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maybe even better than yours, eh Krishna? But is that a reason to spend my entire life at it?
Besides, you know the people lost interest. Don't you remember how concerned I was, how worried that I was losing my craft? How we used to sit, you and I, and try to think of ways to make better pottery! You commended my work and I yours, but no one bought it. What contortions we went through trying to figure out why they'd lost interest! But do you know why, Krishna? They actually preferred the imported pottery. It held things just as well and lasted longer. They would have bought it even if it hadn't been so much cheaper than ours.
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I had to earn my living and earn it hard by going among the poorest and filthiest natives. Some places I went they'd never seen canned food! Would you believe it--whenever I sold a bowl or a pot, they thought I'd made it myself, by hand--they couldn't believe there were thousands more where it came from, and when I tried to tell them they became suspicious and thought I was some kind of devil. Once you got going it was pretty easy; scratch the surface and you found a market there all right. But it sure wasn't anything like what I expected. Wherever you went, ignorance and superstition. |
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What did they know or care how much of ourselves we put into each jar, each bowl?
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NATHURAM
But you knew, Harilal? And Moksa knew?
