ek aur trasadi - II

Why should one pay with one’s life for greed of others?


The title sums up all that is going to be written below. There is a provocation to get emotional while you write about someone dear to you, more so if that person has suffered a lot and not for any fault of her/his own.

Sana, is a eleven year old girl from Nawab Colony, old Bhopal. This is a part of Bhopal which the students of the top colleges in the city are unaware of, or at the most, went for some project work for a day or two. This is a part of Bhopal that the CCDs, the multiplexes, the brand stores, malls and restaurants do not acknowledge to belong to the same city. j

She dresses up as a boy almost all the time, has short hair like boys, smiles to a boyish chuckle but does not speak like a boy. In fact, a few months back she could not speak at all. Her voice moved from being like a five year old girl’s to a hoarse whisper and to complete silence five years back. After an operation and continuous treatment at AIIMS, New Delhi for a year, the process has been reversed. It is a delight, unfathomable and hard to contain, to hear her call out one’s name or add a comment or two to her mother Sakina’s chatter. Her smile is infectious and bright as a day.

When I met her a year back, her operation was due in a fortnight. She was terrified, sad and worst - silent. She had a steel pipe thrust into her throat to help her breathe. This steel pipe protruded out and was bandaged. She also had a problem which is usually not obvious to a visitor - breathing problem. Her eyes were pale, lips silent, touch tentative and her mother Sakina was no better. Sakina carried Sana all the way to Delhi from Bhopal in one of the many ‘rallies’ for justice organized by one of the many NGOs working for this cause. She is increasing being cynical of the rallies as are many more people of the town. There is a sense of triviality and hopelessness. Sakina is 25 years old and has two more children. The youngest, Aris, is a fearsome gangster at the age of two! Sakina is intelligent and independent, not the best of assets if you are a muslim woman living in a small city such as Bhopal. Her untiring trips to Delhi for Sana’s treatment which starts with struggle for a seat in general compartment in Bhopal Express, to finding the right mode of transport at right price to AIIMS from Nizamuddin, to going to the right department and right doctor in the hospital, to getting an appointment, to getting food and accommodation, invite criticism and mockery! This all she does without the support of her husband who is either indifferent or away from home driving a truck while Sakina does all this alone with help of few friends and volunteers (long live the spirit of volunteering and friendship!).



Today, when I met her for Sana’s final operation at AIIMS, Sakina was unusually down. I was pretty pensive as well, thinking about Sana’s condition, the Bhopal gas tragedy, the erstwhile Union Carbide (now a part of Dow Chemicals), the 26 year old one-sided struggle for justice (or rather travesty of it), the NGOs, the governments promises of restoring justice and compensation to the victims, numerous farcical memorial hospitals in Bhopal and the continuing pollution of soil and water in Bhopal even today of which Sana is a rather recent but not the last victim. There was anger but a deep sadness close to helplessness which I felt while walking from the metro station to the ward in the cool winter evening. After a while Sakina told me that her elder brother passed away today. He was 35, the only bread earning member of the family of three children and a wife. The reason – unknown infection in the ear and throat.

‘How long did he have this problem?’ I asked rather calmly. I was not terribly surprised. I had read, heard many such incidents and met many of the victims of the continuing pollution due to the untreated hazardous chemicals dumped by Union Carbide. One of them is another little girl who would remain little as her height has not increased after her seventh chronological year. She is the grand-daughter of Tulsabai, whom I met at one of the rallies in Delhi and promised to visit her home in Bhopal.

‘Fifteen days back. There were no symptoms or illness before. Everyone thought it is paralysis, but I knew it is what it was. I had seen many such people on my innumerable trips to ENT departments of many many hospitals. But no one listen to me as I am the youngest’ Sakina replied. ‘Even doctors could not diagnose is properly’ she added.

She did not cry, did not complaint against the UC, Dow, doctors, government, NGOs or her fate. There was no anger or restlessness in her voice, just plain acceptance of the way things are.

‘They informed me in the morning. I wanted to go back immediately. But, they all said, ‘what has to happen, has happened, you take care of the girl’. Sakina said it as matter-of-factly as she did everything else.

As I was walking back, I was feeling less anger and more helplessness. The question in the title started to fade away and another one was taking shape. I was thinking about my role in all this and the usual ‘what can I do’ question popped up. This question has been very heavy for me on many occasions, wore me down and crumpled me as well. I did not want to get into that now.

I reminded myself of the story of the squirrel who wanted to do his bit in the great construction of the bridge by Lord Ram and his army of monkeys over the ocean from India to Sri Lanka. While the powerful monkeys and bears carried heavy boulders and rocks and placed them one after the other after writing Lord Ram’s name on it, this little animal rolled over and over in sand and then went up to the bridge and shook off all the sand to contribute to the building of the bridge. The benevolent and thankful Lord was moved by this gesture and caressed the animal’s back many times. This is how squirrel got white stripes on its back.

Such, acts of escape by using ones power of imagination or memory is the way we avoid the voices of our conscience and continue to live as usual.