BENGALURU: I teach Calligraphy. I don’t do it for the money, for it’s not exactly the trade to rake in the moolah. Most of my clientele are children forced by their parents to attend, in hopes of a better handwriting and by extension, better grades and a wholesome life. The other category is bored, rich individuals pursuing a long-lost tradition. I continue to do it as a small contribution in keeping an art form alive - the art of lettering and penmanship. I feel I owe it all the more, simply because I learnt it for free on the web and feel a slight guilt since I charge for my workshop. The conscience fumbles when the stomach grumbles!
The only side-effect of this trade is shopping for pens and stationery for the workshops. I am generally averse to shopping and have been wearing Jockey t-shirts the last three years. Entering a shopping mall grips me with a frightening anxiety. Unfortunately, the only stationery stores near my house are in large shopping malls.
This is drastically different from earlier times, when you could find a stationery store in every lane, occupying prime property in market places, buzzing with customers all day.
Stationery stores back then had something for everybody. You could buy something for five rupees or relieve your hardworking father’s wallet by 1500 rupees in one go! Stationery stores those days contained all the joys a child could wish for - books, pens, stickers, chewing gums with free cards, magnets and knick-knacks. In some cases - toys and sports items too!
I remember buying a ‘video game’ from the stationery store near my house in Bhubaneswar. A name too ambitious for a humble Tetris Brick Game that ran on a double A battery and gave my grandmother sleepless nights. Not surprisingly, that’s the last memory I have of the store. Pens and paper took a back seat in my life as I set out to discover the various vices of the world. That was the case, till I came across an online course for Calligraphy, which sparked an interest in me to learn the craft.
I had to replenish my inventory for an upcoming workshop and found that the stationery store in the nearby mall did not stock Calligraphy pens. “We had a few, but nobody bought them,” that was his capitalistic explanation. I looked online and found a stationery store that took me to the older part of the city.
The store looked a few decades old. It would have been prime property a few years ago but the market itself had shifted to greener pastures. A senior citizen was seeking out a refill for his pen. A child stood next to his father, holding the edge of the desk for a better look. Unlike the colourful mess that the stationery stores used to be, this store was neatly organised. The products had become more niche – expensive fountain pens, wireless keyboards, USBs and hard disks – in what would have given me a heart attack as a child - even housekeeping items like mops and buckets!
I asked for my pens and was shown a few samples. Instinctively I looked for the note pad that was used to scribble and test the pens. I was politely told that if I removed the packing, I would have to buy the set. A few decades ago, I would have raised an objection. Now, I quietly nodded. I chose my pens and got them packed. As I was leaving, I noticed a boy who was pointing at something in the shop and looking up at his father expectantly. As he did that, the father shook his head in denial with a sombre expression on his face. I smiled and walked out.