Table of Contents
Autobiography of a pen, retold by a pen …
Myself a pen. My name is Parker. I was born in a factory. When I was in a shop named stencils, a boy came and bought me at Rs 175. His name was Herbert. He always cared for 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 anyone to touch me. He always kept me with him, never left me alone. Furthermore, 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, the result of the handwriting competition was declared. Herbert got first prize. Our joys had no bound! Even today also, when I remember that day, it gives me great delight. I remember how he was giving credit for 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 the 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 God. Our happy life started once again.
Do you want see famous quotes on me (a pen ) :
If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write.
To hold a pen is to be at war.
One book, one pen, one child, and one teacher can change the world
This article is written by a student Aman Jha