This is what “The Ten thousand doors of January” did to me…
It took me almost six months to finish this book. It has been a wonderful roller coaster ride. I had read the preface and the first passage. It seemed so magical and beautiful that I had been reluctant to read further, like preserving the best dessert for the end of the meal. I wanted to keep it on the shelf unless I found the perfect place and ample amount of time. You appreciate food the best when you are hungry enough, and I sure was. I just didn’t know when and where to start.
I survived a long pause in my life between Thanksgiving 2020, and new year’s eve. I couldn’t seem to think which of the past events haunted me more. The place in Knoxville, we called home, suddenly became a lonely prison on an alien planet. Every time I wanted to step out of my door, the flashbacks would freeze my heart.
Dah… A crazy woman was shouting at me and I was screaming and crying out of fear in the darkness.
Dah… An imaginary silhouette was breaking into my car and jumping out taking my favorite possessions.
Dah… My car was suddenly swiveling and slipping into a pit. A cop was interrogating us and my lips were unable to move. Someone was telling me that we were safe.
But were we really? Isn’t there someone out there waiting to stab us? Isn’t someone keeping an eye on my car? Isn’t someone waiting to break into my home the moment I stepped out? Aren’t some ghost-like people feeding on my misery? Aren’t those dementor-like hooded figures envying to suck out my happiness? No sir, I better be home, I want to be safe, and warm.
I would have flown back to my real home, Islamabad if that silhouette wouldn’t have taken away my passport. But you never know, a book was waiting for me, a long-forgotten friend.
March came and brought a warmer breeze with blooming blossoms. Washing away the cold, the frozen waters, and unwelcoming air. The waves in the Tennessee river came back reflecting bright sunlight, a ray of hope. ‘Do you want to come for a walk in Sequoyah hills?’, he asked me one day. I hesitated as always but went for his sake. We took some pictures of pink cherry blossoms and hanged around near the lake, laying in our old hammock. It all suddenly reminded me that I used to read. I came home and opened the book. I did nothing that day but read. I realized I needed it now, more than ever.
And that’s how it started. I was being introduced to January, a curious 7 years old adventurous brown girl. She found a blue Door in Kentucky, almost at the edge of Mississippi. She writes about opening the blue door and unknowingly she opens it, stepping into another world, with a city that smells like cider.
It was so comforting, I wanted to learn more about the new cities that seemed safe and quiet. Perhaps we all love to live in fantasies, where we want to sneak into when feeling unsafe? Maybe Hogwarts castle and lush green grounds where owls wander freely? Or slipping through a small hole into the wonderland of Alice far from all the stereotypes? Or hiding into a closet and landing into the Narnia on the other side, full of adventures? Or sneaking into a book and creating your own fantasies? I don’t know about you, but this I love to do.
The next day I brought the book with me to the park. Before I knew it, It had just become a habit. I was back into the pleasure of reading, my safe space. Books are magic themselves.
Having a bad day? Read
Feeling good? Read
Need warmth and comfort? Read
Need to hide? Read
Just like January did when her foster-father Mr. Locke found about the Door and locked her in the house after burning her pocket diary. When she seemed to have lost touch with her real father Julian and turned into a quiet, obedient teenager. She still manages to sneak short stories from Samuel, a grocer boy, while being watched over by a strict maid. Until one day she finds an old book in her small chest and allows herself to wander into the magical story of a brave woman Adelaide.
Only when you can relate to and feel like walking into the story itself, you completely understand the book. While Adelaide breaks all the rules and mysteriously travels to new places, sailing a hand-crafted rugged ship through New Orleans and beyond, and finding the new doors, January finds herself even more helpless, caged into Locke’s house. She wanted to sneak into another world free from chaos and misery. She wanted to open more doors just like Adelaide, or like his father Julian who was on a quest of finding antiques and valuables from all over the place.
She is just like the majority of us, dreaming a better life yet not ready to let go of our comfort zone. But we all have that in us, a thrust of rising to the occasion. January was about to turn 17 when strange things start to happen. She’s told that her father is dead, a regret of not having said a proper goodbye haunts her. She befriends Jane, a black woman who was hired by his father to take care of her but Jane goes missing too after an investigation by Locke. January feels betrayed and unsafe. At her birthday party, men are approaching her with lust and Mr. Locke asks her to join his secret archeological society. On her refusal, they take away her dog, locking her in her room. This becomes her turning point, little girl starts learning the trick of swimming through the waters that are about to reach her throat.
The story reminded me of my struggles being away from family and home, of how much I miss them but at the same time how badly I wanted to pursue my career in the states. We all achieve our dreams at a cost of something precious, be it your comfort, your loved ones, your home, your convenience, or sometimes your beliefs and values.
January forgoes her comfort, moves away from her friends, and endures extensive labor to finance her travel. As you read, you will see her growing into a strong girl, making her own paths, working long hours and fighting all odds, finding and opening new doors. She keeps running away, sneaking into new worlds, until she finds her parents and until she comes back to her blue door that her seven-year-old self had opened. Betrayals are stronger than a heartbreak you see. And so are the powerful words and magical stories, like this one by Alex Harrow.
I am turning the last pages, thinking of all the good and bad days it took me through, all those times when I shared my happy memories with this book, and all those moments it seeded comfort in me when I was sad.
When I look back at my flashbacks, they no longer disturb me. I could see the crazy girl marching out in disappointment, the imaginary silhouette running away in the darkness, the car holding back its ground. And it reminds me that we are together, me, my husband, our little Hedwig. And we are safe, at a place in Knoxville that is indeed our home.
To the magical doors that remind me of endless possibilities,
To my family that is always there in the moments of despair,
To my books that never disappoint,
And to myself for not giving up…
Sara Sultan Aqib
