Getting what you pay for?

For a couple of decades now, millions of Bombayites have been sold the idea that an apartment needs to cost an exorbitant amount simply because there isn’t enough housing available. Representation Pic/iStock

A long time ago, in what often feels like it was another country, a two-bedroom apartment in the suburbs did not cost the proverbial arm and leg. I know because I have friends who managed to buy these apartments while still in their late 20s or early 30s. I did too and, at some point when none of us was paying attention, the prices started to climb in ways that no longer make sense.

When I visited the suburb of Malad a couple of months ago, I found banners advertising multiple properties in a locality I know well. The average price of apartments in these new buildings was approximately Rs 2.5 crore, which made me smile because I know the land they were being built on, and what used to be there before the builders came in. I also saw how the price went up to almost Rs 7 crore in some instances, if the advertisements had photographs that were beautiful enough. I looked at the hoardings for one such property in Goregaon, where every room offered sweeping views of hills I did not recognise. There were large open decks in the living rooms, health clubs and sports equipment on the premises, and the promise of connectivity to every part of the city, presumably because those who eventually buy these apartments have never commuted before.

For a couple of decades now, millions of Bombayites have been sold the idea that an apartment needs to cost an exorbitant amount simply because there isn't enough housing available. Builders love to mention a growing population, or mismatch between demand and supply, or zoning laws that determine why some areas cost more to build in than others. They shy away from mentioning unsold inventory, hidden debt, or the possibility of defaults that could cripple the banking system, because these hard truths get in the way of unchecked profit margins. It's also why questions about who can really afford a Rs 2-crore apartment are never raised.

Around two years ago, Forbes estimated that the average salary in Maharashtra was Rs 20,110 per month. It may explain why, according to recent findings from the Slum Rehabilitation Authority, slums now cover 24 per cent of the city's land and house over half its population.

What I find particularly hard to understand is what the few who can afford these large sums for an apartment are paying for. Yes, you may get a health club and tennis court, but what if nothing around your building ever changes for the better? I couldn't reconcile the idea of living in Malad today with the suburb I grew up in, simply because of how much harder it is to just get around. Everyone I met on my last visit relied heavily on shopping apps for basic groceries because stepping out was too stressful. The children of friends preferred staying indoors because they had few options for exercise outside. Plans to socialise were made weeks in advance because of time stuck in traffic that had to be factored in. None of this matched the utopia promised by developers on billboards at every traffic signal.

Sometime during and after the COVID-19 pandemic, a lot of Indians opened their eyes and realized that the place they thought they liked was no longer offering them a decent quality of life. Many packed up their belongings and headed to Tier-2 cities. The ones who stayed have presumably made their peace with being in a city that arguably stopped being liveable a long time ago.

The Malad I knew was a place that offered a child safety and space. Today, the children of homeowners confine themselves to tiny gardens in their townships. Their parents invest in larger television sets and home entertainment systems because the only way to live is to create a bubble for oneself and keep the outside world at bay. It's also why so many of them don't know their neighbours the way their parents knew theirs. It's this version of living in the city that is being packaged as something better and sold to buyers who are desperate to own property.

To my mind, if an apartment costs Rs 2 crore, the least it should offer is cleanliness, safety, access to groceries, and space for children to play without fear. If these offerings begin and end at a gate manned by security staff, what you are paying for is just an illusion. At some point, that bubble will pop, but you will still have your mortgage.

When he isn't ranting about all things Mumbai, Lindsay Pereira can be almost sweet. He can be contacted at www.lindsaypereira.com
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The views expressed in this column are the individual's and don't represent those of the paper.