The Moment of the Pass: AP Photographer and the Image of Hope Amid Nepal's Flash Floods

When the floodwaters swept everything in their path, there was a moment when the whole world seemed to hold its breath. Not on a court, not during a decisive drive to the basket, but amidst the mud and despair at Devighat, Nuwakot, Nepal. Niranjan Shrestha, an Associated Press photographer, stood there, on the fragile line between life and death, between the falling darkness and a glimmer of hope. I have followed thousands of games, documented thousands of sporting moments, but I have never seen a "touch of the ball" as emotional as the moment Shrestha captured. It wasn't a three-pointer in the final seconds, but the image of an elderly woman rescued from the floodwaters, a tired but radiant smile on her face. In that moment, the entire stadium — or rather, an entire nation drowning in sorrow — seemed to hold its breath. Niranjan Shrestha is not a basketball player, not a coach, not a sports star. He is a storyteller through images, a hunter of metaphors from unexpected places. Joining AP in 2026, based in Kathmandu, Shrestha has witnessed many disasters, but this flash flood had something special. When he received the news about the flash flood in Devighat, he did not hesitate. He knew that amidst the devastation and suffering, a story of resilience was waiting to be told. The scene before him was horrifying. Roads washed away, bridges broken, houses vanished into the water. The devastation and suffering were immense. In that chaos, rescue teams were desperately searching for survivors. An earthmover was trying to cross the raging water, and on it, an elderly woman was being brought to safety. That was the moment Shrestha was waiting for. "I saw the woman's smile," Shrestha recounted in the AP article. "Amidst all this devastation, there was still a smile. That was a moment of hope." That smile, amidst the mud and floodwater, amidst the roar of nature and the silence of loss, became the focal point of the photograph. Shrestha didn't just capture an event; he captured an emotion, a symbol of life amidst death. But to get that moment, Shrestha had to overcome countless difficulties. The light was fading, one of a photographer's greatest enemies. He had to quickly adjust his camera, choosing a telephoto lens to capture a sharp image from a distance. In the falling darkness, getting the focus right was a challenge. But Shrestha had experience. He knew that in situations like this, preparation and quick reflexes were key. He also admitted that he was lucky with his timing. "I was in the right place at the right time," he said. In that moment, as the elderly woman was brought to shore safely, as her smile transcended all the suffering, Shrestha pressed the shutter. The photograph was not just a piece of photojournalism, but also a hymn to life, to hope, to the strength of humanity against harsh nature. It reminded me of moments in sports, when a team seemingly defeated rises up strongly, when a substitute player scores the decisive goal in stoppage time, when a community comes together to overcome adversity. Shrestha's story is not just about a photograph, but about how we perceive disaster and hope. In the sports world, we often talk about "game-changing moments" — those instants when everything flips. Shrestha's photograph is such a moment, but not in a game, in real life. It shows us that even in the darkest times, there is a light, a smile, a reason to hope. I once wrote about "the tragedy of a substitute soldier" — about those who prepare their whole life for a game that may never come. But Shrestha's story is different. He wasn't waiting for a game; he was waiting for a moment. And when that moment came, he was ready. He didn't need to be a star; he just needed to be a storyteller. And he told a story the whole world could understand. One thing I've learned from years of following professional sports: the greatest moments often come from the most unexpected places. Not from grand finals, but from small games, seemingly meaningless plays. Shrestha's photograph is a perfect testament to that. It wasn't taken at a huge stadium, but in a devastated flood zone. It didn't capture a sports star, but an anonymous elderly woman. Yet it holds a powerful message about life and hope. In the modern media landscape, where we are bombarded with negative information, photographs like Shrestha's are a breath of fresh air. They remind us that even in suffering, there is beauty. Even in despair, there is hope. This is not a sports story, but it carries the true spirit of sports — the fighting spirit, the never-give-up spirit, the spirit of overcoming oneself. Shrestha did what all great storytellers do: he found a story in a moment. And he told that story through images, a language that needs no translation. His photograph is not just a piece of journalism, but a work of art, a symbol of human resilience. When I look at that photograph, I can't help but think of those moments in basketball when an underdog defeats a stronger team, when a bench player becomes a hero, when a seemingly failed play becomes the highlight of the game. These are moments we cannot explain with data or tactics, but only feel with our hearts. And Shrestha's photograph is one of those moments. Shrestha's story also raises a big question: how can we find hope in the darkest times? In sports, we often talk about the "never-give-up spirit" — the ability to get up after every failure. But in real life, that is much harder. When you lose everything, when you lose your home, your loved ones, when you face the devastation of nature, how can you smile? The smile of the elderly woman in Shrestha's photograph is the answer. It is a smile of life, a smile of gratitude, a smile of someone who has seen death and overcome it. This is a valuable lesson for all of us, not just in sports but in life. Sometimes, the most important thing is not winning, but how we face defeat. Sometimes, the most important thing is not scoring, but how we get up after falling. And sometimes, the most important thing is not what we have, but what we can give — a smile, a glance, a moment of hope. Shrestha has given us a precious gift: a photograph that reminds us of the strength of humanity. And as someone who has spent his entire career telling stories about sporting moments, I can say this photograph deserves to be placed alongside the greatest moments in sports history. Because it's not just about a game, it's about life. And life, as we all know, is the greatest game we ever play. As I write these lines, I remember what I've learned from years of reporting: nothing is impossible, as long as we have faith. The elderly woman in Shrestha's photograph had faith — faith in the rescuers, faith in life. And she was rewarded. It is a story about life, and it is a story we all need to hear. In a volatile world, where we often face bad news, photographs like Shrestha's are a reminder that there is still hope. There are still good people, still beautiful actions, still moments that make us believe this world is worth living in. And that, ultimately, is what matters most. Shrestha's photograph is not just a piece of photography, but a work of art, a symbol of human resilience. It will be remembered as one of the iconic images of the Nepal disaster, but also as one of the iconic images of hope. And in the sports world, where we are always looking for inspiring moments, this photograph is an endless source of inspiration. It reminds me of a match I once witnessed, when a team was down 0-2 at halftime, but made a miraculous comeback to win 3-2. The players never gave up, never lost faith. They kept fighting, and in the end, they were rewarded. The smile of the elderly woman in Shrestha's photograph is just like that. It is the smile of someone who never gave up, someone who fought and won. Shrestha's story is one of patience, preparation, and luck. But above all, it is a story of empathy. Shrestha didn't just see an elderly woman being rescued; he saw a person, a life, a hope. And he captured it in a way the whole world can understand. In the sports world, we often talk about "great moments" — moments when a player, a team, a community rises above themselves to achieve something seemingly impossible. Shrestha's photograph is such a moment. It's not just about an elderly woman in Nepal; it's about all of us, about humanity's ability to overcome adversity. When I look at that photograph, I feel a deep connection to its story. I, a Vietnamese person living in America, someone who left home to pursue a dream, I understand the feeling of loss and hope. I understand the feeling of having to start over, of having to find a light in the darkness. And Shrestha's photograph reminds me that no matter where we are, no matter who we are, we all have the ability to find hope. That is the message I want to send to my readers, not just through this article, but through everything I write. Hope is a strength, and it can come from the most unexpected places. Like the smile of the elderly woman in Shrestha's photograph, like a decisive shot in the final seconds, like a goal in stoppage time. Hope is always there; we just need to know how to see it. Shrestha's photograph is a reminder that even in the darkest times, there is a light. And we, as storytellers, have a responsibility to find and share those lights. That's why we do this work. That's why we tell stories. As I conclude this article, I want to emphasize once more: Niranjan Shrestha's photograph is not a sports photograph, but it carries the true spirit of sports. It is a story of resilience, of hope, of the triumph of the human spirit. And it is a story that all of us, whether sports fans or not, need to hear. There's a saying I love: "Where the ball rolls, we start telling stories." But today, I want to say: where there is hope, we start telling stories. And Shrestha's photograph is such a story — a story of hope amidst the flood, a story of life amidst death, a story of humanity amidst harsh nature. That is the story I want to share with you today. And I hope that when you look at that photograph, you will feel the power of hope, and you will remember that no matter what happens, there is always a reason to smile. Shrestha found that moment. And he shared it with the world. It is a precious gift, and we should cherish it. Because in a volatile world, moments like these are what help us keep moving forward. As someone who has spent his entire career observing and telling stories, I can say that Shrestha's photograph is one of the most powerful pieces of photojournalism I have ever seen. It is not just a photograph; it is a symbol. And I believe that years from now, when we look back at the Nepal disaster, we will remember this photograph, and we will remember the smile of the elderly woman, and we will remember that even in suffering, there is hope. That is the final message I want to send to you. Hope never disappears. It just changes form. And sometimes, it appears in the form of a smile amidst the flood, a photograph amidst the ruins, a story amidst the silence. And all we need to do is open our eyes to see it. Shrestha saw it. And now, we can see it too. That is the gift he gave us. And it is a gift we should cherish and share. As I write these final lines, I feel a strange peace. Perhaps it's because I've found a story I truly believe in. A story about hope, about life, about humanity. And I hope that when you read this article, you will feel it too. Because in the end, all we have are stories. And the stories we tell, the stories we share, the stories we believe in, they define who we are. And Shrestha's story is a story worth telling, worth sharing, worth believing in. It's a story about a moment, a smile, a hope. And it's a story I want you to remember, not just today, but in the days to come. Because in a volatile world, we need stories like this to remind us that there is still hope. And as someone who has spent his entire career searching for moments like this, I can say: Shrestha's photograph is such a moment. And I am grateful for the opportunity to share it with you. Today, I didn't write about basketball, I didn't write about sports. Today, I wrote about life, about hope, about humanity. And I hope that through this article, you will feel the power of those things. Because in the end, we are all storytellers. And the stories we choose to tell, the stories we choose to believe, they shape our world. And Shrestha's story is a story worth telling. It's the story of a photographer, an elderly woman, a moment, a smile. And it's the story of hope. Hope amidst the flood. Hope amidst the ruins. Hope amidst the sorrow. And that is the story I wanted to share with you today. Thank you for listening.