Eat soyabean,they were told. ‘It is good for you’

Even in the middle of an unusually hectic day in this quiet village’s newly opened school,everyone remembers noticing that the oil in the mid-day meal smelled pungent,that the soyabean tasted bad.

By the end of that evening,what began as a festive day had ended in this village’s worst nightmare. Twenty-three children were dead and for the remaining,like eight-year-old Sujit Kumar,life as they knew it had changed.

“Mera to party hi khatm ho gaya (My group is gone),” says the Class II student. Sujit survived because repelled by the taste,he spat out the soyabean vegetable the moment he ate it and ran towards his house,leaving his new books and notebooks behind.

Classes had begun as usual at 9 am that day. Principal Meena Devi and farmer husband Arjun Yadav had told the guardians of the children about the book distribution the day before. Some like Makesar Mahto had even got a call from Yadav to send their wards to school. Others whose children were enrolled in private schools had also sent them over for the free textbooks.

Meena Devi arrived right on time,carrying a cane as she always did,remember the students. The children were everywhere,in the 20 by 15 feet hall,the verandah,on the floor with plaster peeling off walls. The school,which opened this year,doesn’t have a building as yet and functions from a community hall. Studies that day were largely understood to be suspended as Meena Devi called out the students to distribute the set of four books,mostly for Classes I and II.

It was a Tuesday and as per the government schedule,the mid-day meal for that day was rice and soyabean curry. The children normally looked forward to soyabean which,they had been told,was good for them. Coming from extremely backward and other backward classes and scheduled castes,or from poor upper caste families,they could do with the healthy protein diet.

Otherwise too,many of them loved that school building. A pond opposite it was their favourite haunt; they would bunk classes to take a dip. Meena Devi knew about this and,the students say,didn’t mind.

By the time the book distribution was over,it was almost time for lunch.

Cooks Manju Devi and Pano had managed to bring in the oil,spices,  vegetables and rice from the principal’s house,where the mid-day meal supplies were stocked,and had started the cooking.

It was around this time that some children noticed the soyabean turning from brown to black in a big frying pan. Manju immediately turned to the school principal to complain that “something was wrong” with the oil. But she was snubbed. “Roj roj nimmane khana khaian sab (Will children eat only good food daily?)” the principal said.

“Madam waved her stick and said all children must eat,” Sujit adds.

As Manju Devi continued with the cooking,some children,who had slipped away from the school to show their new books to parents,came back for the mid-day meal.

Laxmi (10),a Class III student,and brother Shiva (7),who had just got enrolled in Class I,were among them. “Shiva showed me his Hindi and Math textbooks. My daughter Laxmi ate at home but Shiva liked soyabean so much that he insisted on eating the mid-day meal. He would eat soyabean raw,at times keep it in his pocket,” remembers their father,Raju Sah.

When they reached the school,Shiva ate the mid-day meal. Laxmi did not.

Sujit remembers that after the meal was served,again several children complained about the “black” vegetable and said they would not eat. But the principal threatened to cane those who didn’t,he claims.

The first batch of 50 children quietly started eating after this,even those who usually took their mid-day meals home with them. Others were asked to wait for their turn. Cook Manju’s three children were among those who complained of “a weird smell from soyabean”. Manju tasted to confirm. She too would land in hospital. This was around 1 pm.

By 1.15 pm,children had started coming back home complaining of stomach ache. But most children still did not have any pain. Sujit’s group of friends Ashu,Roshan,Dipu and Ashish were among those affected.

Akhilanand Mishra says his son Ashish,5,tasted half a soyabean. As he started hearing about children fainting and vomiting,Mishra decided to take Ashish too to Masrakh hospital on his motorcycle. By that time,parents had started taking any means of transport,bicycles,motorcycles or autorickshaws,to rush their children to hospital.

Shiva’s father Sah,who makes sweatmeats for a living,says he was fine when he came back from school. “It was after reaching Masrakh hospital that he started showing signs of poisoning. He had started passing liquid stools and was vomiting.”

By 3 pm,principal Meena Devi had vanished. Sah claims to have seen her husband Arjun Yadav take two ailing children to Masrakh. He claims they even briefly chatted about the children taking ill suddenly before moving on. Yadav has not been seen since.

The private doctor at Masrakh hospital referred Shiva and other children to Chhapra hospital. “My son complained of unbearable stomach pain and cried loudly on way to Chhapra. By the time we reached the hospital,there was a whirling sound coming from his chest. We couldn’t see his pupils. He was declared brought dead at hospital,” says Sah,weeping.

Having got rid of all his son’s belongings,he is back at work at his confectionary shop. To the rasgullas that Shiva loved but will never come back to eat.

By 5 pm,Chhapra hospital had over 40 children. Doctors had by now concluded that it was a clear case of poisoning,not food poisoning. Patients were responding to Atropine,an anti-poison drug,but the medicine was not available in adequate amount at the hospital and hapless doctors didn’t know what to tell the families.

Parents said it was only after 10 pm,when the condition of some children started deteriorating,that the government decided to shift all patients to Patna Medical College and Hospital. By the time children could be taken to Patna,the toll had reached 21. On Wednesday,July 17,two more children died.

Ten days later,the conspiracy theory the Nitish Kumar government has been hiding behind has left the villagers distraught. They can’t believe someone wanted their children dead,yet are being offered no easy answers about the inordinate amount of pesticide in their children’s food.

Satendra Ram,who buried son Rahul right in front of the school,comes to the site twice daily to see his son “rest in turbulence”. “He was so good at English. I was in Ludhiana when the incident took place. What can be more painful for a father than to see his son’s grave in front of the school where he studied,” Ram says,sobbing.

Inside lies a single notebook with pages of reading tables and Hindi alphabet—a teacher has shown her appreciation with several tick marks.

Just a few metres away,the pond that once rang out with the laughter of children,bathed in the promise of an education,however faint,is now the setting for their graveyard. Lying around are a pair of slippers,a set of new clothes,some toffees and a Rs 5 coin on a grave.

A policeman posted to keep vigil glances at them and,quietly,wipes his tears.