My Life As A Newspaper | Bookosmia
Cook-a-doodle doo, Cook-a-doodle doo. What a cool and breezy morning in the city of Pune! I am set to do my work today covering north-east-west and south. I was blank and just now some sticky black and white notes are there in my body. I must travel a lot today.
Ravi, the newspaper boy from 2nd avenue, Kalyani Nagar, came first to pick me up as usual. He put me into the cycle basket and we set off.
Going on the cycle was amusing. The smell of the earth, the pink flowers neatly spread under the Gulmohar trees across the road and the sound of music played on Ravi’s phone; it was more of a fun-filled adventure. There were many ups and downs and I had a fear that I would fall. But I did not. Still, I got hurt because…Ravi threw me on the veranda of a big house.
I was in the veranda near some flower pots made of glass for quite a long time. I thought ‘Wow, these people are helping the country. They are using glass pots instead of plastic. Maybe the people in the house are not yet awake.’
Then, an old man, with spectacles, came and picked me up. He was very old and was not able to walk steadily. I went inside the house and was lying on the table for some time.
A tall and lean man came, picked me up and started to read. From local to the national, cinema to the comic, sports, stock market and astrology; every part of my body was covered.
Everyone took turns to read me. Then a small baby girl came, took me in her hands and tore and squashed me. I got spoiled a little.
A lady, who was in the kitchen, called out her son to get some vegetables from the market. The boy rushed to the storeroom to get a plastic bag to put the vegetables in. The mother got a bit angry and asked, ‘Nitin, why are you taking a plastic bag with you?’
‘To carry the vegetables back, ma.’
‘How many times do I remind you not to take plastic bags with you?’
‘Sorry, ma. I forgot about it.’
‘Here, take this cloth bag with you.’
‘And, from where did you get this plastic bag? I kept it in a box, right?’
‘Yes. What will happen if I use it?’
‘You might have read in school that plastic is non-biodegradable; it cannot be broken down by natural organisms. This stays in the soil without decomposing and causes pollution. Therefore, we should stop using plastic.’
‘Then, why are you storing it in a box?’
‘There is a company which collects our plastic waste and converts it into eco-friendly fossil fuel. This is useful for poor people who cannot afford to get kerosene for cooking.’
‘Wow, ma! That is a wonderful way to convert plastic into fossil fuel!’
I was amazed to hear that they converted plastics into fossil fuels. Even the bold lines over me read “Energy from waste- The Indian Perspective”
After a few days of staying in the house, I was trans
ported to a new place where I saw some of my old friends. We were kept there for a few days. We all sang songs, played, danced and enjoyed ourselves. One day we all went to a recycling plant where I got washed and dried. I saw myself in the mirror; I was looking very shiny. But something was missing. Oh no, I was not a newspaper anymore. This time I was a bright new shiny tissue paper. Time to start a new adventure.
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