It had rained all day. The gushing symphony of the river water was on the rise. The cold night breeze made us shiver in the summer. And ergo, sitting by the fire place in the kitchen, was comforting. On the shelf, there were pots which the women use to carry water. These pots had several dents all over juxtaposed in sync making it look like an art piece.
Driven by curiosity, I had to dig deep. Turns out, these dents were the relics of the days when they had, on several occasion, slipped or fallen while fetching water from the spring chamber. At times, the children had to carry the pots, and they fell too. Mostly the dents surfaced during the monsoon. Accidental art, showcasing hardships. Sigh.
Driven by curiosity, I had to dig deep. Turns out, these dents were the relics of the days when they had, on several occasion, slipped or fallen while fetching water from the spring chamber. At times, the children had to carry the pots, and they fell too. Mostly the dents surfaced during the monsoon. Accidental art, showcasing hardships. Sigh.
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