25/07/2026
A few months ago, a friend sent me a video of her dad watering the plants on his new balcony. Nothing dramatic. No big reveal. Just an old man in a vest, watering can in hand, humming something under his breath.
Sheâd been saving for that flat for six years.
And when I asked her what she was most excited about â the flooring, the view, the extra bedroom â she said none of that. She said she couldnât wait for her parents to visit on a Sunday and have somewhere to sit that was hers to offer them.
Thatâs the thing nobody tells you about buying a home. You spend months comparing carpet area, floor plans, loan tenures, resale value â all the spreadsheet stuff. And then one ordinary Tuesday evening, years later, youâre standing in your kitchen making chai, and you realize none of that spreadsheet stuff is why youâre happy. Itâs the sound of your kidâs cartoons from the next room. Itâs your motherâs voice saying âwah, kitna acha lagaâ the first time she walks in.
You werenât buying square feet the whole time. You were buying every one of those Tuesdays.
Swipe through â this oneâs for anyone currently deep in floor-plan PDFs and forgetting why they started looking in the first place. â
