Sometimes, somethings take a lifetime.
A few days ago, on a whim, I did something I hadn't done for a very long time. Strolling into a stationery shop, I bought myself a bottle of ink. Whether it is to make good on a lifetime of deplorable handwriting, or to be able to revisit a time and an age that is most cherished, I wouldn't know - but, the feeling was one of monumental excitement and enthusiasm.
Diligently washing and cleaning a modest collection of fountain pens that hadn't seen light in more than a decade, I felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, a powerful, gripping recollection of the past. A torrent of memories arrived, unleashed, as if freed forever, from a dark, deep abyss, that had contained and restrained them for what seemed a measure of eternity.
And, then, the words poured, haltingly at first, then steadily, as if they had been reassured of a definite indestructible path, until, in the accompanying of their joyous arrival, the outpouring reached a celebration of sorts - words lending form to thoughts emancipated from their cavernous hold, where they lay concealed and buried, strangled and lifeless, forgotten and consigned, until the chance action out of an impulse had finally set them free.
Truly, somethings take a lifetime.
A few days ago, on a whim, I did something I hadn't done for a very long time. Strolling into a stationery shop, I bought myself a bottle of ink. Whether it is to make good on a lifetime of deplorable handwriting, or to be able to revisit a time and an age that is most cherished, I wouldn't know - but, the feeling was one of monumental excitement and enthusiasm.
Diligently washing and cleaning a modest collection of fountain pens that hadn't seen light in more than a decade, I felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, a powerful, gripping recollection of the past. A torrent of memories arrived, unleashed, as if freed forever, from a dark, deep abyss, that had contained and restrained them for what seemed a measure of eternity.
And, then, the words poured, haltingly at first, then steadily, as if they had been reassured of a definite indestructible path, until, in the accompanying of their joyous arrival, the outpouring reached a celebration of sorts - words lending form to thoughts emancipated from their cavernous hold, where they lay concealed and buried, strangled and lifeless, forgotten and consigned, until the chance action out of an impulse had finally set them free.
Truly, somethings take a lifetime.
Rakesh, I really like what you wrote, for there's something about what you said, that I feel I can somewhat relate to.
ReplyDeleteThere are times I want to write something but, have no idea as to what to write, until I pick up my pen resting my hand on my blank sheet of paper, then suddenly the words just start to flow.
Thank you so much, Lon. Here's wishing you a great deal of fulfillment in the opportunities that you find - to put pen to paper. Surely, few things are more satisfying!
DeleteI used to write with my fountain pen until very recently. I can totally relate to what you are describing here, that feeling.
ReplyDeleteSo glad you could relate. And, happy to note that this is not an altogether new exercise for you, as it has been for you.
DeleteWow this is amazing!
ReplyDeleteThank you very much, Sir!
Deletewonderful post, its great you were able to resurrect your fountain pen and put it to use-in this digital age we live in, it might soon be one of the forgotten arts! :))
ReplyDeleteThank you very much, BCD! I feel very good about this, although, I must say that I have given up hopes to improve my handwriting :)
DeleteI still use pens (ball point, not fountain ink) to write sometimes... Actually I liked gel pen more than the other two - that's the only instrument that gives some legibility to my otherwise pathetic handwriting :P So you can guess that I don't have many sweet feelings about writing on paper :)
ReplyDeleteDestination Infinity
Well, it seems that you aren't the only one with a pathetic handwriting. Wait till you see mine and I can assure you that you will feel a lot better about yours :D
DeleteIndeed! Ink pens are my favourite too and I enjoy writing with it than ball point. Until 2008 I used to write dairy using ink pens and during school days it was fun washing and refilling pen with ink.
ReplyDeleteTotally relate to your sentiment, Jeevan. Perhaps, you should try writing once again. It is certainly a lot of fun
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