Five Past Midnight in Bhopal - Dominique Lapierre [136]
“Naturally, all those charges carry the right to bail,” intervened Keshub Mahindra, president of Carbide’s Indian subsidiary.
“I’m afraid that is, unfortunately, not the case,” the magistrate replied.
“So what about our meeting with Chief Minister Arjun Singh?” asked the American anxiously.
“You will be notified about that as soon as possible,” the police chief informed him.
The likely instigator of this brutal reception was absent from Bhopal. He had left the capital of Madhya Pradesh that very morning to join Rajiv Gandhi on an electoral tour. He had, however, left instructions with his spokesman. As soon as the three visitors had been arrested, the latter was to muster the press and deliver the news with maximum impact. Arjun Singh, though a long-standing friend of Carbide, expected to make the most of his audacity. By having the American company’s chairman and his Indian partners arrested, he was setting himself up as the avenger of the catastrophe’s victims, a move that could only help him in the next parliamentary election. “The government of Madhya Pradesh could not stand passively by and watch the tragedy,” his spokesman told journalists on his boss’s behalf. “It knows its duty to the thousands of citizens whose lives have been devastated by the criminal negligence of Carbide’s directors.”
News of Warren Anderson’s arrest created a sensation from one end of the planet to another. This was the first time that a third world country had dared to imprison one of the West’s most powerful industrial leaders, even if his prison was a five-star guest house. In New Delhi there was great consternation. The Indian foreign affairs minister had promised the U.S. state department that nothing would impede Anderson’s journey. Quite apart from wishing to avoid an overt clash with the United States, Indian leaders were afraid that the incident would dissuade large foreign firms from setting up in India forever. The chief minister of Madhya Pradesh would have to release his prisoners immediately. Never mind justice; matters of state required it.
Three hours later, Bhopal’s chief of police, assisted by several inspectors came to announce the release of the American prisoner. His Indian colleagues would be set free some time later.
“A government airplane is waiting to take you to Delhi, from where you will be able to return to the United States,” he informed him.
He then presented him with a document. To his stupefaction Anderson discovered that the sum of 25,000 rupees, about $2,000 at the time, had been posted by his company’s local office as bail. He had only to declare his civil status and give his signature and he would be free.
“Twenty-five thousand rupees for the release of the head of a multinational responsible for the deaths of three thousand innocent people and poisoning two hundred thousand others! What does that make an Indian life worth?” inquired the Indian press the next day.
The news created an immediate uproar in the pack of reporters jostling with each other at the entrance to the guest house. The most significant reaction, however, came from a crowd of demonstrators pressed to the railings of the research center. From the car bearing him away to the airport, Warren Anderson could see a forest of placards above their heads. The sight of the few words inscribed on the pieces of cardboard would haunt him for the remainder of his days. “Death to the killer Anderson!” shouted the people of Bhopal.