In the aftermath of the pandemic, it looked like suicide was the only option left for families put under unbearable financial stress. During the peak of the second wave, between June and July 2021 alone, 17 people in Kerala had chosen death over the pain of brutal economic losses.
Not Ajo and Ann, a young couple badly pulverised by the pandemic. They had hit upon an inventive survival strategy: a lottery-like lucky draw to sell their dream house that is just about three years old. They printed 3,700 tickets, each with a unique number like in the case of lotteries, and sold them to anyone interested. Each ticket cost Rs 2,000.
A lucky draw was supposed to be held on October 17 this year, and on the day the 1,500-sq-ft two-storeyed house was to be handed over to the winner. The hall of the Christ the King Church at Moonnammoodu near Vattiyoorkavu in Thiruvananthapuram was booked for the lottery draw.
The 'lottery-house' scheme was all over the traditional and new media. The business was as brisk as that of Kerala State's Onam Bumper lotteries. “We were flooded with calls, some 100-200 calls a day,” said Ann. But by the time they had sold about 250 tickets, their luck was up.
The Kerala State Lotteries' Department despatched the police to Ann and Ajo's doorstep to inform them that the scheme was illegal. “We came to know of the scheme through news reports,” a top official of the Directorate of Kerala State Lotteries told Onmanorama.
“As per the Kerala Lottery Rules, only the state government can conduct lotteries. It is also punishable under Section 294(A) of the Indian Penal Code,” the official said. Under this IPC section, whoever runs a lottery business that is not authorised by the state government could be fined and imprisoned for up to six months.
“We told the couple not to go ahead with the scheme. We informed them about the law, which they were unaware of. It is as illegal as someone buying liquor bottles from BEVCO outlets and selling them outside. Like in the case of liquor, lotteries too are the exclusive domain of the state government,” the official said.
Since she had information only from the police, Ann went to the Lotteries' Directorate and met the top officials. She said the officials understood her plight. “They told me about the legal issues involved. They said if anyone raises a complaint at a later stage, both the Department and us would be in trouble,” Ann said. She promptly cancelled the booking for the hall where the draw was to take place.
The couple is now paying back, through the Google Pay app, the ticket money they have collected by now. “We hope to complete the repayment in two days,” Ann said.
They embarked on the 'lottery-house' scheme after exhausting all attempts to sell their house in the traditional way. “Knowing that we are in serious financial difficulty, buyers kept the costs very low. No one was willing to pay more than Rs 35 lakh,” Ann said. The two-storeyed house, christened 'Bethlehem', is constructed in the modern unfussy style with a wide frontage and windows protected within tiled concrete brackets.
Selling the house was the last resort, almost like suicide. “I had bought this house three years ago when it was in the construction stage. This was before my marriage and then we shaped the house according to our needs. This was our dream,” Ann said. But with debts mounting and failing at all attempts to find some means of income, the couple had no choice.
Both had lost their jobs and were unable to find new ones. Ajo was in Singapore and Ann in Hongkong. Ajo even developed a serious eye condition that induced blindness; he has by now lost complete sight in one eye and has just 30% sight in the other. Attempts to find a job for Ajo in the disabled quota, too, fell flat.
Their debt had amounted to Rs 32 lakh and their bank refused to offer them any more grace period. The bank says it was patient for over a year. It was then that the couple came to know of the lottery-style survival strategy. They heard that another pandemic-wrecked couple was trying to do the same with their agricultural land.
This scheme, announced much earlier, was not on the radar of the Lotteries' Directorate, till the Ajo-Ann scheme came to light. “We had asked all district police chiefs to keep an eye out for such schemes. Now we have information about 16 such schemes. We will get in touch with each of them and explain why they should withdraw their schemes. If they don't, we will have to press charges against them,” the Lotteries' official said.
A fleeting sense of deliverance many would have felt has now been deflated. But Ann and others like her still have to repay their debts. At least for Ann and Ajo, suicide is not an option. “I am not sure what to do,” she said. “But I have had several calls from Malayalis, especially in the Gulf. They tell me to fly there and sell the coupons. Many of them said they were willing to buy bulk tickets,” she said.
Ann is now considering the legal implications of such a move. “We know what we have done is not wrong. Among those who had taken tickets from us were lower middle-class people. What if one of them had won the draw? They would have secured for their family a house they could not have even dreamed of for just Rs 2000. As for us, we could have begun afresh without the burden of debt,” Ann said. “But we also have to respect the law,” she said.
