fine china

I put the water to boil on the stove to make a cup of tea for me… then I picked up a china cup, opened the water tap and swirled the white china with gush of water.( ahiley samma nothing had occurred in my mind, it was just making a cup of tea for me)…then my eyes caught the sight of the same cup I was holding ,only that it was handicapped, without its handle…then thoughts started to swirl into  my head softly. Those neatly shining china were so delicate. I remember how mom had kept her china cup sets away from us when we were little. She had saved her wedding gift from breaking up. Me and my sister used to be so amused by those cups which we rarely got to hold. She had kept those babies safely so that they wouldnot break, in this process she hardly used them.

So, now let me narrate what really was playing in my head and what might actually make some sense. One year of fellowship I spent whinning “I know and am aware I can do amazing things, I have so many ideas in my head but why “oh sweet why” am I not being able to do any of those things.” What came to my mind was, I was keeping those ideas to me safely in a cupboard just like those fragile china worrying and getting scared if it might break apart (more like scared of failures).

What I was missing was the delight of drinking in that fine cup made of those finest clay with white glowing glaze, decorated with beautiful  strokes of brushes in fear of breaking it.

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