Monday, November 17, 2014

The essay, Loved Possession and Realization

It was another Saturday evening, I had to write an essay for my nephew to help him for his school project. The project was to write an essay on one of your loved possession. I had promised my nephew, I will help him write this essay. He came over to my house this evening and started to pull me out of my laziness to help him write. I gave in to his orders sacrificing my weekend lethargy. I reached to my laptop and before I could turn it on, I realized it will be hard to get a print out of the essay. I dropped my laptop back into my bag's cabinet and took out my blue Jetter pen. The pen was resting in the side pocket of the bag enjoying its usual long slumber.

I asked my nephew for his notebook. We both thought, discussed and struggled to decide what is so important a possession we would like to write for.  After great dwelling and rejection of ideas we started to scribble sentences. I was barely into few lines and my pen dried up. I was surprised to see my pen go dry. I thought, I had hardly being writing with my pen. How it can go dry. I opened my pen to check, the refill of the pen had run out of ink.

I wondered, how long it has been since I have not refilled my Jetter Pen. I could not recall, It has been a year or may be even two years. I was surprised and amused. The hey days of school and memories flashed up, I remember the days when I would required a new refill for my pen twice a week, those days of preparation for engineering entrance examination. The mad days, and the pen use to be the most trusted companion in the battle to tame those monstrous competitive exams. I smiled and relived those priceless memories for once.

I excused myself from my nephew to go out to the nearest stationary shop to buy the refill. I was a regular to this shop in the school days, I was confident to find the refill there. I greeted the shopkeeper and waited for him to turn to me after attending to his earlier customers.

I asked, 'Dada, Please give a refill for Jetter pen'.

The shopkeeper turned to me, he had blank expression on his face. I could not guess why he was so expressionless.  He looked puzzled. After few seconds he replied in a indifferent voice, 'I don't have the refill for Jetter'.

I was surprised, this shop doing business for years can run out of this important item. Has he lost interest in business that he stopped selling a hot cake article regularly sought by students? I insisted and asked again, 'You always keep all the refills of pens, but why not you have it in stock today.'

He was by then attending to another customers , he looked irritated and replied in a harsh voice,'The Jetter does not sell anymore, students prefer other brands now.' He turned his head to the customer he was earlier attending and ignored my inquiring eyes.

His word struck me hard, I was taken aback by his revelation. His words repeated itself in my head. 'This man must be lying, Jetter can't run out of memories of students. He must be lying.' I argued with myself.

I left the shop in disbelief, to scout for the refill at other shops. As I retreated and started walking, the thoughts kept coming to me. What if he was right? What if I could not find the refill? What will happen to my pen given by my father? What about the companionship of fifteen long years? Do I have to let it go and could never use it again? I sank into my heart, deep.

Is this could be the topic of my nephew's essay., if yes, I would be paying a heavy price for it.


Note: Guys, This is the second story in the long list of many more to come. I have decided to write one a week and see if I can really do that. Most importantly, I need your feedback and suggestion. Please do not hesitate to share your valuable feedback. Thanks for reading :)

1 comment:

Dian Omkar said...

How nicely written. I like the simplicity in your words. I was in fact imagining the scenes :)