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Images: details from painting, 'Sohni Mahiwal', by Sobha Singh.

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The Clay Pot

INNI KAUR

 

 

 





I’m excited. It’s my first pottery-making class. I just love the studio. Large windows. The sun is pouring in.

I can hardly wait to begin.

The formless clay feels good in my hands. I ply and knead it. I feel its warmth and I relax. Onto the wheel the clay goes. The wheel spins. My hands guide it. I moisten the drying clay and continue to mold and shape.

A pot emerges. With ridges and a sturdy base.

I marvel at it and before I know, words spill out:

“Will you betray me like Sohni was betrayed?”

The Pot replies: “I did not betray her. Centuries have elapsed, yet the stigma remains. When is redemption? Is there redemption?”

“What happened that night?” I ask cautiously.

“It’s a long story. Few have the patience to truly listen.”

“I’m listening,” I whisper.

Silence descends. I wait.

It speaks: “Gouged from my home, I landed at the potter’s doorstep. He took an iron rod and smashed me into bits. Then he sieved me, added water, and turned me into something I was not. After he knifed me, he threw me onto a cold slab of
stone, and spun me around. And then left me to burn in the hot sun. From there, I was grabbed by Sohni’s enraged sister-in- law, who replaced me - the unbaked clay pot with a baked one that lay hidden behind the bushes.

“The dice was cast. I remember everything so clearly, like it just happened moments ago. Amidst the roar of thunder, Sohni came for me. I tried to tell her that I am was not the pot that she took every night to meet Mahiwal. I warned her that I was unbaked and useless. And that I would crumble in the water, and drown her.

“But she was beyond listening. I can still hear her voice:

‘Scare me not with death, scare me not. Don’t you know, my life is in his hands, my breath is with him. I only see him. There is no other, only him. The storm outside is but a shadow of the storm within me.

‘Mahiwal, O Mahiwal, I wait for thee at the river-bank. Where are you? O, where are you? My eyes long for your sight. Where are you?

‘O Clay Pot, take me across. I must reach him, I must. His love is my pilgrimage. Let me not sin. Help me complete my pilgrimage. Love rages within me. I long for union. Take me across - please take me across!’

“She then plunged into the raging waters of the Chenab. I crumbled and she … O, but she lives on in spirit … Her love was pure. I felt unclean touching her. Her love was unique, so were her ways. Through her I learned that the heat of love is more intense than the heat of fire. Fire burns wood, but love burns hearts. Fire is extinguished by water, but there is no cure for love. Where love lives, everything leaves.”

My eyes mist. My heart melts.

From the corner of my eye, I see the leap of red flames.

I shudder. How can I put it in the burning kiln? And yet, if I don’t, I will lose it.

I whisper, “Will you walk into the fire, for me?”

With bated breath, I wait for its answer.

“Yes! Because, you see me. But know that my fate is not mine to choose. It lies in your hands.”

Gently, I lead it to the kiln and into it. I leave. It’s too painful to watch.

A silent week ensues. I ache and hurt thinking about it. I feel scattered. Rifts deep within me surface. What is existence - if it exists? What is annihilation? This momentary bond seems incomplete. Agonizing emptiness engulfs me. I question:

My journey. My destination. My dreams. My thoughts. My joys. My regrets. Endless questions. No answers.

I return to the studio. From a distance, I see it.

It’s radiating … or are my eyes playing tricks?

I stand before it. “You’re beautiful.”

“I’m flawed. Don’t you see my imperfections? Your world will belittle you.”

“Ah!“ I say, “You’re flawed and I am a fraud … It’s a perfect match. Let the world say what it will. I want to be with you.”



Inni Kaur is the author of ‘Journey with the Gurus’ series; ‘Sakhi-Time with Nani ji’; and ‘Thank You, Vahiguru.’ She serves as the Chair of the Board of Directors of The Sikh Research Institute.

April 22, 2016

 

Conversation about this article

1: Sangat Singh (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia), April 23, 2016, 6:43 PM.

Here is an addendum to the excellent piece by Inni, but on a different score. During Guru Har Rai Sahib's times, Sikhs were encouraged to clear their doubts such as how does repeating Waheguru at all times help. Guru Sahib didn't answer straightaway. Next morning he asked the Sikh to accompany him when he went for his morning walk. There was a ruined and abandoned house with a broken claypot. Guru Sahib pointed out the broken pieces to the Sikh. On their return, the Sun had come out and the same claypot pieces had now become oily. This was the claypot in which the lady of the house had once stored freshly churned ghee. Years later the ghee in every pore of the claypot was still showing. So, said Guru Sahib, repeating Waheguru was like that: "patit paavan har birad sadaa-ay ik til nahee bahannai ghaalay " [GGS:784.13] - 'It is Waheguru's natural way to purify sinners. He does not overlook even an iota of service.'

2: Ajit Singh Batra (Pennsville, New Jersey, USA), April 24, 2016, 3:29 PM.

A potter kneads his/her clay and moulds it into a lifeless pot. But the Great Potter creates and develops a living consciousness in millions of beings so that they can communicate with Him through their conscience. Humans through their conscience never forget the "kissa"(story) of Sohni-Mahiwal to relate to their descendants.

3: Purnima (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia), April 26, 2016, 8:15 PM.

Poetically phrased ... lovely piece. It also makes you think!

4: Dr K N Singh (Johor Baru, Malaysia), April 28, 2016, 6:51 PM.

Amazing thinking that as a humble lump of clay has the baptism of fire to be useful, so needs the Khalsa to go through life. If we hold on to the full discipline of the faith, and live in the spirit and chardi kalaa of the Khalsa, we will be blessed wherever we are in the world. Canada is a great example.

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