I was born and reared in Bhopal, from where I obtained my Masters in Economics in 1990. My father had joined the Bharat Heavy Electrical Limited (BHEL) in 1961. The factory, built in 1957, was inaugurated by Jawaharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of India. My father is retired, but preferred to live in Bhopal with my two brothers and sister.[break]
My Mama [maternal uncle] Prem Bahadur Thapa, a retired soldier of the Gorkha Rifles of the Indian Army, was a security in charge at the ill-fated Union Carbide Company. He lived alone in his official quarters within the company premises.
It was the night of December 3, 1984. I was then an 11th grader at the Mahatma Gandhi Higher Secondary School in Bhopal. The moon was shining and its beams flooded everywhere. But I felt uncomfortable in bed. I was trying to sleep. I felt the air was heavy and also had difficulty in breathing. My throat was parched and burning, so were my eyes.
About that time, my father arrived home after his nightshift duty. He told us to wet pieces of cloth and wrap around our faces. It was 5 o’clock in the morning. I realized that many neighbors had come out of their houses, and begun asking about such an unexpected change in the air. My father called us inside and shut the doors and windows. He said something about a gas leak, but from where he knew not. Meanwhile, we heard blazing sirens in the distance. It got louder with every passing moment. And soon, we understood what they were saying on the loudspeakers. They warned us not to come out of our houses, because the air was laced with a poisonous gas. My younger brother, a science student, thought of a possible chemical bomb fired by Pakistan. We ignored him and his speculations.
By 7 o’clock, we felt a bit easier in breathing, and our eyes had stopped burning. As to our neighbors’ questions about the sudden change in the air, someone mentioned an accident in the Union Carbide Company, which had already killed many people. No sooner had my mother heard this than she began crying uncontrollably. She asked my father to find her brother, the security officer at the factory. I understood the gravity of the situation, and asked my father to stay home and we decided to go to Union Carbide immediately.
My younger brother and I collected some members of the Shree Pashupatinath Nepali Samaj to go to the factory. The Samaj was founded in 1978 by some Nepalis living in Bhopal. In 1984, its chairman was Professor Dr. Indrajeet Rai. He was a respected professor at the Maulana Azad College of Technology (MACT) in Bhopal. He was later invited to Nepal by the then king Birendra, and presently, Prof. Rai lives in Kathmandu and teaches military science.
The seven of us scooted fast to Union Carbide. When we crossed Bogdapul, near Jahangirabad, we saw scores of dead buffalos scattered on the open space of a slaughterhouse. This was the first scene of death we encountered on the way to Union Carbide. This scene sent shivers down our spines and made us more apprehensive. The air around the area was extremely unbearable. Three of my friends had masks on. We covered our faces with handkerchiefs. We rode past without wasting time. As we drove ahead, more horrors unfolded. Dead bodies lay almost everywhere. Many people were running crazily, looking for their family members, and in tears. The stomachs of dead bodies were swollen out of proportion, and streaks of dried marks of thick frost were visible around their mouths. Their eyes were red and wide open. The whole situation was agonizing and messy.
With great difficulty, we reached the Union Carbide. The police standing at the gate allowed us to visit the employees’ quarters, where lay 12 dead bodies. One policeman asked me to confirm the bodies. With a heavy heart, I lifted up the sheets of all the corpses, but my mama was not among them. We rushed to the Hamidia Hospital, hoping to find him there. The hospital was packed with hundreds of thousands of people. All were victims of the gas leaked from Union Carbide. They had difficulty in breathing, and their eyes were red and swollen. The hospital was not prepared to meet a disaster of this magnitude. Meanwhile, one of the hospital workers asked us to help take away dead to the morgue. The room was already stacked with dead bodies; there was no space for any more. Among the dead were children and elderly people. I tried to locate my lost uncle among the dead. It was impossible to find him in the heaps.
I saw doctors administering the patients with eye drops. It was estimated that about 10,000 people immediately died, and another 25,000 were to perish in the next few days. Mass funerals were organized while hundreds of bodies were reportedly thrown into the Narbada River. Over 5,000 dead animals were collected and buried. Most of the trees shed their leaves. The state government declared a total of 36 wards as affected by the gas leak.
The exact number of deaths would never be known. Different reports made different claims, which contradicted each other. But the truth is more people died later. The effects of Methyl Isocyanides (MIC) killed its victims slowly. Many mothers gave birth to stillborn babies, and those who survived died in the next few days. The poison of the gas was so severe and lingering that many affected people are still dying. And those who survived don’t have sound health. Soon after the incident, I developed respiratory disorder and asthma, which I still have. Even after years of medication, I can’t get rid of the complications.
After about a week, we received a call from Hamidia Hospital. And to our pleasant surprise, the caller was none other than my Mama. By then we had presumed him to be among the dead. We brought him home, some 10 kilometers away from the Union Carbide Company. His health improved. He told us the inside story of the Union Carbide Company.
“At about midnight, we heard sirens. I informed the engineer on duty, who turned off the siren without delay. But after about half an hour, it started to blow again. By this time, we began feeling the effects of the gas. I’m an ex-soldier, so I knew what I should do at such a moment. I wrapped my face with wet cloth and wanted to go to a higher elevation. I told others to do the same. But many began collecting their valuables before leaving. This delay cost them their lives. Many breathed their last before they could make an escape with their goods. I ran as fast as I could. But after half an hour, I fainted and lost my consciousness. I didn’t know how I was brought to hospital.”
My Mama, being a security officer at the plant, knew more about its security-related matters than anybody else. He said the engineers and the management did not pay adequate attention to the maintenance of the tankers, which contained tons of toxic elements. The main maintenance supervisor was also absent on the day of the incident. Moreover, the company did not have a good safety track record as there had already been many small accidents in the past. For instance, in 1981, a worker died when he inhaled a leaked phosgene gas. In January 1982, the same gas leaked, and 24 workers, including two Nepalis, were taken to Hamidia Hospital. They could be saved only after several days of intensive medical care. In February 1982, MIC gas leaked and affected 18 workers. They were admitted to hospital in serious condition. In August 1982, a chemical engineer contacted liquid MIC, and received burns over 30 percent of his body. In October 1982, there was yet another MIC leak which burnt two engineers. Similar incidents took place regularly from 1983 to 1984.
Following such accidents, my uncle resigned his post in January 1983. But the management did not accept his resignation. They rather increased his allowances, and promised to improve the security arrangements to avoid frequent accidents. A few days later, a group of workers at the factory even went on a hunger strike, demanding better security system inside the plant.
The Union Carbide never accepted its faults for the accidents. And the greater truth is it was only Union Carbide which was responsible for the historic disaster. It simply ignored several safety measures because they were expensive. For instance, the refrigeration system was turned off. It was meant to keep the MIC at 4.5 degree. But it was left at 20 degree Celsius, at room temperature. The steam boiler, meant to clean pipes, was not used for a long time. On the whole, over 80 percent of its safety systems were ignored by the Union Carbide management that subsequently led to the above accident.
In addition, the management also regularly dumped its deadly chemical wastes in the backyard pits, contaminating underground water. In 1982, not a single tube well was found safe to drink from in and around the plant. In 1991, the municipal authorities declared water of over 100 such wells unfit for consumption. After the incident, the BBC took water samples from regularly used hand pumps from the north of the plant, which was found to have 1,000 times the world Health Organization’s recommended maximum amount of carbon tetrachloride, a carcinogenic toxin. One can also calculate how much damage Union Carbide has caused to the environment as well.
With time healing people’s wounds, life began returning to normalcy. We were asked to fill compensation forms. I remember people across Bhopal standing in serpentine queues to fill up the documents. After spending several hours in a queue, my brother and I also filled our forms, hoping to get some compensation in future.
It has been 25 years since, and a legal battle is still going on. The Government of India claimed US$3.3 billion, but Union Carbide agreed to pay only US$350 million. In fact, the sum was for insurance only. Eventually, a settlement was reached under which Union Carbide agreed to pay US$470 million. From 1990, an interim relief of Rs. 200 was paid to every one of the families of the afflicted 36 municipal wards. A sum of 25,000 Rupees was paid to the family who received personal injuries. For death claims, the average sum paid out was Rs 62,000. The total number of cases registered was 1,029,517; out of which only 574,304 were found genuine while 455,213 were rejected.
Several victims of Union Carbide could get no relief, whereas many claimers pocketed large sums by producing fake documents. This has enraged people who received no relief from the government despite having lost everything in the tragedy.
These disgruntled people have
waged a legal battle against the company that continues in the Bhopal District Court.
Two months after the incident, my father received a call from Nepal one morning. My mama’s elder son was on the phone. He said his father was no more. We were shocked by the news of his untimely demise. Actually, we had asked him not to go back to Nepal until fully cured from the effects of the gas. But he insisted, saying he was alright, and he would return if necessary.
We called his wife in Bhopal to file claims for the compensation. It was her right. But we realized it was not as easy as we had thought. Even after spending several months, she was denied the compensation that was desperately needed by my uncle’s children. At this very juncture, however, a Nepali advocate called Dan Bahadur Malla appeared. He must be praised for his support for the Nepali gas victims. He fought their cases in the Bhopal court with all his commitment and sincerity. In the end, success came, and many Nepali gas victims, including my mama’s wife, received their sums of compensation.
So many years have passed since the tragedy, but the heartrending cries of mothers and their babies still echo in my ears. And the sight of those horrible lifeless bodies haunt me in my dreams. The trauma has debilitated me to a great deal.
By writing this piece, I would like to pay my sincere tributes to all those unfortunate souls who perished in the tragedy. May God rest their souls in peace! I also ask the state government of Madhya Pradesh to do justice to all the victims who have been forced to live agonizing lives. Justice delayed is justice denied, true, but in the cases of the victims of the Bhopal gas tragedy, justice has already been delayed beyond human patience.
LB Thapa, a freelance writer, is an author. His debut novel, “The Quest of a Dead Man” is soon to be published. He can be readed at:
lbthapawriter@gmail.com
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