Haunting tale of Odisha train tragedy: 30 is an unlucky number for Rajaram

Rajaram Mohapatra

Rajaram Mohapatra

Balasore: Forty-two-year-old advocate Rajaram Mohapatra has begun going to his workplace, the district court at Balasore. He and the rest eleven Bahanaga government high school’s managing committee (SMC) members attended the meeting at the Balasore collector’s office June 9, too.

“It’s about the raging of the school building and the construction of a brand new one. We have been assured that our school is going to be a model institution with all facilities including a playground,” informs Rajaram.

A few other SMC members including Bansidhar Upadhyay and Ashis Sahoo nod their heads in agreement. This school had been turned into a makeshift mortuary after the tragic triple-train accident at the Bahanaga Bazar passenger halt June 2.

Over two hundred bodies were kept in the school standing next to National Highway (NH) 16. As the talk veers to that ill-fated incident, Rajaram’s expressions take a visible turn. Even after a week after the rail tragedy, he says he can’t sleep properly at night.

“My head also reels, at times,” Rajaram, who claims to have received the best advocate’s award this year, concedes. He was at home, a few hundred metres away from the station when the accident took place.

On hearing a terrible noise, a startled Rajaram, like the other locals, paced quickly to the spot and swiftly swung into action. They worked like a machine in unison and saved hundreds of lives. He and many others were busy throughout the night, rescuing passengers, and sending the severely injured ones to hospitals in ambulances.

He, though, thinks 30 is an unlucky number for him. Reason– After much difficulty, he and other villagers successfully managed to open the jammed doors of the affected coaches. By his own admission, Rajaram alone pulled out 29 passengers trapped inside. Most of them had injuries, but not very severe ones. However, when he pulled passenger number 30 out, he was shocked to see the person bleeding profusely.

“A heavy iron piece had pierced into his thing, he was in terrible pain,” recounts the advocate. As Rajaram and his friends were planning to send him to a hospital, he saw the person, signalling at something. “He was unable to utter a word,” Rajaram adds. However, it didn’t take time for him to understand that the passenger was asking him to take out from his pocket the mobile phone that was ringing non-stop and inform the caller about him.

Rajaram, tried to do exactly that, taking out the mobile phone soaked in fresh blood. However, before he could utter ‘hello’, the man’s face slowly turned to a side.

Horrified, Rajaram, sat down for some time, unable to understand what had just happened in a flash. He was experiencing life, the fragility of life.

“I couldn’t muster the courage to inform his relatives as desired by him, immediately,” says Rajaram. However, about half an hour later, he and his friend dialled the number. On the other side, they heard people speak Bangla, which made Rajaram believe that the unfortunate passenger was from West Bengal. “It’ll be a life-long regret that we could not help him survive.”Maybe number 30 is not lucky for me,” he murmurs.

By Debi Mohanty

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