Is Owning a House a Good Investment?

Staring at my computer screen, my eyes were tired and my thoughts were still at home. I was entering a new student's details into the main portal of the institution where I work, which helps students with career guidance and studying abroad. I was moving slower than usual, as my bank statement kept flashing in my mind.

It was the first of the month, and the EMI reminder had just come in—₹32,000 was due in two days. That payment eats up 70% of my salary as a student counsellor. Somehow, the day dragged on, and I finally made my way home. When I got there, I noticed the dishes from lunch were still sitting on the table.

My mother-in-law has been living with me since my husband passed away six years ago. She’s getting older but still looks after me and my 17-year-old son. I figured she must have been too worn out to clean up. I went to check on her and asked, “Maa, did you take your medicine today?” She nodded and drifted back into her short nap.

I changed clothes and started tidying up. Whenever anxiety and uncertainty creep in, I find myself cleaning the house, as if organizing my surroundings will somehow help me sort out my life. It’s my way of trying to clear my mind for the challenges ahead. While I was busy with my cleaning, my son came home, gave me his usual sweaty hug, which usually annoys me. He laughed when I playfully scolded him. But today, I barely noticed his affection, and he asked, “What’s wrong, Maa? Are you okay?”

He could tell something was off. I hadn’t shared our financial struggles with him since his dad passed away, wanting him to focus on his studies without worrying about me. But it’s hard to keep things under wraps, and my hushed conversations with Maa have probably given him some clues by now.

“Nothing, just tidying up a bit. I need to finish soon and start dinner,” I replied.

“Alright, Maa. I’ll help you with dinner today,” he said.

“Enough with the flattery! Go take a shower; you smell!” I joked.

“Ha..ha..one more hug, Maa?” Manu said winking. “You better don’t or I’ll kill you!”.

He laughs louder and goes into take shower.

There are times when I wonder how I would have managed without him. Out of nowhere, I noticed my anxiety starting to fade.

I headed to the kitchen to whip up dinner, and Madhav's words echoed in my mind. "You know, Saru, in India, a home is more than just a place to live; it reflects our status, provides security, and acts like a savings plan for the future. Property values go up, so it's definitely a smart investment."

It all felt perfect back then. Five years ago, we bought the apartment in a neighbourhood near the city, pushing our budget to the max. At the time, the 15-year loan seemed doable with both our incomes. Now, I carried the burden alone.

During dinner, Maa mentioned that her senior citizen group was curious if we were thinking about selling the house. “Bhanumathi’s son is planning to return from Ireland and settle down here. They’re searching for a flat in our area,” she added, lowering her voice slightly. She knows I’m sensitive about this subject. “People can be so thoughtless these days. Madhav is the only one gone. I’m still here to take care of the house and all of you,” I snapped. Manu squeezed my hand and interrupted, “Mom, just chill! Grandma just wanted to share an option. No need to get upset.” I lost my appetite and was about to leave the table when Manu looked at me, his eyes silently urging me to stay.

At night, I couldn't shake off the dilemma of whether to hold onto the apartment or sell it. For the past five years, all three of us have been living on the bare essentials. I remembered all those times I had to tell Manu that we just couldn't afford certain things. I even suggested to Maa that she should ask her kids to take her home since I couldn't cover the flight costs. I've been wearing the same few sarees for five years now. It wasn't just about the money; it was a tangled mix of emotions tied to Manu's education and stability, Maa's comfort, and what society expects from us. Not just from us but me.

I thought I was being a hero by handling everything on my own. But now I wonder if I'm sacrificing my own happiness and that of my loved ones because of this house. It's ironic how, as soon as people realize you're struggling and vulnerable, they start circling like vultures, ready to take advantage when you’re down. I don’t want to be an easy target.

Luckily, my college best friend Suhasini is a financial advisor and has always had a unique take on home ownership—though I never really paid attention to her advice. The next day, I reached out and asked for her help. We met up after work at a nearby coffee shop, and she could see how stressed I was.

“Saru, what’s going on with you? I hope everything’s okay,” she said, clearly concerned. After I explained my situation, she replied, “I get it, dear. This is your and Madhav’s dream home, but he’s not here anymore. You need to accept that holding onto these feelings won’t help you move forward!”

“Let’s talk about the numbers,” she suggested. “How much of your income goes toward housing costs right now?” I hesitated before answering, “About 70% just for the EMI. Plus, there’s maintenance, land tax, property tax, and unexpected repairs.” “Got it… So, do you have any savings for Manu’s education, your retirement, or emergencies?” I admitted, “I only have my PF and some gold. I know it’s not enough, and I’m getting more anxious as time passes.”

She pulled out her laptop, started crunching some numbers in an Excel sheet, and showed me how selling the house could relieve me of the EMI burden and free up money for other important needs. She sent the document to my phone so I could think it over.

When I got back home, Maa noticed I was quieter than usual.

After Manu fell asleep, she came to my room and sat beside me, asking what was on my mind. I took a deep breath and said, “Maa, I need to discuss something important. Our financial situation…”

She nodded and replied, “I know, Saru. Just do what you think is best. I’m here for you.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I said, “Maa, our home, his dream…” “It’s okay, sweetheart. Home is where our loved ones are. I understand you don’t want to sell this flat because of his dream and what I or Manu might think of you. He’s gone, so why are you burdening yourself with his dream? Let it go, my child.” I slept like a child that night.

The next morning, I finally talked to Manu about our financial struggles and future plans. The way he responded made it clear to me that he had grown into a man. A year has passed, and here I was, sitting with Maa on the balcony of our rented apartment, enjoying tea while watching people stroll by and kids play. Despite the traffic noise from the nearby road, I felt a sense of calm within. I glanced at my bank statement on my phone, feeling no stress at all. I had organized my savings and even started a systematic investment plan for my retirement.

Is owning a house always a smart investment? I’ve come to realize that the answer depends on your situation. For those with stable incomes and assets, it might be a good move. But for me, it felt more like a burden than a benefit.

Now I understand that true investment lies not in owning property but in achieving financial freedom and peace of mind. We should make choices that reflect our current needs rather than just following societal or traditional expectations.

I always feel comfortable sharing my thoughts with my clients, who are mainly stressed-out parents eager to do everything they can to ensure their kids succeed in life.