Handling your apartments which are rented out

 

I loved Dilkhush and it broke my heart to sell it

Fifteen years ago I decided to build twin apartments in KR Gardens and rent them out to be able to earn enough to pay for my chronic diabetes meds. My husband’s family had decided we had to pay for our medicals ourselves. Don’t know from where they expected that to be done, but realising that I had to help myself, ( I refuse to beg for money) I decided to build two flats on a 35x40 plot, I had bought with my pre-school savings. So, along with a friend I erected ‘Dilkhush’ a building I named after Rumer Godin's famous book -- “Kingfishers Catch Fire” in which she lived in a house at the base of the Himalayas, growing up as a child.

 I rented the flats out to bachelors who were working in huge companies, but that was mistake number one. NEVER rent to bachelors -- Indian bachelors. They have been brought up badly, so have no idea of cleanliness. In a few years my beautiful flats were literally trashed. I had to spend FIVE lakhs cleaning and refurbishing them and there was no question after that. I sold the building and reinvested in another flat close to our home, so I could keep an eye on it.

The pretty interiors of Dilkhush

I cannot generalise about ALL bachelors. My sister had a Danish bachelor from Tilst, near where I studied in Aarhus, Denmark. My husband took friends who visited,to see how he kept his apartment. Ofcourse that he was a minimalist also helped, but it was a model flat with everything spic and span at any time of the day or night. Every now and then he would ring the doorbell and present me with half a loaf of ‘rye’, a Danish bread which I enjoyed.

We reinvested the money from Dikhush, in a flat a friend was selling close to where we now live. This flat was as well, sold to us in a mess. The person literally took what she wanted and left the mess behind for us to clear. We had to clear two tractor loads of her rubbish. Then began the refurbishing of the flat which took THREE months. From the garden to the toilets and the kitchen we gutted and redid the whole apartment and then rented it to a mother and daughter team.

The garden we grew in Golden Arch

We thought ‘chalo’ -- women -- they will look after the flat. The girl was a film star and the furniture was straight out of Dubai. That's where the line was drawn. The kitchen was in a terrible state -- we had invested in a four lakh modular Insta kitchen and there was thick oil everywhere. They stole all the tube lights and the bulbs, even down to the door bell as they were leaving and had not paid the maintenance and rent for the last month. Luckily we had the deposit and we deducted from it, for the cleaning of the kitchen and chimney/stove and whatever was unpaid, before we returned their deposit.

In the building that we live in we have a much better class of people -- or so we choose to believe. Our brand new GF flat we rented to a senior army officer and when he left, I just cried with shock. It was my first brush with the ‘classier’ crowd and I realised it was better to get my flat back than have a run in with a nasty man. Yes we spent close to 25 k repainting and cleaning the kitchen and the rust stains from their washing machine, in the bathroom and the insides of all the cupboards. But learn to pick your battles, said my sister and I sure did.

My sister gave me this Bleeding heart which is happy in Golden Arch

My sister had given her flat to be used by my beautiful mother, who was totally a vegetable. The three bedroom flat was completely run down by servants who literally used the place as their rest stop, while they worked elsewhere. It took almost a month to clean and repaint, remesh her room and fix other sliding doors and clean up the mess left behind by the servants. My sister does not live here, so the onus of cleaning and clearing fell squarely on my husband and me. We also had to find the money to do it.NO! I am NOT joking! We do it to keep the building running. The curse of the responsible eldest, but I think of Dad and Grandpa and do it. After all we did grow up here.

Beautifully redone bathrooms

My other two flats are with ‘‘decent’ folk. I don't know what the condition will be when they leave, but for now they are cultured and well mannered and the white goods are serviced once a year at their cost, as per the lease. Yes, we do sort out plumbing and electrical issues, but then we find when we are hands-on, we get the job done and they are happy. We get lots of gifts from them and vice versa which is a nice, happy feeling. But being a landlord means you have to be prepared  to run around everyday -- well almost!

The Living/dining in Golden Arch

Writing a sleep story

 

Whenever there is a writing opportunity, I get friends sending me the link from across the globe, where I can send in a story to compete.That’s how I got noticed in the by the CommonWealth writers association  and my book “ Above the Ricefields of Pilerne” written 10 years ago got noticed and and was quoted in a paper covering Indian English Literature!  So, here was a friend who found a link asking for a Sleep Story. The Covid pandemic has begun to throw up various genres of writing and this is the newest one on my plate.

So, I tried to imagine what a sleep story was and got my thinking cap on and sent in the first 500 words for approval. “I love your writing style,” said the editor, “BUT a sleep story is just that. You need to put the listener to sleep!”

And he sent me a couple of recordings  to listen to. They were outstandingly beautiful, especially the one read by Stephen Fry all about the lavender fields in France. Sigh! I just loved his sonorous tone and the timbre of his voice was so relaxing. I could almost smell the lavender fields, which I smell everyday, with my quick shower after my jog.

Obviously I had to write about something unusual for him to even look at it and most of all to write about something I could write with passion about. What better than my little village of Pilerne in Goa. So, I sat down one morning beginning to write and by nightfall I had finished, pouring out 3000 words that he required.

No, I don't suffer from the proverbial writer’s block. I don’t understand that concept because I write only on things I feel strongly about. Don't attempt to write about anything if it SOUNDS nice. You have to feel it and let it flow out of you.

Then I took three days letting my eye run over it. Back and forth, tweaking the teasing out the beauty of the village into a word picture.Great events turn on small hinges, remember that when writing and editing. And also remember that all information is available to anyone with a keyboard and a wifi connection. If you lie when you write, it will come back to haunt you! 

I waited with bated breath and he came back with one line -- “ I love your story Dr. de Nazareth!” All these titles mean a lot in the academic, writing world. I consider them smudges on my record!I just enjoyed the studying part.

Then my sister in Australia said -- “ You need to read your own story. Remember the awful job done with your last book? The accent was frightful.” So! I took courage since I have done years of voice overs for Pearson's Education and asked if I could read my own Sleep Story.

“ Send me a couple of paras and let me decide!” I was told.

“ So simple Mum! Just use the recording app on the phone I gave you,” said one of my sons. And I did, I record on silent and quiet mornings where there are no yowling dogs and louder conversations.

So now! I have not just written my story, I am going to have the pleasure of recording it with my own voice too! Life is good, it’s fun, and technology has made me do stuff I never thought possible.Including lecturing to PG students online and being an external examiner as well for PG and now PhD vivas as well.My parents will be pleased.

Always help kids who want to study

 

In Mount Carmel College

I never wanted to teach like my Mum -- NEVER. It was a tough life being a teacher and Mum struggled on without grumbling for us five kids to give us the best education. By teaching in the schools we went to, she was able to get us free seats in the schools which would have been impossible to pay for by my Dad. Five kids on a serving officers salary was a tight squeeze every month and she managed to get it for us by teaching in the same school.

I wore many hats -- ran my own Advertising Agency and made a ton of money and also my own pre school which helped pay for my indulgences like buying a farm in Hoskote and buying super bikes ( cycles) for the boys to compete in the triathlon. Then after getting bored out of my head working full time as a journalist in the Deccan Herald, I left after resigning, to set up the Media section in St. Joseph’s Arts and Science College. I still freelance for the DH and other magazines and The Hindu but I moved into academia and did my PhD.

                                                              MCC

In St Joseph’s there was a young man whom I taught in the undergraduate class who always come rain or shine, would help me set up for my PPT for the class in the Media lab. Albert was a slim, self effacing boy who over the two years I came to know really well. One day I just casually asked him about his parents and home and out came a story, pouring from the depths of his soul about how his father had passed on and his mother a housewife was struggling.

His Dad's family were kind and helped with their food needs but his education and fees was to be handled by his mother. “I have got to pay by the end of this month Maam,” he said. “ My Mum does not know where to go for it. The college is giving me a large deduction but the rest I must manage”

One student

I decided to connect with the Old Boys Association of the college and in minutes the Old students not only cleared his fees but also lauded Albert for his perseverance. Albert completed his undergrad and got a good job through a good friend of mine and supported both his mother and brother, till his mother died.

Today Albert is looking to go overseas to do a Masters and try to stay on and emigrate. He needs all the help he can get to realise his dream and I am glad his tenacity and determination is helping  him to look for better horizons.

Again -- I noticed a very bright student -- Dev Bastola in another class. An exceedingly intelligent Nepali boy, who had taken the media course. I asked him why he was wasting his time with the course and he said he had got a medical seat but was too poor to join the college. I told him to try again and would get support. Sure enough he got a seat and this time a medical seat in Nottingham. 

Another student

A Doctor Old Boy said that seat was amazing and he would help with Dev’s food-- Trevor Viegas. Other Old boys helped too and the Nepal government and his village folk gave him a bursary. My son in the UK and I chipped in and Dev certified himself to teach Yoga and started supporting himself with classes that he ran. Dev has six months left and my heart fills with pride at his ingenious and inventive ways of keeping afloat. His patience and endurance to see the light at the end of the tunnel in one so young fills me with hope for him.

Dev ploughing his fields during his holidays

 When I visit he will come all the way from Manchester -- he has moved from Nottingham as the course is superior in Manchester -- to see me and touch my feet. My sons feel good helping him. They were lucky they had a grandfather who knew the value of education and supported them as I could not afford the professional fees.

Albert and Dev are my shining stars of hope in a bleary, horrible world where money seems to be all people care about. It is a shame that people would rather waste electricity and water in the building, rather  than help a person in need. What we have asked in return is they get good jobs to sustain themselves. Albert looks at New Zealand and Dev will work in the UK and hopefully bring his parents over. And I am grateful to these Old Boys who never fail to come to a students aid.  

  

Friends for life

                                                Visiting Rita in Dubai

 When I was a young girl in New Delhi, we were put into the best school in the city, sorry India Today says in the country now - The Jesus and Mary Convent, Gol Daak Khaana, because Mum worked there too. We were lucky we got these fabulous schools only because Mum taught in them and so we did not have to pay fees which would have been unaffordable for a service officer Dad, with five kids. 

Rita and me in the VIIIth std. Obvious I was 2 years young for the class.

In school I made good friends with a girl named Rita Raj and we went through all the classes in school right upto the ISC or Senior Cambridge. In those days our answer papers were shipped to the UK and we girls prayed the ships sank! However after school, Rita and I joined Jesus and Mary College Chanakyapuri and we had another friend join our group there from the Mater Dei Convent -- Patricia D’souza. Rita lived in Jodhpur Mess while I lived in Sangli Mess as we were serving officers' daughters. Patricia was the star who lived in the grandest and most massive house I had ever seen on Tilak Marg -- the Times of India House, as her father was the resident Editor of the entire Times of India. Her house was just behind ours and so I would walk through her enormous vegetable garden at the back, to visit her. Needless to say the family included me in everything including her big brother and friend who teased me mercilessly.

Patsy and me in Abhu Dhabi visiting the fabulous mosque

Then we lost touch as Dad got posted to Shillong and my mind was occupied with my National level athletics and my new college. Patsy finished from the same college and became a top secretary with the CBCI and Rita left for Dubai after finishing school. Only I left to finish in Shillong. We lost touch completely, till my sons came on the horizon and I had to go to Delhi accompanying them for a national Swimming Meet in the Talkatora Gardens pool.  I know Patsy was somewhere in Delhi as we had attended her wedding in Bangalore, since her husband was my husband's classmate in college and a Josephite. So I connected and we went to our old hangouts to eat chaat and chole in Gupta Market if I visited Delhi.

Email kept us in touch and I got occasional snippets of news about Rita from Patsy. Then suddenly I got a call, asking if I could make a booking for Rita and Steve, her husband, in the Catholic Club as he was ill and was coming to Bangalore for an operation. That's when the three of us became close friends all over again. We just picked up where we left off, as by then Patsy also had retired in Bangalore where both her husband's family and hers had moved.

With Steve and Patsy in Dubai

The icing on the cake was Rita’s buying of an apartment on Rest House Road to retire, just a stone’s throw from me. We can now just saunter over on the top class Tender Sure  pavements to have a cup of tea and chat in one another's homes. Sadly as I write this Patsy’s husband has been ill in St. John’s with Covid for THREE months. He is fighting to pull himself out -- first off the ventilator, then the tube in his throat and now the infection in his kidneys. The support one gets just from knowing we are there at the end of a phone call is so calming.

Rita's sons have moved to Canada, from Dubai. Ours to the US and UK and Patsy never had any children.So basically we need one another for support as we age. Life has come full circle for the three of us and we are back to being there for one another like we were as little girls. Each of us have had different experiences in our better or for worse vow of Marriage. None of us have to pretend that we are eternally in love. Everyone has their faults and we accept or grumble to one another about it.  Lucky for us we have managed, shouldered on and come out better for the tough years we faced. Each of us are women of substance, working and earning our own keep, not beholden to any man's bullying or stinginess. And we have sons who have seen us struggle to keep the family together whatever the circumstance and back us one 100% now as we become seniors. 

At the Burj Khalifa

It’s a good feeling to know these solid pillars of my youth are there for me at any time. For now we pray as one unit, for Leslie to pull through and for Patsy to get the strength to shoulder on with this difficult time.