I was bathing in the river nearby. There were very few people around. I was in grade VI and I wanted a pen badly but my people would not listen to my persistent demands. Most of my classmates had one and some others two. I was writing with a lead pencil and it was very humiliating. I used to watch my friend's pens with curiosity, awe and despair all mixed up. On that day as dusk was falling, and as I was alone, I remained in the shallow waters. Suddenly I saw a red object flowing towards me. It had the shape of an ink pen which until then I did not have the good fortune to possess. I grabbed it as it neared me and I was in total ecstasy as it was a real fountain pen. I felt I got a great treasure. I reached the sandy bank, rubbed myself and ran home clutching the red object like an athlete holds his winners trophy.
My elder brother opened the pen and I stood nearby in a great jubilant mood of expectation. "The nib is broken," he said, "and the nib head cannot be unscrewed." He tried his level best to fix the prized possession but failed. I was crest-fallen. I felt that as he had a pen already, he did not much bother about it. He just threw it off to the bushes beyond our courtyard. I could not sleep that night. Early in the morning as soon as there was some faint light, I went and retrieved it. I showed it to many who had pens but none of them could do anything and I started realizing that someone had thrown it off into the river. Even now its memory is vivid and the hope it raised alive. It took another two solid years before a pen was brought for me. I could write with it alright but it lacked the beauty and the warmth of my first pen.
My elder brother opened the pen and I stood nearby in a great jubilant mood of expectation. "The nib is broken," he said, "and the nib head cannot be unscrewed." He tried his level best to fix the prized possession but failed. I was crest-fallen. I felt that as he had a pen already, he did not much bother about it. He just threw it off to the bushes beyond our courtyard. I could not sleep that night. Early in the morning as soon as there was some faint light, I went and retrieved it. I showed it to many who had pens but none of them could do anything and I started realizing that someone had thrown it off into the river. Even now its memory is vivid and the hope it raised alive. It took another two solid years before a pen was brought for me. I could write with it alright but it lacked the beauty and the warmth of my first pen. 