Pot and the potter!

Intriguing and revealing it is as you watch your ideas change. On how your perspectives change from what you had once to what it is now for the same thing. In my case my ideas of the pot and the potter. The change which happened overtime.

Two years since I have written anything to fill any space on this blog. It isn’t that I had no time nor had I fallen short of the life’s occurrences and stories but what made me silent was the times I watched this pot which once scented, had begun to stink and was son the verge of losing its own fragrance over time.

There was this pot thrown into the gutter as it hid itself with shit; the shit, leaving very little space for the positive rays to reach its body. There wasn’t shit all over when the pot was new. Perhaps it was covered with shit slowly over six years before it was finally dumped; made to believe that’s its destiny is to stink and that its origins contributed significantly to its strong bond with the gutter. The pot was silenced overtime with irrational arguments which rarely led into any constructive conversations. The pot started believing that all that was happening was meant to be and perhaps it had no right of its own, constrained by origins, to remain in shit and that any fragrance it thought it had was perhaps false. This was until, one day, one little potter discovered, pulled and tossed the pot so high, the pot could do nothing but realize its own potential and use it to mesmerize its surroundings once again the way he did years ago.

That evening.

As my potter approached me in one of the premium spots  in the financial hub of the nation, I sat watching her energy and the freedom in her smile. Sometimes you can be completely fooled by your impressions of a person. In my case, it happened so. I thought she was free and she had a very supportive environment to be so joyful. She had no problems with life, I thought! Little did I know that this professional conversation, and the lady behind what I saw, would have a story so large that it would to pull me out of shit and question me to rethink on what I am. I never knew that my thoughts of being in the most disastrous phase of my life would disappear and become so insignificant.

For me the issue was the questions on my origins, rationale of the so called socially upward class and the intriguing laws of religions which somehow failed to fit each other in the same system. I realize it today; perhaps it was not just me but people around as well shared the same feeling. The movie PK made it more apparent when Aamir tries to discover God and the same laws in different religions work very differently for the same God! The question does remain, how does one deal with it? Perhaps most of the population succumbs to the illogical laws for they are too feeble to secure their position of being just. And the story, no matter how illogical; of our nation, tied hard in the web of religion and ethics would continue to create unjust circumstances which will go untreated and unnoticed. The hypocrisy shall prevail for in some way its fundamental to our survival as a nation; for it helps us convince our acts of being right while being untrue.

Nevertheless, as she spoke and I knew more, I discovered how this lady, alone, from the highest religious sect,  defied the questions which had trapped me for long. Her journey of moving from one of the orthodox mind-sets to her free world wasn’t all easy, but was strong enough to question the basis of my assumptions. A child turned into a parent defying childhood due to the demanding circumstances, the child who grew up to beat the orthodox views of marriage religion and caste; the child who turned into the inspiring blonde, who not only took care of her ageing parents but also travelled that extra mile with least support to make an impression in her professional circle. The struggle of this child who once had several servants to take care of her had none at one point. The journey which she started  when she was 15 asked me strong questions. The questions which needed to be answered.

I could no longer but drive away from and start cleaning the shit most of which; the result of forced beliefs had covered me. She asked, how good is a car which stays in the garage? Car is meant for the road and the accelerator for speed. The road is to take risk. Drive and drive as fast as you can. From 3000 kms (in 6months)  in my new car to over 20000 kms on the fastest lanes of this city within a span of 5 months was what I drove. From the hills to the expressways. It’s not the numbers that talk but what I learnt. Once, scared of speed and the traffic of this city, I was able to go beyond 170! And then it just continued. Pushed up in the air on the scariest roller coaster rides in Imagica, with her beside, on my birthday; I took another birth I guess. As my limbs kissed the air and my mind was terrified with the fall; I felt my own self. She embraced my very own people, otherwise from whom I had distanced away in pursuit of the pot, the two people who created me. The mango groove in my garden whose shade I hated had become much dearer by the time she was half way in her story.

All I can say as I think of what happened; I came home to myself. I stopped wandering. Although I am still on the 12th floor writing again, there’s a difference. There’s snow outside.

I am this pot far away from where I was born, where my customers spare no time in looking at me in awe and that’s what is not me but what she has created, my potter, over a year now.  My potter with 3 of her beliefs; a. human being is beyond caste/creed/religion b. you are a reflection of your upbringing, stop questioning them c. I am a Rig Vedic myself and I know my pot. She took over me on her birthday and pushed me on a journey as the definitions changed; I became the pot myself instead of running behind another pot. Where devotion is not demanded but it sprouts from within; I wander no long to live for those unfortunate but wonder on my abilities to create awe in my surroundings, for I startle a few beings; defying questions once raised. Stinking no more. Constantly awed by my potters energy wondering how much she has and where does she get it from; and as days pass by realizing the difference one right person can make. One wrong person can perhaps push you into that black hole from where there’s no return and you start feeling that its night; and dark is the only truth. The right one on the contrary, would take you close to the sun, where you will burn and start emitting light and be amazed and say “well, it’s interesting, I didn’t know I had some light within until you held me;”

My ideas of the potter who created a wrong pot that convinced me to run into the darkness, have not changed. But what has become of me as I became the pot of my potter; has made me to believe that the outcome – the pot; is a feat of the potter and the potters selfless strong determination gives rise to what the pot can become; whether weak or strong; right or wrong. For now, I not only see but experience what my potter has made of me; a force so strong to uncover the dark shit covering me. Who knows, the stranger who ran relentlessly behind a pot with a hole, would itself become one of the most sought after pots in the times to come. It’s the potter that makes all difference. And as always, I get a little lucky every time, this time, on my longest journey with my potter who is determined to be beside.