I noticed something stupid the other day.

When I want to knock on a door, I don't just knock.

I do this whole thing.

My hand is down.

Then I curl my fingers.

Then I bring my hand up.

Then

knock knock knock.

Like I have been professionally trained for this.

And the weirdest part?

You probably do it too.

Nobody taught me this.

I don't remember my parents saying,

"Shweta, listen carefully. When you reach a door, please make a fist and use your knuckles."

Yet somehow, I know exactly what to do.

And apparently, so does everyone else.

Think about it.

Why don't we just use our palm?

Why do we use our knuckles?

Why do we bring our hand up first?

Why do we almost always knock more than once?

And why does one knock feel like an accident?

tok

Sorry.

But:

knock knock knock

Now I'm clearly here for a reason.

There's also a whole language hiding in it.

A soft knock:

Excuse me, is anyone there?

Three normal knocks:

Hello, I'm waiting.

A loud one:

HELLO?

And then there's that terrifying one:

BANG BANG BANG

which basically means:

Something has gone very wrong.

Same door.

Same hand.

Same action.

Completely different message.

And then comes the part I really like.

When I knock, I have no idea what happens next.

Maybe someone heard me.

Maybe they didn't.

Maybe they're walking towards the door.

Maybe they're standing behind it wondering who I am.

So I wait.

And listen.

Footsteps?

A lock?

A voice?

Nothing?

I'm basically waiting for a response from a system that doesn't have a screen.

We do this all day with technology.

Click something.

Wait.

Look for a change.

Look for confirmation.

Try again if we don't get one.

But we've been doing this with doors forever.

We knock.

We wait.

We listen.

We created our own feedback loop.

And maybe that's why the little hand movement before the knock feels so natural.

It's not really about getting someone's attention.

It's something we've learned so well that we don't even think about it anymore.

Which makes me wonder:

How many things do we do every day simply because somebody, somewhere, decided that this is how it's done?

I don't know who taught us how to knock.

But now I can't stop noticing it.

And I'm pretty sure I'm going to watch myself do it the next time I reach a door.

Hand down.

Fingers curl.

Hand up.

Knock knock knock.

Like clockwork.

— Shweta Bankar