The clocks are in love with the sun – now that it’s dark and cold outside, they are slow, very slow.
As I pick a pen to write, the thoughts running through my mind disappear. As if they are rats dancing in a house, and the pen a master who opens the door to scare them.
I drop the idea of writing with the pen, and open word processor in my laptop. Now, the mind gets charged, and the fingers start running at the speed of a train. The rats are back!
When my grandfather gifted me my first pen, I was so young that I couldn’t decide what to make out of it; nonetheless, I fell in love with its aesthetics. Sadly, I had to part with it as my mother found it ‘too costly’ and ‘of little use’ for me. Over the span of time, I’ve made a good collection of pens.
As a kid, I was so envious of a classmate who used to write with a fancy ink pen that one day I opened his school bag and stole the pen. I guess, the other kids also had an eye on it. Next day, I had to keep the pen back. But it was fun writing with it.
Technology has changed how we read and write, and our brain has embraced the change with arms wide open. Word processors, notepads, mobile apps, and what not. Sometimes, I want to be the same old guy who keeps a pen and a diary under his pillow, but the thoughts won’t come till all the fingers work.
If we see one aspect of it, the change is for good. If we use the pen reluctantly, we consume less paper, and spare the cutting of trees. But the love for pen is so strong that my collection is ever increasing. Rarely do I open it, dust-off, scribble something, and put it back; only to get more dust next time.
© Image Credit: harmony19490