It was stuffy, the air was still, and the robed men droned on unmindful of the somnolence of their audience. Occasionally, a mouse would scurry past - providing amusement and welcome relief to our glazed eyes.

You wouldn't think it from this description, but the eyesore of a room I was holed up in for hours the other day, was courtroom number 45 at the Mumbai Sessions Court.

Mice and peeling paint (when there is paint) - not to mention smelly paan-stained corridoors and icky window sills. This is what 50 years of a fully functional legal system has given us.

Now I'm not a blinkered patriot who believes our country should have Damini-style courtrooms worthy of its magnificence. I'm Indian - so I've learnt over the years not to expect too much. And I'm certainly a rabid Mumbaikar - so I'm always saying 'chalta hai'.

But I still cringe with jealousy when I watch American trial rooms on C-span. Dull beige walls, dull chairs, and dull tables. Dull, just like prosecution lawyers.

But they're clean. And temperature-controlled. And look like they smell of fresh orange disinfectant.

If they can have it, why the heck can't we! How much would it cost for a few cans of beige paint? And maybe a bit of rat poison too while we're at it. That's not asking for too much. Even for a naïve Mumbaikar. But like a naïve Mumbaikar, I listen intently as my government blabbers on about its Shanghai Dream - and like the rest of my tribe, I'm willing to let myself be deluded.

And dream of orange disinfectant as I lift my feet and let the mice go by.