When the April 25, 2015 earthquake hit Nepal, I was here in the Bay Area feeling helpless and watching thousands of buildings crumble on the news. The earthquake claimed over 8,000 lives and injured at least 15,000 more.
Amidst this heartbreak, we were in the process of planning the 2015 Himalayan Film Festival, which became an organizing force for the Himalayan diaspora community to raise funds and provide solace to each other while our families in Nepal were still sleeping on the ground in open fields.

In May of 2015, I left for Nepal, leaving behind my responsibility as a nurse practitioner in East Oakland, to be in the midst of shattered lives in my home country.
Exactly a year ago Thursday, I was in Nepal on my way to provide relief materials to new mothers on the outskirts of Kathmandu when I heard hundreds of people yelling and screaming: “Where is my son, where is my daughter?!” Mothers and fathers left their belongings and ran away from the big cement building next to us. I heard loud rattling noises and people nearby saying, “It’s here again, it’s here again!” It was another earthquake.
Questions of who to help and how to help became a recurring chatter in my head, while constant tremors of aftershocks kept reminding me to harness my breath and find peace, despite my fears. I slept outside, just in case another quake came.