Autobiography of an old Umbrella

Autobiography of an old Umbrella 

        It was ten years ago that the light of the day in a big factory. I was completely new and very attractive then. Oh, how healthy and strong and smart I was! Indeed, the days of our youth are the days of our glory. My awning, rod, spokes, ribs, and handle were all fine and first-class. I was really top-notch, a piece anyone would be proud of possessing. 

        The factory packed me off to a big retail shop along with man others of my kind. The monsoon was about to set in. A businessman walked into the shop one cloud morning. He was happy to buy me two hundred rupees. I wasn't at all cheap. I was an aristocratic umbrella. Well, the businessman proudly slung me over his arm and carried me home. He liked me and used me with utmost care. But he sometimes took me away with him without the knowledge of his father and treated me very roughly. He often kept on opening and shutting me shutting for no conceivable reason. Once he fought with another boy using me as a tool. I got frightfully ripped during the combat. Later, I was patched up and had the soothing satisfaction of seeing the merchant administering a sound drubbing to the boy.

        Two years rolled away. Then the rich man gave me to one of his assistants. This new master of mine often thrashed his wife with me as his weapon. How could such a heartless fellow have any soft feelings for me? Mercifully, one day, while he was away. his disgusted wife sold me to a second-hand dealer for a paltry sum of seven rupees. 

        A college peon later bought me for thirteen rupees. This gentleman did not respect my identity as an umbrella but put me to any use he liked. He sometimes tied a broom to me and used me as a handle of the broom to clean the walls and ceiling. Once. when it was raining heavily, he gave me to a college professor who did not have an umbrella with him. The professor who did not have an umbrella with him. The professor forgot me in a hair-dressing salon. I was not claimed by anybody for a whole month, the hair-dresser took me home and gave me to his school-going son, who is my present master.

        Years have rolled by, and now I look frightfully ugly. I have a few patches on me. Three of my ribs have been replaced. Yet I dare say I am still stronger and much more serviceable than any of the new umbrellas of today. I hope to serve m little master till he completes his high school education.