Those were the days of house hunting - for rent that is. We wanted to move into a good place not too far from the beach. The search started with us walking around the area looking out for "Tolet" boards. We also tried to identify uninhabited houses - Windows closed, no curtains, balcony doors closed, cobwebs in balcony and such obviously identifiable marks. We approached apartment watchmen, random people staying in some house or other and iron-wallahs seeking information. Some shooed us away, others gave an apologetic no but a few were good enough to give us a phone number or two. These invariably turned out to be brokers with whom we did not want to deal - the charge of one month's rent for their minimal service (as minimal as "that is the house; now go and talk to the owner and fix it up") seemed to steep for our shallow pockets.
Next we scanned through the "house for rent" columns in some of the local papers. We marked the advertisements that fit our requirement and started calling the numbers provided. Most times the call was received by a voice that said "Allooo". Soon we realized that this was the Hello of a broker. The first day we ended up calling 8 to 10 brokers and no owners. We decided to ignore them and continued to walk around the neighborhood. The walks continued to be pointless. We covered a big area and hardly found any house potential. The few that came our way were controlled by the brokers. So now our only hope was the newspaper. The next weekend, the papers had the same result as the previous one. So we sat for an emergency session and passed a resolution to include brokered houses in our search.
The resolution filled up our afternoon with houses to be seen - one every 30 minutes . By the evening our heads were spinning with the words spacious, well lit, airy and the feelings with dark, dingy, suffocating. Nothing seemed satisfactory; every one of the houses promised a lot but gave little. Every owner behaved like a king doing us a favor by letting us set our feet in their palace. A near messy situation also cropped up when we ran into a broker with whom we had a fight a few years ago. We kept our shades on as long as that idiot was with us. Fortunately he did not identify us; unfortunately, we bruised ourselves by running into a few walls. We reached back home defeated at around 7 and plopped onto our beds.
In a few minutes the phone started ringing. It was a broker who claimed he had found something cool overlooking the beach. We were too tired for this and really did not want to get out of the house. But the broker was extremely persuasive and soon we were on the road following the broker on his bike. The road ran by the beach with some very beautiful houses onto our right. Whenever we saw an unlit house we started imagining living in it but the damned broker did not stop. In a few minutes, the houses thinned away and the place was lit by our headlight and the moonlight.
The broker's bike finally stopped in front a lonely house. Though we could see a few houses around, this one found itself in a lonely stretch. In the moonlight that small house with a 40W bulb lighting the porch seemed eerie. We switched off our bikes and walked towards the dimly lit porch. The sea was roaring behind our backs. It seemed to threaten us with dire consequences for hanging around in its territory. We felt very uneasy and did not want to proceed further. I tapped on the broker's shoulder. The tap startled him enough to let out a snarl that sounded like a "WHAT?". I informed him that we were not interested in this house. The anger held on to his face for a moment. Slowly but forcefully his face eased and a smile ran across his smoked lips . He asked "Why sar! Such a beautiful place. So quiet; only you and sea. You should see in morning; very beautiful. Peaceful, no disturbance and very safe". I looked around the lonely place in an attempt to take in the beauty, peacefulness and safety of the place. When my sight reached back to the spot where the broker was, I found it empty. The guy had reached the porch and we had no choice but to follow him.
As the broker inserted the key into the lock, the light went out and we were immersed in darkness. It took us some time to get used to moonlight, which showed us undecipherable forms moving around us. We were getting to understand the phrase "gripped with terror". As the forms closed in on us, the light came on and we were blinded by the brightness. The forms had disappeared by the time our sights got back to normalcy. We turned to see the door wide open but there was no sign of the broker. We tentatively walked into the house and called the broker's name. No response; we called out his name again; no response. By this time, our eyes settled into the darkness and our attention was captured by an object swaying in front of us. Now it was the turn for us to understand that other phrase - "a chill ran down his spine". The lights came on suddenly.A lady with big terrifying eyes underneath a even bigger bindi stared down at us. "You are inside is it?" said a voice from behind. We are not quite sure how we reacted but the thing we remember now is holding the broker by shirt collar while shouting obscenities at him. The broker was letting out a bleak "What happened?"
"Where the hell were you?"
"The fuse tripped and I went to back to put it on sar."
"Could you not have informed us?"
"Why?"
"What the hell is that object?"
"That is a dupatta."
"Oh! Ah! And why is a dupatta hanging down from the fan?"
"The last tenant left it there"
"But why is it hanging from the fan?"
"I don't know sar. Maybe they left it there after cleaning"
We asked the broker if the house occupied still. He said no.
"Then what the hell is that photograph doing there?"
"The last tenant left it sar."
"Why did they leave the photo?"
"Maybe they don't have time."
"Yeah right! Let's get out of here."
"But sar, the bedrooms."
"To hell with the bedrooms and toilets; this place is giving the creeps."
As we started to go out, the lights went out and a gust of wind whooshed in through the open door. The wind rattled the window panes and the all other rattl-able objects in the house. Our pace hastened to a run by the time we crossed the porch. By the time we sped away all those undecipherable forms that come out when the lights went out had started chewing our soles.
In a few minutes the phone started ringing. It was a broker who claimed he had found something cool overlooking the beach. We were too tired for this and really did not want to get out of the house. But the broker was extremely persuasive and soon we were on the road following the broker on his bike. The road ran by the beach with some very beautiful houses onto our right. Whenever we saw an unlit house we started imagining living in it but the damned broker did not stop. In a few minutes, the houses thinned away and the place was lit by our headlight and the moonlight.
The broker's bike finally stopped in front a lonely house. Though we could see a few houses around, this one found itself in a lonely stretch. In the moonlight that small house with a 40W bulb lighting the porch seemed eerie. We switched off our bikes and walked towards the dimly lit porch. The sea was roaring behind our backs. It seemed to threaten us with dire consequences for hanging around in its territory. We felt very uneasy and did not want to proceed further. I tapped on the broker's shoulder. The tap startled him enough to let out a snarl that sounded like a "WHAT?". I informed him that we were not interested in this house. The anger held on to his face for a moment. Slowly but forcefully his face eased and a smile ran across his smoked lips . He asked "Why sar! Such a beautiful place. So quiet; only you and sea. You should see in morning; very beautiful. Peaceful, no disturbance and very safe". I looked around the lonely place in an attempt to take in the beauty, peacefulness and safety of the place. When my sight reached back to the spot where the broker was, I found it empty. The guy had reached the porch and we had no choice but to follow him.
As the broker inserted the key into the lock, the light went out and we were immersed in darkness. It took us some time to get used to moonlight, which showed us undecipherable forms moving around us. We were getting to understand the phrase "gripped with terror". As the forms closed in on us, the light came on and we were blinded by the brightness. The forms had disappeared by the time our sights got back to normalcy. We turned to see the door wide open but there was no sign of the broker. We tentatively walked into the house and called the broker's name. No response; we called out his name again; no response. By this time, our eyes settled into the darkness and our attention was captured by an object swaying in front of us. Now it was the turn for us to understand that other phrase - "a chill ran down his spine". The lights came on suddenly.A lady with big terrifying eyes underneath a even bigger bindi stared down at us. "You are inside is it?" said a voice from behind. We are not quite sure how we reacted but the thing we remember now is holding the broker by shirt collar while shouting obscenities at him. The broker was letting out a bleak "What happened?"
"Where the hell were you?"
"The fuse tripped and I went to back to put it on sar."
"Could you not have informed us?"
"Why?"
"What the hell is that object?"
"That is a dupatta."
"Oh! Ah! And why is a dupatta hanging down from the fan?"
"The last tenant left it there"
"But why is it hanging from the fan?"
"I don't know sar. Maybe they left it there after cleaning"
We asked the broker if the house occupied still. He said no.
"Then what the hell is that photograph doing there?"
"The last tenant left it sar."
"Why did they leave the photo?"
"Maybe they don't have time."
"Yeah right! Let's get out of here."
"But sar, the bedrooms."
"To hell with the bedrooms and toilets; this place is giving the creeps."
As we started to go out, the lights went out and a gust of wind whooshed in through the open door. The wind rattled the window panes and the all other rattl-able objects in the house. Our pace hastened to a run by the time we crossed the porch. By the time we sped away all those undecipherable forms that come out when the lights went out had started chewing our soles.
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