Two pieces of news in the papers cheered me up this morning.
The Times of India reports that the Mumbai High Court has ruled that builders must fulfill promises made in the brochure.
The court observed that the facilities mentioned in the brochure can be treated as part of the agreement even if it not part of the pact between the builder and the flat buyer.
For long builders have been conning home buyers with glossy brochures and shabby amenities. This judgement should change that.
The other in the Hindustan Times says that the HC has fixed a ceiling on non-occupancy charges that societies collect from members who do not live/let-out their premises.
‘The Contentious issue of non-occupancy charges was recently decided by the Bombay High Court, which upheld a state government circular fixing the ceiling for the charges at 10 per cent of maintenance dues. Justice D G Karnik, in a judgment on Sunanda Rangnekar versus Rahul Apartment, held that the circular in August 2001 had not been challenged and would have to be enforced. The judgment is expected to benefit large numbers of harried society members who've let out their premises and are exploited in the name of non-occupancy charges. ‘In law, non-occupation charges would mean charges for not personally occupying the premises, ie, keeping the premises unused or locked or letting out or giving on licence,’ said the judgment.
As for me, I never understood why there must be non-occupancy charges in the first place. If I want to keep my house locked, it’s my business. Why should I pay for that? As long as I pay my other dues, the society should have no problems.

Judy, from Nigeria, writes in our guest book that she has never been to Mumbai. She obviously loves the city and says she wants to come here one day. She’s not even Indian. We hope she fulfills her dream and makes it to our city.
Like I said, there’s something about Mumbai

It's not easy to understand, absorb and love any metropolitan city.
How do you accept a megacity without getting scarred in process?

Many years ago as a young naïve reporter I wanted to file a cover story for a weekly news magazine.

I decided to do a story on Kamatipura, Mumbai's red-light district.
I wanted to do a story on the lives of the sex workers but I did not want to meet them in their dark, dingy and dirty rooms. Nor did I want to go into the dark, narrow alleys infested with pimps and other lowlife.

I took a different route. In journalistic parlance ‘another angle’

I decided to spend a night at the Nagpada police station, under whose jurisdiction the red-light area fell.

The police station was at one end of Kamatipura.

I reached there around 9 pm. I was wearing jeans and a cotton T-shirt. This I thought would differentiate me from the denizens of the area. You see I those days, the sex workers would wear garish make-up and colourful see-through cheap chiffon sarees with low cut blouses.

I met the Marathi-speaking inspector on duty. He was young, well-built but looked stubborn.

I told him that I intend to spend the night in his workplace.
He didn’t take my suggestion or me seriously. These guys live in their own world and their sensitivity works at a different level and comes to the fore at unexpected times, as I soon realised.

Around 11 pm a woman came with a complaint that her laundry man was cheating her and other women. A woman was a sex worker — I could tell from her cheap lipstick, tight blouse and colourful saree.

Her name was Jaanu and she came and sat with Mr Stubborn. Both shared a cup of tea together. The constable who noted down her Non-Cognisable offence in the register didn’t even ask her to
wait (as is the norm in most cases). He told her, “Jannu, we will sumon your dhobi tomorrow. Tum aram se dhandhe pe jao (you go and do your business).”

The harmony between the two surprised me.

After sometime, a constable came with half dozen sex workers. They seemed new entrants. He treated them roughly and asked them to go to one corner and cover their bosoms.

Mr Stubborn asked the constable to quickly register cases against them. He looked satisfied because he needed to show a few cases
registered in his police station, proof that the police is taking action. He clearly was not bothered that the sex workers were violating the rules but he wanted cases registered for the sake of record.

The line between the law-breakers (in this case the sex workers) and the law was blurred here. These policemen were friend, guide and undefined relatives for thousands of sex workers.

All it needed was for the sex workers to pay regular ‘hafta’ (a fixed payment). The cops were then ‘kind’ to these women. Who says familiarity breeds contempt? In this case familiarity bred dependency.

The cases were registered without much fuss. But there was a clear understanding between both sides. The women, though in custody, would be allowed to go home and get some clothes. Of course they were handled roughly and abused but that too was part of the routine. As happens in such cases the girls would be bailed out the next morning.

As I found out that night, and believe to this day — police stations are temples for learning human relationships.


– Alka Dave