Remembering Bhopal Gas Disaster | Governments Do Not Care About the Poor: Bhopal Gas Tragedy Activists

What are your memories of the night of December 2-3, 1984, when toxic gas leaked from the Union Carbide factory, engulfing Bhopal in a deadly cloud?

Bee: Before the gas leak, I lived in a joint family of 37, making beedis at home to make ends meet. That fateful night, after a long and exhausting day, we were about to sleep when a sudden commotion erupted outside. Curious, my nephew opened the door but immediately began coughing violently. Our eyes burned as if on fire. “Someone’s frying chillies,” he muttered, stepping out to check. Within moments, he burst back in, panic-stricken, yelling, “Run! Run! Or we’ll all be dead!”

We ran into the chaos, not knowing where we were heading. Barely 500 metres into our flight, we were gasping for breath, our eyes stinging as if needles were piercing them. The streets were filled with people—running, stumbling, crying. Those who fell were trampled. Unable to breathe or run any further, we collapsed to the ground, praying to Allah for a merciful release in death.

Hours later, amidst that mayhem, I heard the name Union Carbide for the first time when someone shouted that the gas leak at the factory had stopped and it was now safe to return home.

People were crammed into jeeps, trucks, and other vehicles, and rushed to hospitals. We were dropped off at a hospital in Jahangirabad. Patients flooded in, writhing in pain. Many arrived barely clinging to life and, within moments, were dead. The hospital soon turned into a scene of horror—people were dying at a terrifying pace. Doctors, unsure of how to respond, worked frantically: some administered eye drops, while others gave injections.

People anxiously looked around, checking who in their family had made it through the night. Our father was nowhere to be found. Desperate, we rushed to Hamidia Hospital to search for him. We witnessed horrors beyond words—scores of women, children, and men lay there, lifeless and pale, their eyes swollen, faces frothing at the mouth, unrecognisable in a frozen grimace. Heart-wrenching wails echoed all around us. My jeth (brother-in-law) had seven family members, all missing. We sifted through the dead, clinging to the faint hope that, somehow, our loved ones might still be alive.

That winter, panic gripped Bhopal. People fled in droves. The trains—oh, they brought back haunting memories of the partition of India and Pakistan. Each one was bursting at the seams, with people crammed into every inch of space. Even after more bogies were attached, it was not enough to accommodate the fleeing crowds. Everyone was escaping to wherever they had family, kin, or a safe haven. We, too, became part of that exodus, not returning until six months later.

In 1989, you led a protest march to Delhi to meet Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi. What demands did you present to the government, and what challenges did you encounter along the way? Did you receive any support?

We were fighting against discrimination—demanding equal wages, job regularisation, and the enforcement of the Factories Act for women victims of the gas leak working at the government-run stationery factory in Bhopal. To amplify our voices, we formed a women’s union, the Bhopal Gas Peedit Mahila Stationery Karmchari Sangh. But when the Madhya Pradesh government ignored our legitimate demands, we decided to take them straight to Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi. With 100 women, 25 children, and 10 men, we set out for Delhi—penniless but resolute.

The march was fraught with challenges. Our detractors had warned that we were leading the women to disaster, insisting that we would never make it to Delhi—that dacoits in Chambal would rob and kill us. But when we reached Chambal Valley, the dacoits surprised us with their empathy. “It’s a shame our sisters have to march to Delhi because the government here won’t listen,” one said. They offered us milk, barfi, Rs.400 for food, and even escorted us to the Chambal bridge.

In Dholpur, the collector was hostile. “Who asked you to come here?” he snapped, refusing to let us stop or rest for even a while. Tired, we pushed on through the night. Along the way, kind strangers offered tea, milk, and meals. Many women protesters sold their mangalsutras and anklets to buy food. After a gruelling march of around 800 km, we finally made it to Delhi in one month and three days.

When we reached Rajiv Gandhi’s bungalow, we were told he was leaving for Paris for 15 days. Disheartened but determined, we camped at India Gate, awaiting his return. During our 10-day stay, [former deputy Prime Minister and former Haryana Chief Minister] Devi Lal visited us and gave us Rs.2,000 for food. Eventually, Motilal Vora, the then Chief Minister of Madhya Pradesh, sent us a message promising to fulfil our demands. He urged us to return to Bhopal and arranged our train travel. Trusting that a Chief Minister would not lie, we returned home. However, once we were in Bhopal, every attempt to meet him failed. That was when we took our battle for justice to court.

How did the 1989 March to Delhi pave the way for women to play a decisive role in Bhopal’s struggle for justice?

The women’s march of 1989 was both historic and revolutionary. It marked a turning point wherein poor, marginalised, and often voiceless women discovered the power of their collective strength. That march gave us the confidence that women are as strong and capable as men. Together, we became a formidable force, unafraid to challenge the might of Union Carbide and confront unresponsive, insensitive, and often hostile governments. Even today, those who marched that first time remain united, fighting for the rights of the survivors.

In 2001, when The Dow Chemical Company acquired Union Carbide, you mobilised the women of Bhopal, organising a powerful grassroots movement against Dow. Could you share more about those struggles and what they entailed?

In 2001, Dow Chemical acquired Union Carbide and accepted responsibility for its liabilities in cases such as claims from asbestos victims in the US. However, it refused to address the unresolved liabilities in Bhopal.

In 2001, 300 women from Bhopal stormed Dow Chemical’s office in Mumbai, demanding action. Their message was clear: clean up Bhopal’s poisoned water and soil, and support survivors and their ailing children. We smeared their office with red colour—a symbol of Bhopal’s blood. But instead of accepting responsibility, Dow called the police and slapped us with a lawsuit.

In 2002, we organised a fast-unto-death in Delhi to demand justice for the Bhopal survivors. Our key demands included the extradition of Union Carbide’s former CEO Warren Anderson; clean-up of the contaminated soil and water; healthcare for survivors and their children; economic support for families unable to work due to illness; and the release of information about the disaster’s health impacts.

That same year, we collected 5,000 brooms from the Bhopal survivors and kicked off the “Jhadoo Maro Dow Ko” (give Dow a sound thrashing) campaign. We presented a garland of brooms to Dow Chemical’s Mumbai office as a reminder of their responsibility. In response, they told us to take our grievances to Dow America and filed yet another lawsuit against us.

A delegation from Bhopal travelled to South Africa for a conference attended by corporate representatives. We raised our brooms high, declaring that the women of Bhopal had taken a stand to ensure the horrors we faced are never repeated elsewhere. We reminded them of the Bhopal disaster and called for accountability from corporations like Dow that build hazardous factories. Our message resonated, and the women of South Africa stood in solidarity with us.

We also protested outside the venue of Dow’s shareholder meeting in the US, met the United Nations’ Deputy Secretary-General for Economic and Social Affairs, and presented brooms to Dow’s executives in Europe. They were so afraid of brooms. Our global campaign gained massive support from students, shareholders, and citizens, raising awareness of corporate environmental crimes. Despite Dow’s extensive PR efforts, their share value plummeted under the pressure we created.

In 2004, you received the prestigious Goldman Environmental Prize, also called the Green Nobel, for your leadership in grassroots environmental activism. Two years later, you founded the Chingari Trust Rehabilitation Centre. What is the focus and impact of Chingari’s work?

The award we received belongs to everyone, especially the women of Bhopal, who fearlessly stood against the injustice by Union Carbide and its allies. Inspired by that collective spirit, even before receiving the award money, we announced that it would be used for the welfare of the gas survivors. We committed the funds to three key objectives: first, to provide free treatment and rehabilitation for the children impacted by the Bhopal disaster; second, to create employment opportunities for the gas leak-affected families struggling to make a living; and third, just as the Goldman Environmental Foundation recognised and encouraged our efforts, we decided to honour and encourage women working to protect the environment in rural areas.

Founded in 2006, Chingari supports the second and third generations of children from families impacted by the Bhopal gas tragedy and water contamination. It offers a comprehensive range of services, including occupational therapy, physiotherapy, speech therapy, special education, recreational activities, nutritious meals, and more.

Our initial goal was to support 100 children, hoping to set an example for the government to follow. The care these children received at Chingari brought remarkable improvements, prompting more families to seek our help. However, with limited resources, we faced significant challenges. Despite repeated appeals for government assistance, none was provided. In 2009, the Bhopal Medical Appeal (UK) stepped in with vital financial support, enabling us to expand and sustain our efforts.

Today, Chingari serves as a lifeline for hundreds of children from impoverished families suffering the long-term health effects of the disaster. Over 1,300 children with disabilities are registered with us, and around 300 come to Chingari daily for free medical care and rehabilitation services. Our mission is to empower these children to lead lives of dignity and fulfilment.

Chingari is the only hope for many parents. In the past, doctors often told them that their children with disabilities would not live long. Struggling to make ends meet, many had no choice but to lock their children at home while they went to work. These children endured hunger, thirst, and neglect, often lying in their own waste, suffering silently in isolation. Many passed away due to this neglect. Today, thanks to Chingari’s rehabilitation efforts, these children receive care, and many not only manage their daily routines but lead independent lives as mechanics, vegetable sellers, and more. Chingari has given parents hope that, even after they are gone, their children will live with dignity and will not be left to suffer alone.

In 2006 and 2008, several survivors’ and supporters’ groups organised marches from Bhopal to Delhi to meet Prime Minister Manmohan Singh. What were the key concerns that you raised during these protests?

Research studies revealed that the soil and water within the abandoned Union Carbide plant boundary, as well as its surrounding areas, were contaminated with dangerous metals and chemicals. In 2004, the Supreme Court directed the Madhya Pradesh government to provide clean drinking water to bastis (settlements) surrounding the Union Carbide plant. In 2005, hundreds of women marched to the bungalow of the Bhopal Gas Relief and Rehabilitation Minister, demanding access to safe drinking water. Instead of addressing the issue, the minister filed a case of dacoity against 12 of us, which dragged on for five years before we were acquitted.

In 2006, around 50 people from Bhopal, mostly women and gas survivors—some in their 80s—marched to Delhi to meet Prime Minister Manmohan Singh. We presented several demands, including the establishment of a National Commission on Bhopal with the authority and resources to manage healthcare, research, economic rehabilitation, and social support for survivors; access to safe drinking water for bastis affected by contaminated groundwater; and the scientific assessment and remediation of contamination at and around the defunct Union Carbide factory, among others. In 2008, we marched to Delhi once again to reiterate these demands. As a result of these protests, piped water was provided to some of the bastis affected by water contamination.

In 2018, the Indian Institute of Toxicology Research identified 42 colonies affected by contaminated water near the abandoned Union Carbide factory. A 2022 study by the Bhopal-based Sambhavna Trust Clinic reported contamination in 29 additional colonies. What are the most common health issues resulting from exposure to gas and contaminated water?

After the disaster, survivors faced a wide range of health issues, including persistent pain in their limbs, respiratory difficulties, weakened immunity, digestive disorders, fatigue, hypertension, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder. Despite their declining health, many had no choice but to return to work to support their families. However, they had lost their vitality and would become exhausted far too quickly. As the impact of contaminated groundwater became more evident, people were found to be suffering from severe illnesses such as cancer, liver and kidney disorders, thyroid issues, tuberculosis, and other respiratory diseases. Women, in particular, faced a range of health problems, including delayed menstruation, infertility, pregnancy complications, miscarriages, and uterine cancers. Even the third generation is suffering from severe disabilities, the nature and extent of which are unimaginable. Hardly any disability is absent in these bastis—whether physical or mental.

Why has justice evaded the survivors of the Bhopal gas tragedy for so long? Do you still have any hope?

If our government truly cared, it would have swiftly secured justice for the victims. Union Carbide committed heinous crimes, yet instead of holding the corporation accountable, the government chose to punish the innocent survivors. In other countries, even the death of a few seabirds in an oil spill can result in millions of dollars in fines. Here, thousands perished, and hundreds of thousands continue to endure unimaginable suffering—yet the governments remain indifferent. Our lives are worth less than a bird’s. But we remain hopeful. One day, our united voices will be strong enough to demand the justice we deserve.

What lessons can be learned from the women’s grassroots movement for justice for the victims of the Bhopal gas tragedy?

Our four decades of struggle have laid bare a harsh truth: governments do not care about the poor. Whether it is the Indian government, the American government, or even the United Nations—all are beholden to the powerful corporations that fund them. How can justice be expected from those in power when they prioritise protecting their corporate friends over the people they are meant to serve?

The poor can secure justice only through collective, selfless, peaceful, transparent, participatory, and democratic grassroots resistance movements. Whatever limited relief the gas survivors have received is the result of their relentless fight. United, women possess immense power. Bhopal’s fight for justice has been led—and, in many ways, won—by its ordinary women: the poor, the wronged, the ailing, the oppressed, and the brave.