The pen glittered in the sun.
Shiny and smooth, it was just beautiful. Maithri could not take her eyes off it.
The brown body perfectly accentuated by the golden cap and slightest of the
bulge in the centre gave the pen a curve which looked classic and elegant. It
sat snugly in Neha’s palms as she showed her latest possession. “Isn’t this
beautiful? My dad got me this pen from Mumbai. It writes beautifully. Let me show you” said Neha. She took out her
notebook, and opened the cap of the pen to reveal the exquisite nib. Maithri
had never seen a fountain pen with such a small and delicate nib, it was almost
not there. But when Neha scribbled on her notebook, she saw that the pen was not
really fragile. It was strong and smooth.
“Can I please write with it for a
while” asked Maithri. Before Neha could answer, the bell announced the end of
recess and their teacher flew into the room. Everyone rushed back to their benches
and within seconds a respectful silence had set in the class of fifth grade.
Maithri looked at best friend with the new pen and sighed. Neha was the prettiest in the class
with her marble white skin and shiny short hair. She also had the best of
things - her bag, pencil box, shoes; even her school uniform looked classier
than others. Everyone in class was jealous of her. Everyone, except Maithri.
Maithri and Neha were best friends. By looks there made quite the unlikely pair. Tall and
dark, Maithri had unruly hair which had been tamed with oil and forced into a braid by her mother. The differences between the, ended there. Both of them
were soft spoken, loved to read books and watch movies, an interest cultivated
by their respective fathers. This ensured that they always had many things to
talk about, unlike the other girls and boys of their age. Maithri was always
happy in the company of Neha. Hence, she never felt jealous of the things Neha
had. Up Till now; when that fated pen arrived.
Maithri couldn’t stop thinking
about the pen. She looked down at her own plastic fountain pen. It
suddenly looked ugly and fat with a hideous protrusion of nib. It didn’t very write well. It leaked and blotched and spewed ink all over her notebook. Her
school insisted on use of fountain pens for fifth graders, and she had to wait
for a couple of years to graduate to the more sophisticated ball point pen. ‘If
I had a pen like Neha’s, I wouldn’t mind having to write with a fountain pen my
whole life’ thought Maithri. Neha caught her looking at the pen again and
again. ‘’Here why don’t you use my pen to write in this class” said Neha as she
passed it on to Maithri. Maithri was ecstatic as she took that lovely thing in
her hand and wrote a few words. The pen was not just pretty, it worked very well
too. Writing with it was like gliding your hands on satin.
“It is a lovely pen. You are so
lucky to have it” said Maithri, handing over the prized thing to Neha. As the
school day progressed, Maithri became more and more quiet. She was working on
strategies to convince her parents to get her a similar pen. She knew it
wouldn’t be easy. She had learnt quite early that her parents could not afford
to buy many things. She had everything which was required – school bag,
uniform, shoes and a pen – but they had a sturdy quality to them –they would
last for a really long time but are not really beautiful to look at, sometimes
downright ugly. She had learnt not to
protest for luxurious or expensive things because it would make her father sad,
and mother angry. But this pen was different. She wanted it badly, wanted it
with all her might. As she walked on home, she revised on all her tactics to
convince Mother; for it was she who made all the important decisions.
Mother was busy cleaning the
house when Maithri reached home. The two room set where they lived was right
next to a busy street. It was forever dusty, despite all Mother’s efforts to
keep it clean. But it didn’t dissuade her, and she took on attacking the dirt
with fresh gusto every day. Maithri often felt that Mother was obsessed with
cleaning, but she dare not voice her thoughts on this matter. She also knew not
to disturb her when she was at her obsession, she would wait for the right
opportunity. In the evening, to please her, Maithri came back early from play and
opened her school books to study. Mother was genuinely surprised. “This is the
first time you have come back from your games, without me having to ask you to!
I didn’t even have to push you to study! What is the matter? Is
there a test tomorrow in school?” she asked with concern. “No Ma, I just wanted
to prepare early for the upcoming examinations” said Maithri. Mother just
nodded with a smile and went to the kitchen to make dinner. Maithri followed her and stood at the door
watching her for a few minutes. Then she said, “Ma, the pen I have leaks when I
write. It spoils the paper and my hands and everything I touch. Can you please
buy me a new pen?” Mother didn’t stop what she was doing, but said “Maithri,
you just got a new pen last month after you broke the last one. Ask you father
to check on it, if it has any fault. I am sure he will make it stop leaking.”
Maithri knew that the first attempt will not work. Then she tried
something else. “Father might make it stop spewing ink, but he cannot make it
smoother. This pen is so rough; it is quite difficult for me to write. I have
to write quickly in the tests, there is never enough time. How can I score good
marks if my concentration is on the pen rather than the test?” said Maithri.
This time she caught Mother’s
attention; but in the wrong way. “Young lady, do not make the excuse of a pen
for your low scores. Students are marked on their answers, not on the pen they
are using. What you need to do is practice writing with this pen at home. Go
back to your books and copy down today’s entire class notes into your practice
book” said Mother. Maithri was crestfallen. She didn’t expect this and was
quite upset with the unexpected penalty. Not able to stop herself further she
spurted, “Mother you have to see Neha’s new pen. It is just wonderful; it
writes so smoothly, that I can finish an entire essay in half the time
required. It is very strong too, will not be damaged like my pen if it falls
down. That pen would last for years. Please get me this one pen, and I will
never ask for anything else”. But her pleading had no effect on Mother.
“Maithri, you know we cannot afford to buy things like Neha’s parents. We have
talked about this quite enough; I do not want to go over it again. The pen you
are talking about must cost hundreds. Your father is providing you everything
you need. Do not ask for all this expensive things” said Mother sternly.
Maithri gave up. She knew that there would be no more discussion on this
matter, without her getting scolded. If she insisted again, there would be
serious reprimands. She went back to her books miserably.
The next few days, Maithri was
quiet. She didn’t speak much both at school and at home. All the time, she was
brooding on how much she wanted that pen but couldn’t have it. She was also
angry with Neha. If she hadn’t shown her the pen, Maithri wouldn’t
have known the pain of not owning it. Neha enquired about her glumness several
times, but couldn’t get an answer out of her. For Maithri was too proud to tell
her the truth. She would rather not have the majestic pen than be pitied. So
she went about her days dejected and alone, staying away from her best friend
and her beautiful pen.
One morning in class, she was told that school
was going to be closed the next day for Christmas. That’s when an idea formed
in her head. She had read about Christmas and Santa Claus in many books and
seen in the films on their black and white television. She was too young to understand
what religion meant, but old enough to know that they didn’t celebrate
Christmas. But it didn’t matter to her. The books said that Santa Claus always
bought a gift to all the good children. All one had to do was write their wish
down in a paper, put it in a stocking and hang it on the fireplace on Christmas
Eve. Behold, the next morning, the gift would be sitting at the Christmas tree,
all beautifully wrapped up and waiting to be opened with eager hands. This
whole thing always fascinated her. But she never thought of giving it a try.
Maybe it was because they didn’t celebrate Christmas, or had stockings or a
fireplace to hang them on. Or maybe because she thought there was no Santa Claus, rather it was the parents who buy the gifts
their children wished for. Or maybe because she had never wanted something so
badly that she would hope. Hope that Santa Claus really existed and would get
her that gift, which her parents couldn’t.
Deciding that the pen was worth
the effort, Maithri came home from school that day and hunted for her father’s
sock. “No stocking here, but a big sock should do” she mumbled to herself.
Having found the perfect one; she hid it under her pillow and went about her
chores quietly. That night, just before bedtime, she wrote down her wish for
the pen, in the best writing she could. Carefully folding up the torn piece of
notebook paper, she put it in the sock and placed it under her pillow. She went
off to sleep easily that night; with a light heart filled with faith. That
night she dreamt of talking to a huge man dressed in all red, with flowing
white beard and a jingle in his step while he listened to her earnestly.
The next morning she woke up
before Mother could call out to her. There was no Christmas tree in the house,
so the gift she asked for must be in the sock itself. She pulled out the sock
from under her pillow and thrust her hand inside eagerly. Her mind told her she
was being silly; there wouldn’t be any pen there. Despite that, she was crushed
to see that the sock was empty. She started to cry, not knowing why. Was it
because there was no pen, or was it because she had hoped for a miracle and it
didn’t happen? Father came rushing to comfort her, and Mother asked her the
reason for her tears. But she didn’t answer. How could she tell them that she
was upset that Santa Claus didn’t come and give her a gift? She was too old for
that. Mother was getting angry with the delay being caused on a school day. So
Maithri dried her tears and went to school. That day she stopped pining for
that pen.
The next couple of months passed
away quickly and the school year was coming to an end. Maithri tried be her usual
self after the incident with the pen and Santa, though she was still sad. She
also disliked not speaking to Neha and missed her very much in the days she had spent away from her. Deep inside she knew that there was no fault of Neha’s in
this whole pen affair. So she was back with her best friend and wondered how she
could ever have been angry with her. Neha not knowing what had disturbed
Maithri those few days, was relieved to see Maithri becoming normal again. They
both grew closer after that break, as if to make up for the lost time. With the
advent of the final examinations, they studied together after school and spent
a lot of time together.
On the day of the last test, Maithri skipped
back home almost happy. She was free from the tyranny of studies and school for
the whole of summer and she looked forward to two whole months of fun and play
at her grandparent’s village. The only thing she would miss was Neha and times
spent with her. But then they would have the whole of next school year for
that. Maithri couldn’t get herself to worry about anything that day and went
about humming to herself.
That night, she had visitors. Just after
dinner, as Mother was clearing up the kitchen, there was a knock on their front
door. Father opened the door and ushered in Neha and her father. As the parents
exchanged their pleasantries over some tea, Neha looked at Maithri with very
sad red rimmed eyes. Evidently she had been crying. She gave Maithri a
beautifully wrapped box, tied up with a red ribbon forming a bow on the
top. Maithri had never got a present so delightfully packed. She was lost in admiring it, and forgot to wonder about the reason behind the gift. Then, Neha told her the
terrible fact. “My father has got transferred to Mumbai. We all have to move
there. We are leaving early tomorrow morning so that I could attend the
admission process in the school there.” said Neha trembling. Maithri was too
shocked to give a response. When she didn’t give a response, Neha burst into
tears. Her father gently steered her towards the door, saying good buy. “I will miss you so much; we had such good
times together. We will be friends for ever. We will write letters to each
other. That is why I have given you this gift. This will remind you of me
always” said Neha, while leaving.
Maithri still couldn't understand what had just happened. Neha had always been around for as long as she
remembered. She couldn’t imagine times without her. Her mind couldn’t recognize
school classes, and lunch times and books without Neha. She just stood there,
trying to make sense of it all. Mother and Father knew she was very upset at
the loss of her friend. Hence they tried to distract her. “What did Neha give
you?” asked Mother pointing to the gift in her hands. Maithri sat on the bed
while she gently unwrapped the box and took out the gift Neha had given her. It
glittered even in the dull light of their home as it nestled in her palm. Tears
streamed silently down her face as she ran a finger over the smoothness of the
brown and gold.
