Page 122 - Musings 2022

ground floor. “Boring,” he thinks to himself. Then, out of curiosity, the man closes the door,

to open it the other way. This time as he twists the knob, pushes the door, and slips through, he
finds himself on the top of the building.

“On the roof, Impossible!” he exclaims. He looks up, and his jaw drops in awe, his pupils dilate

as rotates his head as far back up as he can. Stars like diamonds cut to clarity, on an infinite
deep blue silk cloth with a shine of its own. A cool breeze, unlike any he has experienced

before, hits his lungs and suddenly he feels elated. He feels life each time he inhales. He feels
his feet finding and losing balance, his hands wavering, his fingers relaxing, his wide eyes

drying from the air, and his throat drying due to his open mouth. He feels as if he has gotten

his life back. After some time, he realises that he must go back to sleep, otherwise he would
miss the routine of the next day. So, he leaves the rooftop, returns to monotony through the

door. He feels tired and empty as he steps back into the building through the door. He reaches
his apartment, curls in his bed, waiting for sunrise, hoping for a shut-eye.

A few days pass, he finds himself in a similar situation again. He wakes up, finds himself in

the office and thinks “Oh shoot! I must have dozed off during work”. He finds the door, opens
it to the left, very impatient as he does it. On the roof, he looks up, breathes the air of

imagination, and starts to relax. Inhaling life, exhaling monotony, he starts to feel confident,

fear of dozing off during work soon disappears. He goes to the ledge of the roof, stands, feels
the air, looks down from the skyline to the bustling and noisy streets. He feels light, standing

on the ledge. Begins to wonder if he can fly. But the fear of dying takes over. So, he inhales
until he is confident again, and finally, takes the leap of faith. And to his surprise, he can fly.

So, he reaches for the clouds in the night sky, and soon any thoughts of routine boredom, even
remotely lethargic, cease to exist. He flies until he realises he is losing altitude. Then he returns

to the roof and returns further to monotony. As he comes back to his life, he feels tired and out

of breath. He feels sick. He returns to his apartment, finds his bed, and waits for another dawn.

This soon became a pattern, a part of his life that he would look forward to. He would cross
the labyrinth of bureaucracy and daily routine filled with monotony to reach the night of

wonder and confidence. His physical health deteriorated as he used the door every time, and
he had noticed that. He traded moments of liveliness for his physical health. Soon he started to

lose his breath every so often, making him even more physically incapable in the lifeless world.
But the joy the door brought to him was much more than running through a flight of stairs

without panting would. Soon his dependence on the door increased to an extent where he would

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