"All I want is a room somewhere....." (Eliza Dolittle - My Fair Lady)

Whenever my friends would tell me about their house hunting woes in Delhi or Mumbai I’d never pay attention. That’s because I would be too busy thanking my lucky stars that I didn’t live in either place. Maybe I should have paid more attention because I recently went through a very hard time trying to find a decent place to live. No doubt those tips would have come in handy.

I came to the Capital over a month ago and the first few days were a blur – new job, new clothes, new everything, hell even my socks were new. What were old were me and my mentality. I craved warmth and the sense of security that I’d enjoyed in small towns for the last few years.

I hated everything and to be honest I still do. But like everyone else I hug my cheque book / bank statements, tell my self that these scraps of paper make up for everything else and try to be happy but then back to my house hunting woes.

The first place that I landed up was advertised as a paying guest accommodation. The only PG that I could find that admitted men in its hallowed portals. The rest seemed to be exclusively for women. I walked into that deal with my eyes literally wide SHUT because I had to shift out of the company accommodation and no questions asked. Over night the nightmares of having to share bathrooms, being subjected to unnecessary chit chat and ridculous questions left my privacy loving soul completely and utterly shattered.

I decided that enough is enough the day I came back to an empty PG with no water anywhere, and this after being assured that we'd be given 24 hour water supply. I went to the first house agent that I could find and stopped short of begging him to find me decent accomodation.

A few days later I was able to find myself a small cubby hole of a room on the third floor of a house populated by the the most disgusting Punjabi Family this side of the Vindhyas. The worst part was that their dog would relieve himself on the roof twice a day. I 'd trudge home from the metro station to find a pile of dog doody right outside my door. Great. Polite complaints elicited the response - Shaggy really likes you, that's why he leaves you a reminder! Needless to say I did wonder what would happen if Shaggy hated me but then thats another story.

I left the second place post haste forgoing my deposit because the son of the house decided to get married to his long time girlfriend and lost no time in turning prodigal and demanding his share of the property. The father went into hiding, the sister went into depression and the mother used it as an opportunity to try and extract sympathy of the physical kind. Since my idea of sex does not include obese,middle aged Punjabi women, I left.

The place I manged to find the third time around has left me with leaner and tauter thighs and less of a paunch. How? It's on the fourth floor and does not have a lift. The room is freshly constructed and the family seems to be normal, although so did my last landlords but then you never know.

I have friends who think nomads are cool, but I'm beginning to understand just what they are all about. Since the only kind of lust that i'm ever prey to is sexual, I find this moving around horribly disconcerting and morally degrading.

Still, one must live and then at the end of the day there is always the cheque book......