This Diwali we moved into our new apartment. After almost a week, or perhaps longer, of house hunting we finalized a house. Each apartment we saw had it’s own draw. Take the ‘masala’ apartments for instance – As son as we entered the building we were hit by a strong smell of Indian spices, leading to the Husband christening it the ‘masala building’. I’m sure, if we put in a little effort we stand a chance of being invited for chole-puri lunches on Sunday. At another apartment complex, the leasing office recommended that we take a walk along the back. We went around, and there it was, straight out of the movies, the riverfront, complete with private boats docked along a boardwalk. There was even a small beach a little further down. If we had had our cheque books with us at that moment, we would have gone straight back in and closed the deal. Luckily, we didn’t. It turned out the locality had a poor reputation.The final call was a tough one between an apartment located closer to the Husband’s workplace, in a high rise with a contemporary look and feel, overlooking a busy street and one in a bylane, with a balcony, with a tree right outside the balcony, in all it’s fall beauty.
No prizes for guessing which one we celebrated Diwali in.