Witness to Generations

What’s the oldest thing you own? (Toys, clothing, twinkies, Grecian urns: anything’s fair game.) Recount its history — from the object’s point of view.
There I lay in a small crucible, a small round coin made of a yellow metal called gold. A man placed the crucible onto a hearth of fiery coals and blew into the fire with all his might until I melted. He stretched me out into thin strands and turned and twisted me. I was heated again and again and often beaten, all this as if punishing me for not shaping up as he desired. I shudder to think of the heat that melt me and the craftsmanship of the hands that moulded me from a coin into a beautiful chain, as I am today. Golden chain isolated on the white background As a mark of joy a middle aged lady handed me over as a gold coin to her son who begot her a bonny beautiful grand daughter.  Being a coin I could only be locked up in some place. I heard the lady asking her son to hire the services of a goldsmith to mould me into a chain that adorns the neck of the teeny weeny baby. Upon metamorphosing from a coin into a chain, I have always remained with this little baby ever since.
When she took her baby steps I lay there around her neck watching her fall, get up and move on again. Many a times I did feel that I could hold her back if I had hands to support her. She grew up into a little kid and I went to school with her where they taught her many things beyond my comprehension.Always being with her, little did I realize that the kid had transformed into a lovely lass. Like other girls of her age, she too got a job, got married and had a baby of her own.
My cherished moment was when she put me around the neck of her bundle of joy proudly proclaiming that I was a good omen in her life and trusting that I would be the charm in the life of her little one too. I was overwhelmed moving on to the next generation. As this little girl grew up I adorned her neck, often wondering about the changes that underwent my girl in all these years though she was always in the hemisphere of my vision even if I lay around her daughter’s neck. There were days when she was on top of the world and I have been wet by her silent tears on many occasions too. With the onus on me to be the lucky charm of this baby, I watched her too grow into a kid, a teenager and a pretty young woman remaining with her all along.
Today I rest in a cute little box in a bank locker after having been on the go for more than half a century. One day the girl handed me over to her mother for safe keeping, it was then that I learnt that this kid of mine too was flapping her wings to soar out into the wide sky and build a nest of her own with her mate. Having been with two generations I have always been close to their hearts both literally and metaphorically.
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6 thoughts on “Witness to Generations

  1. That’s such a beautiful narration. You seriously put life into it. I felt that the story would never end and in fact wanted it to go on :’)

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  2. very nice 🙂 I liked the narration a lot and it made me want to know more.

    would have loved it more if you could have kept the object secret till the very end though. curiosity keeps the reader engaged more, alle? 🙂

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  3. The first kiss the first present the first trip together r something one always cherish in life. The decibel of gold always r a swan song to any girl’s mind. Gold glitters so do the face. Good work. Keep it up

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