At the moment I am crumpled and rather dirty. But I was smart and crisp and smelled fresh when I emerged from the printing machine. My great name was to be seen in big capitals. Hundreds of people were waiting outside the press to buy me. They cast their eager glances at the latest news – the cure for cancer, the transplantation of the heart; and so on – that I carried.

As the demand for us was so great, my companions and I were hardly dry before a man came and bundled us, only to throw us into a white van parked outside the press. The old driver was in a great hurry and soon we were bumping along towards the airport.

At the aerodrome, we were all thrown into the hands of a pale girl. She ripped the bundle mercilessly with a sharp knife and handed in some of us to a waiting vendor. The burly fellow tucked some of us (including myself) and began to shout at the top of his bull – necked voice,” Paper! Paper.” A pretty girl from Kerala, Miss Mary Thomas, who was going in her Standard car, bought me. I was soon taken to her flat on Tagore Road, Santacruz.

Mary took me to her parents, brothers and sisters. Each one stroked me in turn and for some time, there was a tussle among her little brothers and sisters to snatch me from one another’s hands. However, in course of time, they got fed up with me and I was thrown out of the window into the dustbin. Mary took pity on me and brought me back to her flat. She then put me on a shelf in her study – room.


At last, I was left in peace. However, I was sent for, a couple of times when Mary’s fiancée and her friends came to see her. By the next morning, I had been well read. Fresh newspapers came and I was looked upon as a back number. So you can imagine how very fickle the reading public is. I am at my wit’s end as to my future. But I have a sneaking suspicion that I will be soon sent away to make room for new arrivals. In a week or so I will be lying in some rag – shop or the other.