The death of Noida-based software engineer Yuvraj Mehta, on January 24, is a horrific tragedy that deserves our complete outrage and sustained attention. Just 27, with his entire life ahead of him, Yuvraj sank slowly to his death in a cold, sewage-filled pit—right in front of his helpless widower father—while the departments we pay taxes to allegedly stood by and watched.
It is a scene that could have opened any Rs600 crore blockbuster film today—with the stage fully set for a macho, hyper-patriotic ‘agent’ from some unnamed ‘department’ swooping in to pull off a magnificent rescue, all in dramatic slow motion. But this was Yogi Adityanath’s Noida. This was a freezing, foggy night. This was real life. So that didn’t happen.
The only person brave enough to don a lifejacket and jump into the water (the departments allegedly refused, citing that the water was too cold, and possibly spiked with iron construction rods) was a 26-year-old delivery agent, Moninder Singh. He spent 30 minutes in the icy water, trying to get to the fading Yuvraj, but was unsuccessful.
IMAGE AI
The press, who seem to have been milling around there in plenty, took his statement, but the very next day Moninder changed it, saying the police had done everything possible to help Yuvraj. And then there emerged a final statement, in which Moninder said the police had forced him to record the second statement, with the ominous threat, probably delivered in that caressing rustic accent we all know so well—‘that the affair would fade from the public eye in two or three days, but you live in this area’.
The questions arising from this ghastly incident are many. First, why did rescuers get there so late? Why didn’t they have longer ropes, taller ladders, bigger cranes, a radar that can see through fog? The policemen allegedly said they didn’t know how to swim; what kind of training are they even receiving?
Second, the site was known for being hazardous. A similar incident had occurred 10 days earlier, when a truck had fallen into the same sewage-water filled pit. The driver had been rescued by locals in the nick of time. Yet, no reflectors or warning signs were put up, and no barricades erected.
Third, why was there a yawning open pit? The construction company that dug it to build a mall abandoned the project two years ago. Why was it never compelled to fill it up? Why has no criminal liability been fixed?
Finally—and most disturbingly—why is Yuvraj’s father, Raj Mehta, a retired State Bank of India manager, being publicly shamed for seeking a meeting with the chief minister? Some have mocked him, twisting his plea for reassurance and closure into a cheap narrative about wanting a selfie with the chief minister.
It is deeply shameful Raj Mehta is not being awarded the dignity and respect his immense loss entitles him to. The simple fact is that culpability lies with the chief minister. This entirely manmade tragedy—occurring while we were busy prepping for a jingoistic, self-congratulatory display of might at the Republic Day parade—was caused by a series of cascading and criminal negligences, all of which happened on Yogi’s watch. He owes the bereaved father answers.
editor@theweek.in