In our society, we were looking to do a transfer of Khata to our names for the new flats. One of documents required was the till date Encumberance Certificate form 15 that carries the property owner's names. The agent from BBMP was asking Rs.500 to render his 'services'. I thought of giving it a shot myself first. Here goes my journey:
I would like to mention that my Kannada is not very good. I can read small words at 10 words per min (I don't understand the meanings of all of them though) and can only manage to have very very basic conversations full of grammatical mistakes.
Reached Banaswadi Sub-Registrar office at about 10.10 AM. The office did not even have a board outside the building to indicate that there is a sub-registrar working in there! After asking around, I came to know that it was on the 1st floor of a non-descript building. I realized I was the the right place by the familiar aura of govt offices. Files stacked here and there, desks and iron chairs scattered throughout. The office was surprisingly clean! There were hardly any employees and the place was being swept. There were a bunch of uncles waiting for the counter for franking to open.
I started reading whatever I could written on the walls. I found a cabin where a stack of EC's were kept and I knew this was the place. A lanky gentleman appeared out of nowhere when I was trying to read what was written on the walls. I tried to converse with him in my broken Kannada. He was surprised a little in the beginning but then gave me a form (no 22) to fill in the details of the property.
The form was in English and I filled in fields I could easily identify, like requester, buyer, address etc. I gave him the half filled in form and he gave me an amused look as if he is used to my type of people. Then he took my pen and my copy of the sale deed and filled in the property description, EC period (dates between which you need the EC; for my case it was from the date of registration till date) and the index file number mentioned on the top of each page of the sale deed. I was pleasantly surprised that he did this for me. Probably because there was nobody else in the office around the EC counter. I thanked him profusely.
Then he asked for Rs.250/- for it to be ready in the evening. His help being too good to be true, I knew this was his cut as someone had mentioned the official fees as Rs.45/-. I told him that people in my building had got it for free! He gave me a grin and told me to goto the cash counter and 'sir' will take it from there.
The cash counter was the same as the franking counter and there were about 8 people in the queue before me. The clerk behind the counter was a burly middle aged man with thick rimmed glasses. He had dyed his hair unnaturally Black! Most of the uncles seemed pros at what they wanted and would not entertain any excuses for delays or pay bribes. I handed him the filled form 22 and my sale deed copy when my turn came. He returned it back to me with a indignant look... where was the survey number? An uncle standing behind me was quick to jump in and told me to open the deed to the place where the property description was listed. I did not need to refer as I already knew the survey number and appended it in the form and handed it back.
He wrote down my name and a reference number in his register and handed me back a chit with the date of delivery and the reference number for my transaction. I paid Rs.45 and was feeling a little happy to have avoided the extra bribe!
I was supposed to collect the EC 2 days later. I went there on the said date and saw it was closed. I was disappointed and went back. I had missed reading that day's paper and my dad told me there was a strike in the govt offices! I rued my luck and felt helpless.
I went back the next day in the evening and the scene was completely different. The place was teeming with people and the EC cabin was particularly crowded. I asked the clerk near the EC table how do I track if my job was done and he plainly pointed me out to the stack of the EC certificates! I had to rummage through the piles of certificates on a tray on the table. There were others like me. The only saving grace was that the papers were arranged in order with the newest on top. I quickly realized that the number mentioned on my chit was not in the pile. I complained to the clerk and he plainly said that means its not ready yet and asked me to come the day after. I was not at all surprised. At this point of time I was mentally prepared to wait it out.
I came back again the next day and it being Saturday, I was prepared to run around a little bit. I approached the clerk again and this time he recognized me and sent me over to the 'sir' in the cash counter to check if my transaction was completed. After braving out the queue for the cash counter, the 'sir' put me through to his colleague in the next counter. Fortunately this counter was empty as he was not handling any cash. He looked at a notebook and said that my job in 'in-progress' and to check with another clerk who manages the computer print-outs.
I asked more people and located a small computer on a table in a corner shielded by the crowd. He was a young man with earphones plugged in and blissfully unaware of his surroundings, a complete 'dude'. He was probably the only person at peace in the whole office! He was showing some wedding pictures to another man when I tried to talk to him. When I finally managed to get his attention, he keyed in the acknowledgement number on my chit and directed me to another woman who collates all the forms for signature.
This woman was in another room and was turned away from the door. I initially could not make it out but it turned out that she is the only woman employee in that office! She seemed to be the most helpful of all. She had the printout with her and I was so relieved to see that my job will be done today. She handed me the papers and told me get it signed by the same old 'sir'.
I stood in the queue again and the 'sir' just put his initials. I thought I was done and left the office. No sooner had I left the building than an old uncle saw the form 22 stapled to my stack. He quickly pointed out that I had to get it stamped and they would file my application form. I was not supposed to take it away.
I dreaded going back, but stepped in with a heavy heart. I went back to the helpful lady who told me to go back to the computer operator for stamping. I was feeling that this is such a practical example of recursion and geekily joked to myself that eventually I have to go back to myself! However the 'dude' told me to get it signed by his boss before he stamps it. His boss was at the first desk of the room and mostly not surrounded by people. He was basically answering questions from people. He signed my certificate and then i went back to the 'dude'.
I was finally relieved when he affixed the sub-registrar stamp and tore away the stapled application form. I was now the proud owner of my flat's EC! I never realized how much joy such little things can give us. I wrote this blog today to spread the joy forward!
