For all the years that I lived in Mumbai, where prosperity is measured in square feet and life is structured in EMIs, friends and acquaintances always wanted to know why I hadn’t invested in real estate. Being pretty sure very early on in my life in Mumbai, that despite the city being a great place to be in professionally, I couldn’t see myself settle into any of its marbled apartments. Maybe I was naive or plain stupid or just Bengali, because I could never salivate over the appreciation of floor space.
When my mother said I would inherit her ancestral house in Santiniketan, twenty years into my life in Mumbai, I handed over my resignation in double quick time. It has been six years now that I am living here and occasionally I do wonder what I would have done if my mother hadn’t intended it.
While for me it was purely happenstance, ever since I have come to live here, I have realised that in West Bengal, Santiniketan is the most-coveted “non-city” place to be in. Not in the way that Pune or Bangalore used to be for city folks to retire to, but unfortunately in a more “happening weekend scene” kind of way. Thanks to the Golden Quadrilateral, it’s now only 160 km from Kolkata and a great place to strut one’s car. Many of those who have bought places do not have the time to visit. I can understand that if you have the money, you don’t have the time.
I don’t exactly know what it is that is so attractive about Santiniketan. Is it the quiet (less and less), is it the open fields (non-existent now, thanks to Somnath Chatterjee’s builder friends) or a rub off of the Tagore brand of culture? Many people who have expressed a desire to acquire real estate here have not been able to put their finger on it.
Many friends and relatives who have visited me ever since I moved here have always been wistful about the kind of life we are leading. The fact that we could give up some corporate job and move here seems to them to be some kind of an achievement (I wish they knew how easy it is). And worse, they keep telling us how they would do the same if it were not for ... I hate to see them under pressure to conform to our way, especially because they think that we were not conforming by opting out!
In fact, after spending a few days with us, many of them even end up asking us to be on the lookout for a house or a plot of land for sale. Having taken them seriously, we did try a couple of times but soon realised that their desire to invest in Santiniketan lasted till their rickshaw ride to the station. And we were left fending off various brokers whose appetite had been whetted!
I have now learnt to take our visitors not too seriously and have been able to accept their passing fancies. But a recent phone call I received, tells me that now people desirous of investing in Santiniketan do not actually have to even get here. A lady who I had met once a couple of years ago at my cousin’s rang up the other day, introduced herself and then asked me whether I knew of any land that she could purchase in Santiniketan because she would like to “build something” (kitchu ekta). “Why me?” I wanted to ask, but of course I didn’t. “Where would you want to look,” I asked, instead. “Nearer town or a little away?” “Wherever,” she said, “a little quiet” (niribili). “How much land are you looking for?” “Don’t know, just to make a small house”.
Although a bit irritated, I tried not to let it show. I started afresh. “Are you familiar with Santiniketan?” “Yes” she said, “have been there a couple of times when I was young.” I realised this conversation was going nowhere and offered to message her a broker’s number instead. I hung up, sent the message and counted it as my good deed for the day.
