Five had always been a lucky number for Dev. Until his parents died on the fifth of May earlier that year, which coincidently was also his birthday. So, no matter what, he would rent the fourth house the broker would show him today.
He got out of his car, the early morning winds of the bitter December welcomed him to the new neighborhood. Dev gently walked toward the overly joyful broker waving at him from across the street. What could make a man so energetic at 8 in the morning? Dev thought as he lazily waved back without a smile.
“Glad you could make it,” the broker greeted Dev with a strong but calming handshake. Money Dev responded to his previous thought.
“Yeah, a little early for house hunting isn’t it?” Dev said, taking a look around the area. He could hear the bustling voices of children getting ready for their school and the parents yelling at those still asleep. I also miss my bed.
“I know, such short notice, but I must say, you are very lucky,” the broker replied, clapping his hands as though he was about to show a magic trick. “Not just one house, I have two houses to show you today. All in the same neighborhood.”
“Oh”, Dev had been looking for a space to rent for the past six to seven months, with no luck. The winter cold has made him determined to have a solid roof above his head.
“Right this way” the broker guided him to his white-painted house that stood majestically with a garden filled with roses. I’d love to call this place my home Dev thought as the smell of the flowers hit me on his first step to the house, reminiscing about his childhood home and his parents. How could a lovely object bring such painful memories?
“This way, please”, The broker waited at the door, staring at Dev, who stood at the gateway, eyes closed.
Dev walked in. The two bedrooms and the kitchen easily outshined his run-down apartment. Not to mention the extravagant living room which was already furnished with a newly-looking couch and tables, that he couldn’t afford in a long time. It was perfect.
He planned on placing his 32″ TV facing the east, so he could comfortably place his coat hangers near the door without stumbling on his way in.
He was happy, for the first time since the winter started. He was. Until the broker decided to announce the rent for it.
“Rs 50k per month,” he proudly told him. Dev’s heart sank, he felt the house was laughing at him, you cannot afford me, peasant.
“No, no” Dev shook his head, disappointed, irritated. “I agreed on 25k max.” He walked out of the house, smile vanished.
“Oh don’t worry sir, I was just showing you how lovely the place was, the actual house is just opposite the road. The broker came out and pointed to the house where Dev parked his car.
There were no gardens or roses to welcome him, rather the stench of overgrown grass pushing him away.
The house looked okayish, nothing like the dream home he had just seen. The broker waved his hands for Dev to step in, the room was dark, with sunlight slowly hitting the walls and reflecting on the darker corners that remained.
There was no furniture this time, no fans, bed, lights, appliances. He had to buy everything from the start, which can cost more than what he can afford if the rent is not right.
“Any chance to get within 25?” Dev asked, half-heartedly, with no intention to choose, even if it did.
“That’s why you are lucky, it will only cost you 10K per month,” The broker replied.
“What?” Dev stood shook, no owner in the right mind would rent this house for that low, no one that’s normal.
“Who died here,” Dev questioned taking a step forward to the broker. “Did someone murder anyone here?”
“My dear sir, no one died here, nobody was killed here, do not worry about that,” the broker said brushing past Dev into the kitchen. Dev followed him closely past.
“Then why is it so low,” Dev queried again.
“This place, the construction is not completed yet,” the broker led him to a scaffolding, that was the kitchen. The room was hardly finished, with bricks and cement still lying out on the floor. The entire area was well shut with no doors to go to the backyard.
A room was there, but no one would call it a kitchen.
“The owner has a lot of financial issues, he is not able to sell due to some cases and the only way is to rent it out.” The broker continued, convincing Dev. “Believe me, sir, many people have already rented this place, a person just vacated yesterday, that’s why I called you early today before someone else got the wind of it and snatched it away.”
Dev stood, collecting the possible excuses to not choose the house. This was the fifth house he saw topped the list he could think of.
If his excuses to leave and reason to stay were put on a scale to balance, one side would weigh down easily. It won’t be his excuse.
“Alright. I will take it,” Dev sighed, I’ll bite he thought.
“Wonderful sir,” the broker jumped with joy, “let’s go to the office and finish the paperwork,” he walked out the door not bothering to wait.
Is this the place I will be calling home? Dev sighed kicking off the dust from his pants, looking around. He picked up his phone to take a few photos of the house before he left.
On his third click, he caught a strange glimmer on the bedroom wall. A mirror? He peered through the door, opening it, adjusting his eyes to the darkness. He held out his phone torch to the corner. He took light steps, not wanting to disturb anything that didn’t want him there.
The torchlight now hit the walls, and when the lights reflected, Dev took a few sudden steps back.
“What!” he called out, nothing but the air coming out. Faces. or paintings of faces. Drawn on the wall. If he was standing on a museum floor, he would have admired how detailed the art was. But this was going to be his home and the drawings did not impress him.
He turned around. The painting covered the entire bedroom. This is not right, his phone slipping down from his sweaty hands. He rushed out, catching the broker before he got in the car.
“There’s faces in the bedroom wall,” Dev exclaimed, a little out of breath. “Many faces.”
“Oh, don’t worry sir, that’s nothing to bother about,” the broker waved him off.
“What do you mean by not to worry,” Dev raised his tone offended by the broker’s dismissal. “There’s faces of people painted on the walls of the bedroom.”
“Sir let me explain,” The broker spoke, lowering his tone, relaxing his body. “The last person just vacated yesterday, she was an artist, a gifted one. I’ve seen her works, such amazing talent. She drew them, I saw them too, they look fabulous.”
Dev stared at the broker who kept convincing him not to worry about anything.
“Let’s do one thing, sir,” The owner lifted his phone, “I’ll talk to the owner and get the room painted so it won’t be trouble for you, what do you say?”
He was not convinced, but he nodded and got in his car. He looked at the house through the windshield.
It was faces, who would paint faces on the wall?
He was half relieved from what the broker told him. Another excuse to keep him tied to the house.
He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t have any more money.
He didn’t feel at home.








