I AM a one-rupee note. I left the
Security press about two years back. I travelled in a strong iron-box to the
National Bank of Pakistan in Karachi along with a million or so of my brethren.
One the very first day of my life I discovered that I was, perhaps, the most
beloved thing on earth. Everyday looked at me with eyes full of eagerness. The
rich and the poor all wished to have me in their pockets. Everyday good soul
worked day and night to get hold of me. Not to speak of grown-up people even
small children longed for me. A purse or a pocket was the safest place where I
was kept with great care by every day. But long journeys and daily change of
masters have told upon my health. I have lived for only two years, but I look
very, very old. There are wrinkles all over my face, and nobody seems to
welcome me. I admit that my looks are not so charming today, as they were on
the day of my birth. But I am proud to say that I have not lost my worth.
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