The Gift Mightier Than The Sword

By Pratichi Satpathy

I lived with my grandparents, and was always warned that I dare not touch anything in my strict grandfather’s neat study. But I could gaze all I wanted. There it was, among all the boring black and blue pens, the golden, sparkling fountain pen. “You’re too young for any of these,” said a stern voice behind me. Knowing it was my grandfather, I fled.

Fast forward to my first day of elementary school. Butterflies fluttered around my stomach as I packed my bag. The crisp new uniform, bookosmia of the books, shine of the pencil box, clean bag and new hydro-flask excited me. But I was more exhilarated about the thought of using pens for the first time. Just when I was about to put my pens in, something golden caught my eye. It was my grandfather’s golden Parker pen, filled with ink, ready to write with! I was dumbfounded; I couldn’t picture him parting with his most precious possession. My eyes moistened with tears, I felt both jubilant and emotional. My grandfather then sat me down and explained how the pen works. He also said, “Everything you write, will always leave a mark. But that doesn’t mean you won’t write. Similarly, mistakes once made, are hard to correct, but one must not fear them, as they help us grow. Also, when you run out of ideas, you must refill your mind, just like you can refill the pen.” At school, I would look into my pouch after every break to ensure the safety of my treasure.

I am grateful to my grandfather, not only for the pen, but the lessons that came with it. Looking back, that pen gave me the wings to fly and express my words on paper. Truly, the pen is the tongue of the mind.

By Pratichi Satpathy