We are like this only
A considerable number of pages in the history have been dedicated to narrate the countless battles of ambitious men for pretty women and precious land. The temptation is boundless and people,
like bees drawn towards honey, indulge in mad scramble to posses land. What stands testimony to
this fact is that the ever-increasing number of land scams involving many politicos and skyrocketing
prices of land. A piece of land is strong enough to kill the peace of the entire world.Well, what left me perturbed is a piece of paper that I received from the Revenue department recently. It represented the sordid tale of red-tapism and the lackadaisical attitude of the bureaucrats. After taking its own sweet time, now the department has asked us to pay Rs 2,000 related to a land deal dated back to 1992. A long 19 years had been passed and too much water has flowed under the bridge since then. The “icing on the cake” was the deadline of five days and if fail to repay, they were all set to initiate revenue recovery process. The story is set in a Kerala village in the 1970s. Long before the land-hungry people dived into the money-spinning real estate business, my grandfather was a landlord, having nearly 80 acres of agricultural land. Elephants hardly realise their might, so did my grandpa. Despite helping hundreds of labourers of all castes and creed to eke out a living at his farm, he was tagged as a “bourgeois” by the erstwhile Communist rulers. At a time when landlords are considered harbingers of capitalism, an ideology that faced stiff resistance from the working class, it was indeed an undisputable argument. When the Communist government revolutionised the land scenario in the state, my grandpa had little choice, but to give up 20 acres, arguably for the cause of landless people. There was consolation too. Each acre was valued as per the government standards and was given a meager Rs 100. So grandpa’s 20-acre loss was compensated with Rs 2,000. Some others had better plans to hoodwink the government. Registering lands in numerous benami names was one among them.The story had a follow up. Years after, my father, a born legal warrior he was, took up the issue and embarked on a legal battle to get back our lost land. The wearisome process that reached the Supreme Court finally bore fruits and two acres was given back. Years passed by. Both my grandpa and father are no longer with us. Call it Anna Hazare impact, an official in the Land Board wanted us to return the compensation given for the returned land
forthwith. The due which was just Rs 200 in 1992 has apparently gone up further. The department,
which had a “technical error” not recovering the amount then, had no qualms whatsoever to add an
interest of the past 19 years that marked their inefficiency. It has now become Rs 2,000.
We neither had archaic documents to prove that our forefathers had paid the amount, nor time
to go for another legal battle to drive our point home. Having learnt a few basics of the cobwebbed land rules, now I look upon myself as someone nothing less than an enlightened landless lord. In fact, I have developed an aversion towards the dusty, mind-numbing land records. The thought was why should we pay price for the mistakes of our “hardly working” babus. Given that the so called bureaucracy is a necessary evil, it is understandable that there is no need to brood over the issue, but sacrifice my hard-earned money (though one can argue that the amount could not even earn me a Johny Walker moment) and bury the matter forever.
A considerable number of pages in the history have been dedicated to narrate the countless battles of ambitious men for pretty women and precious land. The temptation is boundless and people,
like bees drawn towards honey, indulge in mad scramble to posses land. What stands testimony to
this fact is that the ever-increasing number of land scams involving many politicos and skyrocketing
prices of land. A piece of land is strong enough to kill the peace of the entire world.Well, what left me perturbed is a piece of paper that I received from the Revenue department recently. It represented the sordid tale of red-tapism and the lackadaisical attitude of the bureaucrats. After taking its own sweet time, now the department has asked us to pay Rs 2,000 related to a land deal dated back to 1992. A long 19 years had been passed and too much water has flowed under the bridge since then. The “icing on the cake” was the deadline of five days and if fail to repay, they were all set to initiate revenue recovery process. The story is set in a Kerala village in the 1970s. Long before the land-hungry people dived into the money-spinning real estate business, my grandfather was a landlord, having nearly 80 acres of agricultural land. Elephants hardly realise their might, so did my grandpa. Despite helping hundreds of labourers of all castes and creed to eke out a living at his farm, he was tagged as a “bourgeois” by the erstwhile Communist rulers. At a time when landlords are considered harbingers of capitalism, an ideology that faced stiff resistance from the working class, it was indeed an undisputable argument. When the Communist government revolutionised the land scenario in the state, my grandpa had little choice, but to give up 20 acres, arguably for the cause of landless people. There was consolation too. Each acre was valued as per the government standards and was given a meager Rs 100. So grandpa’s 20-acre loss was compensated with Rs 2,000. Some others had better plans to hoodwink the government. Registering lands in numerous benami names was one among them.The story had a follow up. Years after, my father, a born legal warrior he was, took up the issue and embarked on a legal battle to get back our lost land. The wearisome process that reached the Supreme Court finally bore fruits and two acres was given back. Years passed by. Both my grandpa and father are no longer with us. Call it Anna Hazare impact, an official in the Land Board wanted us to return the compensation given for the returned land
forthwith. The due which was just Rs 200 in 1992 has apparently gone up further. The department,
which had a “technical error” not recovering the amount then, had no qualms whatsoever to add an
interest of the past 19 years that marked their inefficiency. It has now become Rs 2,000.
We neither had archaic documents to prove that our forefathers had paid the amount, nor time
to go for another legal battle to drive our point home. Having learnt a few basics of the cobwebbed land rules, now I look upon myself as someone nothing less than an enlightened landless lord. In fact, I have developed an aversion towards the dusty, mind-numbing land records. The thought was why should we pay price for the mistakes of our “hardly working” babus. Given that the so called bureaucracy is a necessary evil, it is understandable that there is no need to brood over the issue, but sacrifice my hard-earned money (though one can argue that the amount could not even earn me a Johny Walker moment) and bury the matter forever.
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