The wind chime that was.

When on airports, we often indulge in impulse purchases for the lack of anything better to do. I once bought a cookies recipe book. The primary motivation was not the recipes, which are now easily available online, but the cookie cutters that were part of the package. I often buy such things that look like useful craft tools, without knowing the exact use they might be put to.

clay-cutters

When I started practicing ceramics, these cutters turned into wind chime tools. Because these are plastic, i had to use oil while cutting shapes for easy release of clay. It took time, but I loved the end result.

wind-chime

I loved the tinkling of these. Even when there was no breeze, I used to gently swirl it to hear its sweet sound. This wind chime graced my house for full two days, until it became prey to my husband’s head banging that was a taaad too much for these to take.

One loud blow followed by a sudden crash. All that was left were these broken pieces on the floor. My husband and I looked at each other in silence.

broken-wind-chime

I was supposed to feel sad for not having the wind chime in our lives anymore, but none of that happened. My husband felt so guilty, that I immediately  had to hug and console him, while he continued to stay in the puppy face mode. I had to convince him that it was not his absentminded walking into the wind-chimes, but the manufacturing defect that resulted in the fall. And it was true. During the making of the chimes, I had attempted to join a critical broken part on the wind chime holder as I was lazy and did not want to make a new one. Well I got paid well for it.  We burst into laughter, collected the pieces and decided to make another one.

I was in process of writing this post when the incident happened. Instantly, from a celebration of my latest work, it turned into an obituary. RIP. Your sweet sound shall be missed, until I create your clone.

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