India, March 20 -- The long chiming ring of the doorbell knocks me off from my morning daze. I head towards the main door, leaving the tea to boil on the stove, muttering under my breath who it could be on a Sunday morning? I quickly glance at the wall clock. 10.30 am. It could not be the help. She had made it clear last evening; that she would come post 11 am.

I open the main door but only half. Sceptical, I peep through the grills of the safety door. I do not recognize the people I see. There are three of them. Two women and a man.

'Madam, we are here for a survey from the local corporator's office. We need some information.' The woman wearing a green and red cotton saree, a neat bun, and a pair of full-rimmed glasses protecting a cur...