We retain some objects not for their utility value, but because of our love for the persons who gifted them to us. I have always been a connoisseur of pens and collecting them has been my hobby. I have perhaps, brought, or been gifted with all sorts of pens-fountain pens, ballpoint pens, micro-tipped, roller, gel, et al, that have been manufactured so far. At present, I may be in possession of hardly a couple of usable ball pens. I don't know where all the rest have gone.
There is, however, one fountain pen that I have retained very fondly. This pen was gifted to me by my late grandfather when I secured the first rank in a university exam in 1974. This was a prestigious pen manufactured by an internationally reputed pen manufacturing company. These pens were supposed to last a lifetime. I was certainly glad about this new possession. Immediately, after getting possession of the famous pen, I filled it with ink by alternately pressing and releasing the capillary attached to the barrel of the pen. I then set upon the task of running the nib on a white paper, hoping how nice the letters and words would appear on the paper with my beautiful handwriting. The famous pen refused to write a single word. I tried to make the pen write on the subsequent days also but to no avail. Had this happened with any other pen, I would not have hesitated to throw it away in a trice.
When I met my grandfather the next time, he eagerly inquired about the pen he had gifted. My grandfather was a person known for his moral rectitude and would never hesitate to tell the truth however bitter it might be. While informing my grandfather that the pen he gifted was an excellent one, I added in sotto voce "except that it does not write".
My grandfather, Mr K.R.Karanth, was a well-known advocate and a politician of impeccable character. He was about 6 feet tall and had an athletic build. His external imposing appearance was matched by impeccable qualities like punctuality, honesty, clamour for truth and commitment to whatever he undertook. On occasions when he drove the car himself it would be a dream come true for the cops-of witnessing a driver who meticulously followed all the traffic rules.
It is now 47 years since the pen was gifted to me and 41 years since my grandfather bade adieu to this world, yet I have retained the pen with me, though I have not written a word with it. And, whenever I see the pen, it reminds me of my grandfather's sterling qualities.