NOTE: The short story I posted at Be a Freelance Blogger is under 100 words. This is the full version. Read it if you like.
I disliked composition in my school days. I would leave the essay and letter-writing questions unanswered in exams. I didn’t like to read and mug up essays and letters from books. But, surely used to love reading the autobiographies in the essay books. There used to be a section for them. I read them because they were like stories, which I loved to read, like other children.
My favorite story books used to be the Chandamama, which is still published, Phantom, Mandrake, Tinkle from Amar Chitra Katha (loved to read the ‘Moosheek’ at the end – how a mouse escapes the cat, always using tricks). The first story book I read was a Phantom comic I had picked up while coming back home with my mother. I liked it so much that I always wanted a new Phantom comic. I even played a role of the Phantom when playing with friends. I especially adored the Phantom not using his guns to kill others but just to shoot off his opponents’ guns.
Well, back to school, I never wrote essays or even autobiographies. But, one day I was in the 8th class, sitting on the first bench with another boy. Our new class teacher had given us a homework to write an autobiography. Like always, I disliked and didn’t do the homework about writing. The next day, the boy sharing my bench, told me to complete the homework or the teacher would punish.
Fortunately, that day, another teacher was absent and the class got two free periods. I asked the boy to give me his completed written autobiography. I glanced it and quickly understood the story/autobiography. It was interesting. Now, I started copying his autobiography, but as I wrote, I kept on changing it, adding my own ideas and story to it. By the end of the autobiography, what I wrote was almost completely different from what the boy wrote. I don’t remember the whole autobiography, but it was all about a dream. I only remember the last sentence I wrote was, “The milkman rang the bell and I woke up. My dream was shattered.”
When the class teacher arrived, I was quite confident, having completed the autobiography, and feeling good. She didn’t check everyone’s homework but instead made a few students stand up and read aloud the autobiographies they had written. As I was confident, I kept thinking she ask me to read too. And she did ask me to read. I read what I had written, aloud, and she praised me for writing such a nice autobiography. I was happy but my friend, the boy, chuckled.
This was the first time in my life I had ever written something coming out of my brains, though some part of this autobiography and ideas were taken from the other boy’s autobiography. Do you have such a story about yourself, you’d like to share? Share it in the comments below.
I wrote this for a comment to post at Be a Freelance Blogger, which Sophie asked, if we wanted to win a prize for day 15 of 28 daily prize contests.
Image Credit: Heather Joy (via Flickr)