CID probes methanol liquor deaths in Pimpri-Chinchwad

Fourteen deaths from cheap liquor is not just a crime story. It is a market failure with bodies on the floor.

In Pimpri-Chinchwad, the toll from suspected methanol-laced liquor has climbed after two more people from Phugewadi died. Nine others remain in different hospitals, fighting a poison that often gives families very little warning.

For many poor workers, illicit liquor is not a lifestyle choice. It is the cheapest escape available after a hard day. That is exactly where the illegal trade finds its customers, and its victims.

Methanol turns profit into poison

The state has now handed the probe to the CID. The agency has formed five teams to dig into how the liquor reached consumers, who supplied the chemicals, and who protected the chain.

Police and excise officials say the liquor contained methanol. In plain language, methanol is an industrial chemical. It is not meant for drinking. Even a small amount can damage eyesight, organs, and the brain.

The suspicion now centres on the race for a stronger kick at a lower cost. Officials believe the accused sourced methanol from Mumbai through online channels. Main accused Yogesh Wankhede is under scrutiny.

That detail should worry everyone. If a deadly chemical can enter the liquor chain through routine ordering channels, this is no longer just a local den raid problem. It becomes a supply-chain problem.

Raids expose a wider network

After the deaths, the excise department raided sites across Pune and Pimpri-Chinchwad. Officials seized 645 litres of country liquor allegedly mixed with methanol.

Police also moved against brewing setups in Chakan, Mahalunge, and Shirgaon. In five actions, Pimpri-Chinchwad police destroyed raw material and chemicals valued around ₹9.25 lakh. They also registered six cases.

One figure stands out. Police said they destroyed nearly 9.75 lakh litres of raw material used for illicit liquor. That is not a few plastic cans behind a shutter. That points to a sizeable informal business.

This is the part that often gets missed. Illegal liquor runs like a shadow version of a normal consumer business. It has suppliers, transporters, makers, local sellers, and repeat buyers. The only difference is that nobody takes responsibility when people die.

Families get aid, not answers

Minister Girish Mahajan said the families of those who died will receive ₹5 lakh each from the Chief Minister’s Relief Fund. That money may help with immediate expenses, especially for households that lose an earning member overnight.

But compensation cannot answer the harder question. How did poisonous liquor move through the city’s underbelly without enough early warning? And how many people drank it before officials even knew?

For a daily-wage worker’s family, one death can collapse the household budget. Rent, school fees, medicines, and food all depend on one or two incomes. A tragedy like this does not end with the funeral.

Hospitals, too, become part of the economic shock. Families borrow quickly. They sell jewellery. They call relatives. They do all this while doctors try to reverse damage caused by a drink that was sold as cheap liquor.

Politics sharpens the pressure

The deaths have also turned into a political flashpoint. Supriya Sule accused those in charge of allowing crime to grow in Pune. She also demanded action against the police leadership.

Her charge has a wider political edge. Pune’s image has changed sharply over the years. The city sells itself as an education, IT, manufacturing, and startup hub. But rising crime headlines hurt that story.

For businesses, law and order is not an abstract debate. A factory owner cares if workers feel safe travelling late. A shopkeeper cares if illegal activity grows near his market. A parent cares if young people can move safely.

The liquor tragedy adds another layer. It shows how weak enforcement in one corner can spill into public health, policing, hospitals, and politics. One illegal batch can force the whole city to look at its governance.

The business of cheap intoxication

Illicit liquor survives because the numbers work for someone. Legal alcohol carries taxes, licences, and compliance costs. Illegal liquor skips these costs and sells cheaper.

That price difference matters most at the bottom of the income ladder. A man earning by the day may not walk into a licensed shop. He may buy what is close, cheap, and familiar.

The seller knows this. The maker knows this. The chemical supplier may not ask enough questions. Each person in the chain earns a little. The consumer carries the full risk.

Methanol makes that risk deadly. It can be cheaper than safe alcohol inputs. It can also create the illusion of a stronger drink. That is where greed meets desperation.

The state’s crackdown will matter only if it moves beyond one accused person. Officials need to trace the chemical trail, the online purchase route, the local sellers, and any gaps in enforcement.

They also need to ask why so much raw material could build up before the tragedy. A market this large leaves signs. Someone transports containers. Someone stores them. Someone sells the final product.

For ordinary readers, this story is a reminder that public safety often fails in small places first. A lane-side sale, a hidden brewing unit, a missed inspection, a cheap bottle after work. The next step must be boring but vital: steady enforcement before the next family gets a call from the hospital.