The Buried Door

                                                    

Since the day she entered this palatial house in her bridal attire, she could always sense a palpable gloom lingering amidst the colossal marble pillars and the daunting doorways whose intricate details were tapestry of limestone. This house is a specimen of best workmanship so much so that the tiniest detail inspires awe of the onlooker. Moreover the house always booms with celebration of some sort or the other, it seems as if the house has been charmed by some fairy to be perpetually encased in celebratory air just like in fairy tales. But all the festivity of the world failed to dispel the gloom that hung in the air. Especially susceptible to this pervasive gloom, it seemed to be, was the new bride. She could tell that this gloom had a deep sigh of yearning in it, which felt strangely familiar.

Another thing that she noticed since the day she entered the house was a faint note of music wafting from inside the house. It wasn't pervasive like the gloom, but it could be heard if one strained one's ear. It was the soft notes emanating from the Sitar. There was something in the music that drew her to it, maybe because Sitar was very close to her heart. She loved playing Sitar and wanted to play it all her life, but the financial debacle of her father crushed her dream, as dreams always are, and she was forced to sell the sitar. It left her broken-hearted, but then that's how life works.

As days passed, the music started to wrap itself around her, it became inescapable. Finally, she mustered all her courage and decided to find the source of that entrancing music. It seemed that the music was wafting through a closed door. The palatial house with its innumerable doors suddenly became all the more daunting. Nevertheless, she was determined, she had to find the door, but the music that seemed to surround her from all sides made it very difficult for her to pin-point the source. The music seemed to play with her, tease her, mislead her but after following the music relentlessly for three hours she could finally locate the origin of that enchanting music. But it was not what she expected it to be, the music was not wafting through a door rather it was wafting through wall! Yes, she was sure that the music originated behind the solid wall. But how on earth was that possible? She reasoned there must be a room nearby and the music is wafting from that room. She desperately searched for a door that would lead her to the room. But she was disappointed, there was no door, she was surrounded by thick, impenetrable walls on all sides. Following the music, she had reached the impasse of a corridor with no rooms nearby.

She stood there bewildered. She can make no sense of any of this. Suddenly, she became more aware of the palpable gloom that seemed to coil around her, that threatened to choke her. But then everything became clear to her. She realized that the gloom which hung in the air of this grand house is the cumulative regret, losses and yearnings of its members; and she had added hers to this cloud of gloom when she entered the house. And the sitar was played by her dreams which she had buried deep inside her heart. That is why she could not find the door that she was searching for because that door too lay buried somewhere deep inside her heart and it has become almost inaccessible. But her stubborn dreams sometimes peeped out of their burial place and filled her with the enchanting notes of sitar while she ascended the spiral staircase of life.