Archive

After the retirement of the chief boxing protagonists (literally and metaphorically), an uneasy peace prevails these days in that jinxed Bombay Parsi Punchayet (BPP) boardroom (Vastu geomancery — divination by figures, lines or geographic features — exponents have allegedly fainted just looking at the building) on D. N. Road. Chairs no longer fly; incestuous relationships with maternal relatives are not alleged; the three lady trustees are not embarrassed; and the undertone though ice cold is not impolite. Until the famous tenancy issue comes up for discussion. Then, even this somewhat insipid asparagus Board becomes very agitated.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nearly 60% of BPP tenements are monthly contractual tenants; balance are licensees. Stripped off legalese, tenants are protected by the Rent Act and can be evicted if, and only if, a court concludes that one of the stated grounds of eviction applies. Right up to the Supreme Court, the whole process can take a quarter of a century or more to finally conclude. By which time Tehmurasp would have most probably migrated, moved to a private residence or reached those famed towers at Kemps Corner.
Hapless latecomer Lovji has no such luck. Licensees have no protection. If the trustees terminate the license, out they go; the competent authority will evict those who don’t vacate within a relatively shorter time. Any breach of the license agreement gives the trustees the right to terminate: Lovji’s mixed breed canine bit his neighbor’s nonagenarian mother-in-law whose life was tragically cut short; Lovji’s son married sumptuous Sunita; Lovji’s washed legho was found fluttering like a flag on the grand balcony; Lovji abused the BPP rent collector by calling him and his masters karoodas (swindlers). In short, there is statutory protection for tenants; not for licensees. Even if the licensee commits no breach, upon the expiry of the term of the license, which is usually five years for BPP flats, the license automatically comes to an end unless renewed by the trustees.
BPP, after the Bombay Port Trust, is the second largest landlord in the city, with under 4,500 tenements spread over more than 15 Parsis-only housing colonies. Five of the baugs are originally the result of munificence of the Wadias family whose matriarch, in a moment of pique against her interfaith marrying descendants, committed the Himalayan blunder of donating the colonies to the BPP. The Wadia Committee therefore has no legal locus though in practice wields substantial influence over the trustees. The latter prefer to play second fiddle to the Wadias; almost embarrassed to be the legal owners of these baugs.
Most of the licensees have not placed refundable security deposit; around 350 have. There are no known instances where trustees have terminated the license on flimsy grounds. Allegations, mostly at the time of elections, of trustees victimizing licensees on ground of their political affiliation, have been found to be baseless. In the past the BPP has sued tenants and licensees alike if they inducted a non-Parsi spouse. But this practice had been stopped as interfaith marriages are now 49%. At the end of the day, both Tehmurasp and Lovji are also voters at the trustee elections whose path those trustees seeking reelection are unlikely to cross.
In one major respect however, Lovji is at a disadvantage. When Tehmurasp dies, any member of his family is entitled to the tenancy under the Rent Act. Even if there is no such member, his legal heirs, whether residing in Timbuktu or Toronto, are entitled to the tenancy; and can even legally encash its market value with the consent of the landlord, the BPP. Lovji’s people have no such automatic rights and face an arduous task in being recognized as the licensee in his/her place by the BPP. This makes Lovji a second class citizen.
A few months before the last general election of all trustees, the Dinshaw Mehta camp announced that if elected, they would convert all licences into tenancies. It made most licensee voters orgasmic, resulting in many votes for this group. However, implementing this promise has proved a herculean task for the four trustees who are Mehta loyalists. The three minority bitterly oppose the proposal on multiple grounds. Decibels rise in the boardroom whenever this issue is on the agenda. The Wadias are apparently furious too.
Several grounds for opposing bringing Lovji on par with Tehmurasp have apparent merit; others are poppycock. The most orthodox trustee agrees that it is indeed equitable to have a single class of tenants provided a mechanism is devised to ensure that tenants adopting a non-Parsi child are evicted. It is believed (erroneously, according to this columnist) that it is easy to evict a licensee doing so. And this is not a theoretical situation.
One trustee, who is himself a BPP tenant, contends that this proposal to convert licenses into tenancies requires prior permission of the Charity Commissioner under Section 36 of the Maharashtra Public Trusts Act. This section applies to any transfer of interest in immovable property belonging to a charity trust. A monthly contractual tenancy, we believe, is not a transfer of interest within the ambit of this Act. Wearing our legal cap, we opine that no such permission is required and no precedent of such permission exists. The proposal does run into rough weather when it comes to the modalities of implementing it. Though none knows exactly how the advocates of this proposal intend to bring it about, the most likely way is that the BPP will write to each licensee whether she is interested in converting to a tenancy (which is like asking a convict on death row whether he prefers the sentence to be commuted to life imprisonment). Barkis will of course be willing (a phrase denoting consent, drawn from a Charles Dickens’ novel, David Copperfield, where Barkis expresses his interest in marriage) but can he afford to pay the heavy stamp duty on such conversion? The better off licensees will; the economically vulnerable may not. Will not the trust help or subsidize such licensees? The BPP is near bankrupt due to decades of gross, financial mismanagement. Despite being obscenely asset rich, the trust leads a hand to mouth existence. It does not have the resources to help out. Can the BPP approach the State Government to give a onetime waiver to the underprivileged of a micro-minority. None appear to have contemplated examining this possibility. But unless the trustees are unanimous, the possibility however, small of the state government granting such stamp duty exemption becomes even more remote.
A trustee who was a former revenue officer contends that the proposal may fall foul of income tax laws. The licensees en masse agreeing to treat their refundable deposits with the BPP as donations may be viewed as a colorable device to avoid taxes. We do not believe that there is substance in this argument, however it cannot be disregarded.
Bringing Lovji on par with Tehmurasp is the equitable thing to do. When the Wadia matriarch donated these priceless heritage properties to the BPP, she certainly did not contemplate that the trustees will create a separate class of licensees with inferior legal rights than tenants. This contentious issue is disturbing the otherwise reasonable functioning harmony of the trustees. They should appoint an expert committee to examine the pros and cons and make at least one fair attempt to make everyone tenants. This is the august charity trust of the community and not a continuous, political battlefield. Don’t penalise Lovji for drying his legho on the balcony.