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Linking Young Minds Together
     Volume 2 Issue 81 | August 10 , 2008|


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Feature

An Autobiography of a Doormat

Maria Grace Sarkar

Image Source: anh-minh.com
I am a doormat and I live in a home in Laxmibazar, Dhaka. Two years ago, I was born in a village called Shantinagar. A widow called Erick's mother made me with jute ropes, threads and decorated me with a combination of various bright colours. She wove me with utmost care and gave me a very gorgeous look.

One fine morning, she took me to an NGO in Dhaka City and the officers there sold me to a retail seller called Chomchom Ali. Everyday Chomchom Ali used to sit outside the new market with me along with many other doormats. One day a lady arrived there and her eyes fell upon me. She bought me for Taka 60 and put me in the trunk of her car and drove me to her home.

Right now my new owner is Grace's mother who has put me at the entrance of the sitting room. Many people used to visit her home and some of them praised me highly because of my bright outlook.

But soon enough, I started to pass days full of hardship. I was very sad there. As I was situated at the entrance of the sitting room, all the visitors used to rub their shoes and sandals on me with extreme cruelty. Sometimes they pressed and rubbed so hard that I could not bear the pain. I would cry loudly but nobody seemed to hear me. My wailing would fall on deaf ears.

Soon, I became very dirty. They didn't ever wash me. There was a maid at their home. Sometimes she used to slap and dust me against the walls of the house. Day by day I became weak and ugly. The ropes were getting loose and untied. I became a tattered rag.

One day when the whole family was eating their supper, I heard one of them say, “Look at the doormat, it's so tattered and poor looking. It looks very indecent at the entrance.”

Another family member said, “Yeah, and if we don't replace it soon we will be teased by our guests.” Then Grace's mother suggested,” I'll throw this trash with the garbage tomorrow and buy a new one, so don't worry.”

Now, I'm living with this fear in mind that if not tomorrow, someday soon I'll be thrown out with the garbage and will be buried in a ditch.

This is mankind. Their motto is to use a thing and when its need is over, they just throw it away and forget. Can't people be a little kind?

(Maria is a student of St. Francis Xavier's Girls High School)

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