My visit to Calcutta this year was marred ever so slightly by this niggling feeling that a chapter, a big important chapter of my life had closed. It had finished badly. With betrayal and disillusionment. With feelings of inadequacy and defeat.
A lot of entrances in the old neighborhoods of South Calcutta have doorways like the one in this illustration. Mostly painted red or green, if at all. I had spent a lot of time in my teenage years sitting on the steps before a green door like this one — talking, dreaming, laughing but mostly fighting to remain my own person while being someone else’s idea of love, perfection.
When I passed by that house, I couldn’t help thinking, what if in life, you choose the red door and not the green one. Does it alter your reality? Does it change your destiny? Or, do the stars ensure which door you stand before and which you finally open.