Recalls Abhijit Wadgaonkar, who at 24 is the eldest among them: "Once we saw the dead body of an old lady being carried to the cemetery on a bicycle. She was stuffed in a gunny sack. We were shocked. This was no way to leave the world, even if they had no kith or kin to undertake the last rites." Unclaimed bodies from the morgue were often carried to the cemetery on a handcart, without a shroud or prayer, sometimes by an inebriated casual labourer at the civil hospital. The stench and sight appalled anyone unfortunate enough to witness the grotesque scene. This method by which the police administration of the civil hospital "disposed" of unclaimed bodies galvanised this group of friends into action; and thus Mukti was born in June '97.
This group of 25 friends-most of them unemployed graduates-grew up in the narrow, dusty lanes of the town. Abhijit, a crime reporter at the Marathi newspaper Kesari, provided the initial impetus. While on the beat, he often saw or heard of the crude way in which these bodies were handled. However, he and his friends were spurred into action only when a rival newspaper carried a story on the very issue that rankled them. While they quickly registered their outfit, they also sought parental approval before setting out. None, surprisingly, opposed their children, but they did warn about the long haul ahead. That was over two years ago, and now Mukti has proved all sceptics-and there were many-wrong. The youngsters have given a dignified burial to 493 unclaimed bodies so far. Being somewhat experienced by now, they do it with clockwork precision. On being informed by a grateful police department that a body needs to be buried, two members of the group (whoever is immediately available) proceed to make arrangements at the cemetery while a couple of others head for the morgue with a shroud to do the cleaning and wrapping. Meanwhile, a hearse is arranged for. The body is then taken to the cemetery and buried after a brief prayer. These bodies bear no religious baggage, they are just forgotten discards of life, and Mukti merely tries to give them a last shred of dignity.
The initial months were quite tough. First, there was the shoestring budget. Then, the nature of the task itself. It was the unbearable stench that often had them reeling. After some hard lobbying, they got the freezers and the air-conditioning at the hospital morgue going. Yet, it wasn't uncommon for some of the younger ones in the group to retch and vomit in the early days. They've handled mutilated, highly-decomposed and even maggot-infested bodies. Says member Prasanna Mainkar: "The most difficult ones are the cases of drowning. The skin on the bloated bodies peels off on touch making it very difficult for us to do our work."
While Mukti has organised even up to six burials a day, they still have to spend a great deal of time and energy in trying to raise funds. The Solapur Municipal Corporation pays them a pittance of Rs 50 for every body buried, while just the hearse costs them about Rs 200. Says member Sudhakiran Kale: "In the initial days, we scoured our neighbourhood and even accepted two rupees." They'd started off with Rs 1,800 collected through a door-to-door campaign. While Mukti now publishes an annual souvenir to raise funds, it still isn't enough and on many occasions the youngsters have to dip into their own pockets.
Those who wish to help out and ensure a dignified passage to the dead can contact Abhijit Wadgaonkar at Mukti, 860, Uttar Kasba, Solapur 413007, Maharashtra. Phone 0217-728510.
