A Photographer Revisits the Devastating 2001 Bhuj Earthquake

A Bhuj stringer woke up to capture R-Day celebrations on 26 Jan 2001. Instead, he had to capture destruction & death

Last Diwali, Vijaykumar Ishwarlal Soneji , a photographer now working with The Hindu, visited his home town Bhuj after four years. He captured young teenagers posing at Rao Lakhpatji’s chhatri, a famous Bhuj landmark that was destroyed during the 2001 earthquake. To him, the photograph symbolised a Bhuj that had moved on. Of a young generation, born after the deadly earthquake, that was although mindful of the past, resolutely looking forward.

Then a stringer with The Times of India, Vijaykumar, also known locally as Pappu Soneji, had witnessed the earthquake first-hand. Born and brought up in Bhuj, Pappuji has closely watched the destruction and step-by-step resurrection of the city that he so dearly loves.

When the nation was celebrating its 52nd Republic Day, on 26 January, 2001, Bhuj was rocked by an earthquake that occurred at 8:46 am and lasted for over 2 minutes. The epicentre was in Bhachau Taluka of Kutch, about 9 km south-southwest of the village of Chobari. The earthquake touched 7.7 on the moment magnitude scale and killed between 13,805 and 20,023 people, injuring another 167,000 and destroying nearly 4,00,000 homes.

Pappu Soneji was at the centre of it all, capturing the destruction as it unfolded.

In Pappuji’s own words, here’s what happened on that fateful day:

“I thought Pakistan had dropped a bomb… then I saw buildings crumble”

The bedside alarm clock went off at 6.30 am. I promptly shut it off. It was too cold to get out of bed. My regular swim in the Hamirsar Lake was out of the question. When my eyes opened once again, the clock showed 7.30 am. I jumped out of the bed since I had to take photographs of the Republic Day function at Anchorwalla School. At the school, the children – aged between four and six years – were lined up for the function with flags in hand. The school compound was jam packed with kids in their blue shorts and skirts and white shirts. There were some 300 of them, all smartly turned out. I climbed on to the stage and took out my camera. The principal kicked off festivities by garlanding a picture of Bharat Mata (Mother India). A parent came up to me and whispered in my ear that he wanted a picture of his daughter taken.As I put my eye to the viewfinder, there was a rumbling sound. I thought it was one of the IAF MiGs flying overhead. But the sound just got more pronounced and the earth beneath started shaking. I could not stand straight. My first reaction was that Pakistan had dropped a bomb. Then I saw two buildings around the school collapse, raising a huge cloud of dust. It’s an earthquake, someone shouted. By now there was utter chaos as parents tried to get hold of their children. The school building was shaking. As I rushed out, the gate of the school building collapsed on a girl. I started my motorcycle. The two-kilometre drive to my house on New Mint Road was like a ride through hell as I made my way past crumbling buildings. People were rushing out of their homes, some limping on broken legs, others with just a towel wrapped around their waist and toothbrush in hand.When I arrived at the narrow lane near my house, an electricity wire blocked the way. I used the cable to climb through the debris and reached home. The house was safe. Outside, everywhere there were scenes of death and destruction. People trapped beneath the debris were crying out for help. The Civil Hospital building had crumbled. Someone told me there were 200 patients buried inside. I returned home in the evening. The entire neighbourhood had shifted to an open space. News of the death of some of my relatives began trickling in. But there was no time for funerals. Mass pyres had been lit, each with around 25 bodies. And the earth beneath our feet continued to tremble. I thought of contacting my wife who was in Jamnagar and telling her I was safe, but the phones were out of order. It was the longest night of my life. All of us were just hoping for daybreak. The next morning, I went around the city taking more photographs. Soon, I ran out of film. The second night was as agonising as the first. No one in Bhuj could sleep.

Pappu Soneji in The Times of India, 1 February, 2001

On the 15th anniversary of the Bhuj earthquake, I ask Pappuji if Bhuj has finally healed. He says although the city has grown industrially in these past years, it has lost much of its agriculture land and distinct character.

After the earthquake, Kutch (which is India’s largest district in terms of territorial area) developed very fast as the Government of Gujarat gave some relaxation to industrialists but the sad thing is that my home town lost its agriculture land and mangroves and many more. The earthquake cost us a lot and I personally feel the loss.

Pappu Soneji

Pappuji lost many relatives and close ones to the earthquake. He has now shifted base to Ahmedabad, but misses Bhuj dearly. He said his visit during Diwali was a happy one, as he felt the optimism of the people around him.

It seems the residents of this almost 460 years old city have only emerged stronger in the years since the earthquake.