The Autobiography of a Polythene Bag
I am an article of everyday use. I am much derided and condemned but continue to thrive because people find it very convenient to use me, in spite of the repeated warnings by environmentalists about the hazards posed by my use.
My birthplace is a small factory, where- old plastic is brought in by rag pickers. This plastic is recycled to make various articles. Quality is the last priority, for no effort is made to nullify the toxins these plastics contain. Before I was shaped into a bag, I was in the form of granules moulded into plastic sheets. These sheets were cut up and my companions and I came into existence, when we were shaped into bags by machines.
All of us were stored in big bundles in a godown. One day, the factory owner’s man loaded us into a van and took us to a wholesale market. A grocer bought me along with all my companions. The grocer’s shop sold articles of all sorts – edibles, toiler tires and other assorted articles. Once, a small child visited the shop accompanied by his mother. They bought some chocolates, which were packed in me and given to them. Once home, the boy eagerly removed the chocolates and the lady of the house picked me up put some banana peels in me and dumped me in the dustbin.
The next morning began my return journey to the locality’s garbage dump. Once again, I was back in my natural environment. The stench of assorted garbage was perfume to me. Once again, I was picked up by the rag-pickers rummaging through the garbage. By now, I was soiled and dirty along with where I was born. Here I was sorted out. I waited for the inevitable- being reduced to granules and recycled. I wondered what my new avatar was going to be- a plastic bucket a mug or a container perhaps. Someone may store food articles in my unwittingly without realizing how toxic and vicious I am.
