Newspaper narrates

 Newspaper

 

I’m your newspaper. I’m delivered to you early in the morning by an enthusiastic delivery boy who drops me outside your door.  

I come bearing news from all around the world. I‘m generally white, sporting the news in black ink and put together at unearthly hours, as you slumber.  

I’m amused by the riddle that you humans have created around me—What's black and white and read all over?

As you know, I’m divided into sections and columns—national news, international news, local news, business news, sports page, obituaries, crosswords, word games, and comic strips. My cousins the tabloids arrive with all the latest gossip. 

In the good old days, I was respected, even revered. Whatever I said was the gospel truth. Your dads, uncles, and grandads began their day with me. How awesome is that!

I watch many of you reach for your cellphones as soon as you wake up and I feel a little abandoned. You seem to get all that you require from your glowing screens or what you fondly refer to as the 'idiot box. I feel like a misfit in your digital world.  

Once in your hands, you skim through me; on rare occasions, you might read an article in full. A few of you are still old school and believe in me. Thank you.

I’m not just your news provider. You find a dozen other uses for me. By the evening, the news I carry is considered stale, so you use me to line your shelves, clean your mirrors, and mop up your spills. I’m shaped into conical bell holders, and you even sell me.

One thing that makes me proud and happy is that Indians observe January 29^th as Indian Newspaper Day in remembrance of James Augustus Hicky, who founded India’s first newspaper, namely Hicky’s Bengal Gazette.

People don’t think much of me anymore. Still, I’m hanging in, doing what I do best, giving you your daily feed of Taaza Khabar. 

THis post is part of the Blogchatter A2Z 2026 challenge.