The first thing I saw as I approached the memorial was the picture in the frame – the girl in the red dress, Manya Damerla, just nine years old, smiling out from the still frame. Manya seemed familiar, a child I had seen playing in the community on my regular walks.
Manya Damerla, who died due to electrocution in December 2023.
Around the picture, candles flickered. Her friends, a band of nine-year-olds, huddled close to the frame, their tiny hands trying to light candles against the evening wind. It was six in the evening on December 31, and the world was on the cusp of welcoming 2024. Yet, time stood still inside the gates of the 120-acre Prestige Lakeside Habitat in Bengaluru.
Just three days before the memorial, Manya, like any other day, had gone to play with her friends around the swimming pool. What began as an ordinary playtime turned disastrous. Manya got electrocuted due to an unseen hazard in the pool, a dreadful incident that abruptly ended her young life and left her friends and the community in shock.
“How did this happen?”
“Could it have been prevented?”
Her father, Rajesh Kumar Damerla, who had recently moved to Bengaluru, shared his heartache, saying, ‘My daughter was a bright child, and we never thought this kind of incident would happen to her…She will never return, but I see a lot of parents anxious after the incident,” he told The Indian Express a day after the incident. I reached out to Rajesh over text, but he’s yet to respond.
The RWA Dilemma
While much anger has since been directed towards the elected RWA (Resident Welfare Association) leaders, let’s face it-running these mini-cities cannot be a part-time job.
Volunteer members of RWAs are often ill-equipped to handle the complexities of running what are essentially small towns. They are neighbours, not engineers or urban planners, and yet, they are responsible for ensuring safety and maintenance. Manya’s tragedy painfully underscores the risk of entrusting critical community management to well-meaning but untrained volunteers. The arrest of seven individuals, including Debasish Sinha, the president of the RWA, has sent ripples of fear through the community. This fear isn’t just about legal repercussions; it’s about navigating the complexities of civic management without a safety net.
Residents pay their condolences
Photo Credit: Pankaj Mishra
It’s not just the shock of the tragedy that haunts, but the chilling realisation of what it means to shoulder responsibility in these unpredictable times. Debasish, a father of a two-year-old son, is currently locked in Bangalore Central Prison, Parappana Agrahara, around 15 kilometres from the society where his family lives.
What’s concerning is that most of such sprawling complexes are run by volunteers. It’s not about just one tragedy. It’s about every resident living in a ticking time bomb. What becomes of those untrained volunteers, our neighbours, now thrust into roles demanding expertise they were never equipped with? Are they the scapegoats in a larger malaise of civic apathy?
Not An Isolated Incident
Following Manya’s death, the apartment’s Telegram and WhatsApp groups, usually buzzing with mundane updates and greetings, transformed overnight. Residents, united in grief and disbelief, poured their emotions into messages that ranged from heartfelt condolences to venomous debates about what went wrong. It painted a picture of a community struggling to make sense of a senseless loss.
The tragedy shatters any illusion that we’re cut off from Bengaluru’s broader troubles. It’s a harsh wake-up call to look beyond these walls and face the city’s realities. These incidents aren’t isolated, it’s now becoming a pattern.
A year ago, Roshan Rasheed, a 17-year-old student, met a tragic end, a fate eerily similar to Manya’s. During a swimming competition at National Public School in the Agara area, Roshan collapsed and died just minutes after stepping out of the pool. It was a moment that stopped time, much like the incident at Prestige Lakeside Habitat. The police, after a year-long investigation, have recently confirmed what many feared: Roshan was electrocuted due to loose electrical wires lurking dangerously close to the pool. This revelation, detailed in a chargesheet based on forensic evidence and eyewitness accounts, shines a spotlight on negligence that’s becoming all too familiar these days.
Contrasting Realities
Outside the gates of Prestige, the roads tell their own story. Potholes gape like open wounds. Accidents are frequent here, and heavy vehicles ply the roads without respite, indifferent to the delicate balance of residential life. The contrast was jarring – inside, everyone grappled with a tragic loss in a seemingly safe haven, while outside, life moved at a relentless, often reckless, pace.
Varthur, once just a fringe neighbourhood far from Bengaluru’s urban dreams, now stands as a testament to the city’s unchecked growth. Home to IT giants and startups alike, the area throbs with the energy of innovation. But Varthur Lake, choked with the city’s filth, is a mirror of the price of progress.
Once the pride of Bengaluru, the lakes now serve as sewage dumps or vanish under concrete, mirroring the city’s crisis of prioritising growth over the green. Bengaluru has transformed into the heartland of India’s technological revolution in the past thirty years. Its population, of roughly just 4 million in the ’90s, has grown to nearly 13 million today. This rapid urbanisation saw quaint villages such as Gunjur and Varthur evolve into bustling tech hubs. Meanwhile, once the city’s lifeline, vital water bodies like lakes have been encroached upon for infrastructure developments, often at the cost of the natural water channels feeding the remaining lakes. Out of nearly 2,000 lakes, only about 500 are left now. While real estate developers gobble up all land, raising concrete jungles where trees once stood, the attention to infrastructural necessities within and without these luxurious compounds often remains woefully inadequate.
This gated society promised refuge from the world’s dangers. Still, Manya’s untimely death is a reminder that no walls are high enough to keep out the consequences of the city’s mindless expansion.
A Ripple Effect
As the community battled the tragedy, I reached out to those at the forefront of managing such residential societies. I spoke to Vishnu Gattupalli, the General Secretary of the Bangalore Apartments Federation, a body representing over 1,200 RWAs. “There needs to be focus, attention, and reflection on how to build and manage safety measures in semi-public spaces like apartment common areas and facilities,” Vishnu said. His perspective sheds light on the broader implications of the incident, resonating with the fear and frustration of RWA members across the city. “The arrest of the RWA president following this incident is also unfortunate and it has created a certain degree of fear and uncertainty amongst thousands of RWAs across the city,” Vishnu said, reflecting on the collective apprehension of those who volunteer their time for community welfare. “They’re now asking if we spend our precious time volunteering, can we still be jailed for such issues? Then, is it really worth it? It’s a moral blow to all of us.”
Already, many RWA members across different communities have started resigning from their roles, rattled by the events at Prestige Lakeside. These exits will lead to indecision and anarchy in a gated community like Prestige Lakeside, with annual budgets of over Rs 30 crore and nearly 300 staff.
Some also highlighted the disparity in accountability and the perception of injustice within the system. “Last year, when a woman and her daughter got electrocuted, I didn’t see any news of the BESCOM MD getting arrested. Only the linemen were arrested,” an RWA official pointed out. “RWA officials aren’t criminals. And electricians and other maintenance staff aren’t even directly employed by the RWA.”
Echoes Of Neglect: Time To Act
As we remember Manya, a young life lost in a gated community, we can’t forget other tragedies that mirror Bengaluru’s broader problems. There’s Roshan Rasheed, a young swimmer, who met his end through electrocution in a swimming pool during a competition, an incident similar to Manya’s. And then there’s the mother and daughter, Soundarya and her child, electrocuted by a live wire on Bengaluru’s streets. Bengaluru is becoming a city racing mindlessly without pausing for safety.
These tragedies, happening in places as distinct as a school’s swimming pool and a city street, show us that no place is immune in Bengaluru. They’re not just names in the news; they’re warnings of what happens when we overlook basic safety in our rush to build and expand. If we don’t wake up now, we risk seeing these tragedies multiply.
It’s a responsibility that falls on all of them- policymakers, city planners, builders, RWA members, and every resident. Bengaluru needs to slow down, rethink, and rebuild with safety and sustainability at its core.
(Pankaj Mishra has been a journalist for over two decades and is the co-founder of FactorDaily.)
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author.
