The Door Knob

The Door Knob


The blue door was shut. It was the door with a round door knob with a photo of it in the college brochure. He had got from the university. On the cover were photos of students and teachers moving around in the campus.

The corridor stretched in front of him as he walked. His mind was somewhere on the door.

He was in a room in a house with a friend. She had come to meet him. The room walls were painted blue inside. The window was on the left with sunlight being seen through it. She had spent sometime with him. Time had stood still for a while. He moved towards the window undoing the shut blinds. The light outside was changing from day to evening.

Their ancestral mansion was enveloped in darkness except for the light glowing in one of the rooms. He had stood outside the gates and watched.

He was now at the computer shutting it off when his mind went back again to the old mansion. He could clearly see its silhouette against the moonlit sky with roof pinnacles going up in the sky.

She had talked for a while. A blonde, she too worked in the same company. She did not care what others said and talked. She had also heard of the old mansion. She enquired about it from him once.

The prison mess was full of inmates, black and white eating at their tables dressed in blue uniforms. Each person had a number.

He stood under the tree wind blowing in the leaves. He was standing in front of a house. He again remembered somewhere a blue door. He turned and looked up. He felt someone watching him. It was his uncle, they chatted for a while.

Memories had gone by, fading as he walked ahead. He had met her here too. Long back when he was a student. She worked here then. She had got to be friends with him. One day she told him she was going, as she passed a blue door. He now wondered what the blue door meant.

He had waited for his uncle to come out. He was then in his teens. His uncle was inside and was busy. He had sent a message out for him to wait. That was unusual. His uncle had never kept him waiting. But he waited. He had come out after some time. He looked tired. He said he was not well. He said he was doing something. He did not disclose what.

It struck him being very familiar with the corridor.

His uncle had come out dishevelled. It was strange and was not usual for him. He had talked of some foreboding complications; he could not fully comprehend then. It had grown evening by the time they finished talking.

He had come to know her of living in this place then. She lived in a house very close to where his uncle lived. The door of her house seemed to be painted blue with a round door handle.

Life had went on they had gone on well together, but as she had said before she was always on the move. She had later stood by the window light falling on her face. He had watched her closely then. She seemed changing. His uncle had also seemed changed. He could not understand why. She was moving away.

Her friend, she had talked to him of, was very tall and had long blonde hair falling upon her shoulders as she finished her work in her small office. His uncle had followed him up to the roof once. He wanted to talk about business.

He was to move too. He had since moved and met her friend in business connections. She would regularly be in touch in business matters his uncle had told him.

But she had insisted on phone that he go over to her friends place. He had gone. As he went up the steps he felt her shutting a door to the left first. He wondered why. Then she opened the front door for him. He seemed puzzled and she realised it. She cleared his mind saying she did this for a reason. She did not say anything more. It all had seemed very queer to him then. He had stayed for a while.

He thought over the doors quite a bit but could not understand. She had tried explaining it to him smilingly as light fell on her face in lines through the blinds.

He was returning home one day and found a young girl sitting at the bus stop close to his uncle’s place. She came to be her friend and lived close to his house. His mind went to the blue door and then he remembered. He would find girls often secretly talking and telling stories amongst themselves. They would not let him know or disclose anything at any cost. He felt he was somehow connected. He tried to reconstruct to get a meaning.

He then thought he had the answer. It was the blue door in the brochure. It had the same old round knob. It was a heirloom of the family from days very long back. It was a tradition and a custom to have it by turns and to secretly use it with their wishes for the future and close the door. They all had done it. It was forgotten now.

He had opened it holding the knob many times in the college after seeing it in the brochure. He had opened it as many times.