Love for the fountain pen

Your strokes are proper and your finishing is excellent’, my teacher said as she peered at me, a class VI student then. In those days, each letter in a word was written with aplomb and agility.

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Writing has come a long way from stone tablets and papyrus scrolls to engraving on nano chips. Word processors have obviated the need to write by hand, empowered the present generation with the mighty Microsoft Word. But as a kid, I looked forward to the time when I would be allowed to go beyond the humble pencil. I had been in awe of the writing tool, the fountain pen.

I was gifted my first fountain pen on my ninth birthday and it became my prized possession. How happily I scribbled away my days, fawning over the fluid movement of the fountain, my heart leaping with every curve and spinning with every loop.

However, gradually I realised that to use the fountain pen was a messy process. The inkpot had to be carried to school every day. It must have taken me many days to find out the most appropriate angle at which the nib must be tilted to ensure the ink’s smooth flow and not stain my fingers blue. Often my white uniform had ink stains because I used to forget to cap my pen correctly or friends indulged in a full-fledged ink-spilling game. Writing with a fountain pen was like wearing roller-skates on fingers. Instead of star-shaped scented erasers, my pencil box had pieces of calcium-smelling chalk to absorb ink blots.

Soon I became adept, writing flawlessly with the fountain pen and secured some brownie points for the visual delight of my teachers. From my friends, I learnt the art of making special greeting cards that were made by drawing distinct patterns with an ink pen on the inner side of the sheet and quickly folding it into two equal halves. Then gently rubbing over the folded sheet to allow the wet imprint to transfer on the opposite side of the sheet. This light imprint was traced over with the pen to get a unique pattern that looked so artistic. My hands smeared with ink, azure blue, royal blue, blue black, deep black, turquoise blue, emerald green. After the successful completion of the task, I held the pen in my hand like a painting brush, marvelling at my eloquent strokes.

Then came the era of ball pens, one-tenth of the cost of fountain pens. They became an instant hit because they neither smudged nor bled away when exposed to water. We moved to ball pens, pilot pens, gel pens, and now who wants to hold a pen again?

The interesting fact is that they came to exist in 1636. Since 2012, the Fountain Pen Day is celebrated by enthusiasts on the first Friday in November every year to promote their use. This year it falls on November 6. I still love holding them in my hand. Last year, I gifted myself a Parker. This year, I have set my eyes on Lamy. Writing with them, my hands don’t cramp, thoughts pour out easily. Scribble your dreams with it, these dreams are the blueprints of your achievements.