The forbidden chambers!

It is story time!  And as the tradition goes, let us start with, once upon a time! Atop a picturesque hill, visible to the masses from far and near stood a palatial mansion. Encircled by manicured gardens with exotic flowers and lush green lawns embellished with lights, it was a sight to behold! The doors to the mansion opened to a grand hallway leading into a lavish hall. Descending from the high ceiling above was a chandelier, dazzling in all its glory. The hall was shimmering with beauty, elegance, and luxury.

Diverging from the grand hall were six hallways with rooms that promised beauty and grace. Or so it felt on a cursory glance. But on a closer look, two of these hallways appear beautifully lit and decorated while the others seem oddly neglected. It appeared; the master of the mansion frequented the two hallways while the other four appeared deserted and unkept. Their rooms were locked, dusty and dark.

The master was happy limiting himself to the two hallways studded with his accolades that reminded him of his achievements. The forbidden hallway on the other hand, had rooms that reminded him of his unworthiness, his failures and his losses. Those hallways were kept dark, probably so they would be easy to ignore. Each of these rooms held a memory the master would rather not visit. Those parts of the mansion almost did not exist for him. Perhaps a room carried a picture of him playing a tournament which he lost and ended up getting bullied. Perhaps another contained his fancy dress costume when he was six and had dressed as a soldier and accidentally slipped on the stage becoming a piece of mockery for the audience and another with a picture of him with a soiled coat and his furious mother. 

         Nevertheless, the master was a content man. He reminded himself of his achievements on his bad days and spent his happy days sipping wine by his window overlooking the lawn. On one fine summer day, as he heard a tuneful piece of piano playing on his gramophone record, he was reminded of the piano he owned and played as a child. But woe! The piano lies in one of the forbidden chambers. How he wished he could run his fingers on the piano once again. He remembered how he loved playing it and hours would pass like minutes when he played the piano. But a terror gripped him. As much as he wanted to play the piano, a part of him wanted to run away and wished he had never turned on the gramophone that day! The piano reminded him of his elder brother. 

              He tried his best to keep the memories of his brother from flashing but they wouldn’t budge. Soon the floodgates of his memories opened and he found himself drowning in the memories. The endearing ones, the ones when he felt cared, the ones filled with fun, all the memories stood before him. But they were all tainted by the colour of one memory. He wished he had stopped playing the piano when his brother had called him one last time. He wished he had realised that brother was in pain and rushed to his rescue that day. How he wished his brother had not left him alone forever that day. Leaving him with the burden of the guilt of having let him die. Even though he never confessed to anyone, he knew that he had heard his brother’s feeble call. 

              He knew he had reached a breakpoint and he could no longer run away from this any further. He decided to muster the courage to open the forbidden chamber in which the piano was kept locked. His chest felt heavy with grief and his heart was pounding. His hands trembled as he opened the room. As he entered the room, he saw the six-year-old version of him happy and lost in playing the piano. And as expected he heard the feeble call from his brother. He saw himself dismissing the call and continuing to play. He had assumed that his brother must have called him as usual to share his mid-morning snack and he wasn’t interested that day. So, he continued playing to soon be told that his brother passed away and was remembering him in his last moments. 

              And as he re-lived this memory, he slowly realised that he did not really have any role in his brother’s death and that he couldn’t have done much either. Afterall he was only six.  His brother died an unfortunate untimely death. In his limited capacity to process at that time thought he was to be blamed. The guilt that he carried hadn’t even allowed him to grieve his loss. He fell on his knees as he touched the piano and finally after all these years, he cried his heart out and allowed himself to grieve his dear brother’s death. The shedding of the guilt and the grieving lifted a huge weight off his chest and he felt lighter again. He wished he had done this earlier. Finally, he cleaned the piano and played the melody that he would play with his brother as a tribute to him. He finally opened himself up to fondly remember his brother while at the same time embracing the bitter truth that his brother would never come back. And thus, he finally got his brother’s memories, his piano and his music back. The hallway was now beautifully lit, decorated and once again became a part of the mansion adding to its beauty. 

              And instead of a happily ever after, might I say, thus the master went on to unlock many such pieces of himself, small and big, trapped in his past, towards a bigger and a brighter mansion of his life.