa now needs something far greater than relief.

Rehabilitation is not simply about building houses. It means providing land, homes, roads, education, healthcare, employment, and sustainable sources of income.

After the flood, many people have started moving toward Nuwakot, Kathmandu, and other places. Their circumstances are understandable. But if people themselves are forced to leave Rasuwa, that could create another major crisis.

Therefore, it is now the shared responsibility of both the state and society to create an environment where affected families can continue to live with dignity in their own communities.

I Returned to Kathmandu, but the Questions Remain in Rasuwa

When I left Rasuwa after 22 days, I felt an unusual emptiness.

I remembered the roads along which we carried relief supplies. I remembered the families I met. I remembered the eyes of those waiting in hope for their loved ones to return.

Even after coming back to Kathmandu, those scenes have not left my mind.

There is little we can do to bring back those who are missing. But we have the ability to help those who survived stand on their feet again.

Rasuwa now needs more than roads and houses. It needs the foundation to live again.

The wound left by the Bhotekoshi in Rasuwa is beyond what words can describe. But holding the hands of those living with that wound and helping them rebuild their lives is our shared responsibility.

I returned to Kathmandu, but my heart is still there—in Rasuwa.