The Real Pressure

“Silence! Expect the audience to have some civic sense here”, roared Mr Leo from atop.

As if that was not enough, Mr Mammoth trumpeted, raising it’s trunk.

Mr and Mrs Seahorse who were running amok stopped with a break. Facing the gathering they stood motionless after a long while.

Mrs and Mr Tollpot had a sigh of relief as they were visibly upset with the commotion at the gathering.

Mrs Potmother was about to whisper something in the ears of Mrs Momchild, Mr Turbanface cleared his throat.

The “Illuminatingly Perforated”, gang of  famous garden lamp band took to their seats as if playing ‘musical chairs’.

Come midnight and the corner in the “Handmade Wonders Factory”, at Bicholiam, Goa came alive. It was here that every pot and the handicraft item wished to be an audience of Mr Bodhi. Off late the walls of the factory were gossiping about something imminent. Their whispers were beyond the reach of the ones on the floor. No one knew what it was all about but every one had an inkling that it was not something good.

Every night, they gathered with the hope that Mr Bodhi would enlighten them  about the happenings and its consequences in future. But Mr Bodhi was not the one to give away a clue. True to his nature, of being balanced in any situation, the tone of Mr Bodhi’s sermons had never changed. This too was not new to most of them. He was never too excited, never too sad. He just maintained the equilibrium.

Mr Bodhi opened his eyes at the stroke of 12. “Breathren”, he started in his gentle tone. “We all are part of the universe and were for time immemorial. We seemed to have forgotten it. The anxiety that is causing great trouble to you lies in the ignorance. It is this ignorance that is making you restless to peep into future and to find out what lies ahead. Why the population in the factory is on the decline?  Why the kiln is not brewing hot vapours of earthen aroma? Why it had of late gone cold? You have been seeking answers to these questions thus letting go off the opportunity to enjoy the moment in hand. Past is gone and future is yet to unfold. Present is the only moment that you can claim. Do you want to waste it in overthinking? Whatever that has to happen will happen. Prepare yourself to accept it as it unfolds. Nothing in the world is permanent. Not even the change “

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Foot steps were heard in the neighbouring room. Everyone was taken up by surprise. No visitor was expected at this private hour. The door opened with a push. The lights in the room flashed to life. Mr Bodhi closed his eyes. In came the elderly man, his shoulders fallen, his familiar face showing more wrinkles today than his age. With heaviness in each step, he went around the room; sometimes staring at the walls and sometimes at floor. Patting the pots, stroking the artifacts, his eyes went moist. He did not remember the last time he cried nor was he in a frame of mind to reflect upon it. But a faint smile appeared at the thought of names of the moulds, he had christened for crafting these items.

It was today that he had at last signed the papers to sell off his land to the real estate baron. He had failed to ward off the increasing pressure from the real estate lobby onto his dwindling business that operated from this factory at prime locality.

Linking this post to #FridayReflections by Shalini and Corinne

I have tried to use two prompts this time again. First one is the photo prompt and the second one is the prompt “Write about the last time you cried”