Of Ceramic Clay & Cracks

Kavya’s soft hands shaped me gracefully as the pottery wheel spun at it’s highest speed. It felt a little ticklish every time  she held my waist to make me look sexier. Her hand vigorously moved up and down applying more pressure to the mid section of my body. Gosh so ticklish it is! I thought to myself. Well, some things needs to be tolerated if perfection is required.

“Good job Kavya. Your ceramic vase is looking symmetrical and in a great shape,” Kavya’s pottery teacher Jess said.

“Thanks Jess. Guess I can cut the base with a thread and let it to dry.”

Jess nodded and walked away. I was looking smooth and my body was super sexy. Good enough to join the next Miss Universe Pageantry if there was one for ceramic vases like me.

Kavya turned and took a piece of bright red thread. The colour itself gave me a loud danger alarm. Kavya’s messy, clay smeared hand stretched the red thread and cut the base of my body sharply.

 Ouch!! God!! End this misery!! This is too painful! Why the hell did Kavya did this?!

Kavya did not seemed to hear my cries. She let me sit there in pain for a few minutes and carefully lifted me from the pottery wheel. She was extremely gentle and kind to me, I almost did not feel her grip around my body. I couldn’t understand her at all. She hurt me one moment and caressed me after. 

Kavya placed me on a shelf along with other ceramics. There were many of us. Some were vases like me, while others were mugs and plates. Despite all the pain, I felt happy that Kavya decided to make me into a vase. I stood tall among the mugs and plates and felt a sense of satisfaction as if I have made it in life. 

Jess walked to the shelf and examined us all and waved to her students to gather, “Alright guys, we will let these ceramics stay here for a bit and maybe tomorrow we will bake them in the oven and proceed with glazing them.” 

Wait a minute!! What you mean by bake? Oh man!! That’s gonna burn me! I didn’t sign up for any of this!!

The lights went off and it was dark all around us. We all somewhat felt the pressure of getting “baked”. The mugs were discussing about the process and the plates seemed to have accepted the fate and remained silent. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t ready for such a painful process. God, please help me! Please don’t let them bake me! I know I will not be happy at all. Please safe me. I pleaded the entire night.

The morning sun shone brightly through the pottery workshop window. Jess walked in and started the huge oven. I knew it was time. I wanted to wail and scream to stop her but it was completely useless. I stood there mumbling my last prayers to god to grant me some sort of miracle and to sprinkle a little mercy on me. 

Jess took a tray and walked towards the shelf I was placed at. She stood exactly in front of me and lifted me. I was the first one on the tray to be baked. I gave up. She took a few other vases and mugs and crowded the tray. I felt suffocated being on the tray and needed some space. The fear of getting baked and the lack of space made me restless. Jess walked towards the oven and accidentally tripped over a mat and her hand lost the stability of the tray. Being the tallest on the tray, I was the first and the last one to land on the ground and shattered into a hundred pieces. The shorter vases and mugs were still standing there on the tray looking down at my broken self.

God answered my prayers. But not exactly in the best possible way. I shouldn’t have begged so much for it. Jess placed the other ceramics in the oven and came back for me. She looked at my body in disappointment and took the broom and swept me into a dustpan. 

Wait! Jess?! Are you gonna throw me away?! Is that all!? Come on Jess!! Don’t throw me! 

I was feeling extremely weak at this point. I closed my eyes once again and prayed. Dear God. You know what’s best for me.

I opened my eyes after a few moments and realised there were no room for me to move at all. It was soggy and crowded. There were many other ceramics with me. Some of them were turning into clay. I rubbed my eyes and found myself in a pail with other broken ceramics. It was wet and dark. I realised that we were being turned into ceramic clay once again. 

It was a depressing episode. The pail was dark, wet and cold. It had limited space and all of us in there were sad because of our brokenness. Every now and then, Jess’ hands would give us a massage. She’d then add more water and leave. This went on for a few days. Kavya did not even look for me but I constantly heard her voice and footsteps coming and going.

Days passed. Finally, another hand reached out to my body. It was a weak and rough hand. An old man in his 70s reached out to me and took me out of the darkness of the pail.

He rolled me in a ball and placed me on the pottery wheel. I went through the full cycle again with him. But this time, I wasn’t standing tall. I was very much close to the ground and my body was slim and flat. It happened once again. The piercing cut of a thread. 

Oh! I am a plate this time? Damn! I cannot see much! Life was better as a vase. 

I was again placed at the shelf with other ceramics. Jess came in again the next day to bake us. This time, I stayed still not praying for  anything otherwise. I felt more stable on the tray than I did the first time as a vase. My stomach stirred as Jess brought me closer to the oven. She carefully put me in the middle of the oven and started it.

This is cruelty! I thought this happens only in hell after I am dead! Oh, so hot! I cannot take it!

I slowly fell unconscious. I woke up to the smiling face of my Old Man. He caressed me and looked at me in satisfaction. I realised that I was now firmer, stronger and almost a complete ceramic plate. Dearest old man glazed me in teal and gold colour. It was the happiest day of my life. Everyone praised at my beauty and some even wanted to purchase me to be theirs. Old Man did not give up on me even after such offers. He carefully took me home.

I bid farewell to my fellow ceramics and followed my Old Man home. It was a humble house with many other ceramics varying from vases to pots and teacups. He placed me in a shelf with my new family. I felt a sense of warmth and belonging there. Cups told me how they ended up there and we laughed together at how he burns the curry he cooks in the belly of the ceramic pot. I finally felt home. 

The next morning, Old Man made some breakfast. He took me out of the shelf and carefully flipped the pancakes to my flat body and drizzled maple syrup all over me. He topped the pancakes with a dlop of butter and served it to his wife.

“Far most, this is the best colour combination you have made darling,” Mrs Old Man said.

“Of course. I know you loved the combination of teal and gold and made it specially for you. Here after, you will have your daily breakfast on this ceramic plate.”

They laughed and enjoyed the pancakes together. I then realised that I have a job now. I am now responsible in holding this woman’s breakfast every morning and I needed to be present in my best shape everyday. Life was amazing. Every now and then, Old Man would burn me with some extremely hot food but I always overcome them. Some days, they left me alone for days when they are out of town and it was like a vacation for me though I missed their presence. Sometimes, we received guests when Old Man’s daughter visits with a ceramic pot of curry or soup. There were also dark days when we lost beloved Yellow Teapot and Polka Teacup when Mrs Old Man accidentally dropped them. 

In the midst of all this, I look at the copper mug Mrs Old Man have her peppermint tea sometimes. Such an attractive mug he is. I wish someday, I could gather the courage to talk to him. Someone with such strength should definitely be arrogant. Someday, just someday I would say hi to him. Days passed and life happens once at a time~