I was once so proud of being a creation of creation. I liked my fair color, which made me more precious than the rough and coffee-colored ones.
I was proud of it, until one day, when someone of a colorful caste came to reside just beside my little cardboard home, where I lived.
I was synthesized in 50 parts which gave me the ability to rejuvenate 50 times, but my ego would get hurt, when the colorful neighbor became popular amongst the young little children. The colorful neighbor was synthesised in just 10 parts and I was again proud of my long lasting quality.
One day, a specie whose forefathers created my forefathers, came to adopt me. I was taken to a new home. I was extremely happy. He was a young teenage human, who adopted me. I had heard of humans being very rude with us, but I felt that was not the case with every human.
I was happy in my new home, where I, along with my cardboard house, was kept in a wooden cupboard. The boy used my parts, one by one and after using me, he would transfer me to a different home. The home was of a girl. A human girl. Perhaps he loved her. Slowly as I was getting used up, the boy was growing old, and so was the girl.
One day, I don't know what happened, but the girl started to share the boy's house. Later I came to know, they were married. But the boy who was no longer a teen, didn't stop using me. He would give it to the girl, who was now a woman, who would hang me up on the wall, or keep me in a showcase. I was happy to see that the woman brought my older parts along with her. I was happy to see my parts together, some hung up on the walls and some locked up in a showcase.
Years passed and the boy was now an old man, and the girl, an old lady. Yesterday, suddenly he stopped using me. I got restless why my 15 other parts were not getting used. I kept worrying the whole night, in the darkness of my house. I prayed for the God of Wind to take me out of the cupboard, as I wanted to break out and see what the matter was.
The God listened and wind started blowing, swinging the door open. I took the help of the wind and came outside. The door of the old man's room was banging loudly because of the wind.
The old lady came running to see what was the noise about. She took my scattered parts and placed me together neatly, one above the other. There were tears in her eyes.
Out of the remaining 15 parts of mine, she pulled one out of the house. She told me the reason of her tears. I was shocked when I came to know that the old man, who bought me when he was young was no more. A tear fell down over me from her eyes. I was sensitive to water and her tears peeled off my skin.
Today in the morning, the old lady was trying to dispose off the sketches that the old man had been drawing for her. They were my old parts. It was unbearable for me to see my parts suffering a painful death, so I took help of the air and jumped into the burning fire.
Before the fire engulfs my half-charred skin, I just want you to know that I always served him as best I could, as a simple pack of blank white paper.