House hunting is never fun. Tales of being gazumped, cheated and generally mistreated by unscrupulous estate agents are told by even those friends who have taken the plunge and bought their own property (an experience that should be the most rewarding transaction emotionally if not financially of ones life). After the criminal landlord extorted money from us in Holland, we thought that we'd had our fair share of horrors on the house front. Perhaps the subsequent luxurious flat through the housing corporation back in Amsterdam means that we're once again due some drama.
Let's rewind one week to our initial explorations of the Gurgaon property market. On our first day in the city that's still being built, we popped into Mr Goel's Estate Agency to see what he had on his books. We were ushered into the empty room with exception to a bespectacled elderly man seated behind a table with the classifieds section of the paper open in front of him. We explained our requirements (two bedroomed, maximum 30,000 INR per month) and were met with a pregnant pause before the agent, without responding or even looking at us, made a call on his phone. A stream of hindi flowed and he engaged in a lengthy discussion with the recipient. On hanging up he then gave us a fleeting glance and said:
''There's nothing".
"In the whole of Gurgaon?" we questioned.
Ok, so were foreigners and expect to be fleeced at every opportunity but this seemed like a tall story.
"There may be one" he conceded unconvincingly. "Have you conveyance?"
"err...conveyance? Transport? A car, is that what you mean?...I'm afraid not. Can we walk?".
He indicated 'wait' with a nod of the head and twist of the wrist. Shortly after, a younger agent appeared clutching a motorbike helmet.
"Come' he ordered.
So we followed them outside to the two motorbikes parked in front.We stared at them and each other nervously. Even on the flat smooth tarmac back home wouldn't we even go on the back of a motorbike, let alone without a helmet. A deep breath and we then clambered onto the back before a bumpy ride down the lanes parallel to MG road.
We were greeted by a white kurta pajama wearing man, perhaps pushing his 70's outside a standalone villa on a quiet street. He spoke in oxford style English with a classy Indian lilt and impeccable manners. He gave us a welcome that made up for the previous disinterest by the estate agent. We were shown into his spotless home and upstairs to the apartment above.
"I live on the ground floor with my wife and we have two flats to rent on the floors above. 'I built the place for my children, you know, but they prefer to stay elsewhere." He sighed. "India is changing, its not what it used to be."
We were shown what looked on first glances as a great property, including a shared basement space 'where you can rig up a net and play badminton'. I felt a little uncomfortable though when he showed us the open roof and indicated 'this is where your servant can put up'. It was only on a second look we realised the flaw in the design (and location). A light shaft had been built through the centre of the house, essentially meaning there was an inner balcony from each living room directly looking down into the other flats. We wouldn't just be renting a flat from him, we'd be actually living with him...
Politeness meant we had to feign continued interest as the prospective landlord proceeded to interview us in his ground floor residence. We were served cold water on a tray by his helper. A short aside - it seems in most homes you visit water is served to guests in this way.
"What do you do? How long have you been married? What do your parents do? Do you eat veg or are you non veg?". A flurry of questions ensued, more extensive than my recent job interview (although the parental occupation and marriage questions were also part of that too....)
He went on to emphasize the importance of maintaining his high standard of cleanliness if we were to live there and set out the other ground rules.
"We're strict Hindu's so no beef in this house and please no cooking fish either. I myself don't eat eggs but that's ok, you can."
Then he changed gear to the hard sell.
"I'm politically well connected, and called to the Bar in Delhi. I still work in the supreme court," he explained setting out his credentials.
This explained the large framed portrait of Indira Gandhi on the bookshelf.
At the end of the conversation, we eventually got to the price. It was hard to remain convincing knowing we were not intending to take the place. We stated our limited and he stated his price. Not surprisingly 5k above what we were suggesting. Conveniently he then 'took a call' mid negotiation from another party who he went on to explain were interested and on the verge of accepting the place. We left by saying we'd think about it and beat a hasty retreat.
What followed were numerous replays of the same, with varying characters of landlords. The journalist who said if we were to agree to live in his place he'd want to see the marriage certificate; the retired IIT physics professor who complained at length about his current tenant and gave us the spiel about how he paid his taxes but then asked us for a portion of the rent in black; and now to our actual landlord who locks the gate at 10.30pm every night who we have to call if we want to come back later and won't let us go away at weekends without informing him.
While there is more I could recount about out current abode (see picture - top floor) - prudence suggests it may be better to wait until we vacate. For the time being we 'stay' in Saket (near the PVR complex rather than by Select City Walk, the upmarket mall). There's a spare room and the visitors book is lying open awaiting your stay!
No comments:
Post a Comment