I cannot exactly trace my date of birth. I am ashamed of it. But my
ancestors came from Mesopotamia. They have migrated to all parts of the
globe. During my childhood days I was treated very badly.
 I was tied to a stick and a piece of thin pointed nib was fixed to my
neck. The stick and the nib assembled together gave birth to my ability
to write. I get hungry very often. To satisfy my hunger I am dipped into
a bottle of ink which is always a liquid diet.
After I reached adolescence I was regarded as an adult and treated in
style when I attained puberty.
This period was the golden era of my life. I was given protection and
looked after well. My food was supplied in a tube put in a barrel with a
cap as my head cover.
As I was on the threshold of marriage, I had many admirers and lovers
around the globe. I was kept in a beautiful showcase, to give a glimpse
of my beautiful body to visitors in a leading shopping complex.
The men who wanted to possess me were in numerous age groups from
childhood to adults. My best lovers were from the newspaper world, from
reporters to editors.
Once they possess me they take me proudly as a valuable ornament in
their coat pockets. But creative writers in the world are born through
me.
The most powerful weapon for any writer is me. My greatest admirers
and lovers are editors.
They say `the pen’ is mightier than the sword!
by Tissa Hewavitarane. |
