It all began with a search for a house to call my own. But somehow, green walls greeted at every turn. Big spaces, airy windows - all went to nought because of green walls. But things were about to change.
While looking for my own little house, I reached the end of a little lane past a not so little pond and a very busy ironingman. Finally, here was a little box I could inhabit. Big windows, cute space, low rent, (over)friendly landlord-landlord wife, and importantly, white walls.
It was a done deal. There was no question. The person living there would leave - a girl journalist like me she was - and I would move into my own little white-walled house. The landlord promised a paint job once she left. "That's the right thing to do," he said, and I nodded smilingly.
One fine, rather sweaty and sunny, Tuesday morning in Kolkata, I trotted over to the (over)friendly landlord-landlord wife's home at the end of a little lane past a not so little pond and a very busy ironingman. Landlord-wife handed me a plate of sweets which quickly travelled down my gullet. It was time to collect my key.
Key in hand I walked down the stairs for a solitary look at my little box with big windows, cute space, low rent, (over)friendly landlord-landlord wife, and importantly, white walls.
But lo and behold! The walls were white no more. Tragedy had struck - they'd been painted green.
So now I'll be stuck in a green box home for the next year or so. Let the adventures begin.
