I. Introdcution

"What has the research yielded for the people of Bhopal on whose bodies all this research is being done?" asks Satinath Sarangi, a prominent activist involved in the survivor-oriented Bhopal Group for Information and Action. 1 This is a common refrain in the aftermath of an event now memorialized as the "Bhopal Gas Tragedy" or the "world's worst industrial disaster." 2 The story of the disaster itself is a familiar one, synonymous with other dystopian allegories of globalization and capitalism. It happened seemingly overnight – on December 3, 1984, the U.S.-based Union Carbide (now Dow Chemical) pesticide factory spewed forty tons of lethal, toxic, methyl isocyanate (MIC) on its unsuspecting surroundings. Researchers, relief-workers, and government agencies have disagreed over the extent of harm caused. Most accounts place the numbers at 10,000 people killed and 300,000 impaired, disabled, or injured. 3 In this article, I bring to disability studies an account of life, death, and survival in Bhopal, focusing on the violent debilitation and re-debilitation of Bhopali survivors and their creative re-imaginings of crip futurity.

Nearly all retellings and rehashings of the Bhopal Gas Leak and its fallout are shrouded in disability. But what does "disability" mean here? The concept has been described by scholars as a form of embodiment, identity, systemic violence, economic, material, and social vulnerability, subversive epistemology, and as a site for political potential. As Rachel Adams, Benjamin Reiss, and David Serlin have aptly described, these myriad understandings of disability are "enhanced by awareness of the term's complex genealogy, as well as by the enormously varied experiences of embodiment across cultures and socioeconomic locations." 4 In this particular case, disability—and its corollaries of debility and cripness—shape the lives of Bhopali survivors in many forms. Most simply defined as physical and embodied injury, disability is apparent in statistics and stories of the leak, although the vast majority of Bhopali survivors are incapable of being able to stake claims to liberal disability identity due to their class, caste, and geographic location. In conjunction with disability, I consider the term "debility" to also be central to the events of this story. Debility encompasses the continuous exposure of Black and brown people to harm, the commodification of their labor, the disposability of their bodies in service of productivity, and their repudiation once they are deemed "unproductive." 5 Debility is also keenly visible in the explosion of journalistic, anthropological, corporate, legal, and medical materials, ostensibly produced in service of the survivors and their movement, yet often capitalizing upon their suffering with little attention to their actual needs and demands. 6 In spite of the impacts of debilitation and disablement, survivor-activists hold firm in their demands for justice and access, using their experiences as provocations for imagining different worlds and, I argue, articulating "crip" presents and futures. 7

In this paper, I address these various threads of disability, debility, and crip futurity as they braid together in the long history of the Bhopal Gas Leak, focusing primarily on the reification of debility through medical discourse and the crip potential of survivor-activists. Scholars who critique the whiteness of disability studies paradigms often attempt to showcase what disability does in biopolitics, cultural discourse, or intellectual genealogy. In this article, I examine what debility does in similar sites. I build on work by decolonial and anti-racist scholars of disability and debility in the Global South who argue that disposability and maiming are undeniable facets of capitalism and imperialism, pushing this analysis further to show how intellectual and humanitarian projects can compound debilitation and disposability despite "ethical" academic commitments. 8 This reification of debility, I contend, takes place because often critiques are abstracted from the context, histories, and practices of colonized spaces. Radical or decolonial futures are phrased as far-away, abstract, utopian longings for the overhaul of settler colonialism, neo-imperialism, occupation, and global capitalism without the recognition of forms of extant crip futurity that are already engaged in anti-colonial and anti-capitalist praxis. In other words, utopian imaginings do not always have to be distant. Radical forms of crip, feminist, anti-racist, and anti-colonial futurity are already being articulated by those who most immediately negotiate their disabling and debilitating pasts and presents.

I focus on the Union Carbide Gas Leak given its exceptional status not only as "tragedy" but, increasingly, as "tragedy without resolution," leading to the proliferation of research on its survivors alongside an active survivor's movement. 9 I begin this piece by briefly contextualizing the gas leak of 1984 within a much longer history of vulnerability in Bhopal, showing how the event itself is part of a continuum of relentless debilitation, described by previous scholars like Rob Nixon and Nikhil Deb as a process of "slow violence" directly tied to both global and national logics of profit. 10 Yet, simply showcasing this history as an exemplar of the logics of debilitation is analytically and politically insufficient. Instead, by engaging in crip readings of independent medical research and survivor-activist testimonies, I demonstrate how debility has been compounded and contested between 1984 and 2010. I do not use crip as a label in order to argue for its inclusion in Bhopali organizing discourse – instead, I use it as a methodology and lens by which to read forms of both harm and survival not always legible within our field. In so doing, I first highlight how medical research projects reproduce debility through their insistence on treating Bhopali survivors as an abstract and massified group, discrediting their expertise and constraining articulations of their crip futurity. Second, I encourage scholarly investment in understanding crip ontologies in existing sites in the Global South in ways that do not necessitate exploitative research. Centering activists' theorizations of debility and disability justice, I offer readings of their thoughts on public memorialization, survivor-led rehabilitation organizations, solidarity practices, and insistence on futurity. I do not offer these provocations naively include the "voice" of subaltern or to argue that rights-based activism does not exist within transnational and neoliberal orbits of race, caste, and class in India. Rather, I am urging disability scholars to recognize the presence of disabled and crip community in the Global South, community which might not use terms like disability, debility, or crip but which do, in fact, participate in modes of survival that center embodied experiences, making demands that both rely on and resist rights, cure, and identity.

In writing this piece, I risk continuing a tradition of exploitative knowledge production. Due to my own social, class, caste, and institutional location, I am complicit in the processes of transnational debilitation I am seeking to unpack. It is imperative, however, that we do not shy away from recognizing our complicity and attempting to forge ethical projects amidst the current disarray of capitalism, imperialism, and raging global pandemic(s). This article aims to support two intellectual and political projects more expansive than mine: one committed to justice for Bhopal, and another dedicated to re-thinking, re-zoning, and re-imagining debility, disability studies, disability rights, and crip survival in postcolonial India. 11

II. Debilitation and Disablement in Bhopal: A Brief Account

While that fateful night of 1984 has created a range of long-lasting medical, environmental, and economic problems for the residents of Bhopal, Bhopalis were rendered disposable and debilitated by the logic of transnational capitalism and, now, neoliberalism for many years before and after the leak, especially along caste, religious, and class lines. 12 Initial negotiations between the Indian government and Union Carbide took place during the height of India's widely-criticized 1970s "Green Revolution," a program that led to immense inequity in the country, the effects of which are still felt today. 13 During this period, the Indian government foregrounded agricultural profit while Union Carbide invested in experimenting with toxic chemicals that were strictly regulated in the United States. 14 As legal scholar Marc Galanter, who served as an expert witness in the early U.S. court cases after the gas leak, explains, the unevenness of international law meant that India, with its developmentalist approach and flexible scientific regulatory regime, was slotted as a nation destined for risk and experimentation. 15

The demographics and spatial orientation of the factory within the city of Bhopal illuminates the assumed disposability of the population most affected by the leak. Union Carbide set up the factory close to a shanty town next to a small lake in the city. It promised employment to the poor, largely Muslim and low-caste laborers who already worked in subpar conditions of the informal economy due to the lack of jobs in the slowly growing postcolonial economy. 16 A need for basic income amidst an already unstable living situation overruled the risk of toxicity at the factory. Those who did not take up work in the factory, often women and children, performed injurious labor like rolling local cigarettes (beedis). 17 The factory, by design, was intended to dump toxic waste into the lake near which it was built, even as many of the laborers and slum dwellers living in the area depended on it for drinking and cleaning water. 18 News reports document "freak mishaps" and the hospitalization and death of factory workers long before December 1984. 19

In the event's aftermath, life for most of these workers has only gotten worse, further compounded by the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic. 20 Kim Fortun, in her ethnographic account of the tragedy, writes of the "second Bhopal disaster" – the weeks, months, and years after the immediate gas leak during which its long and entangled legacies emerged. 21 Beyond the embodied effects of MIC exposure itself, survivors were subject to protracted legal, emotional, economic, and material damage, with survivors across the class strata experiencing the tragedy unequally. 22 Compensation was of particular necessity for low-income temporary laborers or unemployed slum-dwellers living near the factory, who required the money for basic medical care. Yet, workers and their families received only a fraction of the funds promised in the initial press releases of the settlement agreement between Union Carbide and the Indian government since, as a company spokeswoman explained, pittance amounts were "plenty good for an Indian." 23 Hajira Bi, a Bhopali activist and survivor, explains that hospitals established by humanitarian workers and the government largely dispense health care to people who already come in with access to money and resources. 24 The factory site, closed in 1985, has yet to be cleaned, continuing to release toxins into the contaminated land and water that have intellectually, physically, and reproductively maimed generations of low-income Bhopali workers who continue to live there. 25 In its place, the state government announced recently that it would finally build a "memorial" at the site, an action which the government has been planning for years, and activists see as a "smokescreen" attempt to sanitize public memory while ignoring survivors' demands for toxic-waste cleanup and a survivor-led museum. 26 As Rashida Bi states plainly, "The state government is planning to pour concrete over contaminated lands in the guise of a memorial to the disaster." 27 Despite the best efforts of survivor-activist groups, including a 37-day campaign launched on the 37^th anniversary of the gas leak calling for the indictment of Dow Carbide and treatment protocols for chronic illness, the "tragedy" of Bhopal has faded into the assumed "constant stream of terrible things happening" in the country and is no longer engaging public attention. 28

Moreover, the gas leak and its aftermath are being slowly forgotten despite (or perhaps even owing to) an insatiable research machine invested, primarily, in making sure Bhopal never "happens" again. Meanwhile, most Bhopali survivors barely have access to basic employment, sanitation, and medical care. In my next section, I turn to crip readings of medical research done in the aftermath of the tragedy, arguing that debility is compounded in these sources through their rendering of Bhopali survivors as a diagnostic mass in dire need of intervention by external "experts." These sources are only one illustration of a much broader phenomenon within developmentalist and humanitarian discourse spanning legal, corporate, journalistic, creative, and scientific disciplines, concerning not only this particular disaster but the many debilitating "crises" that happen so often under global capitalism.

III. Debility Compounded: Crip Readings of Biomedical Research in Bhopal

Between 1984 and 2000, there was a flood of independently published scientific and medical research on Bhopal that aimed to act in service of survivors and to critique the Indian government's halted research efforts. During the 1990s, the Indian government terminated their research staff and imposed bans on state medical publications while they conducted settlement negotiations in court. 29 To account for wasted time and resources during this period, medical and scientific research centers from across the country, ranging from the Delhi Science Forum to the Sastra Sahitya Parishad as far as Kerala, contributed to a vibrant and contested public scientific conversation about what happened, what should have happened, and what should happen now in Bhopal. This debate formed part of a larger citizen scientist movement to establish "scientific temper" and "civic rationality" in the new nation-state, questions of utmost importance to and inseparable from postcolonial Indian politics. 30 Science and its corollary, universal masculinist "reason," are central to India's imagination of itself as a nation-state, a legacy bequeathed to the country in large part by its colonial past but taking on new valences since independence. 31

Paying attention to the potential epistemic and material violence of such research, I engage in crip readings of these sources to show this research compounds debility through the massification and abstraction of Bhopalis and their bodies. 32 I am not invested in questions about the intentionality of medical professionals – rather, I aim to understand how our concepts and words around bodily ability have material and conceptual impacts on people's lives. Medical research conducted on survivors of the gas leak reproduces debility threefold. First, these sources render survivors a passive, collective, diagnostic entity subject to the medical gaze. Complicating the "medical model" notion of disability, however, investigators rarely treat survivors or their disabilities as individual problems, instead massifying them and their impairments. Second, researchers assert their rational expertise that sidesteps opportunities for survivors to describe their own needs in their own terms. Third, they freeze the gas leak in time, providing no future-oriented temporality or treatment for survivors to navigate the world with their impairments.

IV. Crip Survival, Crip Futures

Survivors and allied organizers have built, over the past nearly four decades, a movement relentless in its fight for justice in the aftermath of the gas leak. Their demands and protests – which have included calls for compensation, medical care, and detoxification using tactics like hunger strikes, padyatras (marches on foot), barricades, and public performances – have been met with consistent repression by state and national government and police, with many activists even being detained, imprisoned, and beaten. 73 Scholars, activists, and ethnographers like Suroopa Mukherji, Bridget Hanna, Ward Morehouse, Shalini Sharma, and Reena Shadaan have compiled detailed accounts of those involved in this struggle, highlighting testimonies by survivor-activists who lead or work with the various groups organizing in the city. 74 Rashida Bi, Hajira Bi, Champa Devi Shukla, Ruby Parvez, T. R. Chouhan, Namdeo Rao, Shahid Nur, Om Wati Bai, Mohini Devi, Rehana Begum, Abdul Jabbar Khan, Sheila Thakur, Tulsa Bai, Badar Alam, and Sarita Malviya – these are only some of the names of those leading the charge, many more go nameless even within the movement. They join groups – such as the Bhopal Gas Peedit Mahila Purush Sangharsh Morcha [Bhopal Gas-affected Women and Men's Front], Bhopal Gas Peedit Mahila Stationery Karmchari Sangh [Bhopal Gas-affected Women's Stationery Worker's Union], Children against Dow-Carbide, and the Bhopal Group for Information and Action (BGIA) which sometimes unite under the umbrella of the International Campaign for Justice in Bhopal (ICJB) – and have complex histories of interaction with each other. Like any movement, they do not always agree or get along. For the purposes of this article, however, I focus on the testimonies of the aforementioned activists and other anonymous members of the various groups, recognizing and hinting at the heterogeneity in their approaches when possible, but also reading them together in an attempt to unpack the forms of crip politics that emerge from this movement.

To read these narratives as "crip" is, undoubtedly, a fraught project, one which imposes upon the movement a vocabulary that is "external" to the context of Bhopal. There are a variety of limits to such imposition; nevertheless, my project here is not to contend that "crip" is relevant to activists in Bhopal (for it is not). It is instead to insist that Bhopal be considered crip in disability studies and disability justice spaces in the metropole, with the aim of building transnational solidarity and channeling resources. Additionally, I want to complicate theories of "debility" by pushing for the recognition of disabled life within and beyond debility, life that is articulated and experienced outside neoliberal disability identity (but occasionally strategically within it).

Bhopali survivors' testimonies reveal an interesting ambivalence between their recognition of their unrelenting debilitation and their calls for futurity, resilience, and justice. This ambivalence, I argue, is an affective space where a crip politics of survival and futurity can be located in the history of the leak – a space which scholars and activists working towards disability justice and those concerned with debility need to contend with for its many contributions to these theories and praxes. I locate four key articulations of survival and futurity within these testimonies and argue for their "cripness." These include an insistence on remembering the longer process of debilitation alongside survivors' resistance, the existence and building of survivor-led organizations in ambivalent relation to broader systems, the importance of solidarity and radical intersectional analysis, and a direct assertion of resilience, continuity, and futurity of the movement.

Survivor-activists have called for a public memory of the tragedy which highlights and theorizes its longer history and emphasizes practical, "lesson-oriented" recollection. In discussions with the state government of Madhya Pradesh over the construction of a memorial in honor of the survivors of the leak, Meera More pushed consistently for a memorial where the "gas peedit [gas affected] and pani peedit [water affected]," who represent both the victims of the night of the leak and its aftermath, have a "complete role." 75 Full participation would ensure, as Ruby Parvez explains, a museum that reflects "all tragedies from that time to what we are facing now. First and foremost, we would want the museum on the time when the factory was erected here, then on the gas leaks, then on how the gas burst out of the factory, then on the deaths, on the diseased, then on the disabilities in children. We want a museum on the struggle by the affected from the beginning till now." 76 Survivors have donated objects to the independently run Remember Bhopal Museum that commemorate the length of this suffering, often emphasizing in testimonials the objects' significance to their pain, sorrow, and despair. One woman gave the last bottle of medicines her husband used before he died during the leak; another donated broken shards of a glass bangle she was wearing during a protest where she was beaten by the police. Commemorating sorrow in this manner is inherently political. As feminist philosopher Susan Wendell explains, pain is often considered private, and the public invocation of it is a requirement for garnering greater access. 77

This memorialization is more than public, however – it is also crip, insisting on placing mourning in a broader timeframe than the exceptional moment of the leak. Survivors are lamenting not only personal tragedy but also their experiences of consistent and systemic oppression, a double move of bereavement and social critique which Kafer highlights as a feature of disability justice. 78 More and Parvez are theorizing their own debilitation and using it as a provocation to anger and action. Activists are clear in this intention to provoke – as one describes, they do not want to publish "photographs of sick children and desperate women" that cause "sentimental paralysis." They want to "incite responsibility, not pity." 79 Yet, the assumption remains that these calls to action exist within a system where debilitation will continue. Badar Alam and Hajira Bi share their hopes for such a project of memory. Alam wants to include this history of the leak in local school curricula, while Hajira Bi wants her own and other debilitated communities to see this and remember to save documentation of their identity, residential paperwork, and other practical necessities that prevent them from being completely obliterated by governmental or political forces. 80 The use and reclamation of the term "peedit" or "plagued" by survivors to describe themselves is further testimony to this crip self-theorizing, coming through "social and cultural alchemy" to speak to their lower socioeconomic status, the social production of harm, and their joint community of resistance. 81 Disability and debility, and their assumed continued presence, become political tools for building a movement. As Hajira Bi puts it succinctly, "my life changed from the day I accepted the reality of bodies lying in front of me." 82

Survivors further grapple with, survive, and attempt to live with their disabilities through formal organizations which take hybrid and ambivalent stances on the utility of the healthcare apparatus, political support, and educational and employment institutions in Bhopal. Two of the most prominent examples of such organizations are the Sambhavna Clinic, run by engineer-turned-activist Satinath (Sathyu) Sarangi, and the Chingari Trust, started by Rashida Bi and Champa Devi Shukla with the money they received from the Goldman Environmental Prize in 2004. 83 Sambhavna, for instance, provides patients with the choice between free ayurvedic and allopathic treatments, allowing them to choose any particular constellation. Sarangi sees the clinic's work as an essential corollary to biomedicine but in conversation with it. He states that "survivors are the experts in their conditions" and the clinic relies on "people's knowledge." 84 Sambhavna is also the only clinic in the city that provides regular pap smears to Bhopali women, and in order to provide the necessary resources it partners with scientific and medical researchers such as Pushpa Bhargava, who serves as its Chairperson. Even as Bhargava and other researchers' work does not approach survivors the way Sambhavana does, the clinic sees biomedicine as a part of broader care work in Bhopal. 85 Chingari Trust engages in the rehabilitation of children with disabilities, offering medical assistance and schooling to them and employment opportunities to their mothers. 86 It uses the language of "deformity" and "tragedy" but also works with children and mothers to figure out what they actually need to navigate disability rather than simply lament its existence. By entering into ambiguous relationships with biomedicine, these organizations model a crip politics of rejecting what Eunjung Kim describes as the "imperative of cure" and its suturing to biomedical intervention. 87 Instead, they rethink cure and explore the possibility of inhabiting illness alongside desires for rehabilitation.

Lesser known and formalized organizations also exist within the ambit of care and cure in Bhopal. Many of these other groups and individuals do not approve of the work of Sambhavna and Chingari. Rehana Begum, another survivor-activist, says that instead of creating "extravagant" organizations like the aforementioned two, money could be used to provide employment to survivors. 88 Hamida Bi prefers to go back to government hospitals for medical attention where she can "beat and straighten the system" into shape. 89 Sambhavna's "alternate" practices of yoga and Ayurveda also lie at the intersections of nationalist science, rationalist biomedicine, and Bhopali survivors' self-definition, an increasingly unholy alliance under the current regime with potential problems for Muslim and low-caste survivors. Other groups, then, are built for other causes survivors deem necessary for continued survival. A group of widows meets bi-weekly in Neelam Park for a bereavement circle; Om Wati Bai discusses her desire for companies to come back into Bhopal so she can have some access to employment even as she knows it will likely be damaging; Shahid Nur considers voting an important tool for bringing supplies to the city even as it can be religiously motivated. 90 These formal and informal groups, even as they operate in tension with one another, represent crip and feminist possibilities for disagreement, through strategic forms of resistance and resource-sharing amidst a system that never intended for them to survive. Crip theorists like Alison Kafer have insisted, after all, that "accessible futures require such ambiguities." 91

These ambiguities do not mean, however, that survivors do not also engage with radical resistance that envisions the overhaul of multiple interconnected systems. Many theorists push for overhaul when conceptualizing debility, but these arguments also come from outside the academy and are already being articulated by Bhopalis and other debilitated groups. Bhopali survivor-activists name allegiances and solidarities with other debilitated populations in India and abroad, speaking out, for instance, against Union Carbide's factories in majority Black areas of the U.S. and protesting the Indian government's suggestion of shifting toxic waste to debilitated areas in Indore and Gujarat. 92 They further connect their battle to broader, systemic change. T. R. Chouhan, a worker at the Union Carbide factory during the leak, pushes for his fellow workers and victims to join in a "toxics yatra (mass march) throughout the country," highlighting the "risks of industrialization," the "need for corporate accountability," and prioritization of "worker and community safety." 93 One of the primary organizations in the International Campaign for Justice in Bhopal is a women's labor union, which Rashida Bi describes as committed to a global, "much bigger battle" within which "compensation" is only a limited demand. 94 These women further tie questions of gender into their battles, pushing against purdah and burqas (veiling and face covering) as an essential frontier of the struggle for themselves and their daughters, rejecting abuse both within and outside the home. 95 Survivors join rallies and dharnas for, as Mohini Devi describes, "everything from medical health care, economic rehabilitation . . . environmental, social etc. or for that matter the continuing rise in prices. For every problem, you look at it on a larger level, there is a problem that relates to all other humans, not just the ones suffering in that place and time. This is why our solidarity went out to other campaigns also and likewise got the same back from them." 96 This linking of feminist, environmental, and anti-capitalist causes in a quest for global justice underpins the crip positionality of this solidarity work.

Finally, what is most formidable about this movement and the solidarities it shares with crip activism in the U.S, and Europe is that the activists involved do not envisage an end to the struggle. Sheila Thakur states that "once a human being steps into a particular field then she only moves forward and neither gives up or steps back. I feel that none of the women will sit still. Other women are coming forward. Today they are fighting for the rights of gas survivors, tomorrow when the need arises they will join hands with movements and fight for others." 97 Joy, mixed with grief and anger, suffuses Bhopali organizing, as survivors dance in the streets during morchas, parade in front of minister's houses in Delhi, and engage in the struggle for justice as their "purpose." Another activist, in an interview, declares, "I will die for the organization." 98 This commitment is not naïve. A different activist explains that "elation followed by a feeling of being let down is a familiar pattern in Bhopal," but "each time we win an agreement it comes with more guarantees. It has more teeth . . . going by our experience every little detail has to be examined, every deadline has to be enforced. This is only a prologue to the struggle ahead." Cynicism, solidarity, and a belief in the continued survival and resistance of present survivors alongside local and international futures shapes the crip imaginary of Bhopal. Tulsa Bai, an activist holding ground at a dharna site for 172 days, sums it up, "By the time our demands will be met, many will get old, others will die, and who knows if our children and grandchildren will live to see the day! But what to do, nyai (justice) does not come easily." 99

V. Conclusion

I have argued in this article that a study of the Bhopal Gas Leak through a crip lens opens a window into examining the material and discursive production and reproduction of debility in the Global South. It further asserts that modes of crip life, theorizing, and resistance already exist in the places least considered in our field. The arguments made in this paper are introductory, part of a much longer engagement with disability and debility in India. I have put them forth with the hope that disability studies scholars and disability justice activists can hold critiques of debilitation alongside the celebration of disabled and debilitated life within transnational capitalism. Debility is not simply a theory, and disability is not simply an identity – these terms are praxes and presences which people vulnerable to disposability logics continuously navigate. The aim, then, in Jasbir Puar's words, is to leave behind "ally models" and "create new assemblages of accountability, conspiratorial lines of flight, and seams of affinity." 100 I am neither the first person to argue for crip recognition of modes of survival in the Global South nor do I work alone – I join activists and scholars who have worked on the Bhopal Gas Tragedy for decades, and scholars within the field of disability studies who engage in crip of color and post- and anticolonial critique. There remain, of course, many entangled complicities in this work. Additionally, in using language survivors themselves do not use, I risk the danger, as Kim Fortun cautions, "of troping gas victims as signs of something beyond themselves." 101 These are complexities I hope to continue to work through in and beyond the field as I nuance my commitments to disability justice.

With an eye to the sticky ethics of this work and a skepticism towards the nature of "academic" ethical commitments, however, it is essential for me to stress that this crisis is still impacting the lives of thousands of people, many of whom are poor, Muslim, and low-caste women. The material and discursive violence that shrouds Bhopal is only being made worse by the casteist and xenophobic violence of the current Indian state and the logics of disposability enabled by the current global pandemic. Survivors continue to be immensely vulnerable to constant debilitation and the repression of their resistance. This system cannot change without participation in local and global fights against neo-imperialism, transactional forms of "welfare" and "aid," global capitalism (emboldened by fascism), and the hierarchization of life through class, caste, and gender. Yet, in following activists' reminders that these battles will not be won overnight, I offer here links to the information and donation pages for survivor-led groups in Bhopal such as the Bhopal Medical Appeal (connected to Sambhavna and Chingari), the independent Remember Bhopal Museum, and the International Campaign for Justice in Bhopal, if you'd like to support their work. If you do consider donating, I share with you Hajira Bi's final statement to one of her interviewers, a reminder that Bhopalis do not need "help," but they are open to good-faith solidarity: "Do not refresh my wounds, do not treat my tears as water, do not consider this as a cassette that is playing and repeating . . . I give these interviews thinking that if our fight can gather strength and my voice goes far and if after watching this someone is being motivated, or has feelings of empathy in his heart, and he adds his strength to the fight, maybe Bhopal gets justice soon." 102