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A Lady of around thirty or so was crying in the court corridor. She wore a plain outfit, the kind one wore as a bank clerk or teller, totally inconspicuous. Around her were litigants accompanied by their lawyers. Everyone was worried about something or the other. It reminded me of Blake’s poem:
“I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.”
This was a housing court
and most housing courts
are beds of discontent.
Everyone has some kind of
a problem with his
neighbour or the
management of the block of
flats he lives in.
However, unlike other
courts, this one was neat
and clean, but kind of
minimalist, almost like a
Sol Lewitt installation.
Steel chairs were arranged
around the corridor, with
the court clerk and usher
seated at the door leading
to the court rooms. From
where they sat, they could
guard the entrance from
irate householders, who
would have otherwise
barged in during the fits
of rage they managed
to work themselves into.
“What’s the matter, ma’m?” I asked her.
“My son’s
dead,” she answered
between sobs. “He
drowned in the swimming
pool of our condominium
complex.” She paused
for a moment to compose
herself. “These
people,” she
indicated the court rooms
at the other end,
“refuse to even
listen to my
complaint.”
I have heard so many sad
stories in my time that
this did not really shock
me much. Today, almost
every apartment complex
has a swimming pool.
Indeed, it is taken for
granted that each such
residential structure will
have one, not so much for
actual swimming but more
for splashing around in.
“He was only four years old,” she added.
This caught my attention
because my own child was
only three and it was with
great difficulty that I
managed to keep her from
jumping into the first
body of water she happened
to see. Children just love
water and become possessed
of phenomenal strength
when it comes to
satisfying their desires,
particularly where water
is concerned. Once a child
makes up his or her mind
to do something, it is
next to impossible to stop
them. They will wait for
the right moment and do
exactly what their little
minds want them to do.
“How did he drown?” I asked.
“It was around four
in the evening and my
father was taking a short
nap. He had just brought
my boy back from his
roller-skating class and
it was time for him to do
his homework, so father
felt it would be okay if
he took his eyes off his
grandson for a
while.”
I learnt from her that the
swimming pool in her
housing complex was shut
from 1 pm to 4.30 pm.
There were two entrances,
one used by children and
the other by adults. Her
son had first approached
the children’s
entrance, only to find it
locked. So he had
proceeded to the adult
entrance, which for some
reason had remained open.
There were no lifeguards
at that hour and the child
had drowned within seven
minutes. How the lady
reached the figure of
seven minutes was
difficult to understand.
“I was suddenly
jerked awake,” said
her father, who was
dolefully standing
next to her. He had
blended so well with the
surroundings that I had
not noticed him till now.
“I was sweating and
felt clammy all
over,” he said.
“Something was
wrong. I could sense it. I
shouted out for my
grandson. When I received
no reply, my heart
sank.”
He was tall
and lanky with a hangdog
expression on his face.
His clothes appeared to
have been stitched in the
80s, serviceable but
hopelessly out-of-date.
The lady had begun
to cry again. I waited
patiently for her sobs to
subside. “Within
seven minutes he was
dead,” she repeated.
“Just seven minutes.
Within seven minutes he
was dead.”
Now as a lawyer, it is
never wise to get too
involved with a client.
Especially in criminal
matters. But this was much
too close to home. If have
heard it once, I have
heard it a thousand times.
Never come too close to
your clients. Of course, I
have heard worse stuff
than this before. But
then, I could not forget
my time out at sea, where
I had been responsible for
the entire crew. I had to
see to it that they were
all well and taken care
off. But that was another
ball game altogether. I
was struggling against
myself, unable to let go
of my past, even when it
was threatening to upset
my present.
I consoled the bereaved
lady as best I could and
left the housing court
after letting her know
that I would handle her
case pro bono.
* * *
Many housing societies
have leveled out their
swimming pools, just so
that accidents don’t
take place. But most
of them continue to run
their swimming pools, with
or without regular
lifeguards. I visited the
lady’s apartment
complex so that I could
put some sense into the
managing committee that
administered it.As I had
expected, it was a waste
of time. They kept
repeating that theirs were
honorary positions and
that they could not be
expected to look after the
well-being of all those
who used the common
facilities of the complex.
“It’s not my
fault if a resident cannot
control his or her
child,” said one of
the managing committee
members, in the manner of
a debater scoring off an
opponent. He had on a
supercilious smile, as if
to say: “See, what a
smart guy I am.”
“As per regulations,
you cannot run a swimming
pool without a proper
lifeguard in
attendance,” I said.
“We do have a
lifeguard. Your
client’s child
entered the pool during
the hours when it is shut.
See there,” he said
and pointed to a board on
which the pool timings
were written.
“But the pool
entrance is meant to be
locked during
off-hours,” I
remarked patiently.
“I have plenty of
work to do now. So you may
go,” he said
somewhat disdainfully and
made a dismissive gesture.
The managing committee of
a condominium building is
elected by the apartment
owners in order to
administer to the shared
facilities of the complex.
Generally speaking, these
office-bearers are retired
persons who have enough
time on their hands to
oversee such work. More
often than not, power goes
to their heads and they
comport themselves in a
tyrannical manner. Instead
of streamlining the
running of the apartment
complex, they spend their
time making life hell for
residents who don’t
toe the line.
My client’s
complaint came under the
heading of not toeing the
line. As far as the
managing committee was
concerned, it was no fault
of theirs if my client had
been unable to control the
movements of her child.
The law, however, thought
otherwise and I was sure I
could make an example of
these erring
office-bearers to help
straighten out the
dismal safety
standards maintained at
apartment complexes in
Mumbai.
I sent the managing
committee a legal notice,
charging them with
criminal negligence, which
they chose to ignore. I
then filed a case at the
housing court and the
matter soon came up for
hearing. I was sure of a
precedent-setting
judgment, whereby every
apartment complex would be
compelled to employ
stringent measures to
prevent access to swimming
pools without a lifeguard
on watch. This was what
was needed.
Our hearing at the housing
court was scheduled for
Monday and on Sunday
evening, I received a call
from my client. She
informed me that she had
decided to drop the case.
“I have seen the
light,” she informed
me in a dull monotone.
“I think – and
so does my husband –
that we should concentrate
on The Bible and forget what has happened. ‘Vengeance is mine,’ said the Lord. Let God judge the perpetrators.”
She then went on to recite passages from the Sermon
on the Mount. I was dumbstruck to say the least.
“Did the parson
preach all this in church
today?” I asked with
some asperity. What with
Gandhi having gone on and
on about the message of
love and peace as espoused
in The Bible, I was
just about sick of all
this turn-the-other cheek
pacifism.
“No,” said my client.
There was a long silence
at the other end, which
stretched my nerves to
breaking.
“What did Jesus do in the temples?” I exploded.
There was no reply from my client.
“What did he do to the money-changers?”
Silence.
“You have lost a
son, Madam. Your only son
and you insist on turning
the other cheek?”
She cut the line and I was left feeling ever so helpless.
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