Out of Fashion


Shibaprasad Deb

Opened a drawer
to pick a pen
from the myriad lot lying unscribbled
few bought, mostly collections
from pointless meets and conventions
Waiting for the rare occasion
to be put to use
Some long idle, parched,
to be thrown away,
only for a few more from
seminars and hotels join in.
For now, it’s more often instead,
tapping on the ‘smart’ pad
and much less on paper.
Till eyes rested on
a family heirloom box
and rummaging through
the other day, came across
a Pilot pen, yesteryear relics
Oh, what prized possessions.
Would have been in
Class six or seven
Dad, for a change patted
and thrust the coveted
writing fountain into my pocket
half ordering, ‘this ought to last,
your granddad’s, a gold medalist,
keep up the standards’.
Armed with the pen,
mightier than the sword
left no old chest or trunk unopened ,
loft and receptacle foraged
the mart in the neighbourhood,
for a bottle of royal blue liquid
Parker, Sulekha or Quink
and top up to her fill
the shopkeepers hadn’t a clue
Showed me hordes of
throwaway ones in many a hue
but none for my nib’s quench
And said, ‘futile’s your search,
long gone out of fashion’.

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