Twelve Years a Fountain Pen...

Watching The Wonder Years always rekindles many an old memory of mine. This time it is nothing fancy *of course the previous memories were all tales of grandeur :D* but just an association of mine with the humble Fountain Pen. As kids growing up in the '90s India we were all forced to use Pens from the 4th Standard. *roughly 8-9 years old*. There were the ball pens and there were the Ink Pens ( not Fountain Pens you see, Indian English at its very best). Ball Pen enthusiasts would of course reminisce over Reynolds 045 or Rotomac, remember this?  Ink Pen lovers like me would resort to the trustworthy Hero Pens, Parker and India's very own Camlin pens, In later years I did experiment with Montex Handy.

The old timers

For some reason deigned by powers above me *read teachers, parents, elders...*, handwriting improved only when one used Fountain Pens. Turning back the pages in my life I remember a younger me walking alongside Shobhanamma *my mother : Shobhana + amma*, who would dutifully pick the pens herself.  Many a pen was bought in this process.I still remember some of the stationery shops and her arguments on how the pen should write smoothly and not like a needle! She would carefully take her time in the selection process i.e. colour, make, body, nib (iridium tipped) and test write it. Finally after all this careful selection I would be the proud owner of a new pen. I think I remember my first Ink Pen. A brown coloured one with a silver cap. Pretty good one it was until I dropped it and the nib just snapped. Of course, one did not have to worry. We never replaced a lucky pen. We always got a new nib for it.  Replacing it yourself was quite a marvel for the young nine year old kids *I am sure even a 4 year old would have done it himself*.

One such prized possession for a long time was a fountain pen called Senator . This blue coloured pen was a wonderful thing to hold. Thin and slightly built, it completely changed the way I wrote. The moment I held it in my hand I knew, that I had to possess the best handwriting to be deemed worthy to write with that pen. I used it for quite a long time, perhaps four or five years until one day I misplaced it.

Many a equation was solved, many a poem was inked , many a exam written by moist ink laden fingers those days. Oh! how can one forget the times when we ran out of ink! and indeed many a friendship has been forged by sharing a few drops of ink.

The walk down memory lane also brings a smile as I remember my grandfather dutifully writing on his Hero Pen. In later days when he stopped writing, I ended up being the proud owner of that pen. I also remember my aunt having a lot of Hero Pens with her. How can I forget my dad coming to my rescue during the times I lost my fountain pen. Of course after all the scolding my mother would still buy me a new one. The picture of the elders in the house, dark rimmed glasses on, writing on a piece of paper with their fountain pens is something that most of us would have come across. Before I forget a special mention must be given to the Fountain Pen Inks. We had different brands like Chelpark , Camlin, Camel, Brill and we always picked the 'Royal Blue' ink.

Royal Blue

In the course of time a lot of things change. That which was central to us becomes something on the periphery. My 'writing' has evolved to 'typing' and I really don't worry about my scrawly handwriting anymore, after all there are the fonts that manage it. I don't have to worry whether my teacher would yell at me for the pathetic handwriting either. All that I care about is my typing speed and over the past few years consistently I range around 90 WPM. *Quite the transformation right?*. Moving forward in life sans the Fountain Pen our twelve year association shall always bring a smile on my face :) *like anything else doesn't? :D *

Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you’re in diapers, the next day you’re gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul.

When it was 'Madras'