Justice Delayed…:
In India, we are inured to injustice, resigned to the fact that the rich will go unpunished. Still, a group of people fought a legal battle for a quarter of a century, to demand accountability from those who were responsible for the fire in Uphaar Theatre in June 1997. They took on the Ansal Brothers, who, as a character says, “owned half of Delhi;” even when the hurdles seemed insurmountable and the outcome predictable, they did not give up. Their story is as inspiring as it is depressing, as the Netflix series, Trial By Fire, attempts to convey conflicting emotions. How disruptive the righteous can be is perhaps proved by a failed attempt by the Ansals to stall the telecast of the show.
Trial By Fire, produced by Endemol, created by Prashant Nair (who also directs with Randeep Jha) and Kevin Luperchlo, is based on the book by Neelam and Shekhar Krishnamoorthy, who lost two teenage children in the fire. Fifty-nine people died and many more were injured when a faulty transformer started a fire in the theatre, running a ‘Housefull’ show of the war film, Border.
The series is told mainly from the point of view of the Krishnamoorthys (brilliant performances by Abhay Deol and Rajshri Deshpande), because they led the fight for justice, but the devastated face of a man who lost all seven members of his family, including a month-old baby shakes up the viewer. Kishan Pal (Yashwant Wasnik) lived in a slum, and had no money to cremate the bodies, but had the self-respect to turn down the offer of compensation from Niraj Suri, a slimy fixer (Ashish Vidyarthi somehow, makes a despicable character sympathetic), sent by the Ansals’ lawyer to make the problem go away.
After getting over the shock and grief—the scenes handled without any melodrama—Neelam sets out to find out what happened. From TV footage (the fire was extensively covered by the media), police and municipal reports, she discovers that not only was their no fire-fighting equipment in the theatre, the exits had been blocked by extra seats, and the doors to the balcony locked from the outside, to prevent anyone from sneaking in without a ticket.
Sushil and Gopal Ansal (their faces not seen) owned the theatre and were culpable for the tragedy, but instead of expressing sympathy, they placed an ad in the papers, eschewing their responsibility. And their team unleashes the fixer on the families of the victims, to pay off or terrorize them into silence. No lawyer wants to take the case, because everyone is somehow connected to the Ansals’ vast real estate empire; one of them tells the Krishnamoorthys that they would need an army to fight the Ansals, and that is what they do.
As Neelam channels her anger towards collecting evidence, the quiet Shekhar goes about meeting victims’ families, and more often than not, having the door slammed in his face. With sheer persistence, they get a few to form the Association of the Victims of Uphaar Fire Tragedy (AVUT)—their “army,” that stays united all the years that it takes to fight the case, under the guidance of a brave lawyer KT Tulsi (Kuljeet Singh). Their lives are put on hold, their resources depleted, while the Ansals have the financial and legal power to keep stalling. (They were represented by Ram Jethmalani, named changed to Keswani in the series).
While staying with their struggles, Trial By Fire goes into the homes and lives of some others connected with the tragedy—Suri’s upward mobility, the electricity board worker (Rajesh Tailang), who had repaired the transformer, an ex military man (Anupam Kher) and his wife (Ratna Pathak Shah) living with regrets, the money troubles of an usher (Shardul Bhardwaj). Some of these digressions are worthwhile, some just hold up the real story.
Aside from the larger struggle, the series captures the poignance of small moments—Neelam suddenly noticing that her kids’ toothbrushes are still by the basin in the bathroom; a birthday cake being shoved into the arms of Shekhar, who tries to hide it; the stoic-looking Neelam exploding because she heard Shekhar humming.
The tragedy of the survivors—caught in stark close-ups—is heart-rending. Can they ever smile, laugh again? A snarky female defence lawyer actually asks Neelam why she sheds no tears when she gives all those TV interviews. When Shekhar runs into a US-returned former classmate, who is unaware of the incident, he can act ‘normal’ for some time.
The case had its ups and downs over the years, but in the end, what the Ansals received as punishment was like a rap on the knuckles. The Krishnamoorthys and other AVUT members had the patience, media support and the wherewithal to keep at it, and not be crushed by the setbacks. This tragedy has been kept alive in the memory of the public by their perseverance. Trial By Fire is also an indirect tribute to the investigators who did not sell out, and uncovered the facts. Today, who knows if such diligence would even be possible against the rich and powerful
There have been so many other fires (the Kamla Mills episode comes to mind) and building crashes, and after the initial media attention, nobody knows what happened. Even today, if surveys are carried out, several cinemahalls and public places will be found lacking in fire-fighting gear.
Trial By Fire stands out in a crowd of shows about gangsters, family battles, romantic comedies, for its earnest and non-sensational portrayal of an avoidable tragedy.
(A slightly modified version of this piece appeared in scroll.in)
