Biopic Of A Pen

I am a small pen. Probably used to write things that you people want. I have no personal power. Totally powerles. But I can enpower anything if I am used to write proper things on a proper way. I can build a nation, a family, a relationship as well as I can destroy them too. These things can only be happened... not by me but by the person holding me in his/her hand. But today I am not here to tell you people what you do with a pen, I'm here to tell you my story. My own biopic. Shall we start?

My origin story is from the day when people started drawing on mud. I was improved and now I am here with you people. I have written many stories. The person who holds me in his/her hand I write down their sad stories, happy stories, answers of questions in the examination halls, certified things. Doctor, Barrister, Clerk, Engineer, Teacher etc. I have worked for each and every profession.

I was born in a factory where other siblings of mine were also opened their eyes. I remember when they poured ink in me. I understood my purpose of birth. It's like fuel in the tank. I knew that one day this ink will end and my journey of life will end.

I'm getting emotional... Oh, dear. Well, I was in a showcase of a beautiful and well decorated shop. My house was built  with red plastic and a beautiful box completed my house. Don't get fooled. In your word, it’s a pen box. I stayed there for a long time. I have seen my other siblings (other pens) chosen by different types of people and bought back to their home. But I had to wait untill one day a girl chose me to be with her. She chose me from my other siblings. I was nervous and looking at her. But her calm eyes made me feel easy. She bought a beautiful diary too. After that both of us were wrapped with a paper and I felt that she was carrying us to her home. I had no idea how long I was in her bag. But when she unwrapped the packet, it was night.

She looked at me and smiled. She started writing on the new diary. The fragrance of the diary was amazing. She wrote her personal feelings on that diary. I was doing my job. I was so careful while inking out but soon I realised that there was nothing to worry about. She didn’t stop and wrote more about her, about her parents, about her life. I was feeling amazed while going through her story. I laughed when she wrote about getting punished by school teacher. I smiled when she wrote how much she cared about her flower garden. But I feel upset when I got the information of her father's death. May his soul rest in peace. I felt the emotion. I realised her deep fellings. Now I understand why I am so special. I can't stop anymore. I have to write more & more.

Stay blessed dears. Uncompleted story of mine.

©Arn.49

Pic credit: pexels.com