Five Past Midnight in Bhopal - Dominique Lapierre [114]
Not all the brick built houses bordering on the slums were as welcoming. Ganga Ram and Dalima chose to flee along the railway line leading to Bhopal station. Ganga was convinced that he would find refuge a little farther on in one of the villas occupied by the railway workers. He knocked on the door of the first but received no response. Afraid that the wave of gas would catch up with him again, he did not hesitate before breaking a window and climbing inside. A moment later came the sound of gunshots. Believing he was the victim of a break-in and still unaware of the accident at the factory, the owner of the property had fired his revolver. Fortunately, in the darkness, he missed his target.
The unspeakable was happening. Driven by the wind, the wave of gas was catching up with the flood of humanity trying to escape. Out of their minds with terror, people with shredded clothes and torn veils ran in all directions, trying to find a pocket of breathable air. Some, whose lungs were bursting, rolled on the ground in awful convulsions. Everywhere the dead with their greenish skins lay side by side with the dying, still wracked with spasms and with yellowish fluid coming out of their mouths.
Amid this hell, the bicycle repairman Salar came upon a vision that would haunt him. As he reached the corner of Chola Road, he narrowly escaped being knocked over by a white horse, bridled and saddled as if for some celebration. Through the veil of gas burning his eyes, he recognized the white mare that only a few hours earlier, Dilip, Padmini’s bridegroom, had ridden to his wedding ceremony. With its eyes bloodshot, its nostrils steaming with burning vapors and its mouth foaming with greenish vomit, the animal bolted away, came back at a gallop, stopped sharp, gave a heartrending whinny and collapsed.
Of all the extraordinary scenes that marked that night of horror, one in particular would leave an impression on the few survivors: the frantic flight of a fat man in his underpants and vest, gasping his lungs out pushing a heavily loaded cart. Nothing could have prevented the moneylender Pulpul Singh from taking with him something more precious than life itself: his safe full of bank notes, jewels, watches, transistors, gold teeth, and, above all, the property deeds pawned by the wretched residents of Orya Bustee.
40
“Something Beyond All Comprehension”
Less than four hundred yards from the apocalypse taking place on the Kali Grounds, a stout man fiddled happily with his mustache. Sharda Diwedi had won. None of his power station turbines had failed. Bathed in an ocean of light, his niece Rinu’s marriage ceremony was coming off with all the brightness hoped for. The final part of the ritual was reaching its conclusion. At a signal from the officiating priest, the girl’s father would address his future son-in-law with the words that would officially seal the union of bride and groom. “I give you my daughter, in order that my one hundred and one families may be exalted for as long as the sun and the moon continue to shine, and with a view to having an heir.” The guests assembled under Parvez’s beautiful shamiana held their breath. In a few seconds’ time, these words would bind the two young people together forever. But they were never to be uttered. The ceremony was rudely interrupted by shouting. “There’s been an accident at Carbide’s! Bachao! Get out of here!” frantic voices yelled from all directions.
Already a suffocating smell was invading the center of the Railway Colony. Moving in small pockets at different heights, the cloud seeped around the buffet tables, the dance floor, the swimming pool, the musicians’ stand and the cooks’ braziers that immediately flared up in a chemical reaction. As dozens of guests collapsed, the stationmaster, Harish Dhurve, was hit by deadly vapors. Letting go of his last glass of English liquor, he fell to the ground. Dr. Sarkar, who had forbidden him any alcohol, braved the blanket