Christina Mary George, II M.A English
Don’t you just share the excitement with the whole of the human race when one receives a fresh new book yet to be peeled from its pristine cover, to hear the crinkle of the pages being turned but with utmost care, or when your fingers ache to simply mark the most heart-warming or brain-boosting quote? Well, I fall into neither of them.
My heart, unlike others’, skips a beat seeing the sensuous patterns that the hand creates when it glides across paper with an instrument that was endowed to us humans, only for good, by the Gods who believed in beauty. Books or words never did excite me as much as its layout. How every chapter starts with an embossed ornate capital letter, decked with gold and flowers made more sense and delivered more beauty than any words could possibly convey.
In an age where the tap-tap of keyboards overpower the irritable soothing scratching of a nib, you cannot help but wonder in sorrow when the day will come that you bury the pen to rest in peace. After all, it had earned its share of greatness creating and etching down history and wonderful works of art. Why wouldn’t it want some rest? But I wouldn’t let it. No, not for one moment. History must not end at the expense of virtual reality! It must go on and wield itself, sharper every time, to stab technology in its brain stem and to conquer the human race with its unpleasant scratchings but beautiful renditions in seamless strokes!
Handwriting that’s dying a slow and painful death can only be resuscitated by a whiff of fresh air and a genuine love for the rustic. A splosh of ink here, a smudge there and many torn up pages later, you are endowed with the insane talent of etching music and dance and all things art into that one beautiful stroke that creates words, that ultimately create meaning to those who look too deep to understand the sheer beauty of the periphery.
Despite this one last war cry for victory, here I am desperately tuning myself to the complexities of finding letters on the keyboard, typing down my sorrows searchingly. “No! You must change with the times. Number of words per second … increase speed … forget the beauty …get a move on …TYPE FASTER!” “The eraser does not have to leave ugly marks mopping up your mistakes anymore, What are you moping for about then?” Deep within the pile of books that my hand went wandering about, I struck gold seeing the familiar pattern of the letters neatly arranged to spell out the long lost art of ‘CALLIGRAPHY’. I embraced it. Wiping away the dust off its covers I put it on the top of the shelf for the world to notice.