Human tragedies are manifested in many forms; there can be degrees of proportion to the magnitude of such tragedies. Words are unable to describe the pain, the loss of human lives, the destruction, the trauma. The entire aftermath of the earthquake is like a nightmare, a bad dream which one would hope will vanish when one wakes up. But, that is not to be-we as a people, as a nation, as human beings have to face the front with steadfastness, courage, belief and most of all compassion and humanity to help the victims re-build their lives. To re-locate and rehabilitate them is going to be of the most difficult, painstaking and expensive task ahead for the entire nation.
Now, is the time for our test, the manner in which we shall handle the building of the lives of these unfortunate and poor families. And when we say families we are not talking about a regular father, mother and children nucleus. We write about families who within seconds were separated and lost to each other forever.

The City bears the look of a ghost town-a town ravaged, struck and totally destroyed. A town where rubble, concrete and bricks lie in heaps, it's as if a bulldozer has gone over this once scenic and picturesque town of Balakot.
The mountains, hills and valleys are grim and subdued. The stench emanating from the dead bodies becomes unbearable after a while. The cold wind blowing across our faces jolts us to reality that this is not a nightmare, that we are actually standing amidst graves, the valley of death makes us realise that every corner of this village speaks of death. We try to imagine the children before the 8th of October, walking, laughing, running and playing. We imagine them walking down playfully to school. Their heads are high and the sun shinning in their eyes. We look around for the herds of sheep and cattle, for some patch of land where we could spot any kind of vegetation, any human movement. But, Alas! All we came across were mass graves, graves in the city of the dead.