Another piece

HOMING INSTINCTS
Every Sunday, like clockwork, I would pick up the newspaper; go through the real estate classifieds and circle ads that offered three bedroom apartments. Then, slowly, almost afraid, I would show them to my husband, who would groan (predictably), put on a non-committal look, and sometimes drive me to the destination.
Always, the apartment would be unsuitable. Either the price was too much, or the apartment itself was not ‘just right’. The second hand flats left a lot to be desired, as per our calculations. Each expedition got me that bit more dejected. Sometimes we did not even bother to get down from the car. at one particular building, the person showing us around was very happy with the foyer. There was a special area the builder had allotted for footwear – it was his USP. Sadly, that was all the apartment offered, for it was badly planned, with very little concern or thought about the lighting, and the air circulation within the flat. Yes, the common area was lovely, the main gate impressive, but the rooms were small, the kitchen a mere alcove. And the price? Not worth it.
We love the area we live in, and somehow, imagined we would live here all our lives. As the first occupants of this leased flat, we have given it the ambience it has, made it home. It is the longest we have lived in any given place – eight years. But it is not our own. This passion for possession never left me. I would bring it up every few weeks. Try all the feminine wiles at my disposal, and try to coax a home in Chennai. ‘But we have a house in Bombay,’ my husband would say. ‘Eventually we will go back,’ he would add, not comprehending my nesting instincts. ‘Look at it as in investment,’ I would try and make it sound like a good business deal. He would just look into the distance making me wonder if he heard me at all.
Dejected, I finally gave up. Slowly, the classifieds lay there, unopened, unread. Each Sunday was like any other. Till one day, while surfing the net, something caught his eye. On the web site homztoday.com, he came across a property by a reputed builder. My heart beat faster. I sat there, watching him as he delved deeper into the offer. ‘Where’s today’s paper?’ he asked. I rushed, brought every single page, and there it was, the advertisement, in the Hindu classifieds. Eye catching and bold, it occupied an entire quarter page.
‘This looks good,’ he said. My antenna was on over drive. All the prayers I knew were going through my head at lightening speed. My fingers, toes, even eyes were crossed.
‘The price is just right,’ he added, getting back to the computer monitor.
‘Shall we go and meet the builder? His office is just five minutes away.’
I nodded, as I rushed into the bathroom to change and freshen up.
At the builder’s office we saw a glorious model of the complex – the way it would look when finished. It looked good.
‘We can go in for a three bedroom apartment,’ he said.
‘I need four,’ I was sure. My voice sounded normal again. ‘And I want a good size. Not a duplex, as I cannot keep running up and down checking out on the servants all day.’
He nodded, understanding.
Finally, pinching myself to make sure I was not dreaming, we walked into the MD’s cabin. ‘I want an apartment with a view,’ said hubby.
‘I want one with four bedrooms,’ that was me, sure and confident.
‘On an upper floor,’ said hubby.
‘We have just the apartment for you,’ said the builder, all smiles that evoked confidence.
Wading through plans, we finally settled on one that was a three bedroom originally with an extra bedroom added on from the next door flat. 2,000 square feet, it was with a lovely big master bedroom, complete with a walk in wardrobe. My dream come true.
‘We can make any changes you want,’ said the builder, ‘as many times as you like, till the brick work is being done. After that it will be difficult and expensive. Do walk in any time, I am always available after 6.30 PM.’
Fair enough, we thought. He’s a nice person. So genuine and caring. For us, it was a first, but for him it was not.
The bank loan was arranged within the blinking of an eye. It was that easy. The interest rates were right, and we were triumphant. Adding to our feeling of achievement was the fact that the builder was bearing the pre-EMI interest payments. He would bear them till he handed over possession.
We had the plan, the agreement and the loan papers with us. The complex we had chosen had its own shopping center, swimming pool, tennis courts and lots else.
Then came the day when we had to go and register our own piece of land. Sizing up our neighbours, just as they sized us up. Not one word was exchanged as we all lined up, registered our own piece of this earth.
Every week-end without fail, we went to the plot, one of the most enthusiastic families, we watched as each floor became reality.
The slab for our floor was being laid. Soon the brick work would begin. Suddenly we faced a hitch. The builder who was so willing to please, became, well different. Small changes inside the apartment were allowed, but windows could not be inserted, as it would ‘change the elevation,’ we were politely told.
Could we get our own flooring? We could, of course. But they would get it for us, and charge us the retail amount. All this while we know of sources who would sell flooring to us at a 25% discount on the retail price.
How about having French doors leading to the balcony, instead of the offered wall and windows? Sure. The calculator came out. ‘It will cost you Rs. 70,000 more in teak wood,’ we were informed. Ulp…that much more? ‘Yes, that is our rate.’ The nods were friendly, but firm.
Finally we reached a compromise. We would transfer the windows that were to separate the balcony from the living room to the boundary of the balcony, making our living room a larger expanse of space. Doors were shifted around, and the kitchen was made larger.
Our floor is taking shape, our house is slowly becoming reality. And the feeling is…simply awesome.
By
Ameeta Agnihotri.