HYDERABAD: During my seven years of stay in Hyderabad, I have lived in shared spaces with one single room in spacious villas, residential apartments, and bungalows. The rent included electricity bills, water bills, housekeeping bills, cleaning jobs, and meals.
When the lockdown started I was all alone in a four-storeyed residential place at Banjara Hills located at a cul-de-sac, it was tough to manage with no public conveyance, curfew timings, all the house help and watchman having gone back to their respective villages.
Like several others, I lived it and decided to continue living at the place as all the girls living over there had gone back to their hometowns. Only one came back. Rest of the rooms were vacant. In September, I decided to leave as I didn’t want to wait for a eleventh-hour crisis. I gave two months’ notice and my search began.
In a loop
It was a search of the Infinitum. I ventured into alleys, lanes, bylanes and streets greedily looking at all the ‘To Let’ boards pasted on walls, gates and lamp posts. Phone calls, knock at doors of strangers led to third-degree grilling -- ‘Are you single?’, ‘We don’t allow bachelorettes into our society’, to ‘Unmarried men and women not allowed’! I was baffled thinking that maybe since I don’t speak the local language and come from a different city that’s why perhaps people have trust issues.
I decided to take the service of flat brokers and agents hopping from one locality to another perched on their bikes. They did show me flats. Fourth floor with no lifts. Fully furnished flats in nearly empty apartments tucked into a spiral dead-end of a hidden-from-the-world street of Jubilee Hills. I saw the agents trying to convince the landlords: “She’s a journalist. Has been working for reputed newspapers. Don’t worry.” Nothing worked.
Unmarried, unaccompanied by a male relative made me demonic, not-to-be-seen-as-a-trusted person because she’s single and independent. One grey-haired lady comes out of a posh flat and tells the agent: “Singles ko kyun de rahe? Yeh family walon ka area hai. Ye log hungama kartey.” So, I was now a pariah! Disgusting!
Hopping around hope
Contacting friends and friends of friends who themselves were living in concealed identities showed some hope. Over coffee, a friend’s friend told me: “I am in a live-in relationship and have told my landlord that I am married. Things we do for society!” Well! And here I was totally unaware that a developed city offers distrust to its youngsters. People’s minds fixated on bachelors/bachelorettes being ‘trouble makers’. Duh! I got a lead to check a flat in Krishna Apartments, Banjara Hills.
This time I decided to take another female friend and share a 2 BHK with her. We both land up. The owner appears haggling over the deposit amount. “Fine. We will need rent receipts for taxation purposes,” we say. Pat comes the reply: “I can’t give you receipts. You’ll have to pay in cash.” We ask: But for that you’ll give a receipt, right?” He answers stroking his long white beard: “No. Aap office mein bata dijiyega itney paison kii shopping kar lii.” Dear uncle, are you joking? He mumbles: “Aaj kal ke bacchey haath se nikal gaye hain.” Well, sermons from parents weren’t enough and now this! He blurts again: “Give me the address and the phone number of your current landlord. I’ll do enquiry first, then think about renting my place to you girls.” Were we applying to IB?
CCTVs and dhoka
Tired of days of hunting, we spotted another 2 BHK at Aurora Colony. Old building. Rusted gate. Broken windows. But for Rs 12,000 it was a deal; we could get the flat renovated. Switches were loose. I tried switching on the fan and spot a CCTV camera in the bedroom. I quietly move to another bedroom. Another camera and the third one was in the living area. Why? I ask the supervisor. He says: “It has always been there, but if you want we can remove.” Really? Why will I live in a flat under surveillance? What’s the guarantee there were not hidden cameras behind the mirrors and cupboards.
Scary business. I come back to the office and my colleagues warn me to be very careful. The next day was another hunt. Road No. 14, Banjara Hills. Beautiful green area. Pretty houses. We spot one ‘To Let’ board in Shantiniketan Apartment. The watchman shows around. A plush place with teakwood furniture, sparkling floors, French windows, two balconies and a separate study area with table and chairs. Jackpot. The owner lived out of the country.
We make a conference call. Polite and professional person. Thank God. Simultaneously he sends the rent agreement and his bank account details. Finally, our worries were to come to an end. And out of nowhere this ‘gentleman’ in his 50s blurts: “I am yet to fall in love with both you girls.” And this was followed by unnecessary video calls he made past midnight to my friend while stalking me on Google and texting how he’d love to visit us. It was 11.45 pm IST! We cancelled the deal and were back to square one.
In Atlantis
We both decided to search for 1 BHK separately. Same stories. It was a loop. I was mentally exhausted and physically tired. An acquaintance met me and suggested to check in a 35-year-old gated community. He added: “That place has several 1 BHKs where many bachelors and bachelorettes stay.”
Where was this Atlantis hidden all this while? My landlord gave me the rent agreement, bank details for rent transfer, gets the house cleaned and hands over the key.
No questions. No weird comments. Was it that because 1BHKs are taken mainly by singles and you don’t question the money that flows in? Or is he really that genuine? And why am I being so cynical? Is it the people who see my identity as a young, single, independent, earning woman a threat? What needs to be changed? A lot, through ages, cultures, regions, mindsets. My mind is too tired. I am at home. The couch is warm and I just want to sleep.
A young, single independent woman’s search for a flat in city during pandemic exposes her to the grim reality that not many landlords want to welcome singles or if they do, it’s with embarrassing questions.