The autobiography of a fifty paisa coin

Summary:

The narrative is an introspective autobiography of a fifty paisa coin that was previously quite proud of its design and function. The coin, which was formerly prized for its social importance, is now rejected and degraded since people believe it to be worthless. As the coin passes through several hands, it becomes aware of its declining worth and is eventually thrown into a drain, reflecting on the disparity between its noble origins and its eventual destiny. The story offers a moving lesson about how value and social progress are ephemeral.

The autobiography of a fifty paisa coin:

I am a fifty paisa coin. I vividly remember the days when I was melted in a mint. I was proud of myself. My head used to get high with pride. When I used to think that there was no work in the world that could be done without me, I got out of myself with pride and joy. I was among the thousands and millions of colleagues who after some time spread in the society and became the need of every special and common. Our special security arrangements were made the staff was strictly observed and the irrelavent one could not even dare to come to our place of residence. Finally one day I was brought out of the mint. With full safety measures and great honor, I was looking around me at that time and felt that if there is not my existence there in the society, many works would stop. I am in need of a scholar. I happened to go into the pocket of a gentleman. He took pity on a poor man and tried to place me on his hand, but I realized my worth when the poor man shooked his neck and refused to take me saying; “ What will I do with this worthless coin?” The beggar raised his voice, “There is a question of Rs 1. The gentle man put me in his pocket again. I thought I would be better spent now and spent in a place where I would be worth more than I expected.

Early in the morning, when the son of that man got ready for school, and asked him for one rupee. The man gave me to his son but the son looking at me refused to take and said that what would he do with that fifty paisa coin.

The man scolded his son and said, “Son, I have only fifty paisas coins or one hundred rupees note in my pocket at this time.” Now how can I change in cash a hundred rupee note for your one rupee. Take this fifty paisa coin today, I will give you more money when you come back from school. But believe me at that time I noticed my helplessness and ignorance when that child took me from his father and threw against the wall saying that this is only a useless coin; my body felt pain but I could do nothing. The man stepped forward and picked me up. But the rude child was still gazing at me.

I began to think of myself as the most despicable thing in the world and the incident also happened at that time I thought myself the most despised and humiliated thing in the world, which is not worthy to be taken or given to anyone.

The man then put me in his pocket again. I kept thinking that what would become of me, where the lofty ideas of mint and where this disgrace in society. I started crying bitterly thinking that why did I come to this world? And then under these arrangements and security measures I was moulded as if I was going to be taken at once. One day the man rode on a carriage driven by horse. He had to pay one and a half rupees to the coachman.

Today when he paid the rent along with Rs 1 he handed me also over to the coachman. After that, I went through hundreds and thousands of hands, but it is worth noting that I alone had no value. Yes, I used to be worth something in association with others.

One day I was with a shopkeeper. This shopkeeper was a grocery merchant. He gave sugar to one of his customer who was a child then he gave the balance amount to the child and included me also. The child was such a mischief boy that he was practicing different tricks with his hands and arms while going back to his home. In this activity, his grip loosened a little and I fell. If I had fallen, there was no problem, he would have picked me up, and even if he had not picked me up, a passer-by would have picked me up, but the irony is that I fell into a dirty drain. Now I have been dying in this atmosphere of filth and stench for about five weeks. Where are the desires of life, the hopes of fresh enthusiasm and where is this rudeness and helplessness. This is the moral lesson of my life.