The concept of disaster management exists only as a form of heroism, not as more prosaic prevention drills, which we sneer at
The fire that raged on Thursday in Mumbai’s Mantralaya claimed five lives. But that doesn’t convey the true scale of the conflagration, which caused extensive damage.
The chief minister’s office, the office of the deputy chief minister, and, ironically, the state disaster management cell, were among those gutted. Such occurrences are unheard of in developed countries, but here they are a fairly regular feature, with their incidence rising with the rising urbanisation. That marks out India’s true status — a third world country with pretensions of glory, where the finest regulations are put in place but few observed, including anti-fire regulations.
Last year, it was the fire at the posh AMRI Hospital in Kolkata in which 89 people died. A year before that, in 2010, it was Kolkata again, where the historic Stephen Court building went up in flames, killing 43. Similar stories emerge after every such incident. Our attitudes as Indians are exposed through these.
Take the latest one, for example. The fire at Mantralaya started around 2.20 pm, and some fire alarms started to ring. The reaction was — nothing. The high-security building, with all its VIP bandobast, did not react at all. Visitors continued to file in, bureaucrats sat where they were, and ministers held durbar. This continued for at least 20 more minutes, by which time the smoke started to make its presence felt.
Then the fire brigade was called in. Five vehicles arrived in about 10 minutes, but the fire was on the fourth floor, and so vehicles with snorkels to reach that height had to be called in. That took more time. Then there was confusion about whether water ought to be used at all — it was said to be an electrical fire.
Meanwhile the fire grew, a crowd gathered outside, roads were jammed all over Mumbai, helicopters were called in, chaos ensued. In the end, five people died.
The very Indian attitude that emerges from all this is the “nothing-will-happen” attitude, which is a curious mix of fatalism and 3 Idiots-style “all eez well”. We don’t bother about fire alarms or safety measures because we put accidents down to destiny. The concept of disaster management exists only as a form of heroism, not as more prosaic prevention drills, which we sneer at.
The deeper reason for this attitude is the sheer volume of threats we face merely going about our daily lives. Even crossing the street or taking a Mumbai local train can feel like an adventure to a foreigner, with good reason. A Right to Information Act petition had uncovered in 2008 that on average 10 people die using local trains or on the rail tracks in Mumbai daily.
Accidents that happen so regularly cannot be explained by destiny, but by backward thinking.
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