The same Yadadri plant has blown twice in three months. Two are dead; about ten are badly hurt.

Around Friday midnight a reactor went at a chemical plant in Dotigudem village. The blast was loud enough to pull people out of their houses. What they saw, they said, was flame.

The unit on the public card is the Hezolo chemical industry, in Bhoodhan Pochampally mandal, Yadadri Bhuvanagiri district. Two people died. About ten people were seriously injured. Those are the only casualty numbers this desk will print. About is the word on the injured. Two is the word on the dead. This desk will not add a third death, a named child, or a worker’s name that is not on the card. No minor is named here because no person is named here.

Villagers said they ran out after the blast and saw flames from the plant. The management brought the fire under control with fire engines. Injured workers were taken to hospital by ambulance. That is the locked sequence: run, flame, engines, ambulance. There is no named hospital on the card. This desk will not invent one. There is no named fire station. This desk will not invent one.

Other workers at the plant said more than ten people were at the accident site. More than ten at the site is not the same sentence as about ten seriously injured. One is a headcount around the reactor. The other is a hospital count. This desk will keep them apart.

This was the second accident at the same plant in three months. Villagers were described as frightened. Frightened is the public word. It is not a petition, a dharna, or a factory-gate slogan that nobody has recorded. Three months is the only interval on the card. The first accident is not dated on this file. It is not given a casualty of its own. This desk will not reconstruct a first blast it has not been shown.

What is missing is as important as what is present. No worker is named. No compensation figure is written. No factory-closure order is written. No official inquiry finding is written. A midnight blast that has already killed two people can still sit without those four papers. This desk will not supply them.

The filing is a Friday-night paper that stays on Saturday’s edition. It was put out at 23:23 IST on 21 August and updated at 05:29 IST on 22 August, from a Bhongir-Pochampally dateline. Live-today on Friday is leftover on Saturday. The reactor does not become older because the masthead changed.

A chemical reactor that explodes twice in a quarter is a plant with a history, not a one-night accident. The history, on these facts, is only a count: second time, three months. The present is two dead, about ten seriously injured, more than ten people at the site, flames seen from the village, fire engines, ambulances.

This desk will not write a district collector’s visit that is not on the card. It will not write a pollution-control notice that is not on the card. It will not write a wage, a shift roster, or a contractor. It will not write a chemical formula for what was in the reactor. The public name is Hezolo. The public work is chemical industry. That is enough to locate the blast. It is not enough to invent a process.

The honest picture on 22 August is narrower. Dotigudem. Bhoodhan Pochampally. Hezolo. Friday midnight. A loud blast. Flames. Two dead. About ten seriously injured. More than ten at the site. Fire engines. Ambulances. A second accident in three months. Villagers frightened. No names. No compensation. No closure. No inquiry finding.

Until those four missing papers exist, the plant is a repeat blast with a body count and a hospital count. That is the whole of the file.