Earthquake

On this January morning, the energy created by this shift exploded with the speed of a rocket and the sound of dozens of fighter jets—and a force 700 times greater than the energy released by the atomic bomb at Hiroshima.

After more than a minute of deafening sounds and violent gyrations—gyrations that were horizontal, vertical, even circular—came wondrous and terrifying sights. The villages of Umedpur watched cracks, 15 centimeters wide, split the earth in all directions. Eruptions of sand spewed wildly, some more than three meters into the air. Everywhere, water sprays, often twice the height of men's heads, turned the flat, arid desert land into an instant lake stretching as far as eyes could see.

When the people tasted the water, they discovered it was salty, reviving their ancient legend—in this case, a scientific fact—that millions of years ago all of this area was part of the ocean.

Every house in Umedpur was destroyed, leaving the village of 500 under a blanket of sandstone, rocks and concrete. Four babies were thrown from their cots. Three women were trapped in the rubble of their houses. But at the end of this surprisingly great upheaval, a miracle seemed at hand: no one had been killed or seriously injured.

The blessing for these villagers lay in the simplicity of their lives. Nothing was much taller than the heads of the hard-working camels that padded along the roads and trails on their giant flat slippers. There was very little to fall down upon the villagers.

But as powerful, concentric rings of violence spread in all directions, the cities of Gujarat would not be so fortunate.