On the evening of January 28th, 2024, I got an email from Kia Kalhori, a realtor I'd left my name and email with at an open house once. He had an off-market listing in Saratoga he thought we should see.
Vidya was at her cousin's place. I called her and told her to come home — we were going to see a house at 5 PM. She rushed back, we rushed over, and honestly neither of us had high hopes.
Then we walked in, and it felt different.
The feeling
Both of us felt it immediately — the same vibe we'd gotten walking into our first house in Fremont years ago. And this place was not brand new in any sense. Old toilets. Beaten-up floors. A rusty HVAC. None of it registered. The feeling was the whole story.
Kia mentioned the house had a koi pond, but it was getting dark and we couldn't see it clearly. We went home and talked it over, and decided we'd make an offer.
A few things about how we buy houses: it was off-market, which suited us fine, because we don't do bidding wars. If it's the right house at the right price, we want it. If it takes a war, we'd rather walk away.
And here's the part that made no sense on paper. We had just finished rebuilding our Cupertino house from the ground up — a year and a half of construction, brand new in every way. The Saratoga house felt like a downgrade. We kept asking ourselves: why do we need another house when the one we have is brand new?
But that feeling when we walked in. Nothing else mattered.
The bank didn't get it either
Kia stayed in touch with the seller's agent, and we got the news: our offer was accepted. We were excited — and then came the part of every house purchase that feels brand new each time: the bank loans, the paperwork, the endless process.
With this house, the loan officer explicitly asked us to write a letter explaining that we truly wanted to buy the house to live in it — not as an investment. Because on paper, it looked like a downgrade, and it didn't make sense to them either. We wrote the letter. :)
Then came the twist that made this purchase different from any other: the seller had a 1031 exchange contingency. We wouldn't get the house for more than two months, and there was no guarantee — the seller could walk away at any time.
Those two months were anxious. Because by then we'd started loving the neighborhood, the house, all of it. And did I mention the koi pond? It was dirty, full of algae, and somewhere in there were two beautiful koi fish that we'd only glimpse when they came up to the surface. Nobody was feeding them — the house was empty. Nobody was cleaning the pond. For two-plus months they just survived. To us, that was a miracle.
Yin and yang
We knew nothing about what koi fish meant until our family friend Sarathy told us: it's a sign of good luck. And the two different colors? Yin and yang. We had no idea.
One of the first things we did, along with the basic renovations, was upgrade the pond's pump and clean the water. Suddenly you could actually see the fish — and they were beautiful. The kids named them instantly.
Our move-in date was around May 2024. We handed the keys to our good friend John, who's a GC, and he took care of the basic renovations the house needed. We moved in without doing much — and the timing worked out perfectly because we had a trip to India planned.
The house didn't have everything Vidya wanted. But she always felt at home there. Maybe it was the neighbors, who we became friends with almost instantly. Maybe it was the big redwood trees in front of the house — the ones that got our insurance policy cancelled the very first week. Or maybe it was the koi fish in the backyard.
Nine koi
At the end of our first year there, around our wedding anniversary, we decided the pond needed more life. We bought seven more koi — all two-year-olds — bringing the count to nine.
Almost another year went by, and one of the two original koi passed away. So we got one more.
And then, a week ago, we went out to feed the fish and noticed something incredible: five tiny baby koi in the pond.
Every year, in the exact same spot on our front porch, two birds build nests and raise their young. We feed the birds every single day, and dozens of them come. The babies, the nests, the koi — it all feels like the house is alive in a way I can't quite explain.
What actually matters
People ask me if you should buy in a good school district. I tell them: don't buy in a good school district alone. Buy next to good neighbors.
Because you need them, and your kids need friends. Family, friends, and neighbors change everything about a house. The walls are the smallest part of it.
This summer we built a play court, and it's been a hit — kids hanging out almost every day. Vidya jokes that we spent more money renovating outside the house than inside it: the koi, the sports court, the fruit trees. She's right. But the feeling inside the house is completely different because of everything outside it. Birthday parties, neighborhood get-togethers — as a family, we're enjoying all of it.
We bought a house that looked like a downgrade on paper. The bank made us write a letter to explain ourselves. Two years later, the pond has baby koi, the porch has baby birds, and the neighborhood has our kids' best friends.
Best downgrade we ever made.