Skip to main content

Here we go again

Any conversation about Bombay generally includes the following - the unbelievable crowds, the distances people usually have to travel, train schedules, the weather and of course, rents. 

Sometime in the future (assuming the Mayans are wrong), there will be a whole school of finance and architecture dedicated to the hyper-inflated, flagrant violation of decency and humanity that is the Bombay rent scenario. Since the number of people who've discussed, debated and despaired over it is beyond count, I won't waste your time with grandiloquent phrases about it. Bombay rents are inexplicably high. 

A space that, in any other city, would be reserved for the broom cupboard, will, in Bombay, have 2 beds and a desk parked in it, accompanied by an oily-looking broker holding a sign saying "Paying Guest accommodation - strategically located next to Whatchamacallit Station and Stinkstohighheavenwadi". Price negotiable (which means, you could have the bed depending on the sale price of a kidney on the day).

And the funny thing is, newcomers to the city are always confident about finding a lovely apartment in Bandra (or if overly optimistic, town) for the price of a very fetching town-house at whatever backwater you've come from. Within a week, reality kicks in. You can rent that 1 BHK in Bandra West all right. Along with 4 other people. After agreeing to sleep in turns and follow a very strictly regulated bathroom timetable. Because lord knows, everyone has to catch that particular train at the exact same time. If, heaven forbid, you even think about wanting a house in the fancier part of Bombay (town), you'll probably be directed to a pipe by the side of the road, which you can share with 3 others and the neighbourhood dog. At night. During the day, it is a vada-pav stall, you see.

So, after a few weeks you will choose one of two things. Either a house with one or more room mates in a decently okay part of the city (i.e. Goregaon and further north). Or a lovely 1 BHK within your budget. At Virar or Dahanu Road.   

Yes, I know about my pointed silence on options on the Central Line. In my defence, I know nothing about that part of Bombay except that the train schedules and crowds make grown men blanch. 'Nuff said. 

Personally, I've come out a little lucky in this housing racket. The room mate and I found a very nice, mostly furnished 1 BHK for rent about 4 years ago. In a moment of weakness, the owner and broker quoted a price which we jumped on, whooping and hooting. In that time, there have been a few quibbles of course. The overhead water tank flooded the house a couple of times. We also have an idiot masquerading as the watchman; he sleeps off at night, after locking the gate at 11 pm. To make sure no one disturbs him, he has earphones plugged into his phone and the piped music ensures that no amount of screaming, shouting, horn-tooting or begging wakes him up. But these have just added to the charm of things. 

As some bloke said, all good things must come to an end. Why, I wonder. The room mate is leaving for foreign parts and I've decided to live by myself, so we're giving up the place and I have to find a new one by July. Now, no one in their right minds will ever accuse me of optimism, so I was not expecting to find a 1 RK in the general vicinity for the price I had in mind. Still, after having spoken to a few brokers yesterday, the ground realities of rent increase in the last 4 years have been brought home emphatically. 

I am in serious trouble, readers. The great house-hunt game is on.

Song for the moment: Chasing pavements - Adele      

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Longfellow Serenade

Dear reader, A conversation in a buzzing bar over a mug of beer got me thinking on today's theme; the writing of a letter. As with many of the shared contemplations I've had, we spoke about it for the sake of the flowing idea, the peculiarly gentle glee in being able to use what have commonly been referred to as 'big words' in actual conversation without having the threat of perplexity hanging in the air. Perhaps you have & enjoy these moments yourself. Mayhaps, you have debated the same theme ? Nonetheless, I often ponder upon the march of time & technology that has left me regarding life with some ambiguity. I appreciate technology & how it has made living easier on many levels. I do not hanker for the b/w television nor for a computer with 16 MB RAM & the large floppy disk. I thank the heavens for air-conditioning & the photocopier. I use the internet a lot. The Dark Ages or in India's case, the years up to the 1990's, had their moment in ...

Love and Happiness

The year was 1950. Having missed a prestigious Government position in Delhi by the proverbial hair's breadth, a 24 year old youth from the south of India began to look for work elsewhere. In this land, destinies were & are made in Bombay. Fate decreed that this boy, called K, had been gallivanting around the backwaters long enough and directed him to the city caressed by the Arabian Sea. Once he'd begun to work, his family wanted to check off the next thing on the list - a bride. K bluntly told his father that he was not interested in an arranged marriage, practically scandalizing everyone in the vicinity and a few ancestors for good measure. Predictably enough, his wishes were ignored and the hunt for a suitable girl began in earnest, culminating in a small town in Tamil Nadu. K was tersely informed about his upcoming nuptials and although furious, he acquiesced. Which should come as no surprise, really, as young men and women do so even today. The bride-to-be was 20i...

Many the miles

Some time ago, I decided to cut down on the whining that seems to be a major theme on this blog. After having written a couple of short story posts and one interesting challenge, I found that more commentary on life, its machinations and assorted tomfoolery just did not interest me. For the moment, at least. That also thankfully means that I can't talk about the Indian cricket team's test saga. Anyway, in recent weeks, a new trend has taken root in that fragment of the 'gang' that lives in Pune. Instead of meeting up and hitting the tipple every now and then, we meet and they discuss trekking to various forts in and around Pune. Notice how I'm not in these councils-of-war. Although I've played sports in school and college, I've never been a fan of physical toil. All these talks conjure up are images of waking up at some ungodly hour before sunrise, scooting to some random hill / fort and huffing, puffing, slipping & scrabbling around in near darkness w...