My HERO
This is a sort of epitaph for my beloved Hero (Chinese: 英雄) pen, which was my constant companion till the college days, but lies uncared for now. It was a moment of a lot of pride and happiness when I carried my white Hero pen to the class (Standard IV), a profound moment of switch over from the graphite HB Natraj pencils to fountain pens. I remember we were instructed specifically not to use ball point pens as the general belief was that it will make our handwriting bad (though I was unable to perceive how). Gel pens were almost unheard of in those days, and a few sporty ones flaunted the Pilot pen.
I vividly remember the day when my father gave me the lovely white Hero pen with its glistening silver nib. It was my pride as almost all my friends used the ubiquitous coloured Wing Sung pen. As I dipped the sharp silver nib in the bottle of deep blue Chelpark ink and pressed the rubbery hub, my rendezvous with the loaded pen became one of the most precious associations till date. Be it the class work, home work, weekly tests, unit tests, terminal exams, half yearly exams or the must feared annual examinations, the Hero pen never failed me. I do not remember a single instance when the nib broke; I guess my careful handling may also be given credit for the long life span of the pen. Later on, when the pen was rendered unusable due to wear and tear, I always opted for a Hero pen only instead of the other flashy counterparts available in the market.
At times I forgot to refill the cartridge with ink. And the pen used to go dry. But quick relief was readily available in the form of the precious few drops generously showered on the wooden surface of the school desk by the classmate who sat next to me. My Hero was a keen absorber, and it drank up all the ink drops eagerly.
Enter medical college, and for the initial year or two, the Hero and I were inseparable. By then, the cheaper ball point pens and the smooth gel pens had flooded the market. The Hero was becoming ancient but I held my ground.
The real obstacle between us came during the clinics. As I was required to wash my hands very frequently and the writing of notes were no longer a luxury of leisurely 45 minute long classes, using the Hero became a bit of a cumbersome exercise. The long notes, the damp pages of my notebook and the frequent instances of running out of ink in between lectures started to take its toll. And long before, I found myself using an ugly gel pen! Yes, at first with a bit difficulty, and then with rapid ease, I got used to the feel of using ball point pens and gel pens.
But examinations were another story. I still relied on my dear Hero, though now I did carry a ball-point/gel pen or two in the pencil box for additional safety. Was the faith on my dear old friend waning off? I guess so.
And today when I am using only ballpoint and gel pens for my day to day writing activities, I fail to remember the last time when I used my old companion. I think I used it to sign the acceptance letter of the present job.
My Hero now lies alone, unattended and uncared for in a lonely dark remote pocket of my handbag. Now and then, when rummaging my bag for the house keys or for something else, my fingers brush through its familiar contours, and I lie content in the fact that my old friend is there. Though the lovely blue ink has long done dry and I have not really cared to buy a bottle of Chelpark to put my Hero into any use, I feel good to know that I still have my Hero with me.
Was it Mark Twain who remarked “Any so-called material thing that you want is merely a symbol: you want it not for itself, but because it will content your spirit for the moment.” I could not agree more. My dearest Hero, I may not say so to you nowadays, but I want you to know that you will always remain a part of me, and I will always cherish your relation with me.
I vividly remember the day when my father gave me the lovely white Hero pen with its glistening silver nib. It was my pride as almost all my friends used the ubiquitous coloured Wing Sung pen. As I dipped the sharp silver nib in the bottle of deep blue Chelpark ink and pressed the rubbery hub, my rendezvous with the loaded pen became one of the most precious associations till date. Be it the class work, home work, weekly tests, unit tests, terminal exams, half yearly exams or the must feared annual examinations, the Hero pen never failed me. I do not remember a single instance when the nib broke; I guess my careful handling may also be given credit for the long life span of the pen. Later on, when the pen was rendered unusable due to wear and tear, I always opted for a Hero pen only instead of the other flashy counterparts available in the market.
At times I forgot to refill the cartridge with ink. And the pen used to go dry. But quick relief was readily available in the form of the precious few drops generously showered on the wooden surface of the school desk by the classmate who sat next to me. My Hero was a keen absorber, and it drank up all the ink drops eagerly.
Enter medical college, and for the initial year or two, the Hero and I were inseparable. By then, the cheaper ball point pens and the smooth gel pens had flooded the market. The Hero was becoming ancient but I held my ground.
The real obstacle between us came during the clinics. As I was required to wash my hands very frequently and the writing of notes were no longer a luxury of leisurely 45 minute long classes, using the Hero became a bit of a cumbersome exercise. The long notes, the damp pages of my notebook and the frequent instances of running out of ink in between lectures started to take its toll. And long before, I found myself using an ugly gel pen! Yes, at first with a bit difficulty, and then with rapid ease, I got used to the feel of using ball point pens and gel pens.
But examinations were another story. I still relied on my dear Hero, though now I did carry a ball-point/gel pen or two in the pencil box for additional safety. Was the faith on my dear old friend waning off? I guess so.
And today when I am using only ballpoint and gel pens for my day to day writing activities, I fail to remember the last time when I used my old companion. I think I used it to sign the acceptance letter of the present job.
My Hero now lies alone, unattended and uncared for in a lonely dark remote pocket of my handbag. Now and then, when rummaging my bag for the house keys or for something else, my fingers brush through its familiar contours, and I lie content in the fact that my old friend is there. Though the lovely blue ink has long done dry and I have not really cared to buy a bottle of Chelpark to put my Hero into any use, I feel good to know that I still have my Hero with me.
Was it Mark Twain who remarked “Any so-called material thing that you want is merely a symbol: you want it not for itself, but because it will content your spirit for the moment.” I could not agree more. My dearest Hero, I may not say so to you nowadays, but I want you to know that you will always remain a part of me, and I will always cherish your relation with me.
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