From the Impressions of Meeting Brokers and Landowners While Hunting for an Accommodation on Cold Winter Evenings, After Returning from Work Fucking Tired

From the Impressions of Meeting Brokers and Landowner While Hunting for an Accommodation on Cold Winter Evenings, After Returning from Work Fucking Tired
Housewarming or weekend is synonymous to a drink party

It was during those days I was looking for an affordable accommodation. Now the thoughts are becoming a mouthful. Why is it so hard to move into a new place? From approaching the annoying brokers, talking to the homeowners and finally moving in, then carrying all the packed stuffs and then the headache in unpacking them.

   Story One   

It’s been long I have been away from home. It must be nearly one hundred years. Quite long; sometimes I forget which way my home is. All along I have been earning with pride, the title of a tenant for life. So far, so good.


What do you think? Living in a rent has given newer lessons of life, whether it is related to how life is or how practical it is that I could possibly apply somewhere; or simply it is cramming that we used to do in our school. I’m not sure; I have learning problems. Just memorise the lessons before the exam and forget them for good as soon as the exam got over.

Back again, life is sinking into the periodic bouts of spending a lifetime in a rent, doing some job for earning a livelihood, meeting stupid people here and there, partying on weekends as some kind of moronic social convention, travelling to new places and what not. Out of all these craps, the worst is the hunting for rooms and flats every couple of years, just to have a roof over our head. What the heck for are all the jobs and the shifts and the interviews and the college degrees, if not for an average-ish shack we can go back to, after a hard day’s work, after tolerating 45-degree-scorching heat or ass-smacking winter chill?

   Story Two   
From the Impressions of Meeting Brokers and Landowner While Hunting for an Accommodation on Cold Winter Evenings, After Returning from Work Fucking Tired
Labour charge

Sometimes, I would get choosy about the kind of accommodation because I have so many reasons, more than the owners can care to remember. One essential condition is the landlord’s business with me. Stay wherever you are, I will come by myself and pay the rent on time, just stay a little far away. I also want to stay far away from useless complaints. No complaining and whining for me, please. If I had been too loud the previous night with my friends coming over with Old Monks and guitars and pork and pena, let me see what I can do tonight. I swear I’ll give you no trouble again.

Never in my school and college days had it occurred to me that would I be here today. It is unimaginable, of course, for a kid to answer that his ambition is to study hard, go to some bloody university, and stay in rents and do some kind of jobs, while waiting to get married and have babies.

   Story Three   

I can see an image of Sisyphus; I can see its image on me. I am afraid life is merely these things, hardly any more than these things. It would be a mistake if it is really so. Nope.

I believe there are more things in life than these superficial craps that life is used to throwing at us from time to time. It’s only about the timing; it’s about the years and the age and the generation and the experience and the march towards the future. Wise men rightly said that there should be things more important than our ‘self’ in life. I believe happiness is the end of life.

Sharing an accommodation is financially advisable but I hate to share it with stupid people. When I say stupid, I mean stupid—he might be a rocket scientist with more degrees. He might have a car and all, but he is nevertheless a stupid to me. He is stupid if he doesn’t know, like, Shrimati Tomcha Babu. Ironically, so many stupid people are there outside. So to cut it short, sharing is out of the question and it means two things: (1) I’m so stupid that I cannot get along with stupid people ; and, (2) I have to pay more for the rent. Case closed. Anyway I’ll get the liberty to use the bathroom as long as I like. Though, this is completely different from sleeping inside there after some unknown amount of whisky beats the shit out of me and pushed me there on some fateful days.

   Story Four   

A real pain the ass... I have heard stories of homeowners refusing to rent out their flats to people like me outrightly, because we look like an extraterrestrial object. India do know a lot about us, perhaps because we are also an Indian. Yet no one can help the problem between what we look like and what they look like. This has always been a trouble for us for a long, long time. They complain about our ngaari and yongchak, not necessarily that they know these names; while other people complain about their curry smell—and ridiculously the vicious cycle of racism seemingly never ends. I’m not racist, by the way; I just hate all the people equally.

In most of the cases there is always an overt reaction of oh-them-people-from-the-northeast when we self-introduce to the possible landlords and landladies. The broker as well would always say that he had earlier arranged the room for or that the room used to be rented by one-of-you-kind folks. But there are some exceptional places like in my present location in Ashram, the local folks know Manipuris very well, because there are so many bloody people from my hometown and elsewhere putting up around the urban village.

From the Impressions of Meeting Brokers and Landowner While Hunting for an Accommodation on Cold Winter Evenings, After Returning from Work Fucking Tired
Whats in a name that which we call a vegetable...
The number of our folks is measured by the fluency of vegetable sellers speaking a bit of our language, knowing the name of vegetables and things like that, like they know ‘hang-gam’, though it is usually mustard that is available here. Once a fish seller told us he has ‘pengba’ (Fishologers call it Osteobrama belangeri). Others are okay-ish but pengba! It used to be a favourite fish of my folks, but it is hardly found in the markets in Imphal nowadays. This guy knows the name.

   The story ends here   

What’s pengba got to do with moving into a new apartment, anyway? The only concerns are the rabbit-rent and the tortoise-salary in the middle of this race of life. I have got a place now. It is near the Northeast Coner, Chines Fast Food. It is a ‘coner’ for the Northeast that looks like ‘Chines’. Damn morons! Some people are a disgrace to our existence.

Nevertheless, I do not care; neither have I wanted to be a judgmental prick nor people calling me names because I call them names. It is quite an experience getting used to a new accommodation. It is also going to take a few more days to unpack the stuffs which I had had a hard time packing them. It is never a one-day experience to move in to a new place. Spend some days seeking and hunting; then the nightmare of unpacking the stuffs; and finally, the fact that it took more than two weeks to get the Internet reconnection says it all.


Betcha! No matter how much I’m a Tarzan when it comes to playing card
Betcha! No matter how much I’m a Tarzan when it comes to playing card..

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  1. Immaculate style of penning. The crusade of home search well put.

    1. That's quite comforting... I'm still suffering from backache after carrying around the stuffs. lol


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