Too long lost an identity(?).

Humungous buildings... Rolls Royce.

Fantabulous marble shots! Long lines to the Grocer’s

26 hours a day, where one kid got a phone in his hand, one plays stick-and-tire.

These classes make up for half of the world. The other half.. is.. the one that carries.. ME.

Two kinds of people need me in this world. One that got neither marbles nor diamonds. The middle class. And the other, who’s known his happiness as being able to buy a taffy from his share of coins.

I am. A Rupee coin.

I’m not a crackling grand note. I DID save Veeru’s ass in Sholay though.

I’m no gold biscuit. I DID make India win the ’83 toss though.

You gave me up for a lolly at three. You gave me up for a shiny shoe at before an interview.. at 23.

Put me in to weigh at the station. Put me in to call Tina out of emotion. I made your Sun round.

I won’t ask how my presence in your wallet embarrasses you today.

I won’t tell you you’d do the same to a tenner one day..

I’m happy being a rupee coin. I’m like your parents. I’m the happiest when you need to depend on me. Even happier when you don’t.

I would just want you to know that, no matter what high peaks you reach, the lowest common denominator will always exist.

A rupee coin.

I possibly CAN’t help you multiply your fortune.

Numero Uno.

The number ONE.

I DEMAND respect.

Being the first primary number.

Being your first lesson.

Numero Uno.

The number ONE.