I like to believe that I was a gypsy girl in my past life. How am I so certain, you may ask. Well, for starters, the course charted by my almost 30 years of existence is reason enough for me to conclude so. You see, there is a certain migratory behaviour that I find myself falling prey to ever so often. It does not matter at this point if it is because of a personal choice or due to lack of one but a nomadic quality has surely coloured my life aplenty thus far.
And so there was nothing out of ordinary when for the nth time I was informed rather callously by those who sit in heaven on fluffy puffs of cloud writing the story of my life, that I was to move yet again. Now, even though this sudden displacement seemed terribly inconvenient, I was stuck on denying anyone the satisfaction of seeing me befuddled. With what I like to think of as the insouciance of a hardened gypsy, I pulled out my time tested relocation checklist from a hidden cache of valuable odds and ends and set in motion the gargantuan process of relocating.
APARTMENT HUNTING – in big bold letters – the first item on my checklist stared at me defiantly almost as if trying to unnerve me by its sheer magnitude. It brought along with it memories of numerous apartment hunts that I have had the pleasure (or displeasure in some cases) to embark upon. From the chintzy pink/green/scarlet walled rooms of apartments in Hyderabad to the pigeon hole like confines of atrociously priced apartments in Mumbai and Bangalore and from the eerily symmetric homes in Stuttgart to the colossal opulence of houses in Palo Alto, it is quite an array that I have covered in a span of 6 years.
Even though the cities differed, the underlying pattern always stayed the same. Every new apartment hunt entailed long anxiety riddled hours spent over a period of several days scouring promising neighbourhoods. Needless to say, each potential abode I surveyed brought with it a series of experiences. There were grumpy Marathi/Telugu/Kannada spouting landlords looking for ways to extract every last penny of my earnings. There were also sour looking neighbours (especially in Hyderabad) whose laser like gaze burnt into every single girl who came looking for an apartment in their building. If I tried hard, I could almost hear them hissing under their breath ‘You should get married because that's what susheel Indian girls do once they are done pretending to care about studies‘.
While apartment hunting was an adventure in itself, occupying the chosen residences was also quite eventful thanks to several significant characters. For instance, my apartment in Mumbai came with a replica of the 'Adam’s family' posing as neighbours complete with a scary stone eyed granny and a toddler who looked perpetually drugged. The inevitable string of roommates whom I dealt with – some quirky, some fun, some strange, some filthy and some mean - added a pinch of spice. An assortment of house maids – one who offered to cook for me at no extra cost, one who liked sipping her daily cup of tea with me while watching television and one who sported red hair to match her paan stained teeth – brought in a daily dose of drama. And then there were the 'istri wallahs' who piled my crumpled clothes on wooden hand carts and rolled them away to a place from where they returned creaseless and smooth.
As for the apartments themselves, fortunately, in each real estate jungle, I found spaces that resonated with me. In Hyderabad, it was a cozy two bedroom apartment with the most enticing balcony ever. The soft rustle of leaves on an adjoining neem tree and an inviting reading chair made sure that I stole half an hour each day to curl up in my favourite corner with a cup of coffee and a book. In Bangalore, it was a studio apartment – my first stab at living all by myself. A bean bag, a multicoloured checkered rug, a small television and a shelf full of books transformed it into a place I wanted to come back to after a hard day at work.In Stuttgart, Germany it was a one bedroom office-turned-apartment on a hill overlooking the village of Gerlingen. Panoramas of blue skies, red roofed houses and green fields from every window were enough to make me fall in love with the place. The fact that the landlord and his wife - a middle aged couple - spoiled me rotten by sending me home made meals and inviting me ever so often for coffee and cake was an added bonus.
Marriage brought along a movement of larger proportions. As I prepared to put 8000 miles and an ocean between me and my beloved country, I crammed as many memories as I possibly could in two rather massive suitcases. Palo Alto, California was my port of destination and it had in store for me my very first downtown apartment. A 6 month sabbatical from work gave me all the time to enjoy it to my heart’s content. It was here that I took baby steps towards learning how to cook a hearty Indian meal and it was here that once again I had the pleasure of owning, for a brief period, a lovely sun drenched balcony which beckoned me every single second.
One year and 2 cities later, here I am planning yet another relocation.This time it is the once prosperous motor city of Detroit that summons me. Setting aside my fears about the two things Detroit apartments are most infamous for – bed bugs and crime, I began my hunt with great hope and I am happy to report that my positivity paid off . From the 14th of September I shall be a proud tenant of an apartment which seemed to lovingly call out my name as soon as I walked in. Full length glass doors opening onto a patio facing a patch of green grass and then a golf course, lots and lots of shelves in each room for my organizing pleasure and a small lake to be enjoyed on warm summer afternoons swooped me right off my feet. That it is a mile from work and has a functional fitness center and swimming pool is just icing on my already mouthwatering cake.
Uprooting, moving, settling and then uprooting again – is a cycle that I have gone through all my life. It is a way of life so full of unknown adventures and new experiences that over the years I have got addicted to it. As soon as my heart begins to yearn for fresh beginnings, I know that it is time for me to pack my bags, extract my checklist and head out.....
