We’re all Claypots

There’s this thing about me I wish I could get over : ‘Infinitely trying’ to make things happen out of a combined selfish-selfless-ness. #TIL, its about time to get over the ‘infinite trying’ method. Its very very unhealthy, indeed. Let’s not fix being holed Claypots anymore.

Let me take you through my Analogy of Claypots. Just Clay along, Okay?

When we’re born and we take our first tiny step into this world, we’re being shaped with the best brown clay there ever is. We’re merely that soft un-kneaded clay who know not how we’re going to look when we’re all done. We can’t be left unshaped because we will be a piece of Nothing if nobody bends us right, if nobody teaches us how to deal with things. So we let people take their turn to shape us into who we become. We take it all, till gets pretty asphyxiating and we can’t be that crafty narrow-necked Claypot anymore. That, that’s when we have an internal riot between being a perfect Claypot and the Claypot we want to be. When we quit being shaped-up, we’re off the hook and finally get to be a finished Claypot. Did I forget to mention that we’re constantly hydrated throughout this process? Our inner voice is the water throughout this process. We’re not done yet. We’re still unfinished if we aren’t polished and patterned according to how we ‘must be’ just so we could look like every other Claypot that’s made by the fellow Artisans.

Illustrations : Megha Kowdley

Just when we-the-Claypots think ‘Oh this is it, I’m good to go’, we figure that there’s so much more to it. We are placed under one small competitive stall with many other similar looking Clay-potheads. And hey, you can’t tell the difference just by looking at all of us. So we’re not qualified to be bought yet. We’re randomly chosen by a passerby shopper who pays a price that Artisans decide for us. Neither of them would empathize with how much we-the-Claypot would have gone through to be who we are today. Ain’t nobody got time for that, too.

We arrive at our new home. If we’re slim and pretty, we might be that empty Claypot for life with plastic flowers plunged into us to look as if it were all so real. If we’re lucky enough, we get to be the super cool Water Storage Claypot. Aaaand if we’re unlucky, we’re going to be cooked to death and our bottom is on fire until the day of our eulogy.

Best case scenario : Water Claypot; The humans we’ve met will fill us with our brimful of water and we’re finally going to feel like it was all worth it. We-the-Claypot will begin to feel that there’s finally some use we could be of, for the people around us. We’re also judged to be very fragile even if we can hold many many litres of water. We silently sit in that one corner of the kitchen(usually) and stare at everything that’s happening around us. We watch how the humans approach us, how they glug-down the water from the glass, how they exhale with relief and burp so embarrasingly loud. Humans, they fetch the cold water from inside of us, quench their thirst and leave. They’ll come back to us when they’re thirsty again. That’s all we’re worthy of and we should let that sink in to our already soggy clay-ness, IYKWIM.

Before we get too comfortable with the water we’re being filled with, we’re feeling asphyxiated all over again. We feel the need for the lid above us to be taken off, the need for us to breathe just like the humans do. But wait, we’re a Claypot! We begin to give up on the water filled inside of us, we begin to make those tiny holes to breathe some gasps. Little do we realise that we’re going to seep all the water out if we do that, would we comfort ourselves by aerating. Before we already know, we’re trickling out all the water we had. Humans begin to notice, they suspect a lot of things that may have gone wrong with us. They try to fill us with some more water to experiment with us on the basis of if we’re a Claypot-that’s-fit for further storage or not. We obviously fail miserably and continue to trickle all the water down like the mouth of a deceased human body that’s forced to drink some water before they exhale that one last puff of Co2 from their lungs. The point here is, we can’t force things in, once we’re wrecked, trying is an undeniably selfishly satisfying move we all make. And it surprisingly comforts us in return.

Illustrations : Megha Kowdley

So we become the Good For Nothing Holed Claypots, that are unfit for human needs. No matter how much we try, we can’t hold the water up to the brim like before. Ironically, we infinitely try to keep the water till the last batch of water trickles down onto the floor. Some of us-Claypots cry our emotions out imiatating to be human, just to realise it makes us vulnerable and softer, inviting humans to notice us and regard us trash-worthy. We’re thrown out with the other trash, no second thoughts on this one, all cracked, broken into pieces; so much so that you can’t even recognise your own pieces scattered in different parts of the trash can. You can not! [pun intended]

Should we really be Claypots anymore? We all have that Claypot in us that infinitely try to make something happen, to keep things together with that biggest happy curve on the face even when we know we’re going to be broken in the end. Can we be something better if we’re not shaped to be Claypots by artisans around us? Who could we be, still made of Clay?

Registering things in, that I’m already a personified Claypot, #TIL that we should stop infinitely trying, selfishly trying to survive and selflessly trying to serve people around us, to cater to their needs. It really doesn’t help. If we probably sink things in, we’d learn to be insensitive when we’re broken and trashed for the nth time. It’s okay to give-in, its okay to give up on things and not feel like we didn’t infinitely try. Let’s not be too Clay-potty..yeah? One darn life.