All of a sudden, a very angry old man turned his red eyes on me and said, ``For you newspaperwallahs every tragedy is a comedy.'' Our chastened group immediately shut up, but found the queer statement intriguing. Tragedy becomes a comedy when it recurs with regularity. And that is what is happening in Mumbai, especially in the matter of building collapses. The Sukh Sagar complex in Malad collapsed in March, the Bandra building crashed on August 3, and a column in a MHADA building in Kala Chowki followed the trend last week. The three major incidents have put in the shade half a dozen other wall collapses which claimed at least 10lives. All within the space of six months. Has a roof above one's head, a dream of every Mumbai dweller, become a prospective death trap? Why do people continue to live in structures deemed dangerous for human habitation? The common answer comes in the form of a counter-question: Where else do they go?

True. In a city where a foot of space is priced at nearly Rs 1,000, where are the alternative forms of accommodation? A jhopadpatti in a once distant suburb of Govandi goes for Rs 4 lakh. Unfortunately, this statement does not hold water when the cost of a flat is compared to that of repairs and reconstruction. The six resident families of a building in south Mumbai, which was declared dangerous by the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation after a pre-monsoon survey, have decided to go in for phased repairs, at a total cost of Rs 28 lakh. Though they complain of lack of funds, it is a fact that papers seeking permission repairs have already been sent to various governmental agencies. The residents alsocollected one lakh rupees for a bank guarantee within one day!

Arguments that this is a one-in-a-million case may not be totally unfounded, but it only goes to prove that where there is will, cash is no problem. Lack of funds is not the major obstacle in many cases involving buildings constructed by private builders either, rather, the ownership of the plot becomes the point of dispute. The legal conveyance has not been made for many such buildings - wherein the builder transfers the right of property to the co-operative housing society - simply because of the absence of a society there. Hence, though the flats may have been sold, the land remains with the landlord.

A dilapidated building in J B Shah Marg cannot be repaired until the residents move out. The residents refuse to move out to transit camps because they fear that the land might be sold off even before repairs start.This fear of transit camps is a compelling reason for residents refusing to shift out of leave structures. One day, as this writerwas sitting in the waiting room of Madhukar G Chavan, chairman of the Repairs and Reconstruction Board of MHADA, a group of people residing in a transit camp at Kurla came in. They said they had been living in the camp for the last eight years, waiting for their building in Elphinstone Road to be repaired. The repairs had been completed when they ran into trouble - they were asked to surrender the keys of their transit camp residence before they were allotted the keys of the new residence.

The hassled residents came up with an innovative solution to this poser: they plan to invite Chavan to inaugurate the new building, and promise to surrender the keys of the transit camp apartments two days after the inauguration. Whether their ploy works remains to be seen.

To blame a government agency is the easiest thing in the world to do. At the most, one is issued a rejoinder, but the allegation sticks because, society's belief in the inefficiency of democratic governance has become so deep-rooted that to even tryquestioning it is seen as a mark of mental turpitude.

The total number of transit camp flats with MHADA amounts to nearly 25,000, while the number of cessed buildings is nearly 21,000. Cessed buildings are those which pay MHADA a specified amount annually for repairs, to be used as and when required. Most of these buildings are more than 50 years old, not a very encouraging sign. That they owe MHADA a total of Rs 14 crore in arrears for the fund is no secret either.

Given the scenario, what can be done to salvage the situation? The solutions are simple, even Utopian. Residents could repair their buildings once every ten years. The catch is, in most dilapidated structures, many residents are tenants accustomed to paying a few hundred rupees as rent. Why would they spend thousands repairing a building for which they pay such a measly rent? And why would the landlord repair a structure which is a financial liability to him? The old question remains: What of the shadow of death hanging over these people? ``Wehave faith in God. He will take care of us. Accidents can happen anywhere; why not die in our own house?'' Such words of pathetic bravado spout from the residents' mouths, even as their eyes flash with signs of fear.

The One Above may epitomise benevolence, but would it be wise to test His patience thus?

Sandeep K M is a reporter with The Indian Express. He covers infrastructure