He is looking for a key. He does remember its design, silver in color, rusted. He remembers how sometimes he really had to twist it with force to open the lock. Right now, he is in search of that key, because he has a box to be opened. And it won’t be wrong to say that it’s a treasure chest, a gold mine. It is like the Aladdin’s lamp for him.
Anything he wants could be inside that box, and opening it would definitely give him all of that. So now he is rummaging through all of his stuff, making sure to look in every nook and cranny of this room, then searching every corner of the house.
You would see now all cupboards open and closed, flinging out. The items on the dressing table are distorted. All the objects in the house which have a table at the end are either not in their place or toppled over. All kitchen cupboard doors are ajar, and unwashed dishes still in search of some responsible owner to come and wash them and set them right.
The picture from his office desk has fallen and the frame has broken. He unknowingly stepped over it while walking back to his chair, his newly filled cup of tea in hand, the empty previous cup lying fallen on the table in front of him. Some of the tea had spilled over the picture because the cup had toppled over at some point.
Now, on the third day of his search operation, when he thought he should check the attic room one more time, as he might have lost it when he was putting the old washing machine up there, he went up into the attic room. And as he stepped out into the dusky evening of this warm day, a cat jumped in from the window and sat in his chair, tilting its head with all its intention at the strange thing kept in front of it, trying to make sense of what was happening here.
And even an animal could see, ‘the box has no lock’.
