Thoughts on house hunting

House hunting in SG has been a pain but a pleasure for the vouyerismist (of course the type that loves to see how people have done up their houses) in me. With the idea of living in a perfectly square and big house stuck in our minds, P and I have been unimpressed by well-done interiors, new and therefore spic buildings with jazzy facilities and even by sea views.

All this time, I have been looking for a house with character but alas, the search seems to be in vain. Condos are unfortunately not the places to go to if it is a piece of personality and character you are after. We did come close to our vision in the shape of a standalone house with two floors, a backyard, lots of sun, a hint of colonial influence in its kitchen and a bit of a green patch. It was perfect except it was more than we needed and the climbing would drive away our parents. And so the hunt continues.

The fruitless search, however, has had its benefits. In SG once a tenant serves a notice to the landlord, the latter has the right to get in prospective tenants to view the apartment, even though the previous tenant is still there. As a result, we have visited still occupied condos and embarrassedly stepped into bedrooms, opened wardrobes and kitchen cabinets and peeped in every corner in the presence or absence of the occupants.

While few have been a revelation into how dirty people could be, some have been a visual feast. And few of these happened to belong to Indian families. With space, the imagination gets a chance to run loose. And what a run it could be. Every space has been a window into how diverse and unique the imagination of two people could be but still have the undercurrent of shared cultures and backgrounds.

While earthy shades, dark-stained Indonesian teak furniture, mirrors, Fab India furnishings, bells, Ganeshas and urulis were ubiquitous, there were a few delightful aberrations. An Indian bachelor’s apartment we saw was largely done up in black and white modern furniture with clean lines and a masculine feel. The theme and feel extended to the eclectic set of paintings dotting the apartment without cluttering it and broken once in a while with a splash of colour. One would never have been able to gauge the occupant’s style looking at the main door painted a bright yellow on the outside like the rest of the apartment doors, which gave a sunny, Mediterranean touch to the pristine white walls of the building.

While painful with my swollen feet and protruding belly, the apartment hunt has given me a chance to think more seriously about my own likings and design sensibilities and sometimes pause and think about what would I do with a certain space. While the tight space supply and the matchbox layout of my Hong Kong apartment forced me to be frugal and hold the reins of my imagination tight, the promise of more space in SG has made me think and daydream more. In the future my hands and days would be full with the baby, but I am looking forward to casting my magic (I am that confident) over the place we will call home.

So how is it going, you ask?

Frankly, the lack of people, or maybe the hugeness of space in Singapore that consumes people,is unnerving. I have lived compact most of my life. There was no dearth of space when I was growing up but I lived on a street that was consumed by the adjacent marketplace every festival big or small. If your watch ran out on you, be ensured that the mandir aartis and bhajan times would every quarter or so of the day let you know how much time you have to or have killed. Delhi was no different, with my university being an anthill of youngsters amidst a lush forest patch that boasted of neelgais, jackals and peacocks. Hong Kong was the zenith of living a pigeonholed life, city rat style. For a person with such baggage of experience and past, Singapore is a shock. Most of the time I am telling P how so and so street reminds me of so and so part of Lucknow. There are wide, near deserted streets; trees and more trees; scope to go for an evening jog or a stroll down a rain-washed road with the wind messing your hair; home with balconies; duplex houses; and lots of indian restaurants. Not that these make me miss Hong Kong any less. I miss it with every breath I take. Cheesy, yes, but exactly the way I feel. I miss its ability to squeeze life out of you but charm you with its myriad surprises. Right, in real life it is not so romantic a place but it is the laddu that you anyway want to savor. Trust me! House hunt has been pretty interesting. Our hopes for a big place have bloated beyond realistic expectations and that has seen us sport a disappointed face and tick off the agent despite being shown condos with good fixtures and decent space. We are yet not down to earth and by the way it is going, it seems unlikely. Amidst all these events, lil baby has begun making its presence felt. And the more it kicks and jiggles, the more I worry about it having enough brain matter and looks. The rest is uneventful and not worth talking about. I am jobless, purposeless, with plenty of time in hand and swollen feet. But I am good :-)