Flat notes

Being on the house hunt for a few weeks thickens your skin to the assault of clone-like aminitties (read amenities) everywhere. You are invariably expected to take a tour of these while your broker,who sounded so breezy on the phone,frantically rings up his other broker buddies and yells at two security guards before he is handed the key to the flat. The nexus is so well established that one only has to walk up to an appealing building and ask the guard about available flats,and he will fix up the whole thing for you.

Of course this stepladder of delegation can sometimes produce really bizarre situations. We were waiting on the first floor of a building while our agent was cutting some deal with the guys at the gate,when a young man emerged out of the lift and walked towards us.

“ Oh,have you brought the key?” asked my mother,astutely spotting the key in his extended hand. The chap stared. What key,he inquired. The key to the flat he was heading towards,we told him. Another perplexed stare.

“ Are you the owner?” persisted my mother. No,he was a tenant,he informed us. “Oh okay. We’ve just come to have a look at your home. The agent is fetching the key. Hasn’t your landlord told you?”

The poor man took one look at our keenly interested faces and dashed inside his house,slamming the door. We heard him turn the lock from inside.

Of course not all flat-hunting experiences are this trying. Some are incredibly smooth,and you may actually find yourself in the flat you wanted to see without throwing your day’s schedule out of order.

The broker will then sweep you through the house and straight into the master bathroom where the piece-de-resistance awaits. “The bath tuhb,” he will announce with a hint of pride mingled with false modesty. The tuhb in question may be grimy and yellowed but is a tuhb nevertheless and places you in the luxury class,lest you haven’t felt the prick of gratitude yet.

Even assuming you gallantly sail over all these barriers and find your dream apartment,you may not have constant neighbours for a long time. What with real estate investment being the hot new topic at kitty parties and chai tapris,half the people buying into the fancy new housing projects on the peripheries are doing it for “investment purposes” and might probably never live there. It really makes me wonder whether the demand for sprawling townships in Pune is real or a figment of our imaginations. Where are all these tenants coming from anyway? And which came first,the chicken or the egg?

The author is a chess grandmaster and former national champion