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Five Sanity Challenging Things Singles Hear From Landlords

If you like it, put a rent on it.

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Ever tried looking for a place to rent? If you’re single I’m willing to bet my left kidney you’ve heard one or all of these dialogues. Single? You might as well find yourself a leper colony on the outskirts of town. Got that ‘no bullshit’ vibe? Please see yourself out. That 80 square foot hole in the wall you’ve set your heart on is probably going to go to that sweet-faced ‘innocent’ girl from some innocuous small town.

If you like it, put a rent on it.

“Single ho?”

Single ho. Hmmm.. I smell a pun. You might as well be some drug snorting junkie with no morals down to her last sexually acquired rupee. That’s if you’re a woman. Single guys have it even worse. Either you’re a sexual deviant or homosexual, usually, that’s interchangeable. Which apparently won’t stop your rampant libido from servicing every saas and bahu in the landlord’s household and neighbourhood. Better pray for divine intervention if the landlord has a daughter with marriage on her mind.

If you like it, put a rent on it.

After genealogy mapping, ink blots followed by blood and stool tests, you may be rejected on the basis of your gotra. You see perception management is mandatory. I’ve been advised to dress the part in the manner of lawyers advising their clients to wear a sympathy generating ensemble while taking the stand. Don’t even if you belong to any or most of these categories:

Muslim = Anti-national.

Kashmiri Muslim in which case you’re an Azaadi frothing terrorist

Christian then you must be a drunkard keeping company with other low lives

SC/ST, there’s not enough Gaangajal on the black market

‘Non-sanskari aurat’, middle name ‘besharam’

Africans will be considered if double the rent rate is paid.

If you like it, put a rent on it.

“Non Veg Allowed Nahi Hai”

Even the suggestion that flesh has passed your lips will end in you being excommunicated from the list of potential renters by the Society of Moral High Ground Landlords of this Great Nation. Lords of the RWA I’m told can smell the contraband within 50 meters of it entering the premises. Dear ‘single’ home renters, the rent agreement states these and other things like coming home at a decent hour universally considered to be any time before 7 pm. Any time after that your dead relatives and their collective immorality will be dragged through the muck. Because galat kaam happen only after dark. Sorry but that’s the fine print on the rent agreement you signed. For eleven months you’ve signed away free will along with ten percent of your salary.

If you like it, put a rent on it.

“Yahan journalist, waqeel, NGO worker, air hostess, painter aur kutte mana hai”

Which basically leaves MBAs, engineers, doctors and teachers in the respectable tax paying bracket. The company you keep matters. Both private and professional. Your profession isn’t an indication of your ability to be able to pay rent right? Wrong answer. Besides that’s logic, you don’t need that here.

If you like it, put a rent on it.

“Decent People”

This full-time fascination with decency is a national sport. It cuts across age, gender, income, family background and location. Players can be found indulging in this sport huddled at park benches, inside housing societies, hanging over balconies, keeping night watch, protecting the decent at late hours and during flag hoisting ceremonies. The odd festival is a big draw. They can be identified by the odour of judgement emanating from their starched clothes and the look of a pit bull smelling a dead rat.

If you like it, put a rent on it.

So, if you’re single you’re already indecent because you don’t have a family to verify your decency and God knows your friends are just like you, juvenile delinquents who will set fire to their apartment. That or a kothaa is doing roaring business.

If you like it, put a rent on it.

You see being decent also means that members of the opposite sex shall not interact freely. Because that just means sex is being had, lots and lots of nasty sex.

The good part is that in the eventuality you may be captured by ISIS, the ensuing third degree and anal cavity check will be like a Sub-Saharan breeze.

(At The Quint, we question everything. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member today.)

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