Five Past Midnight in Bhopal - Dominique Lapierre [90]
Five days later, a special train decorated with flags and garlands of flowers pulled in at the same platform in Bhopal station. It was bringing the population one of the thirty-two urns with the ashes of the dead prime minister that were making their way around the country. An honor guard of uniformed soldiers carrying inverted rifles, and a brass band playing a funeral march, waited to take the precious relic to an altar that had been erected in the middle of the parade ground where the city’s poetry evenings were usually held.
The entire city had gathered along the route. Belram Mukkadam, Ganga Ram, Dalima and Dilip, Padmini and her parents, Salar, all the occupants of the Kali Grounds, including old Prema Bai and the legless cripple Rahul on his wheeled plank, were there to pay their respects to the woman who had one day proclaimed that the eradication of poverty should be India’s first priority. For two days thousands of Bhopalis of all castes, religions and origins came to throw flowers at the foot of the altar decorated with the flags of the country and of Madhya Pradesh. Banners identified the various groups: Congress party members, associations for businessmen, or the unemployed.
After its sojourn in Bhopal, followed by a pilgrimage through the cities of Madhya Pradesh, the urn was taken back to New Delhi. There, a military aircraft escorted by two MiG-23s, carried it, with the other urns, over the highest peaks of the Himalayas. On board the aircraft was Rajiv Gandhi. He emptied all the urns into a basket, which he covered with a red satin veil. As the plane flew over the eternal snows of the river Ganges’s birthplace, India’s new leader cast the basket into the crystal clear air. Indira Gandhi’s ashes were returned to the high valleys of Kashmir, the land of the gods and the cradle of her family.
33
Festivities That Set Hearts Ablaze
November, the month for festivities. While Union Carbide abandoned its Indian industrial jewel to its sad fate, the unconcerned City of the Begums gave itself up to all the joy and celebration of the world’s most festive calendar. Nowhere did this taste for rejoicing manifest itself with as much intensity as in the Kali Grounds bustees. There, festivals wrested the poor from the harsh realities of their dayto-day lives. A more effective vehicle for religion than any catechism, these festivals set hearts and senses ablaze with the charm of their songs and the rituals of their long and sumptuous ceremonies.
The Hindus opened the festivities with a frenzied four-day celebration in honor of Durga, the conqueror-goddess of the buffalo demon that rampaged through the world a hundred thousand years ago. The entire city was filled with splendid pandals, temporary altars built to hold the statues of the goddess, all dressed up and magnificently bejeweled. Two such altars brightened up the otherwise gloomy Chola and Jai Prakesh Bustees. For four days, people processed past them, regardless of any distinctions of faith. The men wore woolen sherwanis over their trousers; the women silk kurtas and dangling earrings that made them look like royalty.
At twilight on the fourth day, the statues of the goddess were hoisted onto a luggage cart that Ratna Nadar had borrowed from the train station. His wife and Dalima had draped it with a piece of shimmering cloth and decorated it with flowers. Ganga Ram’s musicians were there again to provide accompaniment. At the same time, in other parts of Bhopal, similar processions were setting out. They made for the shores of the Upper Lake in the heart of the city, where the statues crowned with their gilded diadems were immersed in the sacred waters, bearing with them all the joys and afflictions of the Bhopalis.
A little while later, it was the anniversary of the birth of the prophet Muhammad and the Muslims’ turn to celebrate. The Kali Grounds’ families painted their homes, outside and in, with whitewash tinged with green, the color of Islam. Chains of multicolored garlands were strung across