Land lords are simply Sith Lords who got a name change.
A year ago I found a beautiful house in Sahakar Nagar, ground floor of a 3 storey independent house. The road that led up to it was like the cover of an Enid Blyton novel.
It had a bedroom so charming that George Clooney would fall for it. A verandah so cosy that evolution modelled the human vagina after it. A garden so green that many video production houses used it as a cheap substitute to a green screen.
Basically a house that would get me laid. Very often.
Just before I paid the deposit, the owner said that he wanted a married gentleman to occupy his house. I was single, and vaguely a gentleman. So I fell short on both counts.
I decided to get married, hoping that would also change my perceived image to gentleman-ly.
A year later (from the year ago, not from today), I found a beautiful house in Sahakar Nagar. Again.
It had bedrooms so large your momma could fit in them. A garden so beautiful my cat would think twice before pooping in it. A verandah so big that all my friends could get drunk there, break the bottles and still have place to sit on the floor without cutting themselves.
And when I met the owner today, he tells me, “Oh so you are married. Actually I was looking a big family. So that they maintain the garden.”
Because, you know, women who have the additional responsibility of raising children are more likely to find time from their torturous schedule to clip the shrubbery.
You want to know why India has 1.2 bn people?
THE MOTHERFUCKING LANDLORDS. THEY WANT YOU TO MARRY AND POP OUT KIDS LIKE HYDROGEN UNDERGOING COMBUSTION.