Comitted to PEOPLE'S RIGHT TO KNOW
Vol. 4 Num 52 Fri. July 18, 2003  
   
Editorial


In my view
Requiem for the dead


Facts are stranger than fiction and here is such a case. Standing before a tea-stall, he saw the tragedy of the capsized launch unfold on TV. He was overwhelmed with shock and horror by what he saw and heard. Moved by the scenes on river Maghna he trudged all the way from his home in Chandina to Chandpur to see the salvage work for the survivors and retrieval of deadbodies. At one point he could bear the agony no more and jumped into the river to commit suicide. He was rescued by a boatman whose boat was passing by. Jamaluddin, a 35 year agricultural labourer, had no relation travelling in the ill-fated launch that went down in the confluence of rivers near Chandpur. To judge by the interview he gave to news reporters, he does not appear to be a mentally deranged person. But being sensitive he became one, at least temporarily, when he saw the human dimension of the tragedy. Thereby hangs an object lesson for others, many.

Several hundreds of people, who were healthy and very much active in life, suddenly went to their watery grave. One more scene in the endless saga of tragic deaths in launch disasters was enacted in Meghna. Like the accident, the hapless victims became mere statistics overnight. But even as statistics, determination of the number of dead has bred confusion and uncertainty. According to a survivor, the ill-fated launch was carrying about 750 passengers as against the permissible number of 295 for night journeys. Besides, it was loaded with tons of cargoes, though carrying of cargoes in passenger launch is prohibited. The launch capsize, according to preliminary enquiry, is both due to overloading of passengers and cargoes and the careless navigation into the treacherous spot where rivers converge with ferocious currents. From the ill-fated launch, that was devoured by a strong whirlpool, only 220 passengers could swim to safety. That leaves more than 500 dead or missing. Casualties in any accident that number in hundreds evoke shock, horror and grief. It was, therefore, natural for print media to give prominence to the news of the accident. "600 feared drowned" screamed a headline in bold letters. Other papers carried more or less similar headlines and detail reports on the accident. The news continued for several days till hope of rescuing survivors vanished and relations of passengers were told to return home. In editorial after editorial, the tragic loss of lives was mourned and demand for punitive and preventive measures were made. Distressingly, all appeared like replay of an old record. There may be frustration implicit in such repetition. Even anger may become part of such seemingly routine expressions of grief and mourning by newspapers.

Mourning for the dead does not bring them back. But it conveys the sense of loss and the depth of grief. Mourning also pays homage to the departed souls. The dead, when they were alive, belonged to a community, to a nation, to the whole human race. Their death diminishes the human race, the nation and the community just as it leaves a vacuum in the lives of their near and dear ones. It is, therefore, only natural that along with the bereaved families of the victims, the nation and the international community should mourn. When human lives are lost on such a large scale there is usually coverage in foreign media and condolences from foreign countries. The BBC gave coverage to the launch disaster in Chandpur prominently. Condolences were received from abroad. But it will be difficult to say that the dead has been mourned in a befitting way by the nation itself.

Accidents like the recent launch disaster near Chandpur have taken place before, at various times. The reactions made were more or less the same as at present. There is no point in trying to compare the post-disaster actions taken at various times in the past and at present. These are very standardized and all too familiar. The outstanding fact is that inspite of shock, horror, grief and measures taken, accidents in rivers keep on taking place. And almost always, actual mourning for the dead is private, confined to the near and dear ones of those drowned. There has never been a national mourning in a formal sense to remember the dead and pray for their soul's eternal rest. What purpose would such a national mourning serve? One may ask. For one, it would convey to the relations of the dead and missing that they are not alone in their grief and loss. Collective mourning can provide sympathy and solace to lessen the burden of sorrow. A national mourning can declare unequivocally that the nation is united and cares for every member, whatever his or her position in life. Victims in such accidents being mostly from poor families, expression of collective mourning is also a declaration of national solidarity, irrespective of class or status. A national mourning, when duly articulated, is also an admission of guilt and of failure. It can strengthen the resolve to prevent the occurrence of similar tragedies in future. Mourning, thus, becomes a collective expiation.

Even when casualties in disasters are in hundreds we as a nation do not seem to be moved sufficiently to mourn the dead with due solemnity and shock. There are hardly any condolence meeting or processions of civil society wearing black badges and carrying black banners. It is a great puzzle that these normal public posturing resorted to every so often for sundry causes are not availed of to express grief and to mourn the dead collectively. How can this lapse be explained? Can it be that the regularity with which these accidents occur has blunted the impact of shock and made them appear banal? Or is the blase attitude due to the fact that their deaths are not seen as price paid for any great cause? Most probably the apathy is due to fact that the people who die in such accidents are ordinary people, anonymous and unknown. But if it is accepted that they are part of the nation, that admission alone calls for national mourning. If they died without any cause, that meaninglessness also is a matter of grief.

A young journalist, obviously with a very sensitive mind, wrote in a weekly after the disaster: "to some (and they number many among us some would go so far as to call them majority) those were the first questions that came to mind (about the accident) as news of M V Nasrin-1 sinking at Chandpur broke. In our living rooms, our office meetings, our private university canteen and sitting cushy in our Lexus Suvs, some of us thought of all these whys." Fine sentiment, but very fanciful. 'In our living rooms' discussion don't centre around a launch capsize in Chandpur but perhaps about holidaying abroad. In 'our' parties, guests talk about the latest gourmet restaurant in Gulshan. In private universities children of the rich display their designer dress to impress class fellows. People who use Lexus Suvs may not even know the name of Chandpur. A few sensitive souls huddling in staff meeting in newspaper offices is not the microcosm of the macrocosm. Not to speak of being the majority, they do not even constitute the significant minority.

National mourning is required to express grief and pay respect to the dead. This has to be dictated by conscience and based on a shared sense of loss over the death of the victims. A nation should be united in times of shock, horror and grief. This is necessary not only to pay respect to the dead and share the sorrow of their near and dear ones. It is also required to strengthen the resolve to prevent similar accident from taking place in future. Out of such national mourning will come demand for changes in law, regulatory system, enforcement of rules, compensation to the relation of the dead. Left to bureaucracy, enquiry will be held in the routine manner and the report, as usual, will be sent to cold storage. The civil society has to ensure that this is substituted by really meaningful implementation of decisions, both to punish offenders and for taking preventive measures. So far, civil society has failed to rise to the occasion. It mush not fail in future or even now.

After the tragic deaths of hundreds in the launch disaster in Chandpur only one man, who is not related to any of the dead or missing passengers, gave public expression to his mourning. Jalaluddin, the day labourer from Chandina, saved the nation from embarrassment and shame. Contrary to speculation, he is very much a sane man. He became mentally deranged, temporarily, by the impact of the tragedy. Perhaps his reaction was melo-dramatic and foolhardy, too. But he alone tried to redeem the role of the nation in such a tragic moment. He should make the rest of us rethink.

Hasnat Abdul Hye is a former secretary, novelist and economist.