The autorickshaw turns a sharp right-angled corner on to the Versova approach road; Bachchu Kaka yells above the noise of the traffic, ‘Stop!’ In that right angle where the land slopes to the sea, a crowd of some ten people is in heated argument with four men. Anima is amongst them, her salt-and-pepper hair glinting in the midday sun. She is impatiently pushing her glasses up the sweaty bridge of her nose.

As Bachchu Kaka approaches the knot of people, Anima notices him. She smiles and signals to him to wait. He waits. And watches. Anima’s side of the skirmish shouts, ‘We will not allow it. We’re ready to take the case all the way to the Supreme Court.’ The four men on the opposite side shout back that the government has sold the land to their company. Houses can’t be built unless the mangroves are cut. One of them adds sarcastically, ‘Your houses were also built on mangrove land.’ Anima’s side says, ‘Sure, but it won’t happen now. We are a registered residents’ body. Tell your boss to talk to us and our MLA. The government has no right to gift this land to your company or anybody else.’

The four men look undecided. In the normal course, their orders would be to start beating up the protesters. But the protesters are well-to-do people and include a couple of popular television actors. The boss has warned the men not to mess with these types. There are other ways of dealing with them. Yet how can they retreat before this unarmed bunch, of which six are women? The men stand their ground, chests stuck out, while the enemy waits silently for them to go away. They can’t hold out much longer. They must go, and they do, but not without shouting a menacing threat over their shoulders, ‘Wait till the police sort you out.’ The Advanced Local Management members disperse. Locking horns with the developer’s men is only the first round of the battle. Who knows what machinations the developer will put into motion now? But win or lose, they are primed for battle.