The House Hunt Filter

The broker asked Shruti what facilities she wanted in a flat. She answered with unusual clarity.

“Two bedrooms, some sunlight and walking distance to work.”

“Gym?” he asked.

“Walking distance.”

“Pool?”

“Walking distance.”

“Clubhouse?”

Shruti looked at him. “I am hoping to reach the house often enough to use it.”

The broker, named Mahesh, smiled. He was accustomed to customers listing amenities and later discovering that weekdays existed. This customer had begun with the weekday and appeared determined to keep it involved.

Shruti worked in Whitefield. She liked her job and disliked the amount of planning required to reach it from her current home. She was not claiming that every short distance made a safe walk or that every walk would suit every day. She wanted to inspect realistic options rather than buy a phrase from a listing.

Mahesh showed her photographs of a spacious flat with a pool, gym and clubhouse. The distance to her office was considerably farther than she had requested.

“It’s only six kilometres,” he said.

“Then it isn’t what I meant.”

“Madam, anything is walking distance with determination.”

Shruti’s friend Ananya, accompanying her, looked up from the brochure.

“Does determination come with a footpath?”

Mahesh laughed. To his credit, he put the brochure aside and asked Shruti to explain her actual route requirements. They discussed entrances, crossings, available pedestrian access and alternatives for rain or late evenings. The conversation became much more useful once the word walking stopped being treated as a decorative benefit.

They visited a different property later, using a proper visitor parking arrangement and keeping the entrance clear. The flat was smaller than the one in the brochure. It did not contain a swimming pool’s implied promise of a better personality.

Shruti inspected the rooms, asked about the practical household details, and then checked the route she might use. Ananya walked with her. They stayed on suitable pedestrian access, observed the crossings and returned with questions rather than a premature conclusion.

Mahesh answered what he knew and agreed to confirm the rest. There was no need to invent certainty merely to keep the viewing cheerful.

At lunch, Ananya asked whether Shruti felt she was giving up too much by prioritising the commute.

“I’m choosing what matters to my week,” Shruti said. “Other people can choose differently.”

Ananya nodded. This sounded less exciting than a rooftop infinity pool but much more relevant to an ordinary Tuesday.

Mahesh later admitted that he had initially heard walking distance as a preference that might disappear when he showed enough photographs. Shruti said the photographs were attractive, but none of them would accompany her to work. Ananya suggested adding a picture of a comfortable pair of shoes to the brochure. The broker laughed and wrote down the actual requirement.

Shruti compared the options carefully. She did not choose the first flat merely because the road looked promising or reject every amenity as a moral weakness. She considered the whole arrangement, including safe travel and the practical needs of her household.

When she eventually made a decision, Mahesh called to congratulate her. He said he had begun asking other clients where they needed to go most often before opening the pool photographs.

“Very useful filter,” he admitted.

A few weeks after moving, Shruti invited Ananya over. They sat by the window with tea. The sunlight was good. The second bedroom contained actual furniture rather than emergency laundry.

“Any regrets about the clubhouse?” Ananya asked.

Shruti considered the quiet evening and the fact that she had reached home without spending the entire journey negotiating with time.

“No.”

“What if you want to exercise?”

Shruti pointed towards her shoes.

“I have developed a modest, non-inspirational arrangement.”

Read when you’re a passenger or safely off the road. Never while driving.