It had been a long flight. Due to various reasons I had to fly to Chile by the South African Airline, which meant a circuitous route. My sojourn began from New Delhi domestic airport on February 18,  Thursday. I had to go to Mumbai from where the first leg of my journey to Latin America would begin. First stop was Johannesburg. A change of planes and I was on my way to Sao Paulo, Brazil. Another change of planes and I was on my way to Santiago, Chile. However this wasn’t my destination. Vina Delmar, that is where I had to go. Fortunately, my son had booked me into a hotel for two days and I was able to catch up on some rest and sleep, and seeing a bit of Santiago was an added bonus! That was Friday night. On a bright Sunday morning we drove to beautiful Vina, a city by the ocean.  

I sent off mails to everyone. I was in exotic Chile. Sunday and Monday went off getting used to the change in time and settling my tummy that was thrown out of gear as it was stuffed with breakfast at tea-time and so on and so forth. By Friday I was quite used to many things Chilean, or so I thought. What I hadn’t reckoned was that Quakes are as much a part of Chile as its blue waters, splendid beaches and happy people. I would soon learn that too, at an unearthly hour.   

I was awake later than usual as my son and daughter-in-law returned from one of their Friday night parties at 3.00am. Half an hour later, I was still trying to coax myself into slumber when it hit. It was a swift rumble, giving us no time at all to even reach the door as all hell broke loose. We barely managed to keep ourselves standing as we clutched on to the wall under the doorway. The building was rocking and rolling. Swaying madly like a flimsy leaf in a storm. “Jesus” I said aloud, sending up my prayers to storm heaven. It became worse, and another sound rent the already crackling air. There was the distinct sound of walls cracking around us. Is this it? One part of my mind whispered...the other stronger part kept up the prayers without a break, even as we clung to each other and the walls for support. Then it subsided a bit and we made a dash to pick up our passports and ran down six flights of stairs. It had been a short time in terms of ‘normal’ time, just 90 seconds. But it was the longest period of time I’ve known.  

We found ourselves in the street along with many others. More horror was writ large on the faces of non-Chileans. It was apparent. We were not properly clad for the cold outside, and my son did not even have on his slippers, as he had run into my room to see to me first. The tremors kept rolling in at intervals of 1-2 minutes. We were assured by Chileans that we should not worry now, as these aftershocks were low intensity. I’d like to tell you that the so-called low intensity tremors were all “low” as in lower than the 7.6 magnitude that had rocked us earlier. This meant that the aftershocks were 5+ and above but lower than 7.6... Hats off to the Chilean spirit!   

Not fluent with Spanish, it was difficult for us to understand any instructions being given. What was frightening was that we were cut off from the world and our loved ones everywhere. The first things to get cut off were electricity, gas supply, water supply and communication lines. There was pandemonium everywhere. We made our way shivering with cold and fear, to a pub not very far from where we lived. The owner knew my son and also spoke English. Although his pub was in shambles, with glass strewn all over the place, he and his friends extended us hospitality and assurances of safety as we were made comfortable in chairs outside in the garden. Water was provided and protection too. Yes, protection is the first thing one has to think of in such situations we learnt, as vandalism and looting could begin. We were informed that they were armed and it gave us some comfort to know that a couple of them were ex-Army guys.  

We were refugees. Out on the streets the whole night, and till evening of the next day. Food was scarce as was drinking water. We had to scour the place to find a shop or bakery that was open and had the goods we needed. That’s when we went to another Indian’s apartment which was stronger and had withstood the quake better than ours had. Many others had also found their way to this relatively safe haven. It was just a one-bedroom place, small for so many. But we found ourselves relaxing here mainly because it was on the second level. The rest who were there resided at levels higher than our 6^th level apartment! It had been more frightening for them. One lived on the 22^nd level. I was so grateful then that we were on a much lower level. With my back and knees the way they are, I’d have never been able to run down the stairs. I had one more reason to thank God. The first one of course being that my trip didn’t get postponed by a week as I had wished, as then I’d have been in Santiago which was worse. Santiago was closer to the epicenter of the quake, where it measured 8.8 on the Richter scale.  

 The tremors hadn’t completely stopped. But the only consolation was that the intervals had become longer between each. Next morning we went back to our apartment. I was horrified. It was a mess. Plaster from the walls and things lay strewn on the floor. My bedroom and bathroom had taken the brunt. The door of the bedroom wouldn’t close as the door-jamb had tilted by a centimetre or two; all four corners had developed forty-five degree cracks near the ceiling; there were cracks running across the middle too. The bathroom had semi-circle cracks and one wall was visibly separated from the other.   

Although water and gas supplies were still not functioning we were thankful for electricity. As the kids cleaned the place I rustled up some food in the microwave and oven. We hadn’t had a decent meal in all this time. Then tired I picked up courage and ventured to lie on my bed. No sooner had I laid myself down than the creaking began and we were rocked, though not as strongly, again. I dashed out. I wasn’t going to be in my room. This decision became a dilemma for me and the children.  

“Why can’t we get some place on the ground? Or perhaps the second level in a stronger building?” I asked aloud, and prayed for silently.  

Just when I had decided to make the sofa my bed, a call came in from my son’s boss. We and a few others were to drive out to the country, about 25kms away. Our place of stay for a few days was in a country house. This is where I am even as I write. We are in the hills beside the Pacific Ocean. Idyllic, if the tremors (which still continue to shake us) didn’t remind me that Chile is “shaken by the sighs of hundreds of volcanoes.”  We have no access to the internet, but I’ll get this through somehow. Offices are functioning, and internet is available. Someone will get it to you for me.   

The Chileans are a very resilient people. Life swung back to normal by Monday morning. The amazing thing is how they have built their buildings to be earthquake-resistant. Although there was damage to many buildings and a few were declared unfit and evacuated, not one collapsed in this massive quake in Vina Delmar. Builders and those responsible for the construction of these buildings will face criminal charges I’m told, as quake-resistant means they shouldn’t have been damaged this badly even with a quake of such magnitude.   

All I can say, five days in Chile and I had one hell of an experience; a story to tell about an ‘earth-shattering’ experience I honestly wouldn’t like to go through again. Well, the week is progressing and as I sit and type this out my eyes keep wandering out to the picture perfect scene outside my window. Who would believe this serenity is a veneer that can be shattered in the twinkling of an eye? But I was there and know it can happen.