autobiography of a rupees
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I am a ten rupee note. Some people think that I am useful and some think I am useless. Some people take care of me and some don’t. Some people collect me and some people spend me.
My story begins from the moment the State Bank of Pakistan took me and printed me as a ten rupee note. I have two pictures of Quaid-i-Azam, one picture can be seen easily but the other can only be seen when you put the note in front of a light source. I have ‘ten’ written in two languages, English and Urdu. They gave me to a man who came to the bank to draw some money. The man was not rich at all, but he was clean.
On the way home he went to a shop and gave me to the shopkeeper and bought a banana. The shopkeeper took me and crumpled me up. My new, crispy good look was gone forever. The shopkeeper was disgusting and touched me with his paan stained fingers. I was so miserable that I just wanted to die, I didn’t have any choice but to live. I felt like crying but I cannot express my feelings or cry.
A crippled man came and started begging so the shopkeeper gave me to the beggar. The man thanked the shopkeeper and kept me in his shalwar pocket. The man was very stinky and his clothes were black because he used to beg near a coalmine. I thought, “What could be worse?” I was smelly, crumpled and splattered with spit and paan.
I am now an old coin and have been in circulation for many, many years. I am worn out now and the lion’s head on my face is very faint. But I still remember my early youth when I was in the government treasury, with my bright companions. I shone brightly then and the lion’s head glittered brightly
My active life began when I was paid out from the counter of a bank, along with other new rupees, to a gentleman who got a cheque encashed. I went off jingling in his pocket, but I was not there for long, as he gave me to a shopkeeper. The shopkeeper looked pleased when he had me in his hand, and said, have not seen a new rupee for some time”, and he banged me against his counter to see if I was genuine. I gave out such a clear ringing note that he picked me up and threw me into a drawer along with a lot of other coins.
I soon found we were in a mixed company. I took no notice of the greasy copper coins, as I knew they were of very low caste; and I was condescending to the small change, knowing that I was twice as valuable as the best of them, the fifty paisa coins, and a hundred times better than the cheeky little paisa. But I found a number of rupees of my own rank, but none so new and bright as I was.
Some of them were jealous of my smart appearance, and made nasty remarks; but one very old rupee was kind to me and gave me good advice. He told me I must respect old rupees and always keep the small change in their place. A rupee is always a rupee, however old and worn, he advised.
Our conversation was interrupted by the opening of the drawer; and I was given out to a young lady, from whose hands I slipped and fell into a gutter. Eventually a very dirty and ragged boy picked me up; and for some time thereafter that I was in very low company, passing between poor people and small shopkeepers in dirty little streets. But at last I got into good society, and most of my time I have been in the pocket and purses of the rich.
I have lived an active life and never rested for long anywhere.