Words are the carrier of feel. Single word can express a huge bundle of feel. To preserve our feel we need a medium... that is... PEN.
From my very childhood I had a fascination for pen and diary. Pen with slim hold, metalic colour. I had one tiny white and skyblue pilot pen gifted by my late jetha Dr. Kanak ch Mahanta... who brought it from Russia. Unfortunately I lost it. And till today I can feel the pain of that day.
Then came the era of wing-sung pen. The tiny tip wrote fine. The more one use the fountain pen, the more smooth they became and also became part of person. Ah!what a feel. Formerly a person's sentiment was attached with his/her pen.
Ink pens were a charm. Filling the pen with a dropper from Sulekha ink bottle caused so many stories to tell. The use of blotting paper for removing extra droplets was an effort to be remembered. The stains of ink over finger, uniform,school bag...etc... a sweet memory, indeed.
Pragmatism is a philosophy which believes whatever useful is good. Use and throw. No sentiment. The result is today's ball point pen. The coloured, attractive, well written, free flowed ball point pen. No need to refill. Use n throw.
And the old spongy diary with variety colour, message and soft white pages with decorations of dates are not popular these days. Ann Frank wrote her diary and world got the feel of that hard time. Diaries never fade with time because a diary holds the feel of time. Pages may become yellow, pages may wear saffron, diary becomes precious the more old it becomes. Pen, diary, me ...an intimate feel to be framed in the name of reminiscence of other day.