On September 29, Nitin Bobade, Senior Police Inspector in the Government Railway Police, Dadar station, was among the first emergency responders to reach Elphinstone Road station. He quickly sized up the situation: his training told him that the first 30 to 45 minutes were critical. “I only had three constables with me,” he says. “There was a huge crowd, and my priority was to clear them; helping those stuck would have been impossible otherwise. I had to shout for several minutes before they started moving away.”
He also made calls to the GRP control room, his senior officers, and ambulance services, to ensure everyone knew of the seriousness of the incident. “I cleared the waiting hall in the station with the help of the station master. Then we went down to help those who were stuck. We rescued as many as we could, and took them to the waiting hall while help arrived.” While some bystanders were a hindrance, others were a great help, he recalls: “Some people started fanning the injured people lying on the floor, or rubbing their hands and feet.”
Meanwhile, on the other side of the bridge, Sunil Deshmukh, Assistant Commissioner of Police, Dadar division, was on the job too. “The challenge for us was to extract the injured without causing any further injury,” he says. “They were all entangled with each other, and we had to be very careful while removing them. They were hurt and scared, and we had to simultaneously rescue and reassure them.”
Have they paid a psychological price for the carnage they witnessed? For police personnel, both officers say, this is part of the job. “We see dead bodies and other gruesome sights on a regular basis, having investigated murders fatal accidents and other such incidents,” Mr. Deshmukh says. “The priority is always on helping those affected rather than on getting affected ourselves.” Mr. Bobade adds, “It is part of our training as well as the sense of responsibility that drives us. We are aware that the people are dependent on us and hence we need to keep our focus.”
Dr. S.M. Patil, dean at the Police Hospital in Nagpada, says the police do account for the need for trauma counselling for their personnel. “We have psychiatric consultations available twice a week, where police personnel can share their problems. Over several sittings, the psychiatrists decide on the course of treatment.” But, Dr. Patil says, none of the cops involved in the Elphinstone Road rescue operation had come to the hospital for personal counselling.
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Dr. Pooja Joshi Salgaonkar, emergency medical service officer on duty in the Maharashtra Emergency Medical Services ambulance parked near the Elphinstone railway bridge on September 29, remembers that around 10.30 a.m., a woman in her 30s staggered up to the vehicle, gasping for breath. Dr. Salgaonkar checked her pulse and blood pressure, but after the woman sat in the open air for a few minutes, she felt better, and walked away.
Then, in the next 60 seconds, several more people rushed to the ambulance, supporting others — three men and a woman — all gasping for breath. “We generally get accident victims from the railway station,” Dr. Salgaonkar says, “but patients in a badly suffocated state was something very unusual.” Those four people were the first victims of the stampede to be rushed to KEM Hospital in Parel. “We could hear a lot of shouting,” she remembers. “I knew that there would be more patients coming in.” She knew she could only fit four patients into the vehicle, so she called her seniors asking for more ambulances to be sent.
Dr. Salgaonkar, who is 34 and has served in the MEMS ambulance service for three years, says this was the first large disaster she has responded to. Was it difficult to cope at the time? “There are these constant thoughts on what else can you do for the victims,” she says. “But the training helps you in being prompt in following the right protocols.” And has she been able to come to terms with the magnitude of the tragedy? “I have seen bad injuries and many dead bodies. But the stampede somewhere left a mark on me.” She walks the same bridge every day to get the ambulance she serves in, she says, and when she does, she finds herself holding the railing tight. “I get restless. I start thinking, why couldn’t people not push each other? Why couldn’t people just stand still with patience? All these thoughts cross my mind every day.”
Dr. Harshwardhan Khartade, assistant professor in KEM’s forensic medicine department, recalls, “I was having breakfast when our head of the department called and asked me to report to Casualty. I picked up my camera and raced there. There was a huge crowd, mostly locals and those who helped the victims, and some relatives who heard about the incident and rushed to the hospital. The first scene kind of struck me. There were so many dead bodies.” The police and senior doctors and other hospital staff were already there, and the entire team automatically followed their training, beginning the identification process by numbering the corpses and taking photographs, which were then stored on a computer to show to anxious people enquiring about relatives, so they would not have to go through the ordeal of looking at all the bodies. All personal belongings of the victims were retrieved and put in pouches with corresponding numbers and handed over to the police.
When he decided to specialise in forensic medicine, Dr. Khartade says, he knew he would routinely see dead bodies. “During disasters like this, the emotional outburst of so many relatives gets to you. But then, we have to keep our feelings aside.”
