Autobiography of a postcard within 200 words
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Answer:
I was a beautiful bamboo shoot in my previous life. My life was cut short and I was sent to a paper mill where I was made into pulp. The various turns in the machinery gave me a new shape and colour and pushed me out lifeless, as a thick card with cream colour. The bundles with no life were sent to the’ printing press where a new life is given.
One fine day, the bundle was taken out and the words ‘Post Card’, ‘Address only’ along with the Government emblem and cost 25 paise. were printed on the face of the card. Then they were separated by suitably cutting them. Each one of them got a life and a value. I thus got my new life as a postcard and my value was 25 paise. We were 20 cards in a bundle and were despatched to various parts of the country. It fell to my lot to be sent to the General Post Office, Hyderabad. Days passed as we were kept in a stock room with no knowledge of our future.
One fine morning we were taken out for sale. Four of us went to the hands of a young handsome man who from then onwards became our boss. He was a Junior Officer in a firm, living alone in a small house in the posh locality of Banjara Hills known for its scenic beauty and wealthy residents. My new master had a good lot of friends and mostly he was talking to them over phone with no need to use us. Then came his birthday coupled with his promotion. It was an occasion of joy and happiness. He started making use of us as telephones went out of order due to heavy rains.
Answer:
I was a beautiful bamboo shoot in my previous life. My life was cut short and I was sent to a paper mill where I was made into pulp. The various turns in the machinery gave me a new shape and colour and pushed me out lifeless, as a thick card with cream colour. The bundles with no life were sent to the’ printing press where a new life is given.
One fine day, the bundle was taken out and the words ‘Post Card’, ‘Address only’ along with the Government emblem and cost 25 paise. were printed on the face of the card. Then they were separated by suitably cutting them. Each one of them got a life and a value. I thus got my new life as a postcard and my value was 25 paise. We were 20 cards in a bundle and were despatched to various parts of the country. It fell to my lot to be sent to the General Post Office, Hyderabad. Days passed as we were kept in a stock room with no knowledge of our future.
One fine morning we were taken out for sale. Four of us went to the hands of a young handsome man who from then onwards became our boss. He was a Junior Officer in a firm, living alone in a small house in the posh locality of Banjara Hills known for its scenic beauty and wealthy residents. My new master had a good lot of friends and mostly he was talking to them over phone with no need to use us. Then came his birthday coupled with his promotion. It was an occasion of joy and happiness. He started making use of us as telephones went out of order due to heavy rains.
Explanation: