Monday, August 7, 2018
Bombay
Namaste! I had a fitful first night in Bombay--as is to be expected when one is fighting dreaded jet lag. I slept for exactly an hour at a time and stayed awake for the next--and this went on from 12.00 midnight till 6.00 am! However, by 8.00 am, I was up and full of beans and ready to face my first full day in Bombay. It helps that the air is deliciously monsoon-scented and temperatures struggling to get into the 80s. It makes for an easy breezy summer by the Arabian Sea! Indeed, those cooling breezes rush inland in the tiny suburb of Bandra-By-The-Sea, the Portuguese-Catholic hamlet in which I was raised and which I remember with the fondest affection--even if much of it is now quite unrecognizable from the 'burb of my teenage years.
Still, I joined my family members (my Dad and brother Russel) for breakfast--the housekeeper we have employed for the past seven years does not need to be told that I will eat two lightly scrambled eggs with a cup of coffee. She presents it to me with a flourish. A whole lot of chatting goes on with my Dad who catches me up valiantly with everything that has transpired in the six months since I have been away.
Seek and You Shall Find...
A year in Bombay would be much too long for me to pass comfortably in my maternal home--and so it is understandable that I should try to find my own space--however modest it might be. Fortunately, my cousin Veera is a realtor in Bandra and knows the housing market well. She had already lined up a few possibilities for me when I told her what I was seeking. In fact, I felt like someone on House Hunters International on the HGTV channel--a single woman seeking a furnished studio in Bandra as close to Perry Cross Road (where my Dad lives) as possible. I need something safe and clean. It needs to have a nice bathroom but not necessarily a great kitchen as I do not intend to do a whole lot of cooking. My budget is small by Bombay standards--where rents can be comparable with those of Manhattan. In fact, it is downright cheeky to set the budget at $450 a month--but it is what I am willing to pay.
Veera starts me off with a one-bedroom flat that has been converted into two. I am quite put off by its general appearance as it has not been well maintained internally. Although it is just a hop, skip and jump from my Dad's place, it does nothing for me. I am unimpressed.
The second place I am 'shown' is an old Portuguese-style 'bungalow' in a village settling very near my Dad's building. I will occupy the entire lower level--which comes with three vast rooms and a bedroom up a flight of stairs in the loft. I recall the place in Bethnal Green that I had occupied two summers ago in London--when three levels of an entire home had seemed the ultimate in luxury. Except that I had soon discovered how lonely I had felt within the vast dimensions of such a home and how inconvenient it was to have to go down two floors for a cup of tea when one wished to sip it in the bedroom. I shuddered. Such a place was out of the question.
The third place I saw was described as 'a rare gem--a beautiful place by the sea'. I got excited. However, it was a ways from Dad and I was not sure I would be happy to do the twenty-minute trek to his place daily. Still, refusing to be put off, I consented to see it. The agent, named Jenny, was right. It was in one of the buildings en route to Bandstand, the snazzy area that is often referred to as 'Land's End'. The building is called Sea Bird and it had a long and impressive coconut-palm lined driveway. There was a swimming pool in the front for the private use of residents. The studio was up on the 16th floor of a twenty-storeyed building. It offered sea views from both windows--in fact, one could see all the way to Worli across the Sealink (the ocean-skimmed highway that is Bandra's newest pride and joy!) However, the studio was tiny and I mean minuscule. A double bed took up almost the entire room. And there was no kitchen area! There was a fridge--which led the realtor to believe that it would work for me (as I did say that I intended to order a daily meal delivery service--which is the sort of thing one can do in Bandra for little more than a song!). Although the location was classy and the Arabian Sea outside the window not something to be sneezed at, I simply could not see the space working for me. The cupboard, which apart from the bed and fridge was the only item of furniture in the room, was stuck and would not open and the bathroom was off-putting because it was so filled with dust and construction-type fine debris. There is little doubt that it would profit from a lick of paint and a thorough cleansing, but I was looking for something far more turnkey.
At Last! A Distinct Possibility....
Just before I returned home after Viewing Session One, Veera took me to a small lane right off the popular St. Paul's Road, to see a studio on the first floor of a building that was surrounded by plots of land that belonged to the popular Salcette Society--a sort of co-operative of land-owners belonging to the ethnic East Indian community who set it up to protect their ownership of ancestral property. High-rise apartment buildings have been constructed on these plots. My building was not on one of these plots. I was led up to the first floor and in a really dark corridor (so dark that you had to use a flashlight to find the keyhole to open the door to the flat) was the unit.
I have to say that it appealed to me instantly. It was a medium-sized room that was dominated by a double bed (sans mattress), a neat cupboard, a kitchen area with a granite counter top and new cabinets, and a medium-sized fridge. But what attracted me most to the studio was the lovely balcony that the agent revealed by opening up a door that gave me so much more 'semi-outdoor' space. I could easily put a small table and two chairs in there to create an alfresco dining area. The bathroom was equally nice--small, but very workable. A nice new shower curtain would definitely do the trick. The price was right, the location was perfect (at just a five minute stroll away from my Dad's place) and with a microwave oven, a new mattress and a smart TV in which I would need to invest, I could easily see myself quite comfortably ensconced in the space. Things looked decidedly rosy as I made my way back to my Dad's home.
Lunch Hosted by my Dad:
Indeed, by the time I had seen these three places, it was almost noon. Since my niece Anaya and my nephew Arav who have spent five weeks of their summer hols in Bombay are headed home to Fairfield, Connecticut, tomorrow, my Dad decided to host a lunch for them. The timing of my arrival coincided beautifully with their departure--for I was able to see them for one last time before they scoot off to the States and I get started with my Fulbright year in Bombay.
Accordingly, they arrived on schedule with the hosts with whom they are staying in an apartment building nearby in Bandra--Jyoti brought Arav and Gladys and Monisha brought Anaya. We had a lovely reunion and then the meal began with drinks--shandy was popular, given the tropical Bombay summer/monsoon season. Soon the dishes began to be piled on the table: Mutton Biryani (from Merchant, the popular Bandra biryani supplier, lemon-garlic chicken from Khane-Khas, a local eatery, Goan sorpotel (a dish made with curried pork and liver and lots of ground red chillis and vinegar), potato chops (an Anglo-Indian staple that involves ground beef encased in a potato croquette that is breaded and fried), a raita of yoghurt and onions, and a salad that I made: all it involved were freshly sliced cucumbers and tomatoes dressed with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper. It was all quite delicious indeed--staple festive fare that I find in my father's house (that was not intended to be a tongue-twister!). For dessert, there were fresh sliced mangoes that were as sweet as honey, phirnee (local rice pudding) and Cornetto ice-cream cones in chocolate and butterscotch flavor--interestingly, the New York Times Magazine had done an entire feature on the uniqueness of Indian butterscotch once-cream (a flavor apparently, that is not found anywhere else in the world).
A Second Agent Enters the Scene:
Just as soon as very touching goodbyes were said (because my Dad does not know when he will next see his grandchildren and always becomes emotional at the thought!), photographs taken, hugs and kisses freely dispensed, it was time for me to meet Veera again for Viewing Session Two. She was taking me to see two more places in the company of another agent. This time, we were headed to Sherly-Rajan area where Rizvi College is a major landmark. I had never been to this part of Bandra, although it is not more than 15 minutes' walk from the building in which I had grown up. It turns out that studios here would meet my budget as the area is not sought-after. The comings and goings of noisy college teenagers is not what people seeking quiet existence opt for willingly. Many male students come on spluttering, noise-driven motorbikes. They tend to hang out in clumps around the college's twin gates. It was not at all appealing and I could see why interest in homes in this location are dim.
I was led to a small housing colony called Diago where the landlady came along to show me the place: it consisted of one room (set up as a bedroom with a double bed and vast wall-to-wall wardrobes. The tiny bathroom was just next door and the kitchen although newly outfitted, inexplicably, had the older, more dated cabinets intact. The apartment had a nice wraparound balcony but despite the fact that it was well grilled all around, I was not impressed.
Viewing Session Three Commences:
A third agent then took me to St Paul's Road to a place on the ground floor of a building called Marinette. It consisted of a teeny-tiny living room crammed with odd-lot furniture, a galley kitchen in ghastly colors, and a largish bedroom. The door to the bathroom was jammed--so I never did get to see what it would be like. Overall, quite underwhelming, I would say and absurdly pricey overall.
By this stage, the studio off St. Paul's Road looked most promising and I could not quite get it off my mind. Luckily, I had taken pictures of it and was able to contemplate them at greater length when I got home. If the agent was open to negotiation, I was distinctly interested.
A word about these real estate agents: They are a motley lot--mostly men, but some women; mostly Muslim with some Catholics. They almost invariably speak Hindi which has given me a lot of sudden practice in the local lingo. They are nothing like the superbly dressed, impeccably coiffed agents on the House Hunters International show. But they get the job done and they make a packet in the process. Another example, for me, of the upward mobility of young aspiring Indians.
Hope Comes at Tea-Time:
It was a little after tea-time when Veera called to tell me that the agent was willing to negotiate to bring the price down just a tad--of the furnished studio off St. Paul's Road. A bit of arm-twisting followed and he was supposed to get back to me soon with a final word on the deal.
I had a cup of lemony tea while keeping my fingers and other extremities crossed. And then, it was time to go to the 7.00 pm Mass with my Dad at our parish church. Dinner (of luncheon leftovers) soon followed. My brother Russel (who is reluctant to see me move) wanted to know how I had fared with my house search and I filled him in on the details.
Good News Ends an Unusual Day!
I was about to get in for a shower when Veera called to tell me that my offer had been accepted. I will see the place one more time tomorrow in the company of my Dad so that I can check out electric sources, water supply, security arrangements, etc. and then, hopefully...the place might just be mine, Come September.
I can only hope that I will not live to regret this decision as far too hasty--the problem is that in a market as hot as Bandra, one has to decided in a heartbeat--either yay or nay--right then and there. There is simply no room for dithering. Yikes!
Until tomorrow....namaste!
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