If you read my last newsletter where I tell you that I’ve moved to Pune, I’m here with another update: I’ve moved back to Mumbai. When I wrote that post, I was confident that I’d be spending some more time in Pune. In fact, I felt I was ready (and looking forward) to finally reclaim the city. But then, you know how capitalism works… you get a better job and you go for it.
One of the first things I did, right after I moved, was join every single Flats and Flatmates group relevant to me on Facebook. It’s a fairly simple process. You type the word “flat and flatmates” in the Facebook search box, hit enter, and keep clicking on the join button till your fingers go numb. Except for that one private group that DM-ed asking me to pay to get entry. The audacity.
Joining these flat and flatmate groups is easy; staying in them is harder. Once I joined the groups, I spent most of my time (when awake and free) scrolling mindlessly through the posts. I’m not lying when I say that I both started (in the bathroom, rubbing my eyes open) and ended (in bed, eyes closing shut from exhaustion) my day going through the posts on these groups.
“Rent?”
“Is this still available?”
“Pls DM details”
“Interested"
“Check DM”
For the first couple of weeks, as I was reaching out to the women in these groups, I felt like a man on a dating app. I was interested in every single prospect but nobody was interested in me. As a single woman open to drinking and smoking and wanting the freedom to have friends over and eat non-veg food, I became the most undesirable candidate in the long list of homeless girls trying to find a suitable, budget-friendly accomodation. At best, I was allowed to cook eggs in a separate pan and order non-veg if I wanted, as far as I promised not to store it in the fridge.
At some point, I stopped looking at the apartment photos or even important details like rent. My eyes would scan the text for essential keywords: non-drinking, non-smoking, pure veg. If I spotted any one of these, I would simply move on. I only had 13-14 hours every day to sift through tens of posts on multiple groups. There was no time to waste time.
Then came the miraculous day I’d been waiting for.
I found an apartment that I liked and now I could be the one to dictate terms. I snapped photos with the enthusiasm of my 13-year-old self who had just gotten hold of her Sony Cybershot at a family vacation. I rushed home to type an enticing ad for my fellow flats and flatmate-ians. I concluded my eloquent essay with two magical words: No Restrictions.
Over the next few days, Facebook Messenger and WhatsApp became my battleground. I was crashing at my friend’s for the weekend. The plan was to have fun but I carried my laptop along and spent a significant amount of time glued to the screen; forwarding the same message and answering the same questions until my fingers, vision, and sensibilities gave up on me.
There were a lot of interesting prospects. One girl happened to be my namesake. Another worked in the same office building as mine. None of them converted for reasons unknown to this seeker.
But the most heartbreaking one was the girl who ghosted me after almost fully committing to our plans of cohabitation.
On paper, she was my flat and flatmate-ian soulmate. She said she spent most of her time indoors (me too!), she said she could eat dal khichdi 5 days a week (me too!), she said she wanted a restriction-free place (ME TOO!!). So we did what most people in this situation would do. We went and saw more houses together until we found one that we liked. She said she needed a day to figure out her budget as this was exceeding it by a little. I said, okay, I’d wait and I did. Until I didn’t.
I made the mistake of revealing my desperation. I pleaded, I requested, I urged her to let me know sooner than later. I wasn’t ready to lose out on the house and start searching from scratch, AGAIN. At this point in my house-hunting journey, I was pretty sure I’d reached a dead end of both houses and brokers in my preferred area. I even offered to pay marginally higher rent to take up the bigger room; also because the place was extremely close to my office.
After all this, she never replied to me.
I was heartbroken, defeated, tired.
But such is life.
It’s been more than a month since I last heard from her. Sometimes when I accidentally click on a Flat and Flatmates group notification, I think of her. I wonder if she got a nice house in a new society with a gym and a no-restriction roommate like she wanted. I hope she did.
Links from my Archive
My Lifelong Struggle Of Explaining To People What 'Bhuknu' Is
Don't Take Your Body Seriously, Kids
On Jhumpa Lahiri, Languages, And Why I Failed French
A Little Bit About My Internet Identity
Allah! I hope you finally found someone Pankhuri. House Hunting truly seems like a dating game in this city.