Fountain pens

My collection of fountain pens or ink pens,
 (The yellow band on the green pen was for identification purpose, in case of thefts  )

It has been a long time since man developed his early writing instruments, and how they were modified and changed with time.

My first writing instrument was probably a crayon or a pencil, for I don’t remember which exactly. That art of holding a pencil was taught by my father and later my kindergarten teacher. I should probably owe her so much respect since she was my first teacher who taught me the alphabet, my first steps in learning how to read and write.

My 'Hero' pens 

Pencil was my writing tool till my 4^th grade, and I can still remember my excitement in getting my first fountain pen with my promotion to the 5^th grade. I got my first fountain pen as a complementary from my school; a rather small, green pen fit for beginners, and it drew rather thick strokes. My little green pen meant the world to me; I even carried it everywhere in my skirt pocket, until one day the ink stained my skirt and forced me to leave it in my pencil box. It was the PT period and I always longed for one to come as a kid. Unmindful of what was going to happen, I was lost in my play session. And it did not take me long to discover that my precious green fountain pen was missing! Being a kid, I always dreamt of being a detective and I suspected a theft there..! I had always suspected one of my classmates for my random disappearances of pencils and erasers, but this was a major theft. Finally I confronted the girl and politely asked her to return my pen to which she denied having it with her. I threatened to report it to our class teacher if she didn't return it. And after much of coaxing I got a pen, but a new one, and I never got to see my first fountain pen after that! For all that care I took, by delicately washing it, and polishing it I hoped it would be in good hands! :D

But that fountain pen craze did last for long though, and I have made a good collection till date. Modified, good ones called ‘hero’ pens were too much in demand and the one who owned it as a kid was all on cloud nine and I was aiming for those ‘heroes’. I wanted to own those in all colors and all types. I made a deal with my mother to buy me a pen of that each year so that I would have all the colors and the types by then. And it so went like that deal and that craze slowly died down. Still I am the proud owner of 6 such fountain pens which continue to give me excellent service till today.

It is today that I realize that authentic value of those fountain pens, my handwriting became lucid and neat. It was those fountain pens that made me frame my cursive writings, and develop a good handwriting. I have noticed that the same handwriting is hard to obtain in a ball point pen or a gel pen. That fountain pen stands its way. The father of all modern pens! My love for fountain pens is also because of those beautiful cursive handwriting that the people of olden times had, which inspired me not to lose my touch with them! That joy is never the same…

Withered, still green

The Tippu express chugged its way past the plains which were once filled with luscious green crops, but now lay parched. There was utter chaos inside the train compartment; kids weeping, the chatter of people and to add the coffee/tea and maddur vade sellers asking for business in an advertising voice. I had my earphones on, so I was not bothered by these chaos, and outside awaited a bigger scene to worry about. The outside view signified drought. It was clearly visible, which the misery was upon. The once so healthy, standing tall sugarcane crops lay bent out of thirst. Most of the crops were poorly developed, which any person could find out by looking at it.

The train sped away, with the wind hitting my face. For a moment I was lost, thinking about the consequences and the outcome. I saw some cattle there, searching for fresh grass, which was also deprived now. Some coconut trees also stood there diseased and withered. The sight was a clear sign, representing the coming hurdles for man, for meddling with Mother Nature. It was a gruesome realization; a major problem was being shunned. Failed monsoons, imbalance in the weather and seasons spelt of the lurking danger.

But someone in the fields stood there undeterred, a Farmer. Still tilling his fields adhered to make it verdant once again. A heartfelt feeling aroused, seeing his plight and efforts. The sight was not abstruse. It was not only a farmer’s problem, but one day the whole world might have to suffer. The sight of the fields spoke a veracious fact; that the future may have to face some severe outcomes from the present. This problem may be momentary, but it signifies eventual destruction. The solution was rather simple, all it needed was to realize and act to it.

Vagaries may take place, far we cannot say how or when. Yes, nature was showing its vengeance, or rather teaching us, humans a lesson for our wicked deeds committed for our selfish reasons.

The music in my earphones ended, and so did the sight of the fields. I had reached the outskirts of Bangalore by then and a . This view outside the window was contradictory to the view I had enjoyed before. There was complete urbanization, lots and lots of buildings, huge dumps of garbage was haphazardly strewn. The train halted there for a while and the view was unbearable, while I could sense the pollution in the air.

Zillions of thoughts had whizzed past my mind in that three hour journey.Yes, they were concerning. This was probably the first time that I had not got bored and fallen asleep in a journey. Thus I reached the apotheosis of my thinking that something needs to be done. Water is very scarce and it needs to be saved for the betterment of the future. Everyone should contribute in saving the world, for a better future ahead. The message needs to be spread and people need to be enlightened about the crisis.

I was rather reluctant and resentful upon taking this trip, but I don’t regret it now because it sure taught me lessons..it was a happy journey indeed. :)

The Songs of my Heart: Birds

Everybody has a passion; it’s just that one needs an outlook to realize it. As a kid I loved writing essays, drawing pictures, collecting stamps and coins and I had a vivid imagination. As I grew up my hobbies too grew up with me. Some of the hobbies slowly turned into passion.

I was a young birdwatcher, back then I had a small binoculars (my dad’s old one) and excitedly used to sit at the windows and look through it to find some birds! It was a mere pass-time back then, but at present I felt the love for the winged creatures that lies in my heart. I first heard the word Ornithology from one of my good friend, Lakshmi Bharadwaj. I was also glad to find out that we sailed in the same boat.

My love for birds is probably because of my dad, who himself is a bird enthusiast. Adding to the lovely garden we have in our house, attracted more of those pretty winged creatures. Our garden can be called a bird’s paradise (despite being in the main road adding to the noise) a perfect bird bath, to cool off during hot noons, trees to rest on and the soothing greenery around!

                                     My sketch of Dr.Salim Ali,

Dr.Salim Ali (1896-1987), the greatest Indian ornithologist who introduced the ethereal spirits of the air to the earth. With his hard work and efforts, today we know what kinds of birds exist in our country. Hats off to this great personality! His achievements are indeed praiseworthy. What helped me to develop my interest and build my knowledge was alone this great man’s book ‘The book of Indian birds’. This book was a gift for my father from a friend, which today tops my list of favorites. All that I know today, all the birds that I can identify today is only because of the book. My veneration for ornithology will always be high.  If I had another life I would definitely choose to be a bird, flying devotedly!

Whenever I see a bird gleefully chirping, flying, or even playing in the birdbath, my heart takes a merry-go-round. I can feel a sense of joy, a close touch of nature’s creation. My love for Mother Nature knows no bounds. The captivating song of a bird has the power to make me get over my laziness. It is a delight to watch them timidly stepping into the bird bath and splash water to beat the heat. What more can I expect!

Ornithology is a song for me, a song that my heart sings for me to pursue, the only song that I cared to stop and hear it. A passion which will die with me, an ardor that can only exist in my heart and not my mind! And so my heart sings…

With love,

Dearest Lakshmi,

"Friend - a person known well to another and regarded with liking, affection and loyalty." So it is defined in a dictionary. And I see it abides by what it defines.

‘Every person is a new door to a different world’. True to it, you are one such person whose impact mesmerized me to a new world, the world of blogging. Four years back, I started with my first blog; my very first inspiration was ‘An Amateur’s Attempts’. I began my blogging journey at a young age. I never received any feedback, on account of which I was prejudiced. But it was your encouragement that kept my confidence alive and I continued my journey. I say this from the heart; I love Brad Pitt, Rafael Nadal and many each for their accomplishments, but I definitely am your biggest starry-eyed fan and you top my celebrity favorites list. It’s because you’re the best celebrity I’ve managed to meet so far!

Your blogs, poems and everything you write are out of this world, perfect, flawless and inspiring. All your writings have a stupendous life in it. And of course you’re an amazing photographer, artist, and an ‘author’. I wonder how gifted your parents feel to have a doting daughter like you!

Everything you do is an inspiration to me. Reading all that you write awakens the writer in me. It’s your words that motivated me to pursue my blogging expedition which was hindered in the meanwhile. Ever since a kid I’ve always been fascinated by those Enid Blyton’s, Agatha Christie’s and Nancy Drew’s books and novels. But since time flew, books were promoted to blogs, and I’m into blogging, I’ve learnt tons of things not only from your writings, from you as well. You’re my role model to this day!

We make great amigos too. Maybe that’s because both of us love Tinkle, Harry Potter, painting, birds, nature and oh! So many more!

Today is a big special day, for you. So step out, bask your face in the feeble morning sunlight, let that cool breeze sweep through your face. Perceive that extravagant feeling of randomness, charm. You will feel beautiful, from within the inner. Finally, you will hear my voice whispering from nowhere “HAPPY BIRTHDAY Lakshmi”! You turn 21 today, so I wish that all the happiness will be yours. With a lot of hope that I’ve made your day, I wish you once again “Happy 21”!

With love,

Disha

The Anna Hazare Movement

A bright Wednesday morning, my routine began on itself as usual. I headed for college with no mood to listen to the boring lectures. Wednesdays always bugged me for the fact that I had only theory classes, boring too. While going towards college I noticed some students coming in the opposite direction, without caring I went to park the vehicle. “It’s a holiday today I guess” said the watchman. Without wasting a thought I sped straight home. “Oh! Anna Hazare is in Jail! It’s the Anna Hazare Movement!Its the fight against corruption!” I exclaimed

Back home, my friends gave me a call “It’s a holiday so can we drop in?” “Oh sure” I said.

It was the Anna movement at bay. The classes in colleges had been boycotted by other ‘patriotic’ students on this account. Gandhi Square, Mysore became a centre for this movement. It was filled with protestors, students, elders and others who supported Anna. “We want Jan Lokpal bill”, “We support Anna”, Anna ki jai” were the slogans raised. The atmosphere was indeed like Quit India movement relapsed, with the youth and the younger generation taking much zeal in it. The whole nation extended its support to Anna to carry out his fast. Candle-light marches, Bike rallies were organized on this behalf, and it showed a good response.

“This movement is just an excuse and the students are missing their classes unnecessarily” commented some people of forward mind. It was good to see the unity, the patriotic feeling that had now awoken.

But on the contrary, instead of supporting Anna, for the purpose which the holiday was declared, I accompanied my pals to plan an outing to make a good use of the holiday for recreation, which we lack these days. An hour later, I found myself at a café relishing a cold coffee on the sunny day. We did celebrate the Anna Hazare movement, but in a contrasting manner!

What I was, what I will be.

School to college is a drastic change. Such drastic changes alter the daily life steps. One will need time to cope up with the changes.

I stepped to college with such zeal and enthusiasm, of making new friends, a new environment … blah blah.Little did I know of what was going to happen? Never had I known that the zeal and enthusiasm was soon going to bite the dust.

I did make fine new good buddies, but my mind never tried to adjust to the atmosphere. “School is miserable” was what I thought back then at school. A few words altered the same sentence now-“College is much more miserable”.Miserable stayed where it was .My mind became sort of “college phobic”. But the “Friends-o-holic” thing did overcome it. Soon I got used to it.

Getting over to the new thing-“College does not really matter, tuition actually matters”. But all that mattered was my interest nothing else, although it was the thing I had lost for a time. I had no interest in studies or anything else. Just listen to what the lecturers blabber and open the books day before a test and waste the rest of the time became my new concept of life due to lack of interest. I did give up blogging, and most of my hobbies as well.

I finally did manage to wriggle out through a tough barrier and I’m half way through it already. Since I already know how the half of the path was, I can easily interpret the other half of it.

But for now I just wish that time will get a pair of wings or a pair of legs so that it would just fly or even run!

Farewell

!0^th grade at Marimallappa’s high school and the students are busy studying for examinations. It was March when the 3^rd preparatory examinations were about to commence in a day or two. We never expected a farewell party from our school staff. So we just concentrated on studies.

It was a Tuesday when I was busy memorizing the math formulae that when I heard one of my friend talking about the send-off party.

I definitely knew it would not be of fun kind, because my school is not used to such kinds of parties. It was also the first time that a farewell party was being organized in our school, as we had never seen our seniors celebrating so.

It was Wednesday, and when we were writing our science exams, a memo came. It was a long awaited memo, and yes, it informed that there was a send-off party as well as the releasing ceremony of our school magazine.

We were instructed to wear color dresses of our choice.

It was actually on the day of our social science exam! No one was ready to study for it, we went on discussing how it will be though we all knew that they would screw us with their speech at the function. The whole evening was spent on discussing about it, and we weren’t prepared for the examination. Social science has always been a friend of mine and I was confident enough to get a 90 without touching books.

Finally the day arrived and we all were eager to finish the exams as fast our hands could write. I was the second one to come out of the class, though I didn’t even care about what I had written or how much marks I would get.

I had taken the camera to snap the fun moments and so had some of my friends.

The exam was over and some uninterested folks did not mind missing the farewell fun and left as soon as possible.

There was nothing at the farewell party but just hectic photo sessions.

Everyone was taking photos of their friends and themselves and of course our school.

We began rampaging the school grounds and tried not to attend the function only to be shooed by our teachers. Next we found ourselves sitting at pin drop silence in the functionL. Anyway we even took photos there too adding to the fun.

Whew! And finally an exhausted us relished the samosa- chutney-ice cream-banana snack.

Wonders never cease! The teachers, whom we used to hate, suddenly became the centre of attention. They had become celebrities! We took photos of them too and it was really the time to bid “farewell”. Perhaps it was the last day I attended school. Though there was no fun atmosphere, we created it! It was and will remain a cherished memory!