Journey Of A Coin

Kiran Bhimani
A1-C2

I was sitting still, not even daring to breathe, my heart was pounding at such a speed that it seemed like the entire place was jumping along to the beat. It was dark, suffocating and very cold. I knew that this was the worst place fate can take a five rupee coin; Yes, the cash register.

On my left there were worthless, useless and pathetic one rupee coins. No one respected them. They were usually found lying on the streets left to be baked by the sun. On my right were the condescending bills, and not just any bills, one thousand rupee bills. I used to be a bill myself a year ago until one of my stupid masters had my soul transferred into this coin. Oh, what a painful transition that was! I still shiver just by the thought of it. Suddenly I felt being pulled by the neck and was placed in somewhere dark but the walls over there were silky and made of cloth, different from the metallic cash register. Oh I knew it, I was being put into a pocket. The smell of sweat and mint was indeed disgusting. God knows how I had survived that turmoil. I thought about the good old times when people really respected me. I had value. In fact, not long ago in the 1700s, I was worth 1 ounce of gold. Maharajas and all those Mughal descendents loved me. They gave me away as gifts to their fellow kings and queens. Those were the days. That day is still so fresh in my mind when Tipu Sultan died. I was offered as a monthly compensation to his offspring! Yes, although I am the same today, but my value has been stolen from me and I've been left with nothing more than the ability to buy a pack of biscuit.

Ouch! A jerk just pulled me out of my thoughts. The man had started walking. I was flying around in this stuffed room like a tennis ball. Clink! I hit one of the keys. My sides were burning like fire. I couldn't tolerate that pain. It was like the time someone tore me apart back when I was a bill. Still moving and bumping into the walls, I examined my wound, there were two deep scratches on my tail, right between the star and moon. The movement stopped all of a sudden. I felt myself elevating. Woah! I had never felt like this, my stomach was in my mouth! It was a funny but great feeling. I giggled to myself. "I wouldn't be too happy" said a deep, husky voice. Startled, I looked around. I thought I was alone here. "W-who's there?" I said with a shaky voice. "Up here" replied the voice. I looked up, deep inside the wallet where I saw the corner of a brown bill. Oh, a twenty I thought with excitement. But then I saw, I saw a 5 printed on it! Oh my God, A five thousand rupee bill? Talking to me? A worthless five rupee coin? I felt honored. Never in my life had I met a five grand bill. Nervous and dumbstruck, I managed to say "I do not understand".

"What I mean is, the master is going to start the motorcycle any second now, so you better hold on."
He was right, that very second I felt my self go up and down in a sudden movement. That was the kick, and we were off again. Flying, flying faster than the wind. The wind hitting against me. So strong it was that I had to hold on to the pocket to make sure I didn't fall. "You fools!" I cried out desperately. "You idiots, I was worth 2.5 dollars in 1965, I was of great importance! I-"
"Cut the stupid lecture will you? No one's interested!"

That was a voice I could've recognized even in my sleep. It was a 100 bill. I detested him ever since we met in a small red purse. I will never forget how arrogant he was and how he had insulted me in front of the American quarter I loved.

"Be quiet. Can't you see how devastated I am? Don't act so cool and think you're the most desirable, one day even you shall depreciate. Even your time will come!" I retorted with a smirk. Just then I felt a sharp jolt and out I flew, falling lower and lower at last I hit the ground. It took me a while to become still as I shivered for ten whole seconds.

Horns honking, smoke polluting the air, the ground as hot as a fry pan and I was being fried. This was even worse than what the one rupee coins had to suffer.

Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months had passed but I did not feel anything. I was laying in the hot sun being run over by tires. It wasn't painful, sort of like a massage really.
Across the street I saw some women sitting on a rug with children. One of the ladies noticed me and ran to pick me up. She covered me with both her hands and smiled. Then she hugged me and put me inside her wallet where lived a few one rupee coins.

For the first time I felt loved and wanted by my master. But the warm feeling was too short as only a second later I heard a loud horn and a deafening scream. I was on the ground covered in blood.
It was then when I realized how dangerous my kind is. I was wrong. I'm not a servant, but a master. 

Because of me, a poor old lady had died.