5. Rakka, The Potter

The quality of mercy is not strained It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath; it is twice blest. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes; 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest, It is an attribute of God Himself                            -- Shakespeare There was once a potter by name Rakka in Pandaripur (Pandharpur). His wife was called Pakka. Both Rakka and Pakka were god-fearing people. They worked hard, made pots and lived by selling them.     This was how Rakka made his pots. He took the clay and removed from it all the stones and pebbles. With this pure clay he made earthen vessels of many shapes. These were slowly allowed to dry and then arranged in a big pile. Then the potter built a fire round the pile of pots and baked them. The dull clay colour disappeared and all the vessels had a rich red colour. After two or three days they were allowed to cool down slowly. Then they were removed and sold out. This was the way he carried on his business.     On one occasion, Rakka made many clay pots, arranged them in a circular pile and let them dry for more days than usual. In one of those pots, a cat gave birth to three kittens and was bringing them up. Rakka did not notice this. When the cat was away he set fire to the pile. The fire enveloped the pile on all sides and blazed up. The mother came and looked round for her kittens. Not finding them, she at once knew that the vessel in which she had left her kittens was in the burning pile.     Poor mother! Her grief was great beyond words. She ran round and round the fire as it was burning fiercely. Rakka saw the cat most pitifully running round the pile.     At first he could not understand why the cat was so worried and what made her run so. Suddenly he understood the meaning of the cat's sorrow.     'Ah ! he said, 'now I know why the poor cat is mewing so pitifully. Yes, her kittens must have been left in one of the pots now in the fire. That is why she is crying so sadly. But what can l do now? I have sinned. It is all my fault. What a sinner am I to have thus placed the tender children of this poor cat in the fire!'  So saying he lay on the ground cursing himself and shedding tears for his mistake.     Pakka, the wife of the potter, saw what a cruel deed had been done and she too began to weep along with her husband. The two lay there not tasting a morsel of food or even drinking a drop of water. Rakka and his wife prayed to God to keep the kittens safe and thus save them from the sin of having put the poor creatures in the fire. The mother cat too did not leave the place.     Two days thus passed and the fire was still burning. On the third day at dawn the fire cooled down. The burnt vessels were removed from the pile. All of them were well burnt except one. That pot remained cool and unburned as it was before the fire began to burn round it. Rakka and Pakka eagerly looked into it. What did their eyes behold! To their great wonder and joy, there were the three kittens which began to answer the mewing of their mother.     Out ran the three happy kittens to their beloved and happy mother. The kittens were safe! The mother's joy was a sight to behold! It was only after seeing the kittens alive that Rakka and Pakka tasted food.     The pain of mind which Rakka and Pakka had to endure before they found that God had answered their humble prayers was great.     From that day Rakka gave up making pots. For he was afraid that he might again make some great mistake. He and his wife passed the rest of their days praising the kindness and love of God. ****  **** Additional Information of Interest Click here to find out more about the modern-day city of Pandharpur.