Essay on Autobiography of Waste Paper Basket

People call me waste paper basket though I help them in keeping the house clean. When I came into your house, I found tit-bits and papers and wrappers strewed about. I render useful services in offices, homes and public places. “Perhaps, my story will fascinate you.” it said to me. I said, Aye.

It began by telling some thing about its class. We are made of various materials – cane, plastic and tin. We vary in size and outlooks. We are modern necessity. People of refined tastes can not do without us. We have humble beginnings but great values for the purchaser. As you see, I am made of tin. They prefer me as we render longer and willing services to our masters. I hope you appreciate it. I nodded my head.

I was born in an humble tin shop at Liaquatabad. After shaping me, my master painted me black; you see my black coat. It savès me from rusting and early decay. The maker, supplied me along with some of my brothers, smaller and bigger, to Welcome Utensils shop at Paposh. We were shut up in a dark room called godown. It was like a jail for me. After two months’ imprisonment, I found myself among large number of plastic goods, almunium wares and china ware. It was the best period of my life. [the_ad id=”17141″]

One day your mother visited the shop; did big shopping. The shop keeper reminded, “Begum Sahib, you have forgotten to buy a waste paper basket.’ She pulled me out from the lot and put some crockery pieces into my lap. Thus began may practical role. I was emptied and the maid deposited me in the room of your parents. I am glad, they have always treated me well. I hold all the rubbish and pealings and left over. I teach manners to the kiddies, your younger brother and sister. I have proved myself all services helpmaid.

Your servant is a great speaker. Instead of cleaning and bathing twice a week, he leaves me overstuffed for days. It is very cruel of the man to treat meek creatures like us badly. Some times I am kicked and rolled by the kiddies. I am pleased to supply them with some fun. It also keeps me away from holding the rubbish. I have been serving your people for last five years. I have lost my appeal for I am disfigured and ugly now.

One day the maid deposited some waste matter in my bowel. The waste also contained the golden diamond ring of your mother. I was emptied, but the ring got stuck in a shallow of my bottom. After frantic search, Begum Sahiba sought my services, I readily surrendered the ring after thumbing my bottom. Inspite of my faithful services, children spit and vomit on me. I keep silent for service is my aim. But humans as I have found, are very thankless to their best servants. I thanked the basket for pointing out the weakness.

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