
NEW DELHI, June 12: Sandesha aate hain, hamen tarpate hain…..Ke tum bin yeh ghar soona soona hain.It was the first time that the song was playing inside a cinema hall in Delhi on June 13, 1997. It was also the last time that 59 persons, 22 of them less than 20 years old, among the 1,200 strong audience at Uphaar, watching Border, would hear the song. Javed Akhtar’s lyrics have since become chillingly symbolic after what followed inside the auditorium a few minutes later.
For days on end friends and relatives of the 59 who perished that day were shattered, crying behind closed doors for their wives, children, fathers and mothers. But they fought back their tears and decided that those 59 lives would not have been snuffed out entirely in vain. The Association of Victims of Uphaar Tragedy (AVUT) followed, and each of the families found a new reason to live.
They wanted to ensure Uphaar probe would not go the way of the investigation into the fire at Hotel Siddharth Continental in which 37 persons died 11 years earlier.
Says Neelam Krishnamurthy, who lost her 17-year-old daughter, Unnati, and 13-year-old son, Ujjwal, in the tragedy and is the spokesperson for AVUT: “People in India do not know how to handle grief. We came out of ours because of our children… they did not deserve to die like this.”
Life for both Neelam and her husband Shekhar Krishnamurthy these days is centred around AVUT. Shekhar says: “We have nothing to plan. There are just two of us at home. There are times when we sit for hours without speaking to each other.”
Raman Sidhu, is another of those persons whose life changed on June 13. His father, a former Union Civil Aviation Secretary, is the only other surviving member.
Raman’s wife Malvika and their children Saloni and Sonika died that day. Also gone forever are his sister Mallika and her children Madini, Tarini and Dhruv. Raman says that he cannot forget Malvika telling him — even as she gasped for breath — how each member of their family collapsed, until the toxic fumes consumed her.
The Sidhus and Raman’s brother-in-law Jagdeep Mann left the city today. Each wants to spend June 13 grieving in private and nowhere near the scene of the tragedy. Harish Dang, however, will be in Delhi tomorrow even as “a part of him dies everyday”. He lost five members of his family in the fire: his wife, son, sister-in-law, and her two children died even before they could be taken to the hospital.
“I am working and living because my daughter does not have a mother anymore. And I will fight till the day those responsible for destroying so many homes are brought to book,” says Dang.
There are others like Dharam Pal Arora, who lost his daughter Monika, days before she was to be engaged. “I had bought the jewellery, the clothes ….I have performed her last rites with my own hands, yet sometimes I feel she will return. If only I had not stopped her from going to her uncles’s place in Saharanpur on the previous day,”says Arora.
Durga Dass works as a dhobhi in South Delhi. His 21-year-old son, Ravi, had gone to watch the movie on the fateful day. But till late in the night, Das had no clue about his whereabouts.
“Some people told me that there was a fire in the cinema hall. Ravi died, I had so many dreams…” says Durga Dass who has returned to work because he is the sole earning member in the family.
A sobbing Naveen Sawhney whose 22-year-old daughter Tarika was also one of the victims says, “Nobody likes to light his daughter’s pyre. I will never be able to accept this. Not once in the last one year have I forgotten that moment when I saw her body in the hospital.” Narinder Kochar, who died in the incident along with his wife, Geeta, and children Natasha and Neha, is survived by his brother. Says S.M. Kochar: “They just vanished, my brother and his whole family. But why?”
Twenty-two-year-old Sudip Rahi’s mother still cannot believe that her son is dead. Sudip was retired central government employee R.S.Rahi’s younger son.Rahi, who has aged more in the this one year than all of his 62 years put together, says that he had pinned all his hopes on Sudip who was studying hotel management.
Sudip’s birthday was on June 14, but his friend insisted that he give a treat the previous day and take him to the premier show of Border. Sudip died in the fire, but his friend survived.
There were many others. Prem Wangyal, finance secretary in the Sikkim government, and his wife Pruna Wangyal had come to the city to ensure that their son joined a good college.
On June 13, the couple went to watch Border, and never returned. Their son has since gone back to Sikkim.
Capt. M.S. Bhinder could have survived, even after his wife and child died. But Bhinder saved others, and as he went back to the cinema hall each time, the fumes weakened until he collapsed forever. Their only son dead, his parents have gone back to Amritsar.
Despite the trauma that all these families have been through, their determination to see that those responsible for the incident punished has not dimmed.
“The Ansals have never cared to meet us, though they see us in the courts every now and then. We don’t need sympathy, we want justice. In the US there was this incident when a person tripped over the carpet in a cinema hall. The hall was shut down for two days until the owners rectified the defect. In India…” say the Krishnamurthys and other members of AVUT.
AVUT has a request: “Delhiites should boycott cinema halls on June 13 as a mark of respect for those who died, even if they are not relatives of the victims. This is the least they can do.”


