Space is never a crunch in Mumbai for a single male who, like a paying-guest bathroom, is unattached. With a budget a broker would later term "better than Yashwant Sinha's", accommodation is always available. Call a number in the classifieds section. Any number. "Can I get a place in Dadar or Worli or Bandra?"
Brokers are men who will never say no. When a caller tells him he can pay even up to Rs 15,000 per month, many vacant spaces have already flashed in his mind. He wants to get to work right away. But first he wants to bond. "What's your name?"
"Mohammed Khan."
And then there is a pause on the other side. It's a pause that visits this correspondent time and again throughout a week when he exchanges a decent Christian upbringing ("Christ is the true lord") for a simple Muslim name, for reasons of professional necessity. "Hello, are you there?"
Some bubble in the broker has burst. "I am here," he says, "I'll call you in five minutes. I've to find some safe houses."
"Yes I want a safe house. But what is a safe house?" "I'll call you in five minutes," he says and puts the phone down.
With a brokerage fee equal to two months rent, "which is negotiable", it's not a surprise that he calls immediately. "I'll be straight with you Mohammed. Forget Dadar. They don't want Muslims out there. Worli's a bit tough. I've to check Bandra. Christians and Hindus get priority there. Will Mahim do? There are some Muslim houses there. Or how about the suburbs?"
"Worli sounds good to me".
"What do you do?" the broker asks.
"I work in an IT company."
"Where?"
"Town."
"For how long?" More questions.
The next day the broker sends a boy called Yusuf Khan to show the house which is in one of those huge residential buildings in Mumbai from where, theoretically, secularists come. Vaitarna near the Worli seaface is the kind of place that balanced editorials are written for. We have to go to the 12th floor to meet a lady doc who wants to give out a room as paying guest. In the lift Yusuf whispers, "We really had to hunt for a place for you. Very difficult these days. One man has ruined all our names?"
"Which man?"
He is too nervous to say the name because lift attendants have good ears. "I mean some people have ruined all our names. Even this house, I haven't told them you are a Muslim. Try to impress them. Speak in English." Yusuf endearingly inspects the fellow Muslim he is trying to find a place for. What he is looking at is possibly a face that in its graver moments looks like Mohammed Atta's but can burst into very pleasant smiles easily due to years of servility as a paying guest. And it's a face that speaks English. The doctor and the husband show the room that the broker initially said was going for Rs 8,000 per month. "It has a separate entrance." They ask a few casual questions about work and other things and finally they ask the name.
"Mohammed Khan."
The couple exchange a quick look. Then the man says, "The place is going for 9,000, you know that right?"
"I thought it was 8."
"No it's 9,000 plus 500 for maintenance."
"OK."
"And I need a photocopy of your passport. And I want to see the original. And I need two reference letters from people who know you. I need your company details."
"OK. I will bring the cash, passport and letters tomorrow."
The next morning the broker calls up and says, "They have a guest come down suddenly. So they can't give it out on rent right now. But we can find you another place."
This happens a few times, in Worli, in Colaba, in the heart of south Mumbai's affluence and in the suburbs. These are not ghettos, not chawls but generally what are called upper-class localities.In Bandra, a broker doesn't turn up for an appointment. I call him up and get a familiar answer. "They don't want Muslims." This is in the sophisticated Pali Hill area.
"Fine, but let me at least meet them. I don't look like a regular Muslim. If I can speak to them, I can convince them."
"Listen. Get this clear. They don't want to meet Muslims. But tomorrow I can show you a Muslim house."
To be fair to the city, it's possible for a Muslim to share a piece of Hindu property. But it's chiefly a matter of luck and a lot of struggle. "It was always a problem," one broker tells me. "But in the last few months, things have got really bad. Every Muslim is looked at as a terrorist. Nobody wants trouble. Some housing societies have passed resolutions in their annual GBMS not to let Muslims either buy property or live as tenants." He himself had finalised a deal for a Muslim in a plush society in the Khar suburb but the society rejected the buyer. It's a distrust that is sweeping many Muslims into busy community ghettos, some filthy, some reasonable. Places that eventually become "Muslim-dominated areas". Even in the depressed real estate market, Muslims are selling their property in Hindu-dominated areas and moving into what they perceive as places where they will be safe in a riot. While it may be true that Hindu tenants are not welcome in predominantly Muslim areas, brokers say a Muslim landlord in a "neutral locality" would not specify that he doesn't want Hindus. For that will be bad economics. A Muslim media professional who wanted to buy property in Borivili's IC colony was turned down by the housing society. After some more searches, she found a place in the distant Kandivili East suburb where, she says, "the construction was too new to have a society in place. The builder was just desperate to sell flats to just anybody."
Since the brokers are showing "Mohammed Khan" places they mostly deem as "safe", I decide to shed the pseudonym and come clean with a familiar enterprising broker, S.K. Singh, whose karma says that being good to bachelors comes back to you later as brokerage fee. But even he looks horrified when I ask him to take me to see some homes and introduce me as Mohammed Khan. "Are you mad," he asks. "I'll lose their trust, their contact. They'll never deal with me again if I take a Muslim to them. They tell me right away they don't want Muslims."
"Why?"
"They're not comfortable. They feel however straight a Muslim may be, something is always wrong. They also feel Muslims are dirty." So we decide Singh will show me the building and hide somewhere. "Mohammed Khan" will not let out even a whisper of his name. Somewhere in an affluent building in Prabhadevi, the door opens. It's a one-bedroom flat that's going for Rs 15,000 rent with Rs 10 lakh deposit. The head of the family after pleasant inquiries asks the name.
"Mohammed Khan."
He thinks a while. There is nothing rude about him. He just looks a man who wants something to just go away. Very politely he asks, "Your company will pay the deposit?"
"Yes."
"OK," he says, "Come after a while. I have to talk to the society."
"About?"
"Oh nothing. I have to just inform them about...you know...I have to just take care of some formalities."
Down below Singh keeps asking, "You didn't tell him you are my contact right? He will kill me if he knew."
Many blocks away, another house is going vacant. The landlord owns a medical shop nearby. Singh as usual is hiding, out of sight. Taking a break from his customers, the landlord turns to me. And asks the question. "Your name?"
"Mohammed Khan."
Somewhere in the background the last match in the series against Zimbabwe is proceeding to a pleasant end.But the imbalanced Douglas Marillier has just walked in and the ghost of his fearsome knock in the first one-dayer flashes before the eye. The owner shakes his head and says, "We're still thinking about giving our house on rent. We're not sure. And even if we do, we prefer vegetarians."
Marillier is bowled with a beautiful yorker. The bowler is jubilant. He is punching the air in ecstasy and on his sweat-drenched shirt is written Zaheer Khan. Wonder if he would have found a roof in Mumbai, if he worked in an IT company. But for sure, in the slog overs, that's a name most of the nation trusts. It's all very confusing.