Five Past Midnight in Bhopal - Dominique Lapierre [138]
“How long would it take you to attempt such an operation?” asked the Indian professor.
“No more than five or six days,” answered Woomer. “And what about the local people? How are they going to react when they hear the factory’s going into operation again?”
The American engineer could not answer that question. Someone else was going to do it for him.
45
“Carbide Has Made Us the Center of the World”
The chief minister of Madhya Pradesh was exultant. Warren Woomer’s idea would enable him to erase the memory of his surprising absence on the night of the tragedy and win back his electorate. This time he would be seen right there on the battlefield. To ensure that his heroism paid off, he would need to convince the people of Bhopal that restarting the factory would be extremely dangerous. He therefore promulgated several safety measures with the purpose of creating an atmosphere of panic. He ordered all the schools closed, despite the fact that they were in the middle of exams and most were situated outside the risk zone. Next he called in eight hundred buses to evacuate all those living within a two-and-a-half-mile radius of the factory. Once people were well and truly terrified, he revealed the plan from which he would emerge a great man. He dispatched an army of motorized rickshaws equipped with loudspeakers across the city. The whole of Bhopal then heard, in his steady, reassuring voice, “I have decided to be present in person in the Carbide factory on the day when its engineers start it running again to remove the last drops of any toxic substances. This moment of truth will be a token of your humble servant’s dedication to your cause. This is not an act of courage, but an act of faith, and that is why I am calling this challenge to get rid of any residual dangers at the cursed factory, ‘Operation Faith.’”
As the fateful day for restarting the factory approached, businesses closed, streets emptied and life came to a halt. The chief minister encouraged the exodus to become a torrential flood. Driven by the fear that he had so adroitly stirred up, people threw themselves into his eight hundred buses and into any other means of transport. They abandoned their homes in buffalo carts, rickshaws, scooters, bicycles, trucks, cars and even on foot. The railway station was taken by storm. Afraid that their homes would be pillaged, people took with them anything they could. One woman left with her nine-month-old goat in her arms. For the oldest Bhopalis, the sight of trains covered with people piled on the roofs, hanging from the doors and steps, brought back sinister memories of India’s partition. “This spontaneous migration,” wrote the Times of India, “defies all reason.”
The newspaper was right: Bhopal had lost all reason. Yet, as Ganga Ram and Dalima were to find to their astonishment on their return to Orya Bustee, it was not in the place worst affected by the gases that the terror raged most intensely. If anything, the reverse was true. Their neighbors might look like ghosts with their cotton wool pads on their eyes, but they were no longer afraid. Although the deaths of Belram Mukkadam, Rahul, Bablubhai, Ratna Nadar, old Prema Bai and so many others had created an irreparable void in their small community, the joy of being reunited with friends was stronger than the fear of another disaster. The reunions of Ganga and Dalima with Sheela and Gopal, Padmini’s mother and brother; with Iqbal, Salar and Bassi, to name but a few, were occasions for celebration. What a joy it was to discover that Padmini was still alive in Hamidia Hospital and that Dilip was with her! What a relief to find one’s hut intact when so many others had been looted!
Ganga and Dalima realized at once that the priority for people