If you conducted the anatomy of a fountain pen, Swedish illustrator Mattias Adolfsson believes you would find, from cap to nib, a pink brain, a tangle of artistic clout, a reproductive organ, a pair of grey lungs, a blue-headed parrot, a stretched rabbit, a pre-colon, a swollen ink bladder, and finally, where the pen tapers to its point, a colon. This was his imagination, of course.
But for a true admirer of the fountain pen, it is definitely a body that breathes, bleeds, and bends slowly to the shape of your hand. The people who never let it go are still trying to explain why.
The first pen
For nearly everyone who grew up in India in the 1980s and 1990s, the first fountain pen was a Hero pen. Shanthni Mahalingam, founder of Learnsalot Academy, remembers waiting for class 5 the way other children waited for summer holidays. “I still remember my mom taking me shopping for Hero pens. I used to mix different colours and see what colour ink it would write in.” An architect, who goes by the name pvnstarlet, used them early in class 3. It made him spend the rest of his life wanting to write in red ink but unable to, because red, as you know, belongs to the teachers.
Shilpa Sara Sam, a content writer, received her first Hero pen from her father as a birthday gift. She describes, “It was coffee brown in colour with a golden cap. Unlike other pens then, this had a curved end without a golden colour at the tip. It was sleek and had style.”
Writer Neetha John shares her memory of ink pens being passed down from her father. She says, “My father always romanticised ink pens. He bought me and my sister these beautiful ink pens and we were told we would only be allowed to use them if we improved on our handwriting.” The first pen she owned was a yellow Camlin ink pen with a blue cap.
Urudhimozhi, a translator, began using fountain pens when her school mandated them. “We were discouraged from using ballpoint pens,” she says. “I used a dark green-colour Hero pen for four long years, and I was planning to write my board exams with that pen. Sadly, I lost it.”
The colour green, it turns out, runs through many of these first memories. Dr Sneha Rooh, a palliative physician and psychotherapist, also received a dark green pen, though hers came from a different world entirely. “It had a dark green body, and Hero pens have that golden arrow pointing towards the nib. It came with a golden cap,” she says.
The feeling
The physical sensation of writing with a fountain pen is one of those things people know precisely but cannot quite express. Suriya, a journalist, returned to ink pens after many years. “The nib did not roll over the rough paper; instead it sort of crudely scratched against every bump and crevice, the flowing ink being the only relief. I could feel the paper through the pen and it all felt much more analogue, less detached.” The scratching sound had become a cultural staple by the time he was a teenager. “The effect was most pronounced amid the low hum of the examination hall, the scratching of pens almost served as white noise,” he says.
Shilpa describes the experience in terms of weight. “There is a flow that only an ink pen can offer. The thickness of each stroke is something that regular pens can’t replace. Each time I write something with an ink pen, I feel like a writer, words feel heavier, and my mind gets lighter.”
The smell of the ink is part of it too. That sharp, slightly ferric scent that rises when you uncap a freshly filled pen. Anne, a writer, speaks of the nib’s gradual surrender to the hand. “The more you write with it, the softer the nib becomes. There are so many factors that I would always prefer an ink pen over a ball pen, the reusability, the repeatability, the personal touch I get just by holding it. It’s not entirely describable,” she notes.
The ritual
The fountain pen demands a certain maintenance, and this is also a reason why the users love it. Shanthni’s mornings revolve around the pen. “Every day, taking my ink pen and then starting to write makes it so special for me as it takes me back to my childhood,” she gushes.
Urudhimozhi uses an injection syringe to fill her Hero pens. Anne describes the ritual of filling the pen as meditative in itself. “Taking out the ink bottle from the cupboard, then the pen from my pouch, filling the ink carefully, observing how a piece of cloth would be stained, and then finally sitting down to write and strike off words. Typing out words on a phone or laptop would erase those imperfections, which are just so human,” she illustrates. Priyadarshini N, a journalist, after loading a fresh cartridge, lays her pen horizontally and leaves it undisturbed for a full day before they write a single word with it. They have kept that pen for eight years.
The ritual, including smudges on fingertips and handkerchiefs, is what makes fountain pens so fascinating. Writing becomes a mindful process, shares S N Krishna, a media professional.
Ink as resistance
There is something in the act of reaching for a fountain pen in a world of swipe and scroll. Suriya shares, “I usually write to organise my own thoughts or figure out what I am feeling, and this is perhaps the only reason why I even take a pen to paper anymore. When writing is clearly so emotionally significant, being able to have a less detached experience would be preferable. The Bics and Reynolds of the world signal more alienation in my eyes, when I am already detached from the conditions of my life so severely. Sometimes when I finish writing, there is some ink left on my fingers. I like that.”
Dr Sneha draws a clear line between consumption and creation. “I enjoy both. But it is the ink pen that rests my thoughts. I like to consume with swiping and scrolling, but when it comes to creation, be it love letters, journals, or any piece, it is still an ink pen for me.”
Shilpa frames it as a matter of effort and reward. “It takes effort to reach for that pen and start writing in the current world of scrolling and swiping. But when it is your favourite pen, colour, and when you know how that is going to make you feel, it becomes less of an effort. It will free your brain of the noise, at least when you are with your book and pen.”
Letters and love
The charm of an ink pen is such that it makes people want to say the things they would never type. Krishna wrote countless love letters and poetry to his then-girlfriend. He says, “Now, as my wife for over a decade, she still wonders why one would take all the pains and stains to use fountain pens.” Shilpa, meanwhile, has preserved a letter her grandmother wrote to her grandfather while he worked away from home. “It has mentions of my mother and her siblings, and about how things were going at home.” Suriya wrote a letter of apology that he never delivered. “I have lost the letter, but I think about it a lot.”
If you have never picked up a fountain pen, these people have a few things to tell you, and they will not pretend to be neutral about it. Dr Sneha says, “An ink pen makes one slow down, and that’s the greatest gift anyone can get in this day and age,” which sounds mild until you realise she means it as a challenge. Priyadarshini, who has clearly blotted a page or two in her time, is more cheerful about the whole business. “Even if you do end up blotting a few pages, so what? You can always try again or just repackage the blots as some fancy unintentional art project.” Krishna, who has been writing with one long enough says, “the choice has to be organic,” and leaves it at that.