The Door

After leaving the hostel, one day I went back. It was deserted. It was some holiday which is why I was able to go back to Lahore one more time. I hoped to see and feel all that used to give pleasure and bits of pain too. But as that pleasure and pain were so abundant, I thought that they would never end. But death is the ultimate reality which was specifically designed to not let man become God and make him understand the ephemeral nature of his self, his life, and the beauty of life. The staff of the hostel knew me so it was easy for me to go to reach room even being an outsider, by the books. But it was locked. Obviously that put the dilemma that I could not meet the one soul I had come to meet. In a few hours, I had to pack and board the flight and leave Lahore for many years but hoping deep inside me to come back at least one more time and relive all those years of happiness again in a few minutes of reality. The door had a paper plastered on it which we used to convey messages to guests and delivery guys and thought of them containing some “assumed” artistic beauty. Some were nasty, obscene and classless. Some were life lessons and enlightenments. After I left, a few more words were added by the remaining occupant.

Scrolling through pictures yesterday, I came across one that made that whole day so fresh in my mind again. That locked door with the message was a turning point of life or maybe the turning point of life became a door itself. Even today I seek the answer.

Aamir Bilal