Story of a Pen

there is a story in everyone's life. Some have a long story and some have a short story. Similarly, the story of one's life is a specific story. Thus, the story of the life of some is something very important which affects the life of the other in particular. This type of story is very fascinating, soulful and heart-touching indeed. Thus, the story and the stories are uniquely Komal's story. Its story is a truly impressive story. Therefore, it is also a self-written smile for everyone. So, there may or may not be a story above this.

Start: - If the story of the disciple is heard or written by someone or written by the pen itself, then it can be the most interesting, amazing story. So now we are better able to listen quietly to the story of Kalam with his help., Also listen carefully to Santa and his colleagues.

it's Midnight. I am running fast to complete my unfinished novel. I have become so engrossed in writing that by moving the pen here and there sometimes. Sometimes I am writing diagonally or sometimes by a cross or a board. I just have to go to writing about what is happening and what should be the condition of the gender, I am not paying attention to it. The focus was simply to complete the novel in more and more forms. Suddenly the slow but sweet sound resonated in the ears. I was shocked to hear this. Looked around, said there was no one. There was silence everywhere. Only the cymbals and clangs of the beetles were spreading all around. Apart from this, nothing is heard and no one was seen. Then I did not pay attention and got engrossed in writing. Then the same voice came. On noticing, I heard that the pen in my hand is going to tell me something. I was amazed to see him like this. But the pencil paid no attention to my condition. She started to tell me with a stir. It is through me that you do not know what and what you tell and tell the story. Won't you listen to my story This surprised me further. I asked Komal in surprise, "Do you also have a story? You must be in the name of a pencil to express the feelings of someone made of various metals. Then what is your story and what can happen? On hearing this, Komal again started speaking her words "Why? Why can't I have a story? I really want to hear your story, your response. "The pencil whispered looking at my attention - the story you want to hear my story, then listen carefully."

In this peak period of modern civilization, I have also experienced extreme development. Waterman's imagination worked wonders for me. The old form of the pen was formed by attaching a tube of nipper back to the nib. It lasts for many days. After some time, refills were used instead of tubes. It was successful. Various types of inks were invented for me with this. This made me very comfortable. I was tempted by the pre-requisite speed; the surface of the pages was moving. Now I have started to look very beautiful and attractive by being made of various metals. For rich people my forms have started to be made from rich to great metals. So, they never hesitate to buy me. They buy me very proudly. I feel very patient in keeping me punished.

Epilogue: - Thus my story has been from the beginning till now. Saying this, the pencil fell silent. I was surprised and kept looking here and there. But that voice did not come again. Now I went on thinking that the story of Kalam in reality is a strange story of his youth.