PEN A sheaf of blank papers stare at me as if encouraging me to pick them up, write some thing. It has been ages since I last held a pen, I look for one. Pen stand is full of post its, stamps,stapler, pins, erasers, rubber band but pen is missing. I pull out drawers; they are full of old bills: telephone bills, electricity bills,water bills; tickets: movie tickets, bus tickets, train tickets; and other tit bits but no pen; why do I have all these stored up, filling up the drawer or is it void in my life I am trying to fill. I rush to next room looking for a pen, thinking when was it that I last put a pen on paper; Room is full of stuff, a couch, a bean bag, bed, couple of easy chais strewn about, computer , laptop, tablet, phone (carpet is dusty need to vaccum it, painting on wall slightly out of place,I straightening it and blinds they smell musty need a wash) but still no pen; I panic; how could it be? I was so fond of writing, not as a writer, dont think I ever was that good but more in sense of a calligraphist. Written words hold a beauty of thier own, they tell you so much about the writer. Oh! Let me not digress;I keep looking for pen; there has to be atleast one I had so many of them. I open up my cupboard its filled with crumpled clothes, clothes I didnt care abou. Shirts, T shirts, trousers, jeans; white ,blue, red, yellow, orange; I wonder when did I come to own so many of them? Why? Still no pen in sight I start getting nervous! What is it? Of Course there has to be a pen somewhere. I open my shoe rack in hope of finding one, shoes tumble out new,old, Oxfords, few sports, laced, brown, black, yellow, white,green. For gods sake who wears green shoe; why did I even buy it? I cant even remember when? I am not a shoe person. They lay there mocking me. Next cupboard is filled with wires; cable for my tv, telephone, old computer wires, wires for computer I no longer owned, mouses ( not cousin of rats rat) that no longer worked, speakers, head phones, wires that I might need, wires that I didnt know exist; tangled up reminiscent of my life. Why do I own them I muse I dont want to. Tired I sit down on floor, wondering what happend, where did all my pens go? I love them I love them all ball pen, ink pen roller ball; red,green, blue, black; I own all things I dont love dont need and I own not one pen! Exhausted I lie down. Staring up bankly at the ceiling. A lot of dust has gathered on fan, it needs to be cleaned.
Posted on: Mon, 08 Sep 2014 08:45:26 +0000
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