The story of my house keys

Unlocking a tiny little world of mayhem and magic

The story of my house keys began when they didn’t exist in the first place. I lived in a joint family and someone was always home to open the door. I was a little child who didn’t need to worry about the roof over my head. But that house was never really my home. Home to that little girl was only her mother. The keys were neither needed nor did they exist in my little universe.

When we decided to leave an abusive home and restart life again, the house keys were only metaphorically present. It was the latch that held a shrieking, old door together as we lived in a little garage. I found home in the possibility of freedom that this feeble latch provided. It could have been broken down if the circumstances had not favoured us. But what skies of freedom life would offer, if only the latch of our home held our house together in relatively safer realms. So, we went on.

We shifted again. This time to an accommodation that needed house keys. It was a remarkable moment. What a relief to be in a house which provided safety, not just from those on the outside but also those on the inside. But simultaneously, we struggled to rebuild our sense of home and family in a world determined to deny our existence - a price for our rebellion in a fragile society. So, while the safe structure was strong, the raging storm continued to shake us.

Then, I finally held a pair of house keys in my hands which belonged to a home where my emotions, experiences and bonds truly reside. This house has lived a full life with me; both as a witness and as a companion. After years of seeking refuge all around, I finally announced, “I am home”. It is said that home is where the heart is. Here, I learnt that home is where the heart is both strongly rooted and blissfully free.

These keys were more than just keys for me. They symbolised a lot more. The power of letting go of the shackles that once caged us. The power of venturing into the uncertain, vast seas, away from the lands of familiar oppression, taunting abundance and painful comfort. The silent battles and hidden traumas that gave us the strength for this long journey - from the struggles of a rite of passage to the solace of one’s own space.

Even in a period of despondency and grief in my life, I tugged at to those keys of freedom and agency. I knew that I could brave any storm and fearlessly choose my next shore. My house keys enabled me to open an unbelievable door at a life-changing destination in a faraway part of this globe.

My new house key is my university id card with a lanyard which I wear around my neck. It opens the door to my first room of my own, as I live away from my family for the first time in a new country. It is surreal. The rush of independence in my blood. The power of empowerment in my bones. I feel it all. My house keys open the doors to a new world of possibilities and opportunities; all that I can pursue and cultivate, and everything I can transform into and become.

“The world is your oyster”, my house keys say to me now. I listen intently as I pave a path in this uncharted territory. I hold it tightly as I walk ahead with conviction.

The story of my house keys give a peep into houses ruthlessly destroyed, homes incessantly rebuilt, struggles silently endured, battles courageously fought, defeats resiliently overcame, victories gracefully accepted and love that stayed solid through it all. The story of my house keys encircle the journey of my crazy heart stubbornly holding on to the fig of hope despite the stormy waters of life. The story of my house keys is an ode to the unbelievable wonders of the nurturing love of an extraordinary mother.

The story of my house keys is the story of my life, unlocking a tiny little world of mayhem and magic.

This piece sprung up in the creative safe space of the

Ochre Sky Stories

, beautifully curated by

Natasha Badhwar

and

Raju Tai

. It will always be special because it was my first essay at the workshop in July ‘23, the beginning of my tryst with personal memoir writing. It has evolved ever since, as a new chapter was added to the story of my house keys.