Handcrafted from a stable dry twig, with one finish barely chiselled and formed like a nib. And the stem was smoothed to carry the Kalam.For every phrase or few phrases to jot down, the Kalam acquired its ink whereas dipped into an inkpot. Collectively the pair was known as “Kalam-dawaat,” that I used to hold with me to major college. Typically my college bag and my clothes bought stains of the black ink.
My writing palette was a “Takhti,” a picket oblong-shaped plank concerning the dimension of an everyday kitchen slicing board, and with the identical thickness.
On the college, the category instructor respectfully addressed “Masterji,” assigned the writing train on the “takhti.” There was no tolerance from him for any spelling mistake. Very rigorously and gently, the writing was like portray on the picket board. However the whole task needed to be washed down and cleaned after college.
Showered with plain water, let it dry after which giving it a coating and therapeutic massage of a novel clay known as “Gachi” on each side, had been the each day therapy that my little “Takhti” wanted.
I bear in mind, when the “Takhti” was not utterly dry, I used to wave it up and down going through the Solar whereas singing the road: “suraj-e suraj-e Patti suka..”, somewhat kind of prayer, that means O’ Solar, dry my palette. It typically labored earlier than reaching college.
As I bought older and entering into greater grades, “Kalam-dawaat” was changed by “Kagaz” and pen, that means paper and pen. The latter itself was an meeting of few elements. It was once reloaded with contemporary ink day by day. A lot later, the ballpoint pens got here on the horizon. Now fingers have taken over to work on the keypad.
However the Kalam of my major college time carries a nostalgic mark from the place I began my first writing.
-By Promod Puri
