Today morning, while SS and I were in the canteen, sipping chai, it started raining. Horrible rain that was destroying umbrellas and making doors and windows angry. And then, the flowerpot fell over. The outside of our canteen happens to be lined with a dozen or so flowerpot. This one was the prettiest. I watched it for a while. It lay there on the ground, while the other standing flowerpots looked at it. The more I looked at it, the more sorry I felt for it. It was all alone, getting cold and wet, its leaves and flowers crumpling and dying by the second. I decided the flowerpot was more important than my paranoia of getting wet. I rolled up my jeans, caught one of my favourite people (who also happened to have a very large umbrella) and marched out to rescue the flowerpot.
At some point of time, we are all fallen flowerpots. We all get hit by an unexpected gush of wind and rain, and we topple over and we lie there, waiting for someone to set us straight again. The difference is, a lot of time, no-one comes. And then, you have no choice but to set yourself straight. The best part is, when you do it yourself, you rarely ever topple over again. Somehow the strength that comes from setting yourself straight, stays for life. And even if you wobble from time to time, and get a little shaky at the bottom, you will never truly topple.
We arent flowerpots. I’d like to believe I’m a daisy, and my mother would like to believe she’s a fairy, but I know I’m a person. I doubt my mother knows that she is, but thats why she’s adorablecrazy. People know they can set themselves straight. The strength is there. We don’t know we have it until we topple, but its there. We like waiting for people to come and set us straight, because its so much easier that way. But then, the toppling becomes more and more frequent, and we start getting dependent on people picking us up. When we just exert that little flowerpower (sorry, I had to use that pun) all us fallen flowerpots can get up on our own. And we’re stronger, and smarter, and we even start giving birth to prettier flowers.
To flowers, to rain, to the fallen flowerpot.
To a PERSON, who knows who she is. And who knows that unlike the flowerpot, she can get up on her own.