Still struggling to make sense of the chaos, I turned to my mother. "What's happening? Why is our house shaking?"
My mother, still recovering from a brutal abortion she had undergone in a godforsaken clinic (a story for another time), hugged us tightly and thanked the gods for our safety.
The nation had just been struck by one of the most devastating earthquakes in India's history - 7.6 on the Richter scale. Its epicenter was in Bhuj, a mere 60 kilometers away.
The ground continued to tremble with aftershocks, each one sending fresh waves of terror through us. Buildings that had already been weakened by the initial quake were at risk of total collapse.
We were advised to stay outside. The thought of re-entering the house was terrifying. The following night, we all slept under the open sky, wrapped in blankets, as tremors continued.
By then, the wedding had become an afterthought. The bride's family had to leave town with whatever transportation they could find, but only the bride, her parents, and her luggage could fit. The rest of us stayed behind, stranded.
Daylight brought little comfort. While the adults struggled to process the disaster, we kids tried to distract ourselves by inventing games. But the dangers were far from over.