Painting the Pots

The thing about having a bent of mind towards craft is that whenever you see something bland, your mind gets to work. A continuous mining of ideas to find the perfect design one could fit on that ‘something bland’ is a torturous state of mind. Until you have finished the task, peace evades you.

So, I had these ceramic pots housing with me for the longest time. I am a big fan of ceramic. Back in the days when I was a slave to consumerism, I used to just buy stuff. I used the newly bought ceramics all over the house, to keep jewellery, as a pen stand, for keeping plants and others. After every new role I endowed on them, I always found some functional disability in their role. They spent initial years figuring out a role to contribute to the house but their probation period didn’t seem to get over. Finally, I was so fed up with them not fitting anywhere that I put them in the storeroom. That is what happens to things which are bought because of impulsive instinct.

Recently, when I started the movement of only possessing things which I just need to survive, I started clearing things from my life. The most obvious place I started cleaning from was the storeroom. Hence, I found these pots bundled up in a corner covered in dust. When they realised my presence, all they did was scream out to me about the injustice that was endowed on them. I had deprived them of their life’s purpose by storing them in the storeroom.  I felt sad and bad. Then my mind got to work. How could I give justice to these small pots and give them a purpose in life?

Rest, the pictures will complete the story.


And they lived happily ever after.

The End.


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