Hands?

Through my struggle to centre the lump of clay on the spinning wheel (or was it me and my whirlwind thoughts) I looked at hands around me moulding, shaping, creating- effortlessly.

I wondered why I was not getting it right, was it the speed? Should I make my world go around faster. Or maybe it is the clay and I just need a different lump. Nah! it must be the hands.

We struggled, clay and I. Each fighting hard to keep our individuality and getting nowhere. Shubham’s hands steady mine and reassure the clay in a language I do not understand (not yet), suddenly everything moves in harmony.

It can’t be just the hands it must be the soul.