Autobiography of a pen essay typer

Through relatable anecdotes, children will discover the joys of writing, drawing, and self-expression with this faithful writing instrument. This gripping autobiography presents a unique perspective on the world, as seen through the eyes of this silent observer. Explore the bond formed between the pen and its users, the emotions conveyed through its ink, and the impact it leaves on every stroke of the written word.

Autobiography of a pen essay typer: This document is an autobiography from

We were then unloaded into a truck again and finally reached our destination after around 10 hours. We were ordered by a shop owner in the city of Mumbai. My friends and I were kept in a glass cupboard. Customers were never allowed to touch us without the assistance of the shop owner. I often wondered why we fountain ink pens got so much attention and special treatment.

People would come to the shop and buy other pens. Some would come and look at us but never take us home with them. I thought that maybe there was some major problem with me. Maybe I was not stylish looking after all. Feelings of self-pity and dejection started taking over my friends and me. Yes, I agree that, a common thing like a pen need not think much of itself as, it is too common to be thought about.

Yes, I agree that a pen is too cheap and common a thing to get any importance but friends, I am a thing apart, I am the pen, which is used and handled by none other than our Indian Prime Minister, Shri Atal Behari Vajpayeeji. Does that not give me an identity and an importance equal to none other of my clan? I look just like any other pens, just as all men look alike but, the Prime Minister is a class apart.

Autobiography of a pen essay typer: I am a fountain

In the same way, all pens look alike but, I am a class apart. I remember the earlier days of my life which were spent like all others on a counter of a stationery shop, I think that shop is one of the oldest and one of the biggest, called by the name of Galgotia, which is situated at Connaught Place. I remember I lay there in a showcase with a number of others of my family.

Every day the shop would open, the salesman would set the counter in order and I would be displayed on the counter with several of my friends. This happened day after day for, I wonder how long, may be months, or, may be even a year I just do not know. Every day, several pens and other stationery goods would be sold out and my few colleagues and I remained dumb and disappointed.

How we all started feeling dejected and did start wondering Why people never showed any interest in any of us. This thought troubled us though it was a mystery also as to what was wrong with us, why did we fail to attract attention? It so happened that, that day, a very beautiful young girl came to our counter and expressed her desire to buy one of us.

At once, her mother shrugged her shoulders and told the girl that, this brand of pens were expensive, and asked the child to choose another pen from the adjoining counter. I need to be filled again after a month.

Autobiography of a pen essay typer: This is my autobiography, an

I hope you will enjoy my story. My name is Baker. I was born many years ago in a pen making factory. My colour is red and golden.