The Disappearing Home

The Disappearing Home

Like many of my generation, I grew up in bungalows set on plots that had a reasonable amount of space around the house for a modest lawn, backyard, a room for the servants and possibly a garage. This was more or less the norm followed when our fathers decided to commit their life’s savings to building a house in which to settle down after retirement in much the same way as their fathers had done before them. It was always “building a house” then.

When we left home and started our work lives, those of us who were lucky enough to work in the same city where we grew up, continued to live in the same house that our Dads built. Being independent houses, it was easy to expand them, adding bedrooms to accommodate the growing family. Even if there were no children staying there, it was common for the offspring to add a floor upwards in due course, where a tenant could be installed, with the rent adequately supplementing father’s pension.

The house was where children got married and returned to during holidays, and where grandchildren could run free under the fond eyes of grandparents. There was always room for guests, with everyone cheerfully mucking in. Bathrooms were readily shared and the drawing room was a place where the centre table would be cleared to spread mattresses for children or extra guests to sleep upon.

Having joined the Services I was fortunate to have lived in accommodation that guaranteed me the same space as had been provided to my father, although in my case it was flats as opposed to the bungalows allotted to my father when he was in service. However there was plenty of space available for all my trunks, boxes, furniture and various collectibles accumulated on account of the nomadic life I had chosen.

A few years ago my wife and I began scouting for flats in our maximum city where I was posted. We visited various projects and inspected dozens of sample flats and debated endlessly on the pros and cons of different localities. The plushness and quality of internal fittings was way beyond all that I had become used to after a lifetime spent living in government quarters. One thing became clear very soon, that we would not be able to afford anything more than a cubby hole in this city and that we would have to look elsewhere either in the far flung suburbs or in neighbouring cities for anything that resembled what we were used to.

I remember visiting a sample flat where the bedrooms were so tiny that it appeared unlikely that they could accommodate two full sized beds. The builder informed us that concepts like three foot wide single beds were about as current as dinosaurs and that double beds did not exceed five feet in width. While I was reflecting on how one would accommodate guests, the builder as if reading my thoughts unveiled his piece de resistance, a service flat in the building where one could accommodate visiting house guests and even a common servants toilet! I wondered if I needed to give my relatives a time table to visit depending upon availability of the service flat. But that was six years ago.

Today with bungalows in the major cities becoming unaffordable for most but the very rich and flats becoming even more compact, we are witnessing the phenomenon of the disappearing home.  Apart from the fact that rooms sizes being what they are in the modern flats being offered, where it is no longer possible to accommodate a mattress for an extra person to sleep on, the drawing room where one could earlier easily make space for two or three people to sleep, has also become impossibly small. Besides, the main door in most flats opens directly into the drawing room and it would be unseemly to open the main door early morning for the newspaper or milk and allow curious strangers the view of sleeping guests.

The puja room has disappeared, having been replaced by a mandir in the complex for those lucky enough, while in other cases the family deity has been relegated to a small alcove built into the wall of a passage. While once the balcony was a place to set a couple of chairs and enjoy a hot cup of tea with the newspaper, today the balcony is either occupied by the washing or has been covered and enclosed to create some extra space in the drawing room. In fact the ‘H’ in BHK which stands for ‘Hall’ is a complete misnomer. The daily washing has infact been ejected from the dwelling, strung up on lines outside windows. So now you can’t use that ‘lakeeron wala kachha’, it has to be a designer label. After all what would the neighbours think? It gives the phrase ‘washing your dirty linen in public’ a whole new meaning.

Six years ago, the tiny toilets required me to walk all the way in before I could shut the door, today’s builders have eliminated the door altogether, making the bathroom cum toilet an integral part of the bedroom. The logic touted is that doors take up too much space and besides since the bathrooms are lavishly done up with ornate fittings, one would like to show them off. Yeah right, and what happens when you are having a nice conversation with friends or family in the bedroom and someone decides he or she wants to go?

Built in cupboards have shrunk to a size where they will not accommodate more than half a dozen clothes on hangars and a few clothes and linen on shelves. So where do you put your woolens and other clothes that you don’t use regularly? Where do you store old newspapers, magazines and children’s’ school books before you can dispose them off to the kabariwala. As such where do you put your collection of books and mementoes? Even shoes are stored outside the house. The society understands perfectly if you have placed a shoe cupboard outside the main door. We are Indians you see, we like to keep our houses clean and pure. As for the outside . . .

With the drawing cum dining room having shrunk to a size where four people are a crowd, kitchens have also reduced in size and you cannot work there without bumping into the maid. Ah yes, needless encumberances like kitchen doors went out long ago. The problem of cooking for guests has been solved by ordering from the friendly neighbourhood take away. In any case it is far easier to entertain at a good restaurant nearby, since that eliminates the problem of clearing and cleaning up afterwards.

Builders are especially considerate to the needs of children and have provided play areas populated by Disney characters. Some builders are particularly sensitive and have even provided study areas for children, so that they don’t disturb their parents at home.

What it finally boils down to is that the modern flat is not so much a home as merely a place to sleep. All other functions are being performed outdoors and in other locations. The home has begun to disappear.