House for Rent!
To Bokari and Mundu - for being foolish enough to resist the lethargic temptations of hostel-life.
When B. and M. finally revealed to me that they were indeed looking for a place to stay, I said a silent prayer for the bereaved souls of the remaining hostelites who had lost 2 eternal bakchod-addicts, accident-prone inexplicably fun mates. I told them that I'd be joining their house-hunt. They responded with a pathetically masked offhand, reluctant 'o.k.' - they were too desperate and relieved to have an old friend back to refuse. I took charge.
We re-examined the places they had sought out, near the second best Engineering College in the city. All had in common - 'To Let' posters and were distinguished by the locations of their toilets, something mundu seemed very particular about - he pleaded that he could not get the proper defecation feeling in some. Just in case you begin to doubt my involvement in the hectic affair, let me tell you that I made them pay for transportation and drinks.
The first - 1BHK - a single room had been raped to produce a 1BHK (Bedroom, Hall, Kitchen - with the toilet and bathroom, of course) - the rent was more than twice of a single room of the same dimensions.
The second - the place was midway between basement and ground level, dark and difficult to access. Pretty spacious, though.
The third - a series of single rooms - musty, unkempt, breathless - hardly appealing for someone's new home.
The fourth - the owner thought a language unsynchronization was enough to double the rent.
After we had exhausted most of the accomodations with 'To-Let' posters (primarily due to Mundu's obstinance in seeking an attached toilet), we decided to begin the door to door phase.
The entire search area was within a few hundred metres - but the search seemed endless....
A fat lady showed us single rooms - newly made, complete with almirahs and cots AND an indoor bathroom - which we ditched due to ventilation concerns. The room, at 2200 Rs. a month, was big enough for the 2 of them. Also, the fact that all 5 were empty hit some uncomfortable cord. Aunty was fat, sugary, sweet-talking and all but her merciless handling of her young daughter scared the adventures out of us.
Paying Guest was not on option - for the rent there, we could have a cool 1BHK, with full freedom (all pun intended).
Towards the end of the day, we finally got a dream offer - 1BHk, the standard rate of Rs. 2500/- rent and 20G deposit - and the rooms were larger than our eyes could take in. Actually, it was too good. We were not the only ones after it and
the owner wasn't committing to anyone. Our saviour - atleast for the 3 days that he mislead us - was the agent next door - diabetically sweet, persuasive, indulgent, understanding and offering the sky for sale. The owner was a Sub-Registrar, too
busy to handle the transaction himself. The occupants who had just left were batting for a female friend of theirs. The agent and his son took up our case for a month's rent as commission. After anarchy, false promises and endless waits for 3 days, we gave up.
They have finally settled in a 1BHK, spacious, slightly costlier, located opposite the musty single rooms and behind the linguistically impaired landlord. The price was negotiated at 2700 rent and 20G deposit - with much difficulty. We finally marched to his door, armed with our frustrated desperation and a translator in tow - the wretched organic heap of greed now wanted Rs. 3000. Apparently, a similar place in the neighbourhood had been rent for 3300 rent.
We staged a dramatic walkout in protest. That, along with Mundu's pathetic, accusing pleas, was enough to bring him round his bluff. We sealed the deal with a 500 Rs. note as token (which we're certain we saw him squander at a nearby bar) and assurances of abstinance from Galata (merrymaking noises), intoxication and the fairer vice that wasn't intended for losers like us anyway. The owner has indeed turned out to be a troublesome bastard.
As a treat, Bokari took me and Dude to a 6G-2BHK place - mindblowing......
ACT II - However, my house-hunting days were far from over.
Dude landed here a day before the college reopened, seemingly relaxed and unperturbed. It took just over half a dozen sites to light his cigarettes and stub them out in his now barren head. When Bokari and Mundu refused to take him in, well, let's just say he was disappointed.
The search for a single room began with the decision to keep off from agents. A couple of them are still after me....
The first was a garage - which the owner claimed to be a 1BHK. One normally doesn't associate dude with velocity and mechanical consistency.
We revisied the earlier options, just for curiousity sake.
The only possibility was the fat housewife with the newly built single rooms, which were now available for 2000 Rs. a month. Half an hour of Maths and mocking Dude's habits, we figured Dude wasn't rich enough to afford living outside at such a rent, specially because he was yet to pay my commission.
Not perturbed by her by-now-pulverised customers misery, she offered Dude a 1400 p.m. room - good enough - only the toilet was a stair away (actually, it was under the stair) - perhaps owners should give a more serious thought to the pressures of defecation.
Although we had found rooms for a couple of our batchmates and had been beaten to a third by a toenail, we underestimated the local fervour to rent their houses. This is where we exposed ourselves to a saddle-less ride.
Everyone there was an agent - from a 12 year old kid to a chaiwallah to a tailor to the bored housewife to toothless hags to their thrifty maids - everyone knew of some place for rent.
I smirked and ridiculed my way through thatched roofs, former cowsheds, leaking roofs, cracked walls and noisy localities as Dude refused to come to terms with his bad luck - if he had only come a few days before the start of the Semester...
Finally, I left him to his cigarettes and rudderless plans. I had enough for an article.
He recently told me that he had moved in with a notorious doper.
Apart from the fun, I now have places to sleep at - after midnight, i.e. (hostel gates close at 10:30). It's a good location - friendly student crowd, familiar tastes and faces within easy reach. Transportation's not a problem.
FINAL THOUGHTS -
Anyone and everyone is a broker in the PESIT vicinity. Trust none.
The 'free' student population is addicted to cheap thrills, learning a new meaning of independence everyday.
Real estate is a booming business. All you need is land near a big college, regular interactions with the local agents and a 'To-Let' poster. People build houses here only to rent them out - with floors topped upon every year - even though they restrict themselves to a single room in their ever burgeoning mansions.
House-hunting is an art - you need -
a. loyal, warm-hearted friends to help you get a roof over your head...
b. good communication skills - to badger every second person you see with a 'Room Khaali hain kya' question...
c. a watchful eye - to spot 'To-Let' ads, newly painted floors and greedy faces...
d. time - to waste, experiment and discover human nature...
e. emotional flexibilty - to handle rejection, deceit and the ever-changing demands of insatiable appetites...
f. negotiating skills, dramatic timing and an experienced translator...
g. LUCK!!!
HAPPY HOUSE HUNTING!!!! ---- WITH BEST WISHES, lohit.
When B. and M. finally revealed to me that they were indeed looking for a place to stay, I said a silent prayer for the bereaved souls of the remaining hostelites who had lost 2 eternal bakchod-addicts, accident-prone inexplicably fun mates. I told them that I'd be joining their house-hunt. They responded with a pathetically masked offhand, reluctant 'o.k.' - they were too desperate and relieved to have an old friend back to refuse. I took charge.
We re-examined the places they had sought out, near the second best Engineering College in the city. All had in common - 'To Let' posters and were distinguished by the locations of their toilets, something mundu seemed very particular about - he pleaded that he could not get the proper defecation feeling in some. Just in case you begin to doubt my involvement in the hectic affair, let me tell you that I made them pay for transportation and drinks.
The first - 1BHK - a single room had been raped to produce a 1BHK (Bedroom, Hall, Kitchen - with the toilet and bathroom, of course) - the rent was more than twice of a single room of the same dimensions.
The second - the place was midway between basement and ground level, dark and difficult to access. Pretty spacious, though.
The third - a series of single rooms - musty, unkempt, breathless - hardly appealing for someone's new home.
The fourth - the owner thought a language unsynchronization was enough to double the rent.
After we had exhausted most of the accomodations with 'To-Let' posters (primarily due to Mundu's obstinance in seeking an attached toilet), we decided to begin the door to door phase.
The entire search area was within a few hundred metres - but the search seemed endless....
A fat lady showed us single rooms - newly made, complete with almirahs and cots AND an indoor bathroom - which we ditched due to ventilation concerns. The room, at 2200 Rs. a month, was big enough for the 2 of them. Also, the fact that all 5 were empty hit some uncomfortable cord. Aunty was fat, sugary, sweet-talking and all but her merciless handling of her young daughter scared the adventures out of us.
Paying Guest was not on option - for the rent there, we could have a cool 1BHK, with full freedom (all pun intended).
Towards the end of the day, we finally got a dream offer - 1BHk, the standard rate of Rs. 2500/- rent and 20G deposit - and the rooms were larger than our eyes could take in. Actually, it was too good. We were not the only ones after it and
the owner wasn't committing to anyone. Our saviour - atleast for the 3 days that he mislead us - was the agent next door - diabetically sweet, persuasive, indulgent, understanding and offering the sky for sale. The owner was a Sub-Registrar, too
busy to handle the transaction himself. The occupants who had just left were batting for a female friend of theirs. The agent and his son took up our case for a month's rent as commission. After anarchy, false promises and endless waits for 3 days, we gave up.
They have finally settled in a 1BHK, spacious, slightly costlier, located opposite the musty single rooms and behind the linguistically impaired landlord. The price was negotiated at 2700 rent and 20G deposit - with much difficulty. We finally marched to his door, armed with our frustrated desperation and a translator in tow - the wretched organic heap of greed now wanted Rs. 3000. Apparently, a similar place in the neighbourhood had been rent for 3300 rent.
We staged a dramatic walkout in protest. That, along with Mundu's pathetic, accusing pleas, was enough to bring him round his bluff. We sealed the deal with a 500 Rs. note as token (which we're certain we saw him squander at a nearby bar) and assurances of abstinance from Galata (merrymaking noises), intoxication and the fairer vice that wasn't intended for losers like us anyway. The owner has indeed turned out to be a troublesome bastard.
As a treat, Bokari took me and Dude to a 6G-2BHK place - mindblowing......
ACT II - However, my house-hunting days were far from over.
Dude landed here a day before the college reopened, seemingly relaxed and unperturbed. It took just over half a dozen sites to light his cigarettes and stub them out in his now barren head. When Bokari and Mundu refused to take him in, well, let's just say he was disappointed.
The search for a single room began with the decision to keep off from agents. A couple of them are still after me....
The first was a garage - which the owner claimed to be a 1BHK. One normally doesn't associate dude with velocity and mechanical consistency.
We revisied the earlier options, just for curiousity sake.
The only possibility was the fat housewife with the newly built single rooms, which were now available for 2000 Rs. a month. Half an hour of Maths and mocking Dude's habits, we figured Dude wasn't rich enough to afford living outside at such a rent, specially because he was yet to pay my commission.
Not perturbed by her by-now-pulverised customers misery, she offered Dude a 1400 p.m. room - good enough - only the toilet was a stair away (actually, it was under the stair) - perhaps owners should give a more serious thought to the pressures of defecation.
Although we had found rooms for a couple of our batchmates and had been beaten to a third by a toenail, we underestimated the local fervour to rent their houses. This is where we exposed ourselves to a saddle-less ride.
Everyone there was an agent - from a 12 year old kid to a chaiwallah to a tailor to the bored housewife to toothless hags to their thrifty maids - everyone knew of some place for rent.
I smirked and ridiculed my way through thatched roofs, former cowsheds, leaking roofs, cracked walls and noisy localities as Dude refused to come to terms with his bad luck - if he had only come a few days before the start of the Semester...
Finally, I left him to his cigarettes and rudderless plans. I had enough for an article.
He recently told me that he had moved in with a notorious doper.
Apart from the fun, I now have places to sleep at - after midnight, i.e. (hostel gates close at 10:30). It's a good location - friendly student crowd, familiar tastes and faces within easy reach. Transportation's not a problem.
FINAL THOUGHTS -
Anyone and everyone is a broker in the PESIT vicinity. Trust none.
The 'free' student population is addicted to cheap thrills, learning a new meaning of independence everyday.
Real estate is a booming business. All you need is land near a big college, regular interactions with the local agents and a 'To-Let' poster. People build houses here only to rent them out - with floors topped upon every year - even though they restrict themselves to a single room in their ever burgeoning mansions.
House-hunting is an art - you need -
a. loyal, warm-hearted friends to help you get a roof over your head...
b. good communication skills - to badger every second person you see with a 'Room Khaali hain kya' question...
c. a watchful eye - to spot 'To-Let' ads, newly painted floors and greedy faces...
d. time - to waste, experiment and discover human nature...
e. emotional flexibilty - to handle rejection, deceit and the ever-changing demands of insatiable appetites...
f. negotiating skills, dramatic timing and an experienced translator...
g. LUCK!!!
HAPPY HOUSE HUNTING!!!! ---- WITH BEST WISHES, lohit.
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