Opening doors

*knock* *knock* .

The door opens and an elderly couple hesitantly walks in... you know the name, you know the age, you know the address... because that's the information shown on your computer screen... you knew that before having called them in for the consultation... .

You have a closer look at them... theirs are faces lined with anxiety... you try to put them at ease, and go ahead with business as usual... .

But, do you see beyond the anxiety? do you notice the faint laugh lines at the corners of their eyes? Do you know their story? .

You and I know that there are more doors to be opened... like the one shown in this picture.. Their's is a door that I've walked through a thousand times and more... walk in with me, won't you? .

Their's is a home full of light and air... potted plants and colourful flowers... butterflies dancing in sunshine... a home, filled with the sounds of ping pong balls bouncing off the TT table, or the rackets or the walls (or someone's head)... sounds of laughter... the din of people of all ages engaged in animated discussions.. or the sounds of everyone going about their daily routines... students recording radio dramas... or deciphering the means of poems... I was one of them...

The doors are always open... the house is always full, the extended family, neighbors, colleagues and students all swarming around.. always welcomed... always loved... .

Their home is built  on the foundations of love and mutual respect... if i am to choose a perfect love story, it would be theirs... they are a team... 

They met during the good old days of rely bicycles and bell bottomed pants... the times of lime stone walls... the times when the girl would stand at the doorway. A rose tucked in behind one ear, and she's wearing a coy smile.. The boy would appear by the side, super cool, on a bicycle; one hand on the handle and the other swung Cooly over the wall... when you try to make that smooth stop, sometimes your arm gets bruised, (especially when you're bicycle paddles are a little lower than it should be!) *ouch* but you try your best to keep that smile on, never flinch... and wait to tend to your bleeding elbow in the privacy of your room...thus would be the courtship.. .

                                                              He wrote "aakujekey" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSI4KZ1Po0g

when they met. a song our generation grew up listening to; immortalized by one of our music legends. A story beautifully written by them, forever engraved in the hearts of their loved ones. 

But, when you sit across from them, in that seat of yours, do you see the love? do see how they've lived their life? No... All you see is a diminished light... a tiny hint of their story, but never the whole story... 

It happens so gradually that one doesn't notice, until one day, the door opens, and the realization hits us. We see that the light has receded slowly... we see that the shadows have crept in... and we are left wishing, if only for a moment, we can stop the sands of time from spilling... We wish that we hadn't been so busy growing up, that we didn't notice that they were growing old. 

We wish we could turn a wheel and go back to those childhood days, when it was all sunshine and light... we wish that we could freeze those moments in a loop; because, we realize that those moments are gone forever. and that those were the moments that had made us who we are... 

Our parents and their friends walk a bit hesitantly now... We wish they would walk again with confidence and dignity, full of zeal, in the best of health... not uncertain... and scared... We wish that it was not time yet for the transition... that it wasn't time yet, for us to take the lead...