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The Pot October 11, 2008

Posted by K in Fiction, Gender.
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The earthen pot was in the middle, and they all squatted around it. Five women, two unmarried. The sun warmed the soil beneath them, but their hardened feet thirstily sucked up the heat.

She had a pallu covering her face. She had a spot on her nose. She, she and she fought their biology with rags infested with disease.

They sat there and watched the pot.

In the distance, Manu called out his wares. Billoo stubbed his toe. Ram Babu struck cheap gold at the madiralay. The village fly went from house to house, finishing its afternoon round by evening.

The sun began to set on the pot; the women watched shadows play on its natural body. Shanta’s husband’s cows mooed. Lakshman’s mother’s bull swished its tail. The muezzin called the faithful to prayer.

Dusk turned into night, but the women came prepared. Each one pulled out a diya from the folds of their pallu, and passed the oil around. As one, they lit the flame, and watched it burn the pot into visibility.

The sounds of the darkness imperceptibly took over the nameless, maybe timeless, place. Five houses stood more silent than the rest.

The women watched the pot.

The diyas were refuelled periodically until, suddenly, a stone rang out of nowhere and pierced the neck of the pot. The diyas flickered, and five pairs of eyes watched the cracks spreading across its body. A slow, unbroken movement, until there was no more pot to hold its progress.

The shattered remnants lay around the spot, as one by one, they collectively watched it no more.

As the darkness continued to veil the surroundings, all that remained were five, flickering, intermittent bursts of light.

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Comments»

1. aa - October 13, 2008

seriously, what the heck is this about?

2. sporadicblogger - October 13, 2008

To condense it very much- oppression of women and slow change. Practically everything is symbollic in this.

3. saptarshi - October 16, 2008

just what was needed to fuel the mad eggjam clots… took me a few minutes but really, must say… u have a certain pied piper charm with the alphabets… the scribbles they form, really…. leaves a lot to visualize… through the veil of ignorance let the light of education create a penumbral eclipse of light over shadow.. wonder-world


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