Remember Bhopal Museum: Memorial of a magical land destroyed

If inverted, the land we live in leads us to its mirror image, a mystical fantasy land. If ever you could pass through this dimension and reach the mystical land, and then turn around and look back at our physical land, you’d see it is divided in three tiers.

The top tier is the Curtain of Darkness. Though there is such sorcery that there is neither any curtain nor any darkness. One sees glistening man-made mountains of glass and steel, shining roads, and every conceivable luxury. The lands biggest scamsters, crooks, hustlers, rioters, rapists, swindlers, history-sheeters or, in other words the elite, the powerful, the rulers of our land live there.

The next tier is the Land of Hidden. Here everything you see is not what it is. Everyone walks here with a hidden intent. Every word uttered has to be deciphered. Every statement made has to be analysed. Though you’d hear abstracts like honesty, justice, fair play, integrity, service, sacrifice, democracy, equal rights; you’d also find people writing about these things, intellectualising these terms, lecturing on these concepts, holding satsangs on these ideas but deep inside everyone wants to debunk these terms and desires to be an elite. Everyone wishes to be behind the Curtain of Darkness.

The lowest tier is the Land of Apparent. Here everything is what it is. So, hunger is hunger here. Pain is pain here. Suffering is suffering here. Not possessing anything here is not possessing anything here. There is no spin on words here. All anyone is told here is that it is your Karma to be in this realm. Seek forgiveness and pray for salvation.

A river of blood and fire separates the lowest realm from the other two. The only way to hop across is to use the Bridge of Smoke over the river but anyone attempting that invariably falls through the bridge, into the river and perish. But the myth is kept alive that one day through acceptance, forbearance and prayers one would make it to the other side. And if one has served one’s penance, the smoke will harden as stone under one’s feet and one would saunter across to the other side.

However, to keep up this myth and to maintain this magical land day after day is not an easy task. One has to periodically infuse wealth in the land. So, at times the elites in the Curtain of Darkness allow sorcerers from foreign lands to come and invest here. In turn these foreign sorcerers farm, mine, exploit our resources and augment their wealth. Thus in a mutually beneficial way the elites of all the lands prosper.

Once a sorcerer tripped on an idea that he can farm a vaporous monster cheaper in our fantasy land. Though the monster was extremely lethal but there was big money involved so our sorcerers readily agreed to allow him to farm here. The sorcerer tamed the vaporous monster, made clones of it, and kept them trapped in multiple sky-high glass bottles. And of course, as this facility was extremely dangerous, it was placed in the lowest tier.

But one day the sorcerer in his hubris became negligent and forgot to cork the bottle. One of the vaporous monster escaped the bottle and soon spread over the town. People ran from their houses complaining of burning chillies thrown in to their eyes and screaming “Run, Run!” Within few hours that monster had gobbled thousands and thousands of people.

There was furore. As usual the people in the Land of Hidden made all the right noises about justice, compensation, etc. but the elites gave a safe passage to the guilty sorcerer and let him escape to his own land. The elite sorcerers did what they’re best at - creating a semblance of justice, a make-believe world where the victims were dished out justice but in reality the sorcerers colluded, connived with the guilty sorcerer and obstructed justice in every way.

Further, as the business of investment and development must continue, the elites decided to sweep the land clean of all filth. Wells were made across the town and the victims were thrown in them to keep them away from the visitors’ eyes. But at times people would discover a well or two. They would peep in to it, sympathise with the victims, or do a case study on them, or do drug tests on them, or interview them and write reams and reams about their suffering, few would even do candle light vigils for them but no one would get them justice.

One day one of the victims escaped one of the wells and made it somehow to the Land of Hidden and reached the court where the trial for justice was on. To his horror he found that the judge, the guilty sorcerer, his lawyers, the elites - they all looked the same. One could not distinguish one from the other. Horrified he came out of the court and found a poet reciting these verses:

Baney hain ahl-e-hawas muddai bhi, munsif bhi

Kise vakil karein, kis-se munsifi chaahein?

(Nisar Main Teri Galiyon Ke - Faiz Ahmed Faiz)

Villains are judges and usurpers both 

Who is our advocate, where shall we seek justice?

(Translation: Poems by Faiz, V.G. Kiernan, George Allen & Unwin Ltd, London, 1971)

The victims and the survivors decided that whether they get justice or not, they’ll build a memorial for their suffering and struggle, which will remind the posterity of the injustice done in this land.

I doubt you can ever make it to the magical land. But if you wish to visit this memorial in our own land then you may drop in at:

Remember Bhopal Museum

Senior HIG 22, New Housing Board Colony, Near Triveni Heights, Berasia Road, Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh, India.

The Twitter handle is @RemBhopalMuseum.