J.B. Baraily is 68 years old, and severely crippled below the waist. He can’t walk without crutches — that, too, with support — and rarely leaves the house. His eldest daughter, 30-year-old Rajani, is also suffering from the same ailment, as is his only son Suraj, 24, and wife Dolly, although she can manage without crutches. The cause for the common family affliction was the adulterated cooking oil used over 15 years ago. The only compensation the four received was a measly monthly dole from the government. That, too, has trickled to a hard-fought annual allowance, with no assurance of it coming through this year.

In July 1988, the Barailys in Behala bought their usual quota of rapeseed oil from Garib Bhandar, at Buroshibtala, like hundreds of others. The oil, however, was contaminated with harmful chemicals, including components used in making soap and aviation fuel, which killed about 25 consumers and rendered over 250 crippled due to neurological damage. In the Baraily family, it was the parents and two of the four children — Suraj, then nine, and Rajani, 15.

Now, the family of six, including daughters Ranita, in Class X, and Mamta, 21, is confined to a cramped space in Room No. 5, Block A, Bow Barracks, and trapped by the tragedy. The Nepalese family, originally from Darjeeling, now survives on the Rs 3,000 per month pension of J.B. Baraily, but the government compensation has all but dried up. “At first, we used to get rice, and then Rs 300 per month for three of us, and Rs 100 for one. But last year, we got Rs 6,800 before the Pujas, including money for rice. That, too, the committee (Patients’ Welfare Committee for Behala Oil Victims) had to fight in court, so some of our money went in the legal battle. I wrote to Writers’ Buildings a few years ago, asking for more money, but nothing changed,” says Baraily.

After a year spent in hospital — six months at SSKM and six months at a central government hospital in Bonhooghly, where they underwent physiotherapy — the real struggle to survive began. “I was a surveyor in Calcutta Improvement Trust. Because my job involved being outdoors and I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything,” recalls Baraily. So, for the next nine years, till his retirement, he was effectively grounded.

Suraj couldn’t cope with the ignominy of being years younger to the other children in his class — having had to sit out for about three years after the incident — and dropped out of school in Class VIII. He also had to undergo surgery, because his foot had to be straightened. As a result, one leg is a little shorter than the other, and the foot and calf are shrivelling up due to lack of blood supply.

Rajani, however, was determined to go the whole haul in the hope of an education leading to a job. Even though she suffered a bout of TB and had to lose a further year in Class IX, she completed her education, and went on to get a B.Com degree from Bangabasi College. That, though, was not the end of her woes.

“I have all the documents to prove my handicap, and I even studied and sat for all the competitive exams for government jobs. But I didn’t receive a call… I have given up now. It is just so hard to pass the time. I can’t even go anywhere. I try to help with a little cooking, and I give tuitions to two children in the area,” she sighs. “Our hands, too, had curled up, and we couldn’t move them. But physiotherapy was useful. If only we were allowed to stay longer in the government hospital…”

With their pleas for help not reaching Writer’s Buildings from the run-down Bow Barracks, a Christian organisation in the area and Baraily’s brothers are the only ones offering a helping hand to a family fast losing hope of ever finding its feet again. “My daughter is at home, useless. So is my son…” trails off the bespectacled man, struggling to lift his legs onto the bed.