I am a coin. I am the most sought after thing in the world. All the people rich or poor want to earn me. I am the symbol of prosperity and wealth. You can find book autobiography of a coin in words in our library and other format like: autobiography of a coin in words pdf file autobiography of a. I am a hybrid. I remember the day when I was put into a furnace. The whole of my body was burning red hot. Finally, I remember vaguely to have melted.
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History research paper thesis pdf essay about my name quiz school essay on red figure. one on Essay rupee autobiography coin of. the because they believe. The Autobiography of a Coin. Written by Frank L. Holt Illustrated by Bob Lapsley Additional reporting by David Warsh. I was born in the fires of an ancient forge in . calla, but they appear to have been almost immedi- ately abandoned again. Cast coins of this metal. were in use among the ancient Britons. Platinum was tried.
I am ageless. I live forever.
Unless I am melted, I live happily. Sometimes there is dirt accumulated on me. If you clean me well, I shine bright and good. I have a noble character. I always shine bright.
Autobiography of a Coin
I always produce happiness in people's faces. I don't see any difference between a poor man or rich man, boy or girl, Hindu or Christian or muslim.
I am universal. Unfortunately, I am valuable only within the country I am printed in. In other countries, people do not give much value or respect to me. As the saying goes, "I am the God and friend of yours. I will take care of you well. Love me and I love you.
I request you do not steal me or cheat someone to earn me. I am your prize catch.
Autobiography of a Coin
One day I was given to one man in a transaction who came to the bank. As soon as I was given into his hands he picked me up from his palm with happy and cheerful eyes and put me in a separate pocket. I was feeling very proud that I was the most handsome coin among all other coins.
I stayed there for many days. As I was his lucky coin and he would not give me to anyone. But one day my keeper got pick pocketed and I fell into the hands of a rogue. He stuffed me in with his other dirty coins.
I was feeling horrified. But one day I felt relieved when the rogue gave me to a panwala for a cigarette. As I was a shiny coin the shopkeeper kept me in a separate box.
The most critical moment in any money's life is the day it ceases to be currency. Once a coin can no longer circulate in a given place or time, human hands are quick to convert it into some more useful form. Most of my brothers became bullion again, their identities soon lost in the issues of other, less ancient kings. Some may exist still as a statue's thumb or a goblet's lip, but I would not recognize them.
I carry the last known imprint of our shared dies because an unusual circumstance spared my life.
Painful and defacing though it was, that occasion added years to my story and gave me an unexpected career. A sturdy loop of my metal was fused to my reverse side, right across my galloping horsemen. The attachment was sized to fit a finger, and I became a sinet ring. This ancient operation changed the whole pattern of my life.
My surfaces no longer wore evenly; instead my obverse suffered horribly as it rode that band exposed to daily bumps and bruises, while my reverse design was now shielded from the whold. I lived a strange new life on the wrong side of the humand hand, banished from the palm where coins enjoy the camaraderie of active currency.
Who had done this to me? The Greeks, as far as I could determine, were gone.
Shortly after my king's reign, Bactria fell to successive waves of nomadic invaders. Some of them later settled in the region and created the Kushan empire, astride the famous Silk Roads that linked the empires of Rome and China. One Kushan ruler so exceeded my own king's ambitions that he proclaimed himself not only "the Great", but also "King of Kings, Son of Heaven, Caesar" -- a title that is simultaneously Iranian, Indian, Chinese, and Roman.
Although I finally found myself outside the closed world of my Greek makers, I felt welcome among these eclectic Kushans. They borrowed freely from my past. One of their graves contained a magnificent cameo imitating my design, and signet rings of Greek style were common elements in their elaborate gold-spangled costumes.
Eventually lost or interred -- I cannot recall which -- I reluctantly returned beneath the soil of Central Asia. For twenty centuries I slept; you cannot imagine the burden of time. My gold kept its luster while all around me the corrosive poisons of earth ate away the baser metals. Above me, kings gave way to caliphs and khans as new realms dawned and died. Other gold shone for the civilizations of Muslims, Mongols, and Mughals while I lay undiscovered, underground, my fame forgotten.
Autobiography of a coin in 1000 words
Neither man or marmot rescued me -- until modern times. Then, I suddenly awoke and saw myself reflected in the wide dark eyes of a jubilant discoverer.
My new guardian considered the expedient of the melting pot, but my unusual appearance gave him pause. Not just another antique coin, I was a warrior's signet, well-suited to his own station. He was an Afghan officer, and I found a new home on his hand. There I was schooled in the long history I had missed. I learned that Bactria had become Afghanistan, where the weapons were new but the wars unchanged.He picked me up and put me in his dirty pouch.
It was rumored that armed constabulary guarded the doors of our prison. This mark identifies either the mint or the magistrate responsible for my creation. By Amit Agarwal. To cut a long story short, I have been leading a free, vagrant life.
If you clean me well, I shine bright and good. On my reverse the "tails" side produced by the upper, punch die , you can still read the exalted caption "King Eucratides the Great. But one day my keeper got pick pocketed and I fell into the hands of a rogue. I had no restrictive local features, as did my square bilingual cousins, and my denomination conformed to the Attic Greek system used nearly everywhere in Alexander's old empire.
The sound that I make when I fall on some metal or ground is so good like a piece of music, right?