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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.

Cracks Within

Political parties can survive scandals and electoral setbacks. What they often struggle to survive is the loss of purpose that follows a crushing defeat. The decision by 20 rebel Trinamool Congress MPs to merge with the Nationalist Citizens Party of India and extend support to the NDA is best understood through that lens. Much commentary has focused on the arithmetic of Parliament and the legal intricacies of anti-defection laws. Yet the deeper story is about what happens to a political movement when it ceases to be the principal vehicle of power.


Only weeks ago, the Trinamool Congress suffered the most devastating setback in its history. After fifteen years in office, it was swept from power by the BJP, which now governs West Bengal under Chief Minister Suvendu Adhikari. Instead of triggering any introspection, it has triggered a complete disintegration.


That should not come as a surprise. The Trinamool had largely held together by Mamata Banerjee’s cult of personality and electoral success. Once that success disappeared, latent tensions within the party began surfacing with remarkable speed.


The scale of the rebellion within TMC makes clear that many senior leaders had concluded that the Trinamool, in its current form, offered little prospect of revival.


Rather than immediately joining the BJP, the rebels have chosen a more circuitous route apparently designed to navigate the legal constraints imposed by anti-defection laws. Whether that strategy withstands judicial scrutiny remains uncertain. What is clear, however, is that the rebels are seeking not merely survival but leverage. Their support strengthens the NDA’s position in Parliament at a moment when important legislative battles loom ahead.


For the BJP, the development presents both opportunities and risks. Additional parliamentary numbers are always welcome. Yet the party must also guard against becoming a refuge for every politician seeking shelter after electoral defeat. Bengal voters endorsed change partly because they were weary of the political culture associated with the previous regime. They may not look kindly upon its wholesale importation into the new order.


For the Trinamool, the crisis is existential. Legal challenges may slow the rebels’ advance, but courtrooms cannot substitute for political renewal. The party’s leadership confronts the uncomfortable possibility that the rebellion is not the cause of its troubles but a consequence of them.


History suggests that opposition parties can recover from even the most severe setbacks. But recovery requires adaptation, new leadership and a compelling vision.


The question is no longer whether it can return to power. It is whether it can remain a credible political force long enough to attempt a comeback. Their loss of power has exposed how much of the organisation’s cohesion depended on access to office rather than adherence to a common political project.

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