An autobiography of a pen
Myself a pen. My name is Parker. I was born in a factory. When I was in shop named Stencils, a boy came and bought me at Rs 175. His name was Herbert .He always cared me a lot. He used me and refilled me every month. I was happy that I got such a good owner. He was not allowing any one to touch me .He always kept me with him , never left me alone.He used to introduce me to others as his Luckiest pen . I was proud of my master.
His tiny age was very innocent . I used to like his sweet and mild touch . Once there was a handwriting competition . Herbert and both were very curious to know the results .After one week of the competition , result of handwriting competition was declared . Herbert got first prize. Our joys had no bound ! Even today also , when I remember that day , it give me a great delight .
I remember how he was giving credit of his win to me. It was his last paper , he wrote his paper very nicely . Suddenly , I experienced myself on the ground .Once a boy in his school had stolen me, and while playing he lost me on the ground. A farmer saw me and picked me. One man from city saw me and told the farmer that he would give him Rs. 20, and he took me away to a shop and sold me at 160 Rs and he made a profit of 140 Rs. I felt very bad for myself. Then I was again to a shop. And waiting for a good owner. After a long wait of 7 hours , a boy came and purchased me.
This new owner was no one but Herbert , my old owner .After seeing me his eyes flooded with tears , he kissed me many times . I thanked to God . Our happy life started once again .
written by Aman Jha