Pottery

Clays have been dug

the first hands are pernickety

 they mold the clay tenderly

these clays are peculiar

they take unusually long to shape 

the clays pass by a lots of hands over time

some would tarry; some a quick touch

some carve out its finesse; some blemish it 

these clays are special

the clays at times choose which hands to go through 

but all these hands in a way or other mold the clay

when all these hands are done and dusted 

after all the clays get their sui generis shapes as wares

after the pottery is completed

all those wares wears down with time 
no matter how winsome or grisly; sturdy or frail

as the curtains fall

all of them return to the same dust they came from.

What I wished to talk about here is something very simple, the clay being us and the mentioned hands being people and events we encounter in our lifetime. All of us look at how much we have changed as a person over the years but there's something underlying, which is quite obvious but we don't think about it or tend to overlook it. It is how each and every trivial and minute thing or person we experience in our life, forge together the person we are today. You could be a completely different person if you grew up in an apartment fifty meters from your current residence or if you had a different name and ended up in a different class in the same school and had a different roll number and friends. All these trivial details could completely turn around the person you are today. We always think about all the drastic event/s in our life but overlook the trivial events that brought us to that point.

 After all, a pinch of salt could decide what an entire dish tastes like.