Autobiography of a Pen – Essay 1
My name is pen and I am item of daily use for everybody and sundry. You can find me in the bags, offices and every imaginable place for the students. It’s too common to be thinking about the pen. I agree that I am too cheap and common to make any difference, but acquaintances.
People of every country use me today. People can write on paper according to their requirements, with my help. If I had not been there, nobody in the world would have read and written, nor would there would be the light of knowledge.
Children who are the future of the country start their studies with me and learn to write only with the help of mine. It gives me a kind of happiness that I am helping to make someone’s future.
Not only kids but also journalists use me to write the news. Journalists write their news by using me, and the same news appears in the newspaper the next day. Because of this news, awareness remains within society, and society gets to know about the changes that are taking place around them. I am pleased that I am working to make society aware of this as well.
Other than these two uses of mine, according to their needs people of all ages use me. Everybody uses me whether they are old or a child. Everyone keeps me in his or her pocket, so I do not get lost here and there.
Every day of your life, you use a pen. You think of me and seek me every time you want to remember something important. I have become an integral part of your everyday life; you carry me everywhere, just in case you need to take note of it.
I see many of my newer brothers thrown out after the source of their lives has run out. But I am one exception. Unlike them, my source of life can be replenished and used again. It is a loop without end. I saw a lot of things in my life, studied the ocean, wrote hundreds of poems and stories, and saw many people walking by. I remember all of them, but I’m still here on this desk, watching.
History of pen
It is a long story. I used to be made of wood in ancient times and dipped myself in tar to write on paper. Yet times have changed, and my most recent form today is a ball pen. The journey from a piece of wood to a ball pen is not as short as you can understand, I had to go through a lot of development for this, and after that, I was able to reach my most existing form today.
Initiation of mine
The first thing I remember was the factory assembly line. People used to bring parts of me together by hand. They put a protective casing around my sensitive cage of ink. People then added an intricately carved nib point, where the ink flowed through. I knew I was placed in a padded case with foam and moved on.
I remember traveling hours in a transport vehicle’s back. I could hear other peoples and nearby surroundings, but I couldn’t speak because I had enough sources of life scarcely to sustain ourselves. The car stopped after hours and hours of traveling, and there was shock all around me. I could hear one by one my brothers were being taken.
Then, it was my opportunity. They put me along with my brothers again after a lot of moving time. After a couple of minutes, we felt elevated. It was only after I heard about moving people that I knew we were on an airplane. We’ve been even less time in the sun. It is easier to fly by air. We were then unloaded and taken to stores.
The shop I got into was enormous. It was well maintained, with rows to sell fancy items. I was placed on my case, in a glass display. I was a different type, a more expensive customized piece. So I mostly watched people take my brother’s home.
They would be interested in me and my design, but they would still be driven away by the price. But since I was genuinely proud of my appearance, it didn’t matter. I felt special. Then came my day. In the shop came a wealthy merchant, who saw me and he had to have me. He brought me home, proud to own me.
Life as a ‘Pen’
Wealthy mechant would initially refuse to use me to document, fearing that he would ruin my intricate carvings and smooth edges. He didn’t know that the longer he waited, the more depleted my life essence became. I grew weaker every day.
I knew everything about records, the everyday things happening all around me, and the world, before long. The merchant never forgot to take me, and never forgot to replenish my source of life.
Throughout my life, I met many of my kind, but nobody stayed for a long time. They had started making cheaper pens, which I would still feel broken after a single-use, seeing those poor souls waiting for their fate, not being able to do anything to save them. Cruel, isn’t it? Since birth to be branded expendable.
Everything I thought I survived even my master, the merchant, his friend, his grandkids, and more. Now I am talking to you, you who inherited me.
My ink is multi-colored. But I’m used more in the blue, black and red inks. A blue ink pen is considered best for writing something while the teacher uses a red ink pen to write, and the title is written by a black ink pen.
Use me wisely, young man, for I have wisdom beyond your understanding. I have presently and experience. I am also sure that I will mold your future, your life ahead of you. I hope you will understand the obligation that you have been granted.
You can shift your future and make the future of this world whether better or worse? That is your preference, as I am obliged to make your offer. However, I hope you will do the world well, just like your ancestors.
Essay on Autobiography of a Pen – Essay 2
You use me every day of your life. Every time you want to remember something important, you think of me and search for me. I’ve become an integral part of your daily life, carrying me around everywhere, just in case you need to take a note.
I see many of my newer brothers tossed out after their life source has run out. But I’m an exception. Unlike them, my life source can be refilled and used again. It’s an endless cycle. I’ve seen a lot in my life, learnt an ocean, written hundreds of poems and stories, and seen a lot of people pass by. I remember them all, but I remain here on this desk, still observing.
The first thing I remember was the assembly line in the factory. People were putting together pieces of me by hand. They put a protective casing around my delicate ink cage. Then they added an intricately carved nib point, through which the ink flowed. Next I knew, I was placed in a foam padded case, and moved along.
I remember hours of travelling in the back of a transport vehicle. I could hear others, but we couldn’t speak because we barely had enough life sources to sustain ourselves. After hours and hours of travelling, the vehicle stopped and there was commotion all around me. I could hear my brothers being taken one by one.
Then it was my chance. After a lot of moving time, they again put me with my brothers. After a few minutes we felt were airborne. It was only after I had learnt about human transportation, which I realised that we were on an aeroplane. We were in the air for far less a time. Apparently air travel is faster. Then we were unloaded and taken to shops.
The shop that I got into was huge. It was well lit and maintained, with rows of fancy products for sale. I was placed in a glass display, on my case. Apparently I was a different type, a customised more expensive piece. So I mostly saw people taking home my brothers
They’d be interested in me, and my design, but the price would always drive them away. But it didn’t matters since I was really proud of my appearance, I felt special. Then my day came. A wealthy merchant came in the shop, saw me and he had to have me. He took me home, proud to own me.
Life being a pen
At first he would refuse to use me to write, fearing he might ruin my intricate carvings and smooth edges. Little did he know that the longer he waited, the more my life essence was getting depleted? I grew weaker day by day.
Then one day he gathered enough courage to dip my inner in Ink, my life source. I felt a surge of life go through me. I was alive finally, the way I was made to be. That day onwards, he used me for everything, writing everything down, just to show me off. I am learning every day.
Before long, I knew everything about Accounts, the daily events occurring all around me, and the world. The merchant never forgot to take me, never forgot to refill my life source.
I met many of my kind throughout my life, but no one stayed for long. Apparently they had started making cheaper pens, which could be thrown after a single use I would always feel broken, seeing those sad souls waiting for their fate, not being able to do anything to save them. Isn’t it cruel? To be labelled as expendable since birth.
I’ve outlived everyone I’ve known. Even my master, the merchant, his son, his grandchildren and further more. Now I’m speaking to you, you, who have inherited me.
Use me wisely, young one, for I have wisdom beyond your comprehension. I have knowledge of the present and the past. I’m even sure I can shape your future, your life that’s ahead of you. I hope you realise the responsibility you’ve been bestowed with.
You can change your future, this world’s future. For the better or worse? That is your decision, since I’m obliged to do your bidding. But I hope that like your ancestors, you’ll do the world well.
Zeel patel says
Amazing, can you please write a cute 🥰 autobiography on one ☝️ rupee coin ??? Please