It matters not what someone is born, but what they turn out to be.
~J.K Rowling (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire)


You must have already jumped to the conclusion that this particular post must be somewhat of a philosophical nature after reading the quote above.
Yes it is x)

I’m a Potterhead :’)
I’m proud to admit it, and like all Potterheads, I analyse every shred of text, every fact, every single theory from the Potterverse, dig deep into it and correlate it with our daily lives.


As I came across the aforementioned quote in the book, my mind suddenly came up with a new perspective on Life.
Okay. Admit it. We all, at some point in our lives, have grappled with the amazingly simple-looking yet utterly mind-boggling question of
Who am I?!

Well, I’m not going to offer a philosophy for THAT question xP
That’s just a teensy bit too much on my Philosophy-making abilities xP
However I’m going to try and offer answers, or better a new perspective, for two other related questions;

1) What makes us who we are?
2) Why is it so difficult to change our personality, habits and behaviour as we progressively grow up?
(You know when all our pattis and aunties and even our parents say its difficult to change a particular irritating habit? Or when they say that they can’t learn anything new? Like, just WHY? )

So here comes my perspective.

Early Morning

At the Inception, we are all just a lump of Clay.
Easily Changed.
Easily Mouldable.
Easily Influenceable.

Our Parents are the first potters.
Toiling away, they work immensely hard to pour in a constant stream of Love, Care and Adoration to shelter us; protect us and nurture us.
They take in more soil from the ground, add it into us and build us according to their image.
At the same time, they shape the way we think about the world.

The initial years are the most crucial; as they will determine on what kind of a pot we will turn out to be.
That shape will be our Inner Core.
Our Primal identity.

As we grow up, more potters join the Cause.
And the wondrous thing about this is that the new potters are not potters at all! They are also pots-under-construction! They jostle with us, play with us and merge with us. Some dent us but most shape us into something better; in the process, changing themselves!
They are our Friends :’)
They become an inseparable part of our identity :’)
Separate you may, but the initial dents those friends make in you, will stay with you Forever :’)

And then comes the Midday.
The most crucial part of our building being over, we head out into the world, travelling to new places and braving the harsh conditions.
The harsh Sun, the life-numbing Cold, the relentless Rain all harden us, forging us into a hard, unceasing shape.
Some pots get broken along the way.
Most pots modify themselves, to better adapt to the surroundings.
We brave the harsh, new world with the skills that were ingrained in us when we were fledglings.

However, it becomes extremely tough to imbibe new qualities within us.
We, who have already been hard-wired for survival from our formative years find it extremely difficult to modify our personality, our habits and to learn new things.

We’ve become a Pot.
We stay a Pot.

We, the Pot, grow up.
We acquire blemishes.
We acquire cracks.
We get chipped.
And we call it Experience.


As we grow up, we slowly make a tender spot within us. The relentless weathering by the forces of nature has made a depression within us. And slowly,
we find another Pot to fit that tender spot :’)
They merge with us.
We call it soul-mates.
We call it Marriage.
And Two becomes One.

And the cycle starts all over again :’)


However even Pots have to break one day right?
There comes a time, where we, the chipped pots filled with cracks and blemishes slowly disintegrate.
A time when we look back upon our meandering life, filled with Happiness… or Regret.
However slowly a sense of contentment oozes into us and we pass into the Other.
Disintegrated, we become specks.
However we don’t entirely fade away!
The legacy we’ve created, still survives as specks in the soil.
To be imbibed in the new generation,
Who start as Lumps of clay :’)


5 thoughts on “A Pot.

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