The Pot Maker – Temsula Ao

1 From the time Sentila was old enough to follow her mother to the fields and forests, a single dream took root in her heart: to become a pot maker like her mother and grandmother before her. Her mother Arenla, however, had other plans. She wanted Sentila to take up weaving instead. Whenever her parents were away at the fields, Sentila quietly slipped off to watch the village potters at work, drawn irresistibly to the craft. Imagery The seasoned potters were at first amused by the girl's stubborn fascination; they assumed she would simply grow out of this childish phase soon enough.

2 Sentila kept her fascination a guarded secret at home. One night, she had overheard her mother telling her father that pot making had given her nothing but a pittance for back-breaking toil. Arenla described trudging sixteen kilometres to the riverbank, climbing down sheer drops, hauling heavy loads of grey and red clay, and pounding the stubborn clay inside bamboo cylinders for hours — only to earn a handful of rupees per batch. Imagery Weaving, Arenla argued, was cleaner, faster, and far more profitable. "And the reward? A few rupees." — the rhetorical question carried the weight of years of exhaustion. Symbolism

3 Despite her mother's words, Sentila continued to visit the potters in secret. She watched, mesmerised, as experienced hands kneaded clay with water, pushed fingers into the softened lump, and guided a spatula Alliteration in a steady, rhythmic tap-tap against the rotating form. She marvelled at how a shapeless lump could transform into a graceful vessel right before her eyes. Metaphor After two or three days of drying and reshaping to achieve an even consistency, the pots would be loaded onto a kiln on a bed of hay and dry bamboo. Tending the fire demanded absolute care — too much heat or too little could ruin an entire batch.

4 Arenla became aware of her daughter's secret visits but chose to pretend she knew nothing. Meanwhile, the village began to talk. Concerned elders worried: if skilled potters refused to pass their craft to the next generation, the tradition would simply die out. Eventually, Sentila's father Mesoba was summoned before the village council. He gave a humble assurance that Arenla had never outright refused — she had only been waiting for Sentila to grow stronger after an illness. The council elders listened carefully, then reminded Mesoba that skills like pot making belonged not to any single individual but to the community as a whole. Symbolism Any expert was duty-bound to pass on their knowledge — to their own children and to any willing learner. Mesoba returned home and quietly shared the council's message with Arenla.

5 The following year, Arenla took Sentila to the riverbank and began to teach her properly — how to dig the clay using a dao, how to soak it in a trough, and how to pound it into a malleable dough. Sentila proved a quick learner at preparing the clay. But when she attempted to shape a lump into an actual pot, her hands simply could not cooperate. Her mother sat watching in silence as Sentila tried again and again. Each time, Arenla would effortlessly transform the same lump into a beautiful pot. This went on for nearly a full year, yet Sentila could not bridge the gap between watching and doing.

6 The next stage of Sentila's life brought an unexpected turning point. Following village custom, she spent time in a girls' dormitory, supervised by a kind middle-aged widow the girls affectionately called Onula, or "Aunty." Onula had heard about the tension in Sentila's home and was quietly resolved to help. One evening, while the other girls went to a musical gathering, Onula noticed Sentila slipping clay and tools from her basket and attempting, in solitude, to make a pot. She watched in silence as Sentila's tense hands produced a misshapen lump. Personification "The clay seemed unable or unwilling to yield the right shape" — as though it sensed the girl's inner conflict.

7 Onula gently approached the discouraged girl and said, "Don't worry, little one — I shall teach you how to make a perfect pot." Symbolism Sentila watched, wide-eyed, as Onula fashioned a flawless pot with practiced ease. With a fresh confidence she had never felt before, Sentila tried again — and this time, a beautiful pot emerged from her hands. But Onula pointed out calmly: "The mouth of the pot is not quite right. Watch your mother carefully next time she shapes the rim." This precise guidance was the final missing piece.

8 At the next pot-making session with her mother, Sentila paid close attention to how Arenla slackened her rhythm when shaping the rim, and how she added an elongated strip of clay to form the mouth. Then came the decisive day. Arenla completed her batch, complained of a headache and backache, and asked Sentila to carry on alone. It was a test disguised as an ailment. Sentila, surprised and a little nervous, began to work. Before long she found a steady rhythm — Simile like a sprinter who suddenly discovers momentum — and made pot after pot with the same speed and dexterity she had admired in her mother. When she finally looked up at her row of finished pots, she had made just one fewer than Arenla's tally.

9 Exhausted and proud, Sentila walked to the house to find her mother — and discovered Arenla lying still on the floor, no longer breathing. She ran for help. The next morning, as Arenla's body was being carried out, Sentila cried out: "Mother, I did not wish it to happen this way. It simply came to me. Please forgive me." Those who heard her were puzzled, except for Onula, who understood instantly. Momentous Symbolism Drawn by curiosity to the work shed, Onula found two rows of freshly made pots — identical in shape, craftsmanship, and quality. She could not tell one batch from the other. It was as if a revelation had taken place in clay and water. She stood for a long time in quiet wonder before walking away. A new pot maker was born.