A day at the registration office

"Nishka, come back here," I called to my daughter who was running in all the directions at the property registration office. 

A while later, Nishka began to play peek a boo with a middle aged lady( she seemed to me in her early 40s) sitting next to me. I looked at the lady and both of us instinctively smiled each other. The lady was wearing a faded green chiffon saree, the pallu of which hung loosely on her shoulders. She wore a long bindi on her forehead, her long dishevelled hair was plaited loosely and the plait thinned as it ended. She looked as if she had not slept through the night and her face looked tired. 

Next to her sat her aged mother grimly. 

"We came to sell our land in BTM layout" she said with a smile that betrayed the painful emotions that she was going through. It was obvious that she and her mother were parting with something very dear to them. Also BTM layout was a prime locality in Bangalore and I was a little surprised when I heard that.

"Are you getting a good price?" I asked her. "No, madam, price is just ok. Recession has hit the company where my brother worked and he has lost his job. He needs the money to pay off a few loans," the lady said. 

"My husband used to work as an engineer in BESCOM and in one of the Govt sponsored schemes got this land for a very good rate 25 years back. We would have never sold it - but times have changed, " spoke the mother with her eyes filling up. 

"Who is the buyer?" I asked.

"Some muslim family . They plan to build a multi-storied house here," the lady said. 

I nodded.

Even though I did not show it, I was unhappy that a multi-storied house was being constructed on the land. BTM for me held memories of a residential layout. It was in such a peaceful layout that we had stayed as newly weds about 10 years back. Even though I had noticed that BTM had metamorphed into a buzzing commercial area, I would be frustrated everytime I saw or heard of construction of a multi-storied building.

That day, as I sat in the registration office, I picturised a rich muslim businessman supervising the construction of a multi-storied apartment that would eventually be rented out to IT professionals at high rents. 

I shrugged the thought aside and smiled understandingly at the ladies.

A few minutes later, the ladies were called inside. A group of muslim men and the lady's father discussed last minute terms and signed a few papers. The proceedings were all over in a few minutes and the ladies bid my daughter good bye as they left.

I got a book out of my bag and started reading it. I was engrossed in my book when I heard my daughter's voice, " Anna(brother,) I would like to see too … " Nishka was trying to befriend a 10 year old boy who was completely engrossed in to the video game in his hand. I tried to distract my daughter, but she would not pay heed. 

"Its ok" said a voice from the side. I turned to see the boy's mother - a young pretty burqa clad lady smiling back at me. I smiled back instinctively. The lady looked kind and friendly. Her eyes looked sharp and it looked as if she was well educated. We started talking.

"We have come here to buy land," she said with a smile and a hint of excitement in her voice. "We have a big family and our current house in the old city is small for all of us. My husband and his brothers are very close to each other and we were looking for a good land where we all can stay together." 

It was nice to hear that people liked staying in joint families. I smiled back affectionately.  She was very graceful and the manner in which she spoke was polished and respectful. I was instantly drawn to her.

"Where is the land you are taking?" I asked her curiously with a smile. 

"In BTM," she smiled back. She paused for a while and then said.

 "You remember the ladies you were speaking to about an hour back."

"We are taking their land," she said.