The Broken Plate

Day before yesterday just half past eight my mom was arranging the plates for the dinner. She takes three CERAMIC plates together from the stand and walks to the dinner table. And suddenly slips one of the plates from her hands and crashes straight on to the floor and there comes the loud noise of the plate shattering into pieces and the whole house is in a 'pause mode' for two seconds after the disaster. The usual response to the event of 'plate breaking' would be to assemble at the crash site and examine the site for few seconds and start yelling at each other for the broken plate. Mom will start yelling because she is in a 'regret mode' and feels sad as there is one plate less for the dinner and most importantly she has to clean the mess and that is one more extra thing to do in her already long list of household work. And other house members (including me) would start yelling as we have been distracted from 'whatever' we were doing because of this broken plate and also now as a daughter you are expected to help mom clean up the mess. So, in short the broken plate has let to yelling and cleaning and a 'not so happy' dinner.

      But day before yesterday was different. There was no yelling, no shouting at each other for the 'broken plate'. Yes the plate did break, yes the house was indeed in a 'pause mode', yes the whole house did assemble at the crash site but the events that followed this were different. This time there was no frustration over the broken plate. There was peace. I was leaving the house after three days for my job and this is the first time I will be away from the family (I am 21 years old and you can know how long I have been with mom and dad), so I didn't want to shout, I didn't want to yell. I just stood there and looked at the plates as my mom picked up the pieces. I took those plates and no I didn't put it into the dust bin, instead I took it to a safe place. I don't know what that broken 'plate' would serve but I wanted to keep it. Mom also didn't shout because her daughter was leaving and didn't want to take her frustration on me. After the dinner I took the broken plate to my room wondering what can I do with them. Then i got a rough idea of painting something on it. Well, then came the question of what to paint. Well, I took the paint bottle and the brush and then suddenly I got the idea of writing a beautiful message on the plate for my mom and dad, and this would also serve as a surprise for them before I leave the house. So here is what I had done.

This small event gave me an insight into some beautiful philosophies. It struck me how people have made broken synonyms to sadness, gloom and more sadness. First time I realized its not what happens but how you react that matters the most. Its the decision you CHOOSE that is important. I made something beautiful from the broken plate. The broken plate had brought out my message to my parents, it created moments of happiness, joy and gratitude. 

 I didn't blog this incident to show how heroic I am. I blogged this incident to bring out the message ' Anything is not broken until we see it as broken. Everything has a potential, it all depends on how you see it. YOUR PERSPECTIVE.'
                       So that's the story of 'The Broken Plate'.Hope you enjoyed the read and appreciate the message of the blog.