Locked out

'Surely, it isn't a Sisyphean task to somehow pull the keys via open windows,' we thought.

Remember the retro Hindi track, reminiscent of bygone years, which reverberated in the radios, “Hum tum ek kamare mein bandh ho… aur chaabi kho jaaye…?” Recently, I wanted to rephrase it as, “Hum tum ghar ke baahar ho… aur chaabi andhar ho jaaye…!” Yes, the other day, we accidentally got locked outside the house, with the keys inside!

Surprisingly, to start with, my spouse and I were in a state of super sangfroid, since we had presumed, “surely, it isn’t a Sisyphean task to somehow pull the keys via the open windows.” Sadly, it wasn’t as simple as it seemed. Like menacing monkeys, manoeuvring our moves, we managed to perch on the window sill, looking at the mean key on the centre-table, cursing the malicious fate, for having mired us in that miserable predicament.

As we slowly started considering several ways of lifting the keys, the first thing that struck was to pull it, using a sturdy rope, secured to a strong magnet (borrowed from a benevolent neighbour). But lo! The rope, owing to its pretty flaccid quality, would go till one particular place, and promptly halt there without proceeding any further. Just like a stubborn mule which suddenly would stop at some place, sans any specific reason, simply baulking to go beyond.   

Next, in lieu of the rope, we tried some dried creepers, spliced to one another, using slender wires. Just like a singularly grumpy school teacher, who keeps snapping at the students over slightest provocations, here, the willowy creeper too was snapping (by breaking!) at the slightest provocations, in the form of snagging over sharp edges of the table, telly set, etc.

What was particularly worse was precisely at that point of time, we were plied with a plethora of discount offers, from pizza joints, patisseries and other places, promising plenty of positively scrumptious snacks. And my tummy had started rumbling, thanks to those unexpected excitements. There were other frills and thrills too, in form of a fusillade of spectators to our family show, showering us with unsolicited suggestions on some dozen ways of retrieving the key.

At last, using non-flexible iron rod, we dragged the door key, doggedly holding onto the table surface, like a newly wed man clinging constantly to his coy and comely wife. What happened later is another story. As I stepped inside, I was swamped by spells of swooning, to see the place in a severe shambolic state, with several show-pieces, shrouded by surplus dust-specks, strewn all around. 

But still, there is one delightful feeling in this entire dreadful incident. Often I would be assailed by this awful misgiving — “What if an avaricious burglar, in our absence, gains access inside our abode to appropriate all the available valuables accumulated by us?” Such doubts now stand dispelled. I have discerned that after all, it isn’t a doddle to break open locked doors of someone’s dwelling!