Autobiography Of A Pen

Life goes by so fast. It seems only yesterday when I was manufactured. But Alas! That was 38years ago. That’s a pretty long time for a pen. I was recently given the honourable title of- ‘The Oldest Pen of the Community’ by the ‘Ink Society’; it’s sort of like an association of pens. But anyways I don’t think I feel any bit honoured or happy about the fact. It just seems as if someone some has hanged a placard around my neck saying, “Hey, this pen is old and helpless!” The young generation calls me old fashioned, and perhaps I am. The newer pens come with such beautiful designs they also have that enhanced technology ink system at least that’s what the box says. Sadly, I come from a time where designs were basic and simple. Maybe that’s why master doesn’t use me anymore. But there was a time where I most advanced and popular pen. How fantastic where those days! Ah, those golden days. Sweet Memories!

It was a cold winter night of 1977, the day I was manufactured. It’s a blurry memory. All I can remember are some moving floors carrying me around a building there were also some huge mechanical arms that put a cap on my head for the first time. Later, I was put into dark box; I stayed there for almost 5 days pretty scary if you ask me, not seeing the daylight for so long. Once I was freed from the box I found myself in a place which humans called a ‘shop’. There I made some pals all of whom were just as old as me, which was around a week. After another week’s time it was time for me to part from my friends. At first I didn’t know why I was being taken away but later I came to know that I had been bought. I became the possession of my first master, Mr. Kishan.

Mr. Kishan was a great caretaker. He made sure not a single scratch could spoil my beauty. He was a writer; so naturally; he kept me along all the time. I was his most favourite pen. This made his other pens jealous of me but I didn’t care. I was treated as a jewel and I enjoyed my best time under his possession. 10 years passed and I stayed with Mr. Kishan until he decided to give me as a gift to his son, Mr. Rajesh my second master.

Mr. Rajesh was 15 years old when he first got me. He wasn’t the most caring person. He often misplaced me and sometimes I was lost for days. I was not used to such treatment and I felt a little sad sometimes but I quickly got used to it. There was this little incident when Mr. Rajesh left me in his desk of his school. I was horrified as I was in the territory of the ‘Annihilator’ .The humans called him by the name of Kishor. He was known for stealing innocent pens and doing terrible things to them but no one knows what he does because no pen has ever survived under him. Time passed by and I lay on the desk, helplessly. To my horror I could see the annihilator advancing towards me with greedy eyes. He grabbed me and stuffed me in his pocket. I thought that was my end. He put me in his box along with his other pens which were highly tampered with. But not in the way I had expected. They had bunny rabbits sketched all over them and had multi coloured polka dots painted everywhere. They were the friendliest pens I had ever seen. I chatted with them and they said that Kishor stole pens and modified them the way he liked them. He didn’t want others to know of what he does to the pens so he never showed them to anyone, so the other pens thought them dead. After 2 hours my master found me he took me away with him. After that day my master took better care of me. I saw my master growing up I witnessed his transition from a boy to a man. Soon he became emotionally attached to me and kept me for the next 25 years and then gifted me to his son, my third master, Aditya.

I have had my most recent memories with master Aditya. Once he possessed me, he shut me in a case. Now I only get to spend a little time outside darkness these days. Master Aditya has no respect for me. He doesn’t care. He never even looks at me. I feel so helpless and useless. The others call me old fashioned and that’s the truth but I can’t change it.

Oh wait here he comes, Master Aditya is coming and he has a friend along with him too. “Don’t touch that pen” master says, just as his friend was about to grab me. “Why not?” he asks. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to it. It is very close to me you know.” I was startled by master’s reply. Does he really care about me? “It has been in my family since a long time, it’s a beautiful pen.” Master continued. So master did care about me all along. And am I really beautiful?

I suddenly feel good for being the oldest pen; it does not make me old fashioned, but it makes me the most special pen there is. That’s the lesson I’ve learned here. Always be confident about yourselves, never let the hopes die. I’ve lived for 38 years and there is more to come.