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Correspondent

23 August 2024 at 9:59:04 pm

Fatal Negligence

Newborns dying in a fire inside a government hospital is a devastating indictment of a system that is supposed to protect its most vulnerable patients. The Amravati District Women’s Hospital tragedy, where a blaze killed three infants, joins a long list of preventable institutional failures. Thirty-nine babies were inside the three-compartment facility when the fire erupted after a ventilator in the neonatal unit caught fire. Thirty-six were eventually rescued. Parents and eyewitnesses have...

Fatal Negligence

Newborns dying in a fire inside a government hospital is a devastating indictment of a system that is supposed to protect its most vulnerable patients. The Amravati District Women’s Hospital tragedy, where a blaze killed three infants, joins a long list of preventable institutional failures. Thirty-nine babies were inside the three-compartment facility when the fire erupted after a ventilator in the neonatal unit caught fire. Thirty-six were eventually rescued. Parents and eyewitnesses have alleged that the fire alarms did not sound and the automatic sprinklers failed to activate even as the district administration has said the hospital underwent regular fire audits and had applied for this year’s audit. An audit is meaningful only if it establishes that equipment works when lives depend on it. Maharashtra has already witnessed the deadly consequences of fire-safety failures in public hospitals. In 2021, eleven Covid-19 patients died in a fire at the Ahmednagar district hospital even though a fire audit conducted months earlier had recommended a firefighting system. The Amravati tragedy demands more than the familiar ritual of a high-level inquiry, compensation and promises of “strictest action”. The announcement of ex gratia payments cannot compensate parents who have lost a child they had barely begun to know. The investigation must establish not merely what ignited the fire, but why it was allowed to become fatal. Was the ventilator properly maintained? Were electrical and medical devices routinely inspected? Did alarms function? Were sprinklers operational? Was the NICU appropriately located and equipped for evacuation? Were staff trained and drills conducted? And most importantly, who was responsible for ensuring that every safeguard worked? There is another troubling detail: the neonatal unit was reportedly housed on the third floor, rather than at ground level, and questions have arisen over whether the unit was part of the building’s original plan. The state has built an elaborate architecture of laws and child-protection standards which seldom matches the situation on ground. Whether in government hospitals, schools or anganwadis, safety has become a box to be ticked rather than a responsibility to be lived. The most vulnerable children are consequently left dependent not on systems, but on the vigilance and heroism of individual staff members. That is an appalling way to run the childcare infrastructure of one India’s most developed states. A NICU is perhaps the worst possible place for institutional complacency: its patients are immobile, medically dependent and extraordinarily vulnerable to smoke, heat and even brief disruption of life-support equipment. The government must ensure that the Amravati deaths do not become another entry in the grim ledger of hospital tragedies followed by inquiries, outrage and forgetting. The real test will be whether the state can prevent the next newborn from dying in a hospital that was supposed to save him.

Broken Faith

For generations, the Ram Janmabhoomi movement was about far more than bricks and mortar. It was sustained by faith, sacrifice and an unwavering belief among millions of devotees that one day a grand temple would rise at what they regarded as the birthplace of Lord Ram. After decades of political battles, social upheaval and legal contestation, that dream finally became reality. For countless Hindus, it marked the fulfilment of a civilisational aspiration.


This is precisely why the allegations now emerging from Ayodhya are so disturbing. The Special Investigation Team constituted by the Uttar Pradesh government is probing serious irregularities in the handling of donations offered by devotees, to the tune of Rs. 7-7.5 crores missing. Investigators are examining the procedures governing donation boxes, cash counting and the movement of personnel entrusted with handling offerings made in good faith by worshippers.


The details are deeply troubling. Individuals involved in counting donations are under scrutiny for sudden and unexplained financial growth. Authorities have allegedly recovered substantial sums of cash. Questions are being asked about assets accumulated by persons linked to temple operations.


When a devotee places money into a donation box, it is an act of faith. The offering is made not to an institution but to the deity. Those entrusted with managing such offerings carry a responsibility far greater than that borne by ordinary administrators. They are custodians of sacred trust. The allegations that have emerged have wounded the emotional bond that millions have forged with the temple.


While a scandal in a government department is unfortunate, a scandal involving a sacred institution is even more corrosive. It risks breeding cynicism where reverence should exist. The Ram Mandir is too important an institution to be shielded from scrutiny. In fact, because of its significance, it must be subjected to higher standards of transparency than almost any other public body in the country.


While the temple itself remains a symbol of faith, what requires examination are the actions of those entrusted with managing a sacred institution. For years, devotees contributed money, labour and emotional energy to a cause they believed transcended politics. They did not do so to enrich temple employees or power brokers.


The SIT investigation must therefore proceed without fear or favour. Every allegation must be examined. Every financial trail must be followed. Every individual, regardless of proximity to powerful figures, must be held accountable if wrongdoing is established.


The Ram Mandir was built through the devotion of millions. Its sanctity cannot be compromised by the greed of a few. The greatest threat to the temple today does not come from outside its walls. It comes from the possibility that those entrusted with protecting faith may have betrayed it. And for devotees, that is the most painful betrayal of all.

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