I had invested in my first home, which was under construction at that time. When you are in your mid-twenties, you get all excited about owning this asset that you get to call home. 

It was a 1500 square feet apartment in Gurgaon. I was living on rent in Delhi then. My parents were visiting me for a week. 

I took them very proudly to show my home. The drive lasted 50 minutes.

I was convinced my parents would be delighted to see it and equally proud of me as I was of myself.

Nah! The script played a little differently. 

The house tour ended in a couple of minutes, and my mother was ready to share her verdict. 

“Sell this and buy in Delhi,” she commanded. It wasn’t an opinion. She meant business. 

I turned to Dad. He concurred. 

I worked in Delhi then. My work required me to report to the office in shifts – from early morning to late night. The thought of me driving 15 miles up and down from work at odd hours had irked my parents. They could not come to terms with the fact that I would need to do this daily, and that too, for a modest home. 

“If the house were special, I’d have still been okay,” said my mom. “If you have to live in such an apartment, you might as well live close to your work.” 

She had decided. It did not matter what I thought. 

On the way back, I explained to her that buying a similar-sized home close to work would cost me double, at the minimum. 

“So be it,” she declared. 

Once I figured I couldn’t change their mind, I quickly decided to find a new home before my parents left Delhi – in less than a week. They had to see and approve so that we didn’t end up in the same place later. 

The search began the same day. 

In four days (close to my office), we found an 1100 sq. ft. apartment in a 15-year-old building. There was no elevator; it required climbing the staircase so steep that the 2nd-floor residence felt like the fourth. 

The apartment was bare, devoid of furnishing, which allowed us to sample the sunlight flowing into it. The brightness felt good. The decision was made.

It would have been great if the building had a lift. But that would have made it costlier and out of my budget.

The property agent introduced me to the owner, who lived in the same colony. He gave me 45 days to execute the deal. 

My parents wished me luck before leaving Delhi. God knows I needed tons of it. I first had to sell before I could think of buying. And I needed a fresh loan more than double my existing one. 

It all happened quickly. I found a buyer for my Gurgaon home. He was almost the same age as me, but far less anxious. Unlike me, he did not have to execute two deals – sell before buying. And two, he was confident about the home loan coming through in the required timeframe.

We were both borrowing from the same bank. I was hyper-anxious, and he was remarkably cool. I asked him to confirm with the bank if the draft would come through in a week. He called the bank to check (in my presence), and the lady who answered confirmed it would happen.

I doubted it. I had started the process earlier and was still struggling to make it happen on time. 

Reluctantly, he shared the name of the lady he spoke to – his close relative – to convince me it would happen. She was the most famous lady banker of that time (no prizes for guessing!).

I was relieved.