Why Am I Born

WHY AM I BORN?
If you have left tears in your eyes and the mind to listen, I have a story to tell. I don’t know, whom was I born to? Where and when was I born? Down the lane of my memory, I have a vague picture of a man with greedy eyes, who was my custodian. He kept me, and many others like me, in a safe room near the roadside, naked as we were born, for selling us for money. It still echoes in my ears, he and many others commenting that I was the most chubby and attractive among the lot.
A smart young man came to the room with handful of money, to get one of us. He gazed the beauty of each of us, one by one, and softly pressed on our humps and bumps. His eyes got broadened and glittered on seeing me. He sent his hands smooth on me and his eyes got fixed at me. He paid as much as my custodian wanted to sell me off. Thus he became my owner and took me home. He got me a smooth and pretty dress and dressed me up. I saw him staring at me with lot of amazement and pride. I felt extremely happy, for I had so far seen my custodian looking at me only with greed.
My eventful life started from then. My owner was happy with me and slept with me every night. He used to come to me even during day times on his holidays. He read out stories, novels and news items at times while relaxing. In our privacy his thoughts were always loud and he never had any secrets unshared. Sleeping with me, I wonder, how many dreams he enjoyed.
After a couple of months, I heard him telling a girl’s name during his sleep. No wonder, after sometime, it ended up in their marriage. On the day of marriage I was given a new gorgeous dress with frills and paraphernalia. I was also given lots of flowers to fragrance me. I was really thrilled to see the jubilations around.
He was so much addicted to me that he came with his wife to sleep with me that night. In the room they were unconcerned about my presence and unleashed their youth hood dreams without inhibitions. It is unethical to talk anything about their bedroom privacy. All that I can say is to share my experience.
To put it in nutshell, their enjoyment and happiness was at the cost of my ease peace and pleasure. I was an odd one out in their enjoyment only bearing the brunt of everything. They have even gone to the extent of brutally assaulting me for their enjoyment. The strain and pain I had to bear with gradually turned me weak and depleted my tolerance. I started gradually resisting at them.
They got irritated with me and shifted me to their guest bedroom, where I had to sleep with my owner’s guest who stayed overnight in the house. Some of them, while appearing very decent outside, have behaved very nasty with me. I have never divulged anything happened to me, with anyone slept with me to anybody, because my owner sent them to me and I remain faithful to him.
Years passed by and my owner got children. I was happy with them while they were babies because they were soft and nice to me. But as they entered into their childhood they turned naughty. They started climbing on me and at times practiced karate on me to keep their hands unhurt, regardless of my pain and strain.
This was followed by a period of loneliness for me. As I grow old and week, I lost my charm and no one has any attraction to neither come to me nor care me. I was remaining almost deserted in the relatively crowded house for years, till the owner got bedridden with a partial paralysis.
The owner was brought to the room where I stayed, for he had turned to be a nuisance for others. No one in the house would tolerate his screaming and shouting, wriggling and kicking out of pain. I was made to sleep with him once again not to give him good sleep but to bear his nuisance. His wife and children came to the room and sat beside during their leisure time. At times when his pain is excruciating, he nailed me and bit me. My dress got torn off and I got brushes all over, which no one bothered to notice. Finally when we were alone in the room on a Sunday night he shouted loud and pressed his nails into me and pulled out my intestine and breath his last.
The next day I was thrown out to the roadside along with the garbage for the municipal van to pick me up. But the stray dogs pulled me out of it and battered and bruised me till they got fed up and left me at this roadside, where I lay silently now, looking at the people passing by. I would see many people who enjoyed sleeping with me also pass by. But no one notices me, may be they are unable to identify me in the misshapen stage or I am not worth noticing now. I lay here praying the rain and sun to perish me to end my sufferings. I wonder WHY AM I BORN AS A MATTRESS? (The autobiography of a cotton mattress)