I Was Bhopal Once: A Letter To India!

By Sadho Ram

Greetings India,

Howdy?

I hope (yes hope) that you are duan’ just awesome.

And why wouldn't you? Last week you delivered what others thought you can’t – as in your own word – “a righteous and fair enough justice” to my miserable people.

Why my?

Oh I am sorry… I am so sorry for not introducing myself at the first place.

But before I introduce myself to you, I think I should thank you, as it would be rude if I don’t thank you, right?

But what the heck let it be rude. I won’t thank you. Never!

Hmm…

Now the intro!

I was Bhopal once, yes, a very long ago – to be precise – 25 years and few months ago – I use to be Bhopal once. The land of happy and peaceful people!

Now all I am is a land of worst industrial disaster in history.

At that time most of your today’s generation was not even born, and at this time almost all of my yesteryear’s generation has been either wiped out or is facing unending health problems, still after 26 long but toxic years.

I myself sometime choke, and believe you me, though now I am kind of use to it but it still causes a lot of nausea.

When I heave, blood oozes out from my mouth along with froth.

You will say that I am growing old.

But no, I ain’t actually growing old.

As although I was born somewhere in 1000 – 1055 (quite a long time to be still alive) and so, I don’t exactly remember the date.

Not easy, you see, it has been quite a long period and since then I have been constantly tortured, gagged, raped, tormented, destroyed, betrayed and perished. So it’s just not easy to remember certain dates and events considering what I have been through all my life.

But one thing I am sure, I ain’t growing old.

I hope you understand my situation but please, I beg you to not sympathise with me. No!

I have had enough of this wretched sympathy which you have been showering upon me to cover your own apathy.

As you see, I am today considered to be one of the greenest (Yes) among the greens of yours. So that proves that I am actually not growing old.

So what’s wrong with me then? Why whenever when I heave, the goddamn blood oozes out from my mouth along with froth? Why?

Do you know the answer, India?

I know.

Of course, I am supposed to know but don’t you have any responsibility, too? Don’t you know the reason behind the existence of this bloody froth in my goddamned blood?

I know you won’t accept. Not because you can’t but because you simply don’t have the power of acceptance in you.

What you possess is nothing but your very own self-created pride of falseness born out from your own greedy actions taken against thousands like me.

Oh, I pity you, India. I pity you on your constitution. I pity you on your judicial action. I pity you on your government and its system. Moreover, I pity you on your judgements. I pity you, my India, I pity you!

I was beautiful once and peace prevailed at my door step. I was home to the leading industries (though I still am, but they are only adding up to my misery). I was bathing in glory and my life was set. But now at present, I am in dust and as my past loom hard on me, my future is in debt.

You would say then why don’t you cry, why don’t you shout, why don’t you yell, why don’t you mourn (like a woman) for help? Why, Bhopal, Why?

Well, to be honest I don’t actually want to but a part of me does cry and it also shouts and yells and yes, it also mourns (like a woman) for help, it does!

Not because it (that shouting and yelling part of me) is feeble or cannot fight. But because it (the crying and mourning part of me) needs your hand, your support to stand and ask for what belongs to it – Integrity, Justice and Righteousness.

Will you give me your hand, India? Will you support me in my fight against injustice and inhumanity? Will you stand by my side and say – “I, India, take pledge to support Bhopal and its people, who are still living under the shadow of Methyl Isocyanate, in their fight for Justice,” will you?

I guess you won’t.

Well, I have so much to say … so much so that you probably wouldn’t care to read just like you have not properly tried to avenge the culprits who robbed me off from my happiness and good-life.

So, India, I’m done. Khuda Hafez. Do well. Remember me. All things pass, but the poor and their misery remain. I am the land of poor and miserable people now. Tomorrow there will be more like me. But don’t worry; you won’t have to act to protect them just like you didn’t think about protecting me.

With Shame and Disgust


The rotting in dust Bhopal




The article appears as top story is an online newspaper Youth Ki Awaaz

Die, Bhopal, Die!

By Sadho Ram

“Because you are poor and because you are miserable, so - Die, Bhopal, Die!

You won’t get justice; we won’t let you have it, so better - Die, Bhopal, Die!”

That’s what India and its judiciary system along with its loathing government seems to be saying to the nearly 1,80,0000 people and to more than 25,000 dead of Bhopal who have waited for 26 long toxic years for a rightful justice and a fair compensation.

But in return of their shattering wait, what they get – nothing, absolutely nothing!

Thanks to the false pride of India and its greedy & murkier politics.

On Monday, the 12^th Chief Judicial Magistrate (CJM) of Bhopal delivered an order which at its best gave the accused 2 years of imprisonment and a day after, on Tuesday; all 8 accused were granted bail and released on obedience of a security of Rs. 25,000 by a trial court in Bhopal.

What a mockery of the heart-wrenching throbbing and anguish of thousands of people of that state whose water, after 26 years, is still contaminated and whose air is still toxic; and that too in the hands of its own Nation!

This, my fellow countryman and women, happens nowhere but here – in India.

On 3^rd December 1984, under the shelter of midnight’s darkness, the deadly Methyl Isocyanate leaked from the Union Carbide factory in the heart of Bhopal, immediately killing and maiming its 4,000 people and injuring 300,000 out of the then 800,000 people of Bhopal.

There was absolutely no warning; none of the plant’s safety systems were working. The people of Bhopal woke amidst the harrowing darkness and to the soulful sound of screeching screams and with the gases burning their eyes, noses and mouths. They began retching and coughing up lather streaked with blood. Whole neighbourhoods fled in horror, some were crushed, and others convulsed and fell dead. People lost control of their intestines and bladders as they ran. And within hours thousands of dead bodies lay in the streets; inviting the crows and vultures but alas they too, have had fallen prey to the killer Methyl Isocyanate gas.

Today the toll has risen to more than 25,000 dead, and 1, 20,000 injured and after 26 years of its unfaithful wait – Bhopal has once again been fobbed off in the hands of its own greedy protector – who sold its dead as cheap as $450 million dollars in an out of the court settlement with the main culprits of world’s largest industrial disaster.

Makes you wonder, really?

Is that the life worth of thousands of people of Bhopal, who are still dying from the effect of Methyl Isocyanate? Is that much what the Indian government calculates the life of its poor people as?

Shame on it then, and as Shobhan Saxena so rightfully said in his TOI blog that –

“No country sells its people so cheap.

No country sells its poor so cheap.

No country sells its dead so cheap.”

No country but mine, my country, My India… and only my India who does so and does it without any shame! My heart goes out to all those people of Bhopal but then I wonder of what value is my sympathy to them?

Zero. Nil. Zilch. None. Nothing!

Yes, that’s what it will measure up to, as the people of Bhopal now seek more than just mere sympathy of its Nation. They seek full attention. They seek a better judgement. They seek that long lost path of hope which will bring them what they seek the most – Justice.

But in a nation, where the PM himself says – ‘We are a nation of one billion dollars.’

Who is going to give any heed to the plight of some few thousand poor people’s?

I live in a country where the accused have the reputation of being a “Free and Protected’ man. Upon whom millions of rupees are spent. The most recent example being – the true keeper of Jihad – Azmal Kasaab!

I am reminded of a four line poem by Fiaz Ahmed Faiz that suits the Bhopal and its misery, and to those who seek or hope for justice in this country which sells its people cheaper than chicken’s meat, the best.

“Kyun naahak tukde chun-chun kar, Daaman mein chhupaye baithe ho
Sheeshon ka maseeha koi nahin, kyun aas lagaaye baithe ho”

And so there seems to be none but only one solution to the misery of Bhopal…

Die, Bhopal, Die!




This article is also published in an Online site for the people of India, Pakistan and other South Asian countries called CHOWK

A trimmed version of this article also appears in an online newspaper YOUTH KI AWAAZ