Society Matters

The Co-Operative Housing Society in which I live is one of the many banes of my existence. Not so much because they are extremely sensitive to the activities of the ground floor flat which I inhabit, but also, that this is my grandparent's flat (cackle, cackle) and so my activities are even more, well, noteworthy.
So we have many characters, like a Priyadarshan movie - some wasted, some talented, mostly irritating, and its all the stuff you've seen before. One is an old lady in the next door flat who insists on sitting at her window till 2 am in the morning just peering out. And so she probably notices all of our late night entries. That's fine, no big deal. But, she is the friend of the grandmother. The good thing about old people though is that you can always claim that they've gone senile. And other old people are perfectly willing to believe you - as long as you establish that they are not the ones who've gone senile, its fine. That also covers the other senile lady across the compound.
The noisy shaggers on the floor above, however, aren't so easily avoidable, for the following reasons:
1. The husband is the secretary of the co-operative housing society.
2. Once, we had a late night drinking session and at 2am, the bell rings and I open it to find a very peeved uncle saying "What is the time?". Ignoring the fact that this would make a kick ass watch ad, I apologized very profusely and looked very innocently at him, thankful for the neutral smell of Vodka.

"It's my birthday today!"

"Happy Birthday." He growled.

The next morning, his cheeky daughter wished me a "happy birthday" from the window. One of the other building toddlers asked her how she knew it was my birthday. The little brat winked very conspiratorially at her. Biyatch.

3. The uncle is a bit of a roving eyed fellow. This isn't the first late night interaction we've had. Whenever the water would be limited, or the sewage pipe was being worked on, our man would have the courtesy of informing me of the same at about 1030pm every night, you know, the time when women are usually chilling out in abbreviated clothing and free from the confines of the contraption called the brassiere. This ended when Uncle wasn't too pleased with the quality of exposure - he came by one night to encounter a bare chested Dad who had come for a visit.

4. The Society's functioning is kind of excessive and pretty illegal, and I'm in on the game. They don't like the smug look I give them too much.

Being on the committee of a Co-Operative Housing Society has to be the most thankless job on earth. Honestly, the majority of people who stand for such posts are the victims of subordination in various other spheres - be it office, or at home. For such frustrated souls, the idea of being able to bully unsuspecting people over trivial issues originating from the hallowed bye laws which no one has any idea of brings many of them to ejaculation. Because of the supposedly unbridled power of being able to throw someone out of a house which they may have paid/be paying a bomb for is a mindfuck.

So my pals Bunny and Pandu in Sion have to leave the house late because their Society Hitler has decreed, in pure Nana Patekar hindi, that "Eh, Kachra baher naahi rakhne ka. Jab Ghanta bajega, tab rakhne ka. Uske pehla nahin. Baas aaata hai". So my boss, who is some port member of his posh colony, salivates on the ides of every month at the prospect of typing out minutes of the Society meetings. So another friend had to empty a house out because the Society decided, after he executed the lease agreement and paid the deposit, that "bachelor log allowed nahin hai". So my Society, on account of scarcity of water, decided that the shortage is more likely due to the fact that the "irresponsible girls" on the ground floor than say, a fault in the pump, so they tried to break into my house and letch uncle claimed a copy of the keys for his very own, you know, to check. I told him to file that along with a threesome with me and my roomie in the "think about it and get castrated" dreams drawer.

But by far, my trippiest Society experience has been defending a group of three consultants. The story was notable for several reasons, one of which is more fully described here. The girls were the victims of a dispute between their landlord and the society, and they were being forced into being evicted as the good society's opinion was that their late nights and male visitors... well, you get it. The landlord very shyly told me how in one of the meetings they were even referred to as "call girls" (not recorded in the minutes, of course). In time, I was called upon the argue out objections to the Society being granted the injunction of evicting these girls. Along with the legal principles enshrined in several supreme court judgments on granting of temporary injunctions (yawn...yawn...), I summarized my arguments with the following:

"Your Honour, these girls may be coming back late at night, but so what? They stay on the ground floor. They would put their keys in their door, enter the house, and shut the door behind them. End of story. How would they disturb anyone else by their conduct? Unless, of course, we have members of the Society staying up till the wee hours of the morning, waiting for these girls to return, perhaps, with not the noblest of intentions?"

The Judge blushed. I got the Injunction rejected and my Clients got to keep their flat. I'd like to claim that my wild accusation was the reason for my success, but I think my alternative argument that "These are youngsters from the IITs and IIMs, the most prestigious institutions, the cream of the country... and they are girls, your Honour, from respectable families... "

Aren't we all? :)

Lonesome?

My roommate left for a 2 week trip home. I suppose all these months I've been pulling the disappearing act on her a lot, and it's a little strange coming back knowing that if someone rings the doorbell at 11, I should scream.

You'd think that living in a crowded city like Mumbai would make you value the few moments you have alone, away from the maddening crowd. That's what I used to think, before I wound up on Dadar station one afternoon on Janmashtmi. For the uninitiated, Dadar is a bustle of activity at any given point of time in the day. A walk across platforms gets you smelling like 14 different people. and probably a few electronic items and cash cards poorer. As I walked onto the Platform No. 6 on the Central Side, I was suddenly disoriented. The platform was empty. I was then absolutely petrified.

Safety in numbers - everything else puts you on the backfoot. The empty local compartment, the vacant lane from Hawaiian Shack at 2am, the pin drop silence of the office corridor when you work overtime - suddenly anything is possible, and you are most likely to end up with the "wrong place wrong time" epitaph.

I guess its a strange paradox - we all want our space, our method of dealing with conflict normally involves seclusion - "I'm going to my room", or "Leave me alone", or "I just don't feel too social right now", or the infamous "I need some space". Funnily enough, when it comes to it, we all are also scared of being alone, perhaps, like Bridget Jones, of being discovered one morning having been half eaten by an alsatian. Most of the effort put behind personal relationships is devoted in a large part to trying to strike the balance. Achieving the Oscar Award of every relationship - the "Comfortable Silence".

So here I am, home alone. It doesn't bother me, but it may, when I feel a slight bout of dizziness, or when I hear a bump in the night. The bump, in all probability would be my upstairs neighbour (is that correct English? are neighbours allowed to be upstairs? or are they only next door?) who keeps 1. pounding masala 2. moving furniture 3. having sex 4. teaching classical dance 5. all of the above (Cosmopolitan's Hot New Sex Tip No. 64!).

So now, I try and sleep in peace.

All in a day's work

Well, another day, another adventure. I went to explore the Goregaon New Sessions Court today, which is not such a bad place because 1. There's a direct bus from home to the Court 2. It's pretty clean, and spacious (for now) and 3. The canteen serves Chinese. Have still named it Boregaon, though. The Court is more like a maze, with rooms opening into corridors, and staircases which end, abruptly. It's kind of like one of the locations of a pointless nightmare, which is full of unconnected and random circumstances and all you can see is yourself running around and getting yourself into the most random of circumstances. Anyway, I had to get the Bail formalities done of a man who had murdered his wife and injured his son in the process. Sorry, did I forget to mention the 'allegedly'? Right, so Bail formalities completed, I packed off killer's brother to Thane Jail with instructions to get his brother out of Jail and to kindly never get him to office.

All in a day's work for the Criminal Lawyer.

Yesterday a close friend called me to tell me that she was getting married. She's the first 'normal' case among my friends (batchmates, to be precise) to be getting married. Not that the others are abnormal. It was just that they had their own excuses, like:

1. Her guy's dad was seriously ill, wanted to see bete ka sehra etc etc.

2. She was dating a guy who was about to hit 30, and was in danger of losing a bet that he'd get married before 30.

3. She was the kind you never dated, only married.

It leaves you with mixed emotions. Like now, your kind was being targetted. Like you could be next.

I guess all of us are slowly but steadily coming to terms with the fact that we are growing up and that commitment isn't as remote a possibility as it seemed before. When you see people around you settling down, you realize that it's not such a bad thing. Of course logistically it all seems difficult.

At one time, in an earlier relationship, I was much more idealistic, in the sense that I thought that distance and differences in opinions and ambitions didn't matter, and that if you felt strongly enough for each other, it was enough to get you through. I hesitate to use the word 'love' in this particular case. Of course, it wasn't. We kind of differed in the ambitions being more important than the relationship itself.

Some may say that its a sense of maturity, some may say its just learning from your mistakes. Left to me, I'd say its like this - when the time is right, everything falls into place as easy as can be. Now I have no issues in looking ahead. I feel no ego pinch when I think of changing plans to fit into a larger scheme. And I certainly don't have a problem in using the "L" word.

Having said that, I'm still freaked out.

But am very happy for my birdie :)

Single and Hungry

Today I decided to treat myself to a lunch at Goa Portuguesa, for the only reason that I was in Dadar all day, and had little else to do, and little other options to eat at. Actually the second part is a lie. I just wanted to pamper myself. Anyway, I walk into GP, and the waiter gives me a smile.

"Can I have a table, please."

"Two, madam?"

"One"

The waiter looked around. "Wherever you want, Madam".

I eat out a lot. Sometimes out of compulsion, most times, out of interest. I am an absolute foodie, but I usually have little company to indulge me - my boyfriend lives far away and is a vegetarian, my roommate is always stuck in office, and, well, I am always hungry. So I wind up eating alone... a lot.

When a woman walks in alone, the waiter will always fill up two glasses and leave two menus on the table, as a polite gesture. As if its bad to assume that she's alone. Maybe its an understood that women take it as offensive if it's assumed that they are dining alone - as if they are THAT unattractive that it's implausible that ANYONE would be joining them for a meal.

Then you have to say, nicely. "It's only me."

Or, you have to wait until the waiter does not come to take your order.

Then begins the bout of self consciousness. When you order, for one, one woman, it becomes a nightmare for the binge eater. You can almost read the waiter's mind...

"Salad"

Anorexic. Poor thing.

"Fish and Chips"

With your waistline?

"Just chicken curry. No bread"

Weirdo...

I usually do the last thing (Atkins!) I restrict myself to doing it at the quaint Parsi restaurant near my office. All Parsis are eccentric, so the waiters are not surprised at anything. Once a guy ordered for his food to be packed for a take away, and he sat down at a table, opened the packets and began eating it right there in the restaurant. He even refused the waiter's offer of a plate and cutlery.

The thing about crowded restaurants is that a single woman diner is a huge liability. Three men come in, and the table is occupied by the little woman dressed like a penguin eating salad, for God's sake. Do we ask her if they can join her? Do we not?

I personally have no reservations with sharing my dining space in say, an Udipi. If I have to share space at a nice place, it kind of defeats the purpose. Speaking of Udipis, once I had the pain of dining with a guy who was shifted onto my table, who then insisted on getting my phone number and talking to be to seek advise about his girlfriend who wasn't talking to him anymore. This South Indian Thali nearly ended in a bloodbath, with me screaming at the guy and the management of the restaurant for actually billing us together and passing the bill to the idiot in question, who was all ready to foot it. Too bad, I actually liked the Thali, and in a moment of pride and absolute disregard to the quality of South Indian food in fort, I yelled that I would never step foot in the restaurant again. Thankfully, they have a separate section for idli dosa.

And then of course there was the time that two men joined me at the table at the Parse place, and then stood up as soon as they noticed what I was eating.

"She's eating NON VEG!"

It's a Parsi place. Give me a break. At least I'm just eating it in front of you, and not putting it in your food, which is probably what's happening to your order right now. Did you really think the veg Dhanshak gets it flavour from the Potato that's floating in it?

I'm just kidding, guys. Really.

The other thing you get is inquisitive looks from other diners. Boyfriend claims that the reason men stare at single women diners in fancy restaurants is because of the possibility that they are "rich AND available". Perhaps. But I think its more because men, well, they stare.

So, as roommate is stuck at work, and these are the last few days to relish ramzan specialities, I think I will head over for some Jafferbhai Kababs, alone. I recently read about a place which gives single women diners a complementary date at their table - a goldfish in a bowl, called Henry.

How patronizing can you get? Also, Henry would make a sucky date. At least I can get away with a few winces from my tam brahm boyfriend when I dig into plucky prawns. :)

Life Partners?

I am registered on Jeevansaathi.com. I know, I know. But all the same...

It gives me the occasional good laugh, of course. The latest "interested" men include:

1. Personality-Extrovert, talkative, Perfectionist, down to earth, honest, have got good sense of humour. Diet-Vegetarian, Tea totler.
(No coffee here, I presume?)

2. I have a pleasant personality. I prefer being humorous most of the times.
(Don't we all?)
Looking for someone who can be there to be there by my thick and thin
(shudder)

3. Though my age is 34 I look like 26-27 years old.

(Riight..)

And life goes on. Boyfriend is aghast at the fact that his cable connection has been cut off (after 12 months of not paying). We both agree that TV should be Free.

Today split an auto with an old man from the station. He inisted on paying the majority of the auto fare home (Rs. 5 out of the Rs. 9) and when I protested, he told me that he didn't have to pay for ANY other form of travel. I was puzzled, but then it occured to me...

"You're a Freedom Fighter?"

"Yes", he said, proudly, and slightly impressed. I guess he usually had to explain this himself.

"Wow."

"I was imprisoned for 1 year 3 months during the Quit India movement"

"Wow."

"My picture even came in the newspaper some months ago."

"Wow."

I know, not my usual verbose self, but I had never met a freedom fighter before. What does one say to a freedom fighter? Casual respect? Rang de basanti fanaticism? What, what?

"The other day, I was felicitated by Nita Ambani. She gave me a shawl, and a certificate. And she gave me a bg envelope. When I opened it, you know, there was a cheque for Ten thousand and one rupees!"

He made it sound like it was a jackpot. I thought guiltily of my blog ramblings of the previous night. And, I confess, I got corny.

"Well, I guess thats nothing compared to all that you gave up for the sake of the country."

Yes, I did say that.

My old friend was touched.

"And you, beta, what do you do?"

"I'm... a lawyer", I said hesitatingly. Often I get a lot of unecessary crib from old relatives about lawyers. Or else, I have to hear the stupid shark joke again (we all remember that one, don't we?)

"A Lawyer?", he said, excitedly. "A lawyer? Such a little girl, already a lawyer? Very good."

And there was his stop.

"Very good, very good. God Bless You, beta."

I folded my hands in parting. No, I didn't say "Jai Hind". Dude, I wasn't that taken in by the whole thing.

You wonder what these guys must be thinking now that they see the whole world changing before their eyes. Did they have a vision of what India would be, once independent? Or were they just concerned with getting the Brits to 'Bharat Chodo?'

Whatever. God Bless their souls. Whatever we may be today, I don't think their contribution can ever be undermined. Would you spend 15 months of your life in Jail for the Country?

[I wanted to write about some mob mentality stuff today, but I kind of spazzed out. I'm noting this so that I can read this tomorrow and remember. I've set a to-do list on my phone but the size of it is freaking me out!]

The Poverty Line

Ugh, I don't know how many people actually knows what it fels like to see your balance to be 1200 bucks, mainly because 'minimum balance' rules never let that happen. Well, I think minimum balance is a good thing. Very good thing. At least it save you from the heartbreak of having no money.

How awful. My job pays shit, whenever my bosses remember to pay me. The problem is, I would like to maintain a nice lifestyle. I would like to eat out as much as possible, as opposed to cooking myself, and I want to hang out with friends, which again entails socializing... and you invariably wind up spending 200 bucks a day. Don't socialize all week? Then you'll have a weekend that'll set you back 2k. It sucks, it sucks. And the cheque still has not been credited. Blah. Did anyone say anything about a job opening in a Corporate firm?

But everyone around is so sweet. Everyone wants to foot your bill - your roomie, your boyfriend, your mom. Mom of course wasn't very considerate about the whole deal...

Me: Ugh. Am so broke.

Mom: Haven't you gotten paid yet?

Me: Uh, yes, I deposited the cheque...

Mom: How much did you get?

Me: (c'mon. give me my privacy, please!)

Mom: But they should have paid you 1 1/2 months ago. They should be giving you double your salary now!

Me: Yes mom, I know.

Mom: What about that case you won last month? You didnt get anything extra on that?

Me: Nooo...

Mom: And what about that other case you did, you said your boss charged more than a lakh...

Me: Uh... (stoofid Ruma and her bragging)

Mom: Don't they give you anything? And why is it taking this long for the cheque to clear?

Me: I don't know...

Mom: Do you need money?

Me: No....

Mom: Sure? Why is your voice like that? Why are you sounding depressed?

Me: I'm just tired....

But now I grin, because I can bear it.

And I have another big multinational case in Court tomorrow and I will get nothing in return for it, but that's ok. As long as living in poverty for another year gives me a one year free stay in the US, I'm all for it!

Of changes - for now, and soon to come

Goodie goodie. I am getting new glasses. The selection process was elaborate and painful, two selection sessions, one last night, with sister, after which we selected 2 frames for A to help decide on, and the next morning, where A rejected both (now you know why I asked her for help) and selected a new one. I don't know how much of a difference it will actually make to my looks, but what the hell. Of course this 'makeover' is setting me back quite a bit, maybe I am feeling poor because I haven't enchashed this month's paycheque yet. What kind of an idiot waits 4 days before encashing a cheque? I usually shamelessly deposit it the day I get it, preferably the hour I get paid (slink into the lift, rush to the ICICI, deposit cheque, slink back).

I don't know where all my money goes. But this is common refrain among my friends, even A keeps gasping at the rate at which her balance dwindles. It doesn't take much, I realize - the ordering in, the phone bill (thanks to the long distance relationship), cab rides instead of the bus, the 10 buck auto to the station, groceries... aarrghh...

And I still owe Ma for the Credit Card Bill she covered for me.

Sometimes, I wish I had a corporate job. Then incidents like last night sort of wake me up.

A came back, disraught, a Client (alumni of our esteemed institution) called her a "stupid bitch". I mean, who does that? She seems to be doing better after 1. many chocolate pastries 2. many cigarettes 3. gin n tonic 4. 12 hours of sleep 5. chicken cafreal (by yours truly), but anyway, that doesn't make whatever happened right.

So as I, and later Lax, our guy buddy for all seasons and reasons, began ranting, bloody, the firm she works for must do something about this. What the fuck. Etc. Etc. And A calmly replied that the firm would do nothing of the sort. They would tell her to grin and bear it. The usual 'it happens'.

Does 'it happen'? Maybe it does. But aren't you allowed to protest, scream, give it back, show him who's boss, blah blah? No, you aren't, apparently because when a Client pays your Boss in crores, and more importantly when your Boss pays you in lakhs, its OK. Think about the paycheck sweetie, your pride is negotiable, as is your value as a Human Being, oops, did we say that out loud?

So she's better now, thank God. And back to her big plan of getting the hell out of here, the only way, we agree, to make some positive changes in her life. She was asking for tips for costume for the BIG office party. My sis was impressed.

"You have real kick ass parties like this?"

"Naah," said A. "More like Lick Ass parties, these are."

They can make her cry but they can't take away her sense of humour. God bless A.

Aftermath

Yesterday I was taking a bath when A rapped on the bathroom door.

I was sure she had come to tell me about some Client calling incessantly on my phone, or some Sunday morning debt collector. "Haahn?" I chirped, trying my best to sound enthusiastic.

"Ruma, Alyosha was stabbed last night, near College. He died."

I guess one's first reaction is the one thats the most skewed. My only explanation to the fact that I had no reaction at all. Not even a bewilderment.

Pieces of the story started filtering in, along with reactions. What the exact facts are, I don't know, and perhaps are not so important. In case you think it is, a ToI report is here. A young boy, full of life, and arguably one of the most intelligent amongst his peers, is now dead.

And I knew him. I knew him as a junior, as my roommate's boyfriend, as someone I admired, for his intelligence and athleticism and charm. I admit that a year after graduation, its not like we were even in touch. But when it comes to death, the effect it has on us doesn't necessarily depend on all this.

I feel outraged, more than anything else. That people I grew up with (for God knows that Law School was my 'growing up' at its most important) could be subject to such violence and pain. We've been in bad situations, even life threatening, maybe. Accidents, natural calamities, terrorist attacks maybe. But I thought, assumed rather, that such targetted violence was far away from the people I knew, the people I studied with, people I was related to. (I would like to say people I work with, but my bosses have police bodyguards, so I guess the possibility is not THAT remote).

But now its happened. And what's more, it happened very close to a place where I lived for 5 years. My Bangalore city, my Nagarbhavi, the BU Campus, is now violated. In a way I feel attacked. And insecure. This was a random, unnecessary and unprovoked murder. It could happen to anyone.

I don't think I'll ever write enough about the horrific images of a loved one being subject to such violence in front of one's very eyes. Or the helplessness his friends might have felt while trying to save his life, and, if this is true, the chaos and frustration which would have erupted when they were refused admission in a hospital. I shudder when I think of what they must have gone through, what his parents must have gone through, his friends, who are only now finding out about the incident.

Death is the only certainty, and I admit, it scares me. I have no qualms in admitting that I am shit scared of dying. Many people I know have died, but we've all been able to put it behind us in some way or the other - cancer (it runs in their family/he should have seen the early signs/science has really progressed now,even that stage is curable), heart attacks (she needed to control her weight/he drank too much), suicide (I am so much more in control of my life man, I would never do that).

But Murder? That too in such a random fashion? It makes you feel so vulnerable, and drives in the fact that anything can happen, any time, any where. You think the Bangalore University on a dark night is too random? Think of the times when you have been alone - walking home from a late night movie, alone in the ladies compartment after a long day at work, the times when you wanted a late night coffee at the 24hrs cafe... suddenly, our own mortality and vulnerability shines through, and leaves us more helpless than before.

I am not even going to attempt to figure out the mind of a murderer. As for the victim, what is he but another statistic? An utter waste of a life, extinguished for no reason. And in cases of random attacks, (sorry, but I'm a lawyer here) getting justice becomes that much more difficult. Having a motive makes it so much easier to prove a chain of circumstances. Which is why, I hope, some alumni in Bangalore can 'watch' the matter - at the stage of recording statements of witnesses, to represent the victim's family, or even the University, at the stage of Trial - this is a Police Case, conducted by a Public Prosecutor, and if you know anything about the system, or have at least read my earlier blog entry, we all know how exactly the system can and will be manipulated.

Whatever can, or will happen, with regard to this case, no one can really tell. But what I do know is, that this will continue to affect me for the longest time. I realize that this is a very selfish take on the whole matter, but then, I guess we all put our personal spin on everything. I'll keep my rational selfless approach for any solicited advise I have to give, thank you very much.