If a poor person dies during what is deemed a natural disaster, they become a statistic, nothing more.
Every monsoon, India’s richest city has its tales of horror: of submerged railway tracks, of flooded roads, of open manholes into which people fall, of trees that collapse, often on passersby, and of hillsides that give way.
This year has been no different. People living in Mumbai are more than familiar with the images we see in newspapers and on television.
But the story that mostly escapes attention is the impact this has on the poor, those who must work rain or shine, with no means to protect themselves or their temporary dwellings from being submerged or even washed away.
And when some of them die, when a wall collapses or they fall into an open drain, they appear the next day as a statistic in the media: 9 dead, two from tree fall; 6 dead including one in an open drain, etc.
Sometimes the dead have names. But just that. Names. We do not know anything more about them. Were they migrants? Did they have families in Mumbai? And who will be held responsible for what are routinely registered by the police as “accidental deaths”.
Worse still, even in death, there is no dignity of those mentioning their names bothering either to get the names right or their ages right.
A loud sound
Take for instance Satish Tirkey. This 35-year-old from Chhattisgarh worked as a watchman in Godrej Baug on Malabar Hill, one of Mumbai’s wealthiest localities. He lived with his wife in Simla Nagar, a large settlement next door that is home to drivers and domestic staff who work in the homes of the well-heeled residents of the locality.
Also living in Simla Nagar are taxi drivers, delivery workers, construction workers and others with jobs across Mumbai.
Tirkey’s job included stepping out of the complex to find taxis for its residents. On August 18, despite the heavy rain, he set out to do that. As he walked down the road, sheltering under a large umbrella, the wall on the side of that road collapsed right on top of him.
Residents of the building facing the wall heard the loud sound and rushed out to their balconies to see what had happened. But they did not realise at first that someone had been crushed by the debris. They watched in horror as stones, mud and water cascaded down as if a dam had broken, filled the road, and flooded their building.
Even before the fire brigade arrived, they saw a man dressed in a yellow raincoat being carried out by three young men. These were the first responders. They were residents of Simla Nagar who saw the wall crumbling, rushed to pull Tirkey out and take him to the nearest hospital. They said he was still breathing when they carried him out despite the barbed wire from the wall having penetrated his body. But by the time they got to the hospital, Tirkey had died.
A cascade of water
Meantime, the cascade of water that had shattered the wall continued unabated. It took the fire brigade and the municipality hours to clean up the road, remove the rocks, clear the stormwater drain and cut a tree that was precariously poised on the broken wall. All this in pouring rain.
The next day, some newspapers reported Tirkey’s death. In some, he was mentioned as a watchman. A few articles gave his name. In practically all his age was wrong – it ranged from 55 to 75.
Most reports repeated what the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation must have told the journalists, that the man died due to a tree fall. A couple mentioned that he was crushed by the wall. What no one wondered was who had built that wall and who was responsible for the flood of water that led to the wall collapsing.
If the person injured or dead in such circumstances had been one of the residents of the buildings of Malabar Hill, how would the media have reacted? Would they not have made sure to get at least the basic details such as name and age and cause of death accurately? Would they not have gone further to investigate why the wall collapsed? Was it just the rain or something more? Who built the wall?
The fact they did not is because Tirkey was a poor man, a migrant worker, one of the millions of such workers who literally hold up a city like Mumbai. These are the men and women who cook, clean, deliver, build and repair. They are mostly invisible. Even when they die, they are noticed in passing, but just as a statistic – a victim who succumbed in an “accidental death”.
In this case, I know that this was an accident waiting to happen because I live in the building that was flooded after the wall collapsed.
Raised wall
The wall in question skirts a garden meant exclusively for senior government officers who live in Hyderabad Estate, which once belonged to the Nizam of Hyderabad. The gates to this large park are kept locked in a city that is starved of open space.
At some point, the height of the wall was increased. The residents of the area and those who regularly use the road would probably not have noticed this.
The original wall was thick, low and made of stone. The extension made it several feet higher, not as thick but with a heavy iron frame and barbed wire on top. Why this was needed to protect the garden is unknown.
What was also not noticed by residents of this neighbourhood is that alongside the wall, a water body with concrete sides had been built. What purpose it served is also not known.
What residents discovered, through their own effort to trace the source of the unending flow of water from the broken wall, was that this pool was overflowing and did not appear to have a drainage system to deal with excess water.
Furthermore, the builders of the wall had left holes in it from where the excess water could drain –onto a road used by thousands of people every day. An old cobbler who conducted his business next to the wall had complained about the outflow of water from these holes. But who listens to what old cobblers say?
A routine event
Two days before the disaster, residents of my building noticed that water was gushing out of several holes in the wall, flooding the road and subsequently our compound. This ought to have been a warning signal. But as this happened on the first day of the deluge that drowned the city, it passed as something that happens when it rains.
Except that this time, after the collapse and the subsequent flood, the water did not stop flowing, even when rain stopped. The municipal corporation would not answer the queries of residents. No one representing Hyderabad Estate was visible during or after the catastrophe.
I narrate all this to emphasise several points.
One, as I mentioned earlier, if a poor person dies during what is deemed a natural disaster, they become a statistic, nothing more.
Second, because it is a poor person who has been killed, there is practically nothing by way of follow-up to fix culpability. The authorities – in this case the municipal corporation and the Central Public Works Department, which is responsible for the garden and the wall – simply throw up their hands or pass the buck. When the rain stops, everything is back to normal.