Bloodstained Copper

After 13 people were killed in the anti-Sterlite protests in Thoothukudi, the administration has gone into damage control mode. However, it will be hard to douse the rage of those who lost their loved ones.

- Lakshmi Subramanian

Mallika, 42, is inconsolable. Clad in a pink night-gown, with a thin dupatta around her neck, the mother of three cries out in anger. For the past few days, she has been falling at the feet of every policeman in sight, asking for the whereabouts of her elder son. She runs up and down the stairs of the Thoothukudi Government Hospital, while her daughter, 17, tries in vain to console her.

On May 22, protesters marched towards collector N. Venkatesh’s office, demanding that the Sterlite Copper smelting plant be shut down. Mallika’s younger son, 22-year-old Thangaraj (name changed), was standing nearby, his interest piqued. Suddenly, he was shot in his right leg. He fell into the crowd and was further injured during the commotion. He was taken to the government hospital, and his family was informed. His elder brother rushed to the hospital. However, as the brother was wearing a black T-shirt, the police grew suspicious—protesters had been wearing black—and he was taken into custody. It was a twin blow for Mallika. “I need medical help for my younger son to get the bullet removed, and I want to know the whereabouts of my elder son,” she says. “Which station is he at?”

The mother’s inner turmoil was reflected on the streets. After 13 people were killed in police firing on May 22 and 23, Thoothukudi resembled a war zone. The roads were littered with remains of burnt vehicles, broken barricades and chappals left behind in the scramble for survival. The collector’s office fared worse. Barricades were destroyed, stones littered the reception and the windows lay shattered. Policemen stood guard on either side of the road that connects the collector’s office to the government hospital, where the injured were admitted.