It was early morning of a cold 3rd of December, about 20 years now, when we heard the news, that some kind of an industrial accident had taken place in Bhopal, my home town in India. Everything had changed. This sleepy little town had suddenly woken up to being the sad and unfortunate city, where thousands died after a poisonous gas at the Union Carbide plant (now owned by Dow) in the heart of the city, was released.

It is etched in history as the Bhopal Gas tragedy of 1984, one of the worst industrial disasters in the world. Bhopal has rightly been called the Hiroshima of the chemical industry. Almost 22,000 people have died until now and more than double this number are alive, but disabled due to the exposure. The world has almost forgotten about them.

The Central Government of India, the State Government, the international and national press, the various international bodies, DOW - the current owner of the company which was responsible for this accident, have almost forgotten all about the existing hundreds of thousands injured. But the memories of that cold night is etched vividly in the minds of most who were there and survived it.

The heavier than air poison methyl isocyanate gas which leaked, no wind, very crowded narrow streets, all combined into a disastrous situation and turned Bhopal into a gas chamber. Small crowded houses mean that most people sleep on the floor, the cold weather meant that they were sleeping tightly wrapped up in blankets with doors and windows tightly closed. The heavier than air gas meant that it crept along the ground and entered through every crack and slot in doors and windows. The lack of wind and narrow streets meant that the poison gas wasn't able to be dispersed. Plus the industrial plant (which made pesticides) was slam bang in the middle of the old city, surrounded with slums and the aforementioned teeming humanity. Hundreds died in their sleep, thousands more found their lungs rotting away, couldn't breathe, couldn't see because of the streaming eyes. It was a scene from hell, but something which we didn't know when we set out to college at 7 am.

There were very few students around and our Professor of Chemistry, Dr. Maini, took the opportunity to talk to us about the use of carbon to absorb poisons. Be that as it may, by 8 am in the morning, it was clear that there will be no classes and I made a beeline to the canteen to quaff the usual cuppa chai. My friend Rajan was also there and we were discussing the little that we knew about the accident. We were young lions then and we decided to go over to the scene of the accident and see if we could possibly help out in any way. So we hopped on Rajan's bike and off we went to the far side of the train station and looked around for, well, something to do or somewhere we could help. We spotted a small team of doctors from the local main general public hospital and asked them, can we help? Well, I think we were more a hindrance than a help but be that as it may, we opened doors, offered water, gave directions etc.

I can only remember few snippets, a small desolate monkey chained to a tree in one of the very narrow lanes between mud houses. It survived because it was higher up in the tree so the heavy methyl isocyanate gas didn't affect it that much, but still it yowled with streaming eyes. It was a startling sight, seeing a small monkey crying. Piles of dead buffaloes, extremely dusty air, a sense of eerie desolation in some of the lanes where everybody was dead. The lawns in front of the Gandhi Medical College were covered with shrouded bodies. One very poignant scene I will never forget, a child was sitting next to a shroud, pulling on the arm and softly crying out, "Mother, why aren't you waking up?"

The second day, the army stepped in with their heavy equipment and we could see transporters and mobile cranes breaking houses to get to the piles of dead cattle to dispose of the carcasses, to avoid more of a catastrophe. Quite a lot of the houses had their own buffalos and cows in their courtyards and they had died there. Obviously, the big army transporters and mobile cranes couldn't really enter into the narrow streets, so they called out the tanks to break in. The heat of the afternoon was bloating the carcasses and we heard stories of how people had died when they were caught in the vicinity of some of the carcasses exploding. The bulldozers on the outskirts of the city were digging huge massive trenches lined with limestone to bury the cadavers.

The cattle were lucky, they had these machines lift their carcasses up and bury them quickly. The humans were singularly unfortunate. With the Muslim injunction to bury the dead on the same day, bodies went unburied for a long time because entire families were wiped out. Grave diggers are amongst the poorest of the poor and there were not that many of them in the first place. Shallow graves were dug and people buried willy nilly. One of the most poignant photographs that I remember is of a little baby being buried in a very shallow grave, its eyes open and a hand trying to cover its body with a thin layer of soil and stones. Look at the hyperlink given below and then see if it doesn't rip your heart apart with sadness.

http://cwis.livjm.ac.uk/soc/programmes/geography/studentwork/cottam/pressu2.jpg

Rajan and I went back the second day and again tried to help out, giving medical attention (which consisted of giving digestive tablets and asking people to wash their eyes out with water). Nobody had a clue about the accident. The junior doctors were bewildered by the symptoms. So there was actually no real cure to the problem and the doctors were trying to do something, anything at all, to try to help the poor sufferers who had started coming up in droves for help. Let us also not forget that Bhopal is a small town, with very little medical infrastructure combined with ignorance about the poison gas, it was really very little anybody could do, but to helplessly watch them die or suffer.

Much has been written about the inquiry on the accident, the medical details, the legal situation and the law suits, the compensation paid and all that. Thousands of these men, women and children have and are going to keep on suffering because of this accident. Their lungs have rotted out. They cannot walk 10 steps without gasping for breath. The women who were widowed were absolutely wretched because their man had died and left them with no economic hope. The state government, so significantly stretched for resources, had to try to help the survivors. Small industrial units, such as sewing workshops and light manufacturing, were set up. Local medical centres were built, research centres established to research these conditions, industrial engineers understood and have spread the word on safety and storage of these dangerous gases, town planners have learnt about the dangers of having chemical plants inside the town levels.

The recent EU chemical safety directive has got some connections to this disaster. The world learnt much from this disaster, the survivors got something out of it and the general public has now forgotten all about it. Life goes on. Robert Frost said : "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life - it goes on."

I revisited this incident 20 years later this year and was extremely impressed and amazed by one of the most remarkable things which came out of this tragedy, namely the Bhopal Memorial Hospital and Research Centre (BMHRC). It simply showed that not all the world had forgotten those victims. It is a reminder that a small group of dedicated people are still looking after them. This group of people are the unsung heroes who come out of this extremely sorry state of affairs with any credibility whatsoever. This column is my little contribution towards highlighting their efforts.

I have had personal experience of that horrifying incident. I came across this amazing group of people in trying circumstances again when my father had to undergo emergency open heart surgery recently at the Bhopal Medical Hospital and Research Centre. I hadn't heard of this hospital before and once my father recovered, I was able to look around in amazement and pride. Obviously, I may well be biased because of my personal involvement, but hey, I am not writing a news story but an opinion piece! The doctors were amazing; they were extremely professional; they never say die (no pun intended) and were extremely caring and communicative to the relatives. I can but salute their professionalism and brilliance and will respect their desire for privacy. That said, here's the story behind this hospital and the amazing people who run it.

The first thing which one notes when one comes into this hospital is how amazingly similar it is to any of the NHS hospitals in the UK. It is based on a huge plot of land, which was given to them by the state government. It has a huge super specialised research centre, accommodation for all the staff and the hospital building itself. Also attached to the hospital are several outreach centres, which are dotted around in the city, to provide local immediate support to the gas victims. Once one is inside the gates, it is wide open, with wide roads, trees by the ton and flowers. After parking one's car, one reaches a small courtyard when the hospital opens up in front of you. It's a nicely done up building, in dressed sandstone.

The second thing is the awesome cleanliness of the building. In the developed countries, cleanliness is taken for granted, but we are talking about a general hospital in a small provincial city in a poor country like India. One can not compare this hospital with the other general hospital, where one can sometimes even see cows roaming the corridors. There is a small army of cleaners, the corridors and wards are cleaned thrice a day with disinfectant being sprayed once a day. There are big signs against spitting.

People who know India would know this absolutely disgusting habit of spitting "paan" juice or phlegm into anywhere and everywhere. Absolutely filthy habit! But walk around this hospital and you are faced by signs promising a fine of 100 rupees if one is caught spitting. Consequently, the corners and walls are clean and shiny. Not to mention the no-smoking policy all over the hospital and the grounds. That in itself means that the hospital managers and security have to be complimented. I would have requested the President of India to award this hospital with the highest award just for this. One looks at this place and thinks, yes, this hospital's doctors mean business when they look after the health of their patients.

Quite a lot of the patients come to the hospital only for serious illness, while general day to day issues are handled by the outreach clinics inside the city. The hospital handles about 500 patients per day, while the out-reach clinics handle a couple of thousand daily. These patients at the hospital almost always come in because of pulmonary diseases or eye problems (mostly because their lungs and eyes were severely damaged by the poison gas). It also has specialised research facilities into these medical problems.

I was sitting next to one patient and I could hear him trying to breathe. The heavy wheezing and rasping sound was really horrible and this was from a young man of about 24 years of age. He told me how he was saved because his grandmother was sleeping on a cot and kept him with her, while he was a young child on the cot. The rest of his family, who were sleeping on the floor, all died. Other related problems such as heart problems, eye problems etc. are directly or indirectly related to problems such as these. 99% of the patients are registered as "Gas Affected" and their entire treatment, medicine and stay is free. About 1% of the patients, as was my father, are private patients and pay market rates for their treatment.

The hospital was setup with funding from Union Carbide as well as other sources. The brilliant thing was, the hospital was set up as a trust with a bunch of very strong and independent people on the governing board. The hospital basically runs on the interest earned from this fund. Guess what? This annoys the local politicians of all hues to no end. Why? Because they cannot get their hands on this money and obviously there is no corruption. The stories which I heard about how the politicians tried to put pressure are legion. This is why I am so impressed by this hospital and its administration, that it has managed to do so well, despite the local politicians. It also helped that there are good strong people on the board, who are able to resist the blandishments of these politicians. Not to mention the pressure put on them by the criminal class. If there is something I wanted to say to these goons is, leave these wonderful people alone, please do not infect them and tear down something which is a jewel in the crown of India.

One of the local state government ministers was admitted to the hospital for sorting out some serious medical problem and I had a ring side view of the entire episode. First of all, it was rather surprising that he didn't go to the general hospital, but decided to come to the BMHRC. I wonder why? Secondly, the entire ministerial entourage was there, the lot of hangers on, the leeches and sycophants, who would near enough get inside the OT if they would have been allowed to do so. The Chief Minister came to visit her colleague and the entire juggernaut rolled inside the hospital, which was crazy. It was a sight to be seen and I watched on with disbelief as security guards, photographers, journalists, hangers on, and all just barged inside the hospital willy nilly. I saw patients and their families being shoved aside for this absolutely gruesome procession. I am sure the chief minister didn't realise (or did she?), the impact of her visit, but I am deeply disappointed by the entire episode.

The passage in and out of the hospital as well as inside was strictly controlled through passes. Each patient is allowed to have one family member with them during their stay. As usual in Indian hospitals, the entire family and their dog stay with the patient and for obvious reasons, it is tough on the patient. Apparently the biggest security issue is the number of fights which break out when friends, family and well wishers want to visit the patient in the hospital. About time too, first get the patient well, get him/her home, and then they can see and muck around to their heart's content.

I will wind it up now, but before I do, I wanted to say that after the 1989 spill in Southern Alaska, Exxon Corporation paid roughly $940 per oil covered seal. It's a running joke that when the first two seals were rescued, cleaned, nursed back to health, and released into the sea in a huge fanfare of publicity, the two seals were snapped up by a killer whale and killed. Tragic, no? It is even more tragic when one considers that the human victims of this poison gas got about $500 per head. Makes one think of the relative importance given to humans versus seals, eh? Still, if there is something which came out of this entire sad episode with honour, it is the BMHRC, the doctors and staff who work there. I salute them.

All this to be taken with a grain of salt!

(The opinion expressed herein, are strictly the author's and do not reflect the positions, official or otherwise, of any firm or organisation, that the author is associated with at the present or has been in the past or may be in future.

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta, currently working on a doctorate at Kings College in International Relations and Terrorism, also holds a Doctorate in Finance and Artificial Intelligence from Manchester Business School. He works in the City of London in various capacities in the Banking Sector. He also lectures at several British Universities.)