Every day every minute there are some who lock something. The rich lock their closets, the poor lock their self respect and the greedy lock conscience.
Somehow the act of locking makes us feel heavy. Every time I go past my neighbours' house in my village the iron locks that hang out at the doors , silently scare me with their ability to seal.
Boisterous and bratty kids, inquisitive teen, weary elders, busy housewives - They have all thrived over generations in these houses. Its as much about emotions, stories, betrayals and joy as it is about brick and roof.
Today they stand hostage to the demands that practicality places. The lock mercilessly crushes life into its levers.
In every lever that is turned on a lock, there are millions of emotions lying underneath -- quietly -- like those pebbles that lay with no protest on the river bed.
Like a lazy bachelor who leaves the clothes unwashed, we all leave our emotions behind our doors with guilt and helplessness, when we lock the doors.Like the emptiness that engulfs every locked house, my heart tends to get filled with emptiness when i stand near a locked door.
Is locking an end or is it the beginning of an unknown journey with a baggage of unattended emotions?
The Cursed Book of Kamasutra
4 years ago
