Life, often is a four letter word. In mid-summer, during the process of demolition, as though things weren't horrid or devastating enough..... began to rain. Families were without shelter and had to spend nights, out in the rain, unable to move to safer and dry places, as their belongings were scattered out in the open, and thus the need for constant vigil was inevitable.

So, through the night, families, from elderly grandparents to children to even infants, had to rough it out in the open, huddled under plastic sheets, amongst the ruins of their home, surrounded by their meager belongings.

From the book "Yamuna Gently Weeps" by Ruzbeh N. Bharucha