Writing Well

 No, right now, let us not discuss literature or poetry or short story, et al, if the title makes you so believe. We are not looking at the content of "writing well". Rather we are looking at the instruments of writing well. Tough to undestand it would be in an era when everyone is busy typing with the keyboard. 

May be, the generation born after the millennial change would not have even seen a ball pen either, forget a fountain pen.  Any number of my students take down notes, if at all, on their mobiles. Anyways, they are excellent at looking at you with most vacant eyes with the distant most expression, while typing away to glory all sorts of messages to all sorts of people. 

How would such types know the pleasures of writing with an ink pen? Genuinely it was an art, writing with an ink pen. First and foremost, it indirectly taught you precision. When it came to filling the pen with ink (Papa got us 'Kale' ink, well-known then!), you had to subtly calculate the exact measure, not even a drop extra as it would make the whole stuff messy. There used to be a small little cloth decorated with dots of all colours, blue, black, red, green (Papa's favourite) as it would be used to tighten the nib-holder properly to the funnel with the ink. 

Still if the ink chose to play funny, fingers would be directly wiped on to hair. If your school uniform got any ink spots, you would get an earful both from parents and teachers. The nib had to be proper, too. If one part was slightly bent or if both were rather apart like the blades of a hoe, your handwriting would go for a toss which was absolutely not appreciated by the elders.

Fountain pens which Indirectly taught our generation accuracy, correctness, attention to minutiae and beauty were on the wane, down and out, by the time we were to complete schooling. An extinct species  now, on the day of its origin, there are competitions and exhibitions of good handwriting with fountain pens, a dinosaur now when it comes to writing well! Inexorable Time, it moves on. Countless beauties are thus tossed out. A heap of memories!

Pratima@ Papa loved the Parker fountain pen. I suppose, I am not sure though, Nehru used to don one in the front pocket of his jacket. Sanju got me a Parker ball pen from Boston. It is one of my prized possessions!