BANGKOK, March 29 — What started as a typical Friday in Bangkok quickly turned into a scene of terror for Bernama Correspondent Kenny Teng. The city bustled with its usual energy — streets teeming with life, the hum of tuk-tuks filling the air, and the rich aroma of morning coffee wafting through cafes.
From his office on the 23rd floor of Tai Ping Towers on Sukhumvit Road, Kenny, who hails from Penang, was wrapping up an article when he felt the slightest shift beneath him.
At first, he brushed it off as mere dizziness from skipping lunch. But within moments, the tremors intensified.
Read on as Kenny, 38, recounts his harrowing experience of the earthquake that shook Bangkok — an event that transformed an ordinary day into an unforgettable moment of fear and resilience.
After my breakfast at a nearby cafe, I was back in my office on the 23rd floor of Tai Ping Towers on Sukhumvit Road, finishing an article, when my surroundings seemed to shift.
My vision tilted slightly, and at first, I thought I might be feeling dizzy from skipping lunch as the clock struck 1.30pm. I stepped out of my office to stand by the window, hoping to catch my breath.
Moments later, as I returned to my desk, the shaking intensified. I noticed the framed photo on the wall swaying like a pendulum, while the chairs in the room began to move on their own. I froze, unsure of what to do. Being trapped in a high-rise building, I was paralysed with fear.
Then, the sound of hurried footsteps and muffled cries broke my stupor. I opened the main door to see people rushing towards the stairwell, desperately trying to escape. My instincts finally kicked in. I grabbed my mobile phone and bolted out of the office.
Halfway to the stairwell, I hesitated and turned back towards my unit to lock the door, only to be stopped by a young woman. She screamed, “Don’t go back! The building is shaking too much!” Her words jolted me back to my senses, and I followed the crowd down the stairs.
As I descended, countless thoughts raced through my mind. The most pressing was to inform my family of what was happening. When I finally reached the ground floor, I was met with scenes of chaos. Cracks had formed on the walls, and debris from above littered the area near the jurisdiction office adjacent to my building.
Outside, the streets were no less chaotic. People frantically made phone calls, asking one another what had happened. Construction debris was scattered across the pavements, and a woman in pyjamas sat clutching a pillow, her face pale with shock. Nearby, security officers worked to calm distressed residents.
Bangkok — and Thailand as a whole — is not typically associated with earthquakes, and in my year of living here, I had never encountered one. The tremors seemed to be interminable, though in reality, they likely lasted only a few minutes.
Later, I learned the earthquake had originated in central Myanmar, registering a magnitude of 7.7. Its effects rippled across South-east Asia, and Bangkok was not spared. A high-rise building under construction collapsed not far from where I had been, sending shivers down my spine at the thought of what might have happened.
Even as the hours passed, I remained shaken by the aftershocks. Although I wanted to retrieve important documents and clothing from my unit, I decided instead to seek safety in a low-rise building. Eventually, I found refuge at a nearby Buddhist temple, Wat That Thong.
At the temple, I witnessed an incredible display of resilience and unity. Volunteers handed out water bottles, and people shared phone chargers to help one another contact loved ones. Despite the fear and uncertainty, there was an unspoken camaraderie among strangers — a bond forged by shared experience.
That day, I came to realise just how fragile and unpredictable life can be. Bangkok, a city I had always associated with energy and vibrancy, now seemed vulnerable yet steadfast. It was a moment etched into my memory, a stark reminder to cherish the calm between life’s storms. — Bernama