If they had listened to us about the bed number, this would not have happened
In the overwhelmed corridors of Mumbai's BKC Covid-19 facility, a cascade of small, unheeded errors culminated in an irreversible loss: 67-year-old Sangeeta Tanalkar, who died on April 17, was cremated not by her own family but by strangers, the victim of a bed number discrepancy that staff had been warned about and chose not to correct. Her story is a quiet indictment of what happens when systems under pressure stop listening to the people they serve — when a son's concern is noted and then forgotten, and when grief moves faster than verification. The error cannot be undone, and two families now carry a wound that no investigation can fully close.
- A single digit's difference — bed D-58 versus D-78 — was flagged by the family on day one and ignored, setting in motion a chain of failures that would end in the wrong body being cremated.
- For days, the family was denied entry, given reassurances that proved false, and forced to seek a politician's intervention just to search for a living mother who had already died.
- A grieving daughter, collapsing outside the ward, confirmed a body without looking at the face — and hospital staff, stretched beyond capacity, did not insist on the transparent-plastic identification protocol Covid procedure required.
- The truth only reached the family on April 19 — two days after Sangeeta's death, one day after her cremation — leaving them with no body, no farewell, and no recourse.
- Police are now investigating and the hospital is auditing its protocols, but both families are already living with a loss that institutional review cannot repair.
Sangeeta Tanalkar was 67 years old when she died at Mumbai's BKC jumbo Covid-19 facility on April 17. By the time her family learned what had happened, another family had already cremated her body at Sion crematorium. The error began the moment she was admitted.
When Tanalkar arrived on April 14, she was assigned to bed D-58 but was actually being treated in bed D-78. Her son Abhay raised the discrepancy with hospital staff. Nothing changed. Over the following days, the family tried repeatedly to locate her — asking to enter in protective equipment, being refused, receiving hollow assurances. It took the intervention of Shiv Sena MLA Sanjay Potnis before Abhay's sister was finally permitted inside, wearing a PPE kit, to search the wards and the mortuary. Sangeeta was nowhere to be found.
CCTV footage later revealed she had been moved to another ward for oxygen support — a transfer that was never documented, never reflected in official records. When her condition deteriorated, hospital staff called the wrong family. That family's daughter arrived, collapsed outside the ward in distress, and when staff brought out a body for identification, she and her husband confirmed it was their relative — without looking carefully. They claimed the body and performed the last rites.
Covid-19 protocol required identification by photograph, documents, or direct visual confirmation through transparent plastic. Whether those steps were followed is now under investigation. The hospital has said the receiving family identified the body incorrectly; that family has since acknowledged to police they accepted it without proper verification, overwhelmed by grief.
Abhay struggled to make sense of it. His mother's oxygen levels had been stable. He had warned the staff about the bed number on the very first day. The doctors were under enormous pressure — he understood that. But his mother was gone, cremated by strangers, and there was nothing left to undo. Two families now carry the weight of a mistake that no amount of inquiry can repair.
Sangeeta Tanalkar was 67 years old when she died at the BKC jumbo Covid-19 facility in Mumbai on April 17. By the time her family learned what had happened, another family had already cremated her body at Sion crematorium. The error was not a simple one—it was the product of a cascade of failures that began the moment she was admitted.
When Tanalkar arrived at the centre on April 14, the hospital assigned her to bed D-58. But she was actually being treated in bed D-78. Her son Abhay raised the discrepancy with hospital staff. Nothing changed. The bed number confusion would become the thread that unraveled everything that followed.
On April 15, Abhay's cousin came to deliver his mother's clothes. Staff made an announcement for her to collect them. She never appeared. The family asked to enter the facility in protective equipment to search for her themselves. The hospital refused. Management assured them she was fine. The next day, the family tried again to locate her. Again, they got nowhere—until Shiv Sena MLA Sanjay Potnis intervened on their behalf. Only then was Abhay's sister permitted inside, wearing a PPE kit, to look for her mother. She searched the wards. She checked the mortuary. Sangeeta was nowhere to be found.
The hospital administration began its own search. Potnis coordinated with police, and together they reviewed CCTV footage. The cameras showed that Tanalkar had been moved to another ward because she needed oxygen support. But this transfer was never properly documented. No one updated her bed assignment in the official records. "After this, I got a feeling that something wrong had happened," Abhay said. "The fact that her bed number had changed was not noted in the official documents."
It was not until April 19 that the hospital told the family the truth. Because of the bed number mix-up, when Tanalkar's condition deteriorated, hospital staff had called the wrong family—the family of another female patient also admitted to the centre. They were told to come to the hospital. The woman's daughter arrived but collapsed outside the ward in distress. She did not go inside to verify her mother's condition. Instead, when hospital staff brought out a body and asked her to identify it, she and her husband confirmed it was their relative. They claimed the body and performed the last rites.
The hospital later stated that proper identification protocols should have prevented this. According to Covid-19 procedure, a body must be identified by photograph, documents, or by a family member who actually sees the face—which should be covered in transparent plastic. The hospital is now investigating whether these steps were followed. Dr. Rajesh Dere, in charge of the facility, said the family who claimed the body had identified it wrongly. The family has since acknowledged to police that they accepted the body without proper verification, too overwhelmed by grief to look carefully.
Abhay struggled to make sense of it all. His mother's oxygen levels had been stable. She showed no acute symptoms. They had admitted her because of her underlying health conditions. The doctors and staff, he acknowledged, were under enormous pressure. But if the hospital had simply listened when he pointed out the bed number error on the first day, none of this would have happened. Now his mother was gone, cremated by strangers, and there was nothing left to undo it. Police are investigating. The hospital is reviewing its procedures. Two families are left to carry the weight of a mistake that no amount of inquiry can repair.
Notable Quotes
It is very hard to accept that my mother is no more. Hospital staffers and doctors are helpful and I understand they are under a lot of pressure. But if they had listened to us regarding the bed number issue, this would not have happened.— Abhay Tanalkar, son of the deceased
If the daughter had come inside to look up her mother, the goof-up could have been avoided.— Hospital staffer
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
How does something like this happen in a major hospital facility?
It starts small—a bed assignment that doesn't match where the patient actually is. The family flags it. No one fixes it. Then when the patient moves for medical reasons, that change isn't documented. So the hospital's records are completely out of sync with reality.
And the family was trying to help. They kept asking questions.
They were. They asked to come in and look for her themselves. They were refused. Then a politician had to intervene just to get someone to search. By then, the confusion had already taken root.
What about the other family? How do you mistake someone else's mother for your own?
The daughter collapsed outside the ward. She was in shock, in grief. When staff brought out a body, she and her husband confirmed it without actually looking closely. The hospital should have made them verify properly—photograph, documents, seeing the face. Those protocols exist for exactly this reason.
Did the hospital acknowledge the failures?
They said the family misidentified the body. The family said they were too distraught. Both things are probably true. But the real failure was earlier—the bed number confusion that was never corrected, the lack of documentation when she was moved, the refusal to let family members search when something felt wrong.
What happens now?
An investigation. A review of protocols. But for both families, the damage is already done. One family lost their mother and had no say in how her body was treated. The other family unknowingly cremated a stranger.