LIFE OF A PLASTIC #ulog3
ulog·@facttechz·
0.000 HBDLIFE OF A PLASTIC #ulog3
<center>  I'm an article of everyday use. I was first made in the 1930s from plastic - the same material that can be drawn out into very thick sheets and can be used to make many different things - from tough buckets to light weight carry bags like me. I'm much derided and condemned. They say that I'm not eco-friendly. I pollute the environment. People find it very convenient to use me. Environmentalists stare at my face angrily. They warn repeatedly about the hazards posed by my use. The honorable **High Court** has ordered not to consider me as an article of everyday life and has even banned my use.  I was born in a small factory, where old plastic is brought in by rag-pickers. This plastic is recycled to make various articles. Plastic is used for packaging food and fragile articles. Plastic is used in the making of lightweight and tough fabrics. Quality is the last priority while recycling. These plastics contain toxins. No effort is made to neutralise the toxins. Before I was given my shape of a bag, I was in the form of granules moulded into plastic sheets. These sheets were cut of machines, and I and my companions came into existence. All of us were stored in big bundles in a godown. One day, some of the men employed by the factory woner loaded us into a van, and that van took us to a wholesale market. A grocer bought me along with all my companions. The grocer owned a shop that sold edibles, toiletries, and much more. The very day the grocer bought me, a small child visited the shop with his mother and brought some chocolates. Once home, the boy took out the chocolates and threw me away on the floor. The lady of the house picked me up, put some banana peels in me and dumped me into the dustbin. It was next morning. My return journey to the locality's garbage dump began. Once again, I was back in my natural environment. The stench of assorted garbage filled the air. The rag-pickers rummaged through the garbage. Once again, I was picked up. By now, I was soiled and dirty. To my astonishment, I reached the same factory where I was born. Here I was shorted out. I waited for the inevitable when I'll be reduced to granules and recycled again. I wondered what my new body was going to be - a plastic bucket, a mug or a container perhaps. Someone may store food articles in me unwittingly. He cannot realise how toxic and vicious I'm. </center> **SEE ALSO :** ------------------ <center>  [**LIFE OF A NEWSPAPER**]( https://steemit.com/ulog/@facttechz/life-of-a-newspaper-ulog2-cddc402f7e357)  [**LIFE OF PUPPY**]( https://steemit.com/ulog/@facttechz/live-of-a-puppy-ulog1-aff459f04030f)  [**LIFE OF A DOG**]( https://steemit.com/story/@facttechz/life-of-a-dog-e3264e5d3afd3)  [**STARRY NIGHT**]( https://steemit.com/poem/@facttechz/starry-night) [*All Images source*](pinterest.com) </center>