Our children play great roles in our family and often come in as short and sweet buffers in the daily dynamics of life. Sometimes they lighten a heavy situation and make things easier for us.
On a rainy night in 2012, I was in a car with my boss, driving from an office location in Chennai. It was around 11.00 pm when he dropped me at the front gate of my home at Chennai. A shower of rain had just gone by. I opened the gate carefully, trying to minimize the otherwise crude sound that the lock generated. My Dad stayed on the ground floor. I could see through a window that the lights on the ground floor were switched off. I presumed that Dad would have gone to sleep. I climbed the stairs to the first floor. The lights up the stairway had still been left on, but the house was dark inside, except for the small patch of light creeping out from below the door of my daughter’s room. She was still up studying. I rummaged through my bag for the keys to the grill door of my home. I could not find them. I was not sure whether I had taken the set of spare keys with me while leaving for work that morning. I did not want to disturb my family at this late hour by calling out to them. I made another futile search. Unlike the scenario in USA and Europe, working late beyond office hours in India on normal days when there were no real exigencies at work, was nothing new. The families of such employees had long got used to this scenario.
While I stood there, hesitating to ring the doorbell, I could spot the silhouette of my old neighbour with the dim light emerging from the door of his house. The red ember of his cigarette tip kept coming out brighter and then went a shade dull as he enjoyed probably his last smoke for the day. From the corner of the steps running up to the terrace, a cat peeped out and waited for me to get into the house. Its demeanour seemed to almost convey that I was a trespasser in my own home at this time, as I had probably disturbed it from its everyday relaxation and sleeping spot. A slow stream of rainwater flowing out from a leaking rainwater outlet pipe on the terrace, engaged in a camaraderie with the flowerpots kept on the first floor. The persistent cry of a newborn emanated from one of the houses nearby while a dog howled somewhere on the next street with a distinct variation in pitch. And all of a sudden, there was complete silence again.
I decided to press the doorbell button and went for it it twice. Since my family would have gone into their rooms after dinner and would be either in front of the television or with the mobile and using earphones, the chance of having heard it was remote. The window of my daughter’s room was next to the wall where I was standing, and so I mildly knocked on the window of her room. The silence that followed again seemed to be getting louder. It could be that she was having her headphones on and wouldn’t have heard me knocking. I waited.
The rhythmic sound of a train passing through a nearby station reduced the intensity of the silence a little. Soon I could hear a bike going through the street at abnormally high speed. The nonchalance of the vehicle and the sheer disdain with which it treated the potholes and the speed breaker, stood out in my mind for a few seconds. I thought that the driver could be a local person who knew the street well. For a moment I thought how beautiful it would be if the trajectories I took in life, were such familiar ones. But they were not. It was strange that the dominant thought in my mind was on the trajectories of life.
I went for two more shots on the doorbell and two louder knocks on the window of my daughter’s room and it so happened that my wife had come out of her room that time and was heading for the kitchen. She heard the doorbell and spotted me standing outside. “So, you forgot the keys again? How long have you been standing here?”, she asked with a mild agitation. She opened the grilled door. My daughter also came out of her room and was there with my wife by this time. “Why are you coming home this late these days Dad? What role are you playing now at work?”, asked my daughter while giving me a hug. I hesitated for a while as I was not sure of the definition of the role I was essaying at the office. I did not respond and pretended as though I had not heard her. She did not persist in the question either, probably assuming that I was tired. I went in and had my bath and spent some time with my daughter. My wife and father had already slept by that time.
I revisited her question again. “Well, I am a senior now, and I cannot be rigid on the boundary of a role my dear”, I told her. “You have a role here too, isn’t it?”, she reminded without taking her eyes from the Python code on her laptop screen. There was a long silence that lingered between us. She was right and that balancing between office and home had to be beautifully done by me. That was the key to a happy life ultimately. I had to leave pretty early the next morning as there was a client visit, and I was one of the individuals identified for presenting a few topics to them. I hit bed after wishing my daughter a good night’s sleep.
I think the alarm that I had setup for 6 am the next day, would have shaken up the whole house. Even my father, staying on the ground floor, woke up. It was still dark outside when I lazily made my way up from bed. A soft wind brushed past the bedroom window, and the leaves of the bamboo that stood beside it, kissed the glass pane a few times. I loved this demeanour that nature portrayed early in the morning. It was like a graceful welcome as the day opened. The milk van making its way through the street, slowed down and went over the speed breaker gracefully. Everything seemed to be beautiful in the morning.
The whole house knew what a big fuss I would make to be punctual at the office. I would also push each person at home to be punctual in their activities too. I had finished my bath, got dressed up and was having my breakfast. “Have you kept the keys inside your bag?”, asked my wife. She didn’t wait for me to confirm. She checked my bag and ensured that the key bunch was there. I hugged my wife and daughter and made my way down the steps to the ground floor. My daughter also followed me as she wanted to see me off at the gate. My colleague’s car had just come to the gate to pick me up. I stopped at the window on the ground floor. I would wave to my father every day from this point, as he would normally be seated in the living room, close to this window, on a long reclining chair, running through the day’s newspaper. He was not there today. I waited and wanted to go inside and see him before leaving. Just then, I saw him come out of the room and head towards the reclining chair. He saw me. Just when I waved my hand, he asked “Why are you in such a hurry? Are you the one who is going to be the first at the office gate with the key to open it?”. I knew that there was mild agitation and sarcasm loaded in that statement. But I thought it was valid. I did not say anything. “See you in the evening Dad’, I said and moved forward. “Don’t worry on Grandpa’s statement Dad. He was only asking you whether you are playing a key role at the office:)”, quipped in my daughter with a smile while winking her eye. My face transformed from a serious mode into one where I laughed out loud😂. She was also laughing😆. With that lighter moment set, I joined my colleague and headed for office, waving to my daughter. She had also conveyed the same message that my father had put forth, but with a different touch.
From the moment when I had stepped into my home the previous night to the moment I left home that morning, it was all about keys.POEMS OF LOST LOVE
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STORIES
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