In January 2014, we will be
changing our house again. We have already started searching from December 1,
2013 and as on 31st December, the search for the ideal ‘rented house’ still
evades us. Now for a person who is lucky to own a house in Chennai or for that
matter anywhere else in India ,
this may not sound as a big deal. You may wonder what the hue and cry is all
about. Just contact a broker or better still search in free ads, lo and behold
the perfect house for rent lands up perfectly gift-wrapped on your lap on
Christmas eve. Unfortunately, this isn’t how the brickwork for renting a house
is laid.
Let me explain it in a different
context. Most of us Indians (even though a few like me thankfully didn’t have
to face the girl-seeing-tea-giving ritual) have a practical knowledge of how
the arranged marriage industry operates. The search for the ideal life partner
may take months and sometimes years. A friend of mine has been searching for 6
years, another for one year and one after a depressing search of one and half
years has finally hooked the perfect catch... oops the perfect match! By the
time their parents, relatives and well-wishers have sorted through the maze of
country-state-religion-caste-subcaste-horoscope-education-family/financial
background-colour-age-height-dowry (and various other weird requirements that I
can’t even mention here), the ‘ideal’ life partner ends up looking like Homo sapien Godzillaous. It’s a
physically-mentally-emotionally draining journey for the boy/girl whereby at the
end of the search they have already contemplated becoming a brahmachari (monk) and running off to
the Himalayas.
Anyway in short, that’s how
searching a house for rent is like. There is nothing called the ideal match and
it’s almost mission impossible to pair the right house to the right tenant. And
midway through the search, you feel like packing up your suitcase and living on
the pavement. After that, it’s the government’s headache to search a house for
you.
So here are my top five peeves
against the house hunting business:
1. I am not a slumdog millionaire – In Chennai, every good-looking
street ends in a slum. For the rent we pay, the least we expect is to get a
decent house. But no, of course that can’t be done. Just like the Snow White
story, the broker takes us through enchanting residential areas and parks his
Activa right in the centre of an ugly slum. Just picture ribbon-thin, unpaved
roads, colourful pots, screaming kids, drunkards, crying women, garbage on the
street and leering men in lungis. Perfect setting to make an Oscar-winning
movie but not to lead your life in peace.
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| Shell-shockers #1-Rentophobia |
2. Where is the kitchen Anna? – I firmly believe that women should
enter the Real estate business. Otherwise, how can anyone with a brain build a
house without planning for a proper kitchen? It’s like some Mr. Landownermoorthi thought one fine day… “Let’s build
a house and fleece a hapless couple. 2 rooms, 2 bathrooms, one balcony and one
hall. All in 650 sq ft. Done!”
“What about the kitchen mama?” Asks the meek Mrs. Landownermoorthi. In response Mr. Landownermoorthi gives the Mrs a
dirty look, throws in a room the size of a matchbox and a matchstick for a
washbasin, and calls it a kitchen.
3. Non veg aaa? Aiyo house Ilaaa! – Now Mr. Landownermoorthi comes built-in with several imaginary squares
on top of his head, which he ticks, or crosses based on whether we fulfill his
criteria of the ideal tenant. ‘Familyaa?’ ‘Yes sir’ - small tick.
‘Christianaa?’ ‘Yes sir’ – small cross. ‘Non vegaaa?’ ‘Yes sir’ – very big
cross. ‘Aiyo sir, sorry house no vacant!’ Maybe he visualizes us on weekends
wearing long grasses, holding skulls and bones in hand and dancing around a
fire in his precious matchbox kitchen.
4. Parking space, just around the corner – This reminds me of the
matrimonial ads in newspapers – ‘fair, homely, talented and well-versed in
home-making (whatever that means)’. The real deal will be just the opposite.
Indian fair aka brown, wears western clothes, and cooking skills will be
limited to boiling water. The broker assures us that the house comes with
‘ample parking space’ while when you ask the House Owner he responds without a break
that there’s no parking space available but we can ‘feel free’ to park our
vehicles around the corner of the street. So Mr. House Owner you can park your
rusted 15 year old Maruthi 800 in a covered car-park while we should park our
Royal Enfield Bullet Classic 500 and brand new Scooty Pep Plus in the open? Of
course, why not!
5. Advance one lakh fifty thousand wonly and don’t forget broker’s
commission please – Even by chance and with the broker’s blessings, you are
able to cross the above hurdles, the House Owner bowls the final googly by
asking for an advance amount that will make sure that you get an Angioplasty
early in life. While behind you, the Broker gently taps on your shoulder and
reminds you that you need to pay his commission well in advance.
Naturally, the list doesn’t stop
here. If needed, I can fill an Encyclopedia on the do’s and don’ts of searching
houses for rent. For now, what I need is a Shanthi
Home. A piece of land to call my own and peace on Earth. Merry Christmas and
Happy New Year to all.
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