Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Ploughing through

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder
I think habit does the same, too
Today I sit here in a city on the hillside
Reading, writing, deciphering the fantastic symbols our books contain
Every day I listen to the voices on the bus
Watch the faces all the while
There is a whole host of information flooding my senses
I need to get it out of my mind
Focus on my own
Plough it through

The sun sets on the West
The moon rises to the East
While I enjoy conversations alongside the river
The light playing down on on the grass
Guitars are playing
Mocking my altogether ordinary state
I exist, as a shadow of my imagination
My imagination is fertile

The rhythms of the splashing water
The beat of the tram running on the bridge
The birdsong up there in the air
The cry of the baby in the hall
Stars clear in the still night sky

Today I live here by the hillside
Tomorrow I may not
There is a whole lot to do
Before my corpse begins to rot.

But what tiredness is this
Which grips me every now and then
I have no use for this habit of mine
I must shine
I must be seen
Not as the dull stone that was used to polish the gem
Who willl polish me
This rugged stone with the soft inside

Sunday, Monday, and so on
There are seven of these crazy days
On some the sky speaks volumes
On others it is still
I have no use for tiredness
Tomorrow might be the day
Tonight might be the night
So stay awake
And plough it through
Write another worksong
Swing to the mood
Move to the beat
Plough it through.




Saturday, December 10, 2011

A fight against my own

My location is known and so are the parameters.
Seven days are there in a week,
on all of which I am alive.
On none of them however do I live.
On the bus, down to the city
There is a crowd to behold
Living, dying creatures of flesh and blood
I watch them and I'm told
I am similar to them in every way

Today I fight
A fight against my own
Everywhere I roam
Until late in the night

Go sing a song
practice the arts you have been taught
You could be successful
You have talents to be used
Take my words to heart

No I won't
Because I'm on a fight
a fight against my own
Everywhere I roam
until late in the night

Thursday, November 17, 2011

I am looking for something new urgently.
As of now, I can see three puzzle pieces.
Piece One: Faces. There are so many beautiful ones.Not even beautiful... marked is the right adjective.
Piece Two: Sound. The guitars and drums play concerts exclusively for me.
Piece Three: Sleep. Pure bliss. Does more need to be said?

Monday, November 7, 2011

Eye tennis

The last month I have played this game a lot. It can be played anywhere where there are sufficiently many people to observe who you are not acquainted with. The guy sitting opposite to me in the suburban train does have an abnormally large nose. Look away when he's turning his head this way. And that girl is wearing the same coat as my friend back home. I am not looking at you, I am only looking around disinterestedly, and once in a while our eyes meet. Pure coincidence, of course. Oh look, I noticed that you live in the same street as I do. You have a really expensive jacket. What might your profession be? Are you a banker? Or perhaps an architect? And you have such excellent manners, you always let me get off the bus first and carefully avoid my eye. The moment you speak to your opponent, the game is over, then you become acquaintances. But do not let that happen. This is more fascinating.
The train stops. Everybody gets off and walks, orderly and swiftly, like a well-tuned clockwork, to the exit of the station. There is a tram waiting. Run and catch it. And now there is a new group of people in here. There, I have been noticing you on the train, student, for about a week, but I didn't realize you take the same tram as I do, and you actually get off at the same bus stop! Oh hi. But sorry. I am not supposed to nod at you. I am only allowed to look at you when I think you are not looking. And of course I hope you are looking at me too when I turn away.
Not all people play this game; it requires body language and attitude; and there is no gain waiting at the other end. But this is what we humans do when we get together in large groups.
This is what the Halloween party was about. Glad to have met you, Count Dracula.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

A new ink pen at last

Going to buy a brand new ink pen by Parker with a converter (the refillable cartridge with which you can draw up the ink from an ink-well, preferably through the nib so that the ink channels get cleaned) in the coming month.

Yippee!

Scenes from Neckargemünd and Dilsberg

Yesterday's walk gave me these photos.

Near Hanfmarkt bus stop, Neckargemünd

Near Hanfmarkt bus stop, Neckargemünd

View of the slope west of Kleingemünd, from Hanfmarkt bridge

Johannes Nepomuk Kirche Neckargemünd
View of Neckarsteinach from S-Bahnhof (suburban train station) Altstadt
Tree in autumn foliage

View from under the railway bridge,  Dilsberg fortress visible atop hill in the distance

Close-up-view, Neckar river and Dilsberg hill with fortress in the distance

Close-up of northern bank of Neckar river
View downstream

Upstream

And then, a few more photos from an earlier walk up Dilsberg fortress:

Dilsberg village from fortress

Dramatic view of church and landscape
Hope you enjoyed the walk as much as I did!

Saturday, October 22, 2011

The nice landscape hereabouts

Have a look at the place where I live. These were taken with my (admittedly low-resolution, non-hi-tech) camera yesterday at sunset during a walk along my street.








I suppose the pictures say what I want to say. In any case I would love to buy a new camera, once I can afford it!

Monday, October 17, 2011

How to memorize a song with music

Step 1. Let the song play in the background in repeat mode while you do some work.
Step 2. Spend some time listening exclusively to the song, for example during a bus ride.
Step 3. If you aren't the type to hear the lyrics straightaway, then focus on the lyrics next. If you tend to ignore the music then pay closer attention to it in this step.
Step 4. Find yourself listening to the song by heart even when you are not listening to it.
Step 5. Try singing it if that was your aim, and hum the background music along with it.
Done!

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The mundane

Fervent admiration for those girls who wear the right clothes is an imaginary phenomenon. Unless you are in the crowd of girls who are looking out for recent fashion, forget it. Most people out there are too amateur in every aspect of their personalities to bother much about clothing, and though I must admit that a well-dressed person is an eyecatcher, unless more follows they stay just that.
I had a lot of olive oil on my pizza this night. It was a rather salty pizza too, so I ate the centre parts first and the crust later. One of those blokes in the bar who has nothing to do but watch you and make comments suddenly said, "Nice to meet you."
I had had enough to drink so I spent my night reading good books. There was a Bible, a novel by some promising author situated on the correct coordinates on the globe, an old law book whose formulations were not plausible to the layman and a Math book. Suddenly I decided I had to get an epilator, a haircut and a facial done. After all, to myself I am more than a mere eyecatcher and I must spend on my appearance. I must have smooth shiny skin and glossy hair, and I must show myself to all those out there.
The girl who had helped me out in the afternoon was glum all evening. She must have been sleepy or something. Still she maintained decorum, was polite and went to bed at a time not too late and not too early, with the others. I was left facing myself in the mirror. I had a few pimples on my face. There was not much fat anywhere on my body. The region where I grew up is a provincial, traditional rural hub. A little bit of trade here and there but not much to speak of. No metropolitan flair, except at the university. The indifference of the big cities not to be seen, nor the variety. This is the kind of place where you buy a coat two sizes too large for growing kids so that you will not have to replace it too soon. Buy a shirt and it will have to stay in good condition for a long time. Take care of the pence. All very very comforting values, and a work culture which leads to precision and care. Follow instructions well and be kind and Christian at the same time.

I realize I am at home here. There is a mentality of farmers and poultry holders but it is an earthy, brown and fresh mindset. It is practical and leaves no doubts as to how to proceed. The boys are good and honest; the girls, straightforward, unpretentious, and healthy. What more do you want. You are tied to the salt of the earth.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Guess who.

The fodder of my imagination, the protagonist of the useless little reveries by day when things get boring. He has no special qualities in particular but the honour of starring in these plots without having to put in any effort. The protagonist occupies a unique post. The post is always occupied, no matter where. The occupant is not constant, of course, but there has to be such an object, at least one of them. Some little thing to exercise one's imagination upon, the poor subject of many ridiculous pictured conversations, he gets fitted into all sorts of dramas whose existence he has no means of knowing of. Blessed soul, let him live his life and smoke his cigarettes in peace and may this knowledge never reach him.

Friday, September 2, 2011

STATUS UPDATE

Moderate interest in life.
Tiredness level through the week was high.
Number of new people spoken to was very high, approximately 20.
Number of times I got into a train was 13.
Number of heavy brick like books transported home was 9.
Number of steps climbed per day was approximately 220.
Frequency of boredom was daily.
Number of pieces of cake eaten was 8.
Interest in running away is nonzero.
Nonzero wish to meet somebody who is far off.
Constant realization of mundanity of life.
Number of people I reasonably like at new workplace is 2.
Amount of sense in life is zero but appears more.
Amount of money in bank account is slightly nonzero.
Amount of weight gained is higher than I expected.
Zero sport.
Full dumbness
Fully mechanical.


Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

I re-read the last part of the series yesterday and today. I was surprised this time because the chapter "King's Cross", which I had failed to understand fully before, seemed much clearer to me all of a sudden. There are strong references to Christianity in this book at several points. Interesting enough that in books one through five I have not spotted these references (yet?). Looking up on the internet I found others have pointed out that the inscriptions on the Dumbledores' and Potters' graves at Godric's Hollow are directly quoted from the Bible.

I have been struggling with the concept of resurrection and life beyond death for a long time. It keeps popping out at me from unexpected places. I must say I have not understood the whole idea. Even more confusing than that idea is the sacrifice of Jesus for all humanity on the cross. Though the idea at times is a really comforting one to me I find it difficult to place it and I do not seem to have grasped it yet. Perhaps at some point when these ideas are thrown at me from a certain angle I will be able to see more clearly. 

For Those About To Rot

Yes that is exactly what she is about to do. She is a rich girl about to start new stuff and yet she is going to rot. She has musical instruments and knows how to use them but she is letting it all rust and go to waste. She has forgotten how to look forward to things. She has a few friends here and there but none of them are really aware of her existence. She seems to be just wasting every single talent entrusted to her. All she knows to exercise is the ability to sleep and her mountains of self-sympathy. She stinks.
We salute you.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Tolerance on the constructi-n-o site, please

The writer and her skill. Something of that sort.
While English is a versatile and rich language, suited to the needs of the common man and the literary connoisseur all at once, we find that it still has a core character consisting of... what the hell, let me stop pretending. I have no inkling on how to write. So please give me some time and space to "develop". That is what you, dear blog, have been doing for me. As long as a person is in her early tweens and has not an idea what moves and shakes her, even if she happens to have heard that rock'n'roll isn't noise pollution, she is useless to the world of literature, that is to say invisible. No fame. No name. Just help her get going with her life, then settle her to some idea she likes and then boom. Watch her rise. Watch her increase in audience, good reviews and readership. However, there is a little step towards this dream that must be undertaken by her personally, nobody else, painstakingly and critically. She needs to collect her weapons. Meaning, her vocabulary and her general knowledge. And her maturity. And her sense of humour. Well, a few kilograms of fat cells and laziness here and there cannot hurt her either. You get the drift, the poor girl needs to grow some more. Allow her to do it, and may I remind you that nobody is forcing you to read her blog. You are reading it out of free choice. 

Then finally someday far off in the future, the probability of the following scenario will no longer be negligible: The hand that once spared no effort in sharpening its pen will begin to chisel at a solid sculpture. The sculpture will create itself through the practiced hand, assume shape and life under the seemingly effortless, intuitive guidance of the sculptor, of its own accord, almost how the hand dealt to an experienced bridge player reaches its full potential when bid properly. The hand will have become the tool, prepared enough to conceive and express what lies within or without the access of its owner. Language will marry content, and style will marry import. I'm looking forward to writing my masterpiece, someday, somewhere.

To the party birds out there

Getting invited to a party is a difficult thing. I suspect that the people who are really chilled out and spend a lot of time with their friends are most likely to hear about parties, so of course they will have the most parties to go to. Of late I have got used to thinking that it is a sign of bad social behaviour to not go to parties! No dudes, I'm sorry, I was mistaken and no amount of your trying to make me feel small about this is going to help any longer. In fact, by not going to those crazy parties every now and then and preserving my sanity I am doing the extra work you leave behind. I am able to get up the next morning and sit down to work while you are still busy recovering from last night's fun. Have your pick. Numb yourself with booze and fun songs and dances, and get ready to discover who is jealous of whom. That is what parties are about.
Friends' birthdays, weddings and graduation ceremonies are the only league of occasions which warrant a party. The rest is balderdash basically and goodness knows it is a big shout to spend your Friday evenings with a cool crowd. Alright, if you have a crowd, have fun. But please don't sit in a corner because it is Friday evening and you don't have any parties to go to and you don't have a crowd. The reason you don't is because actually you don't want to go to them. Basically you are getting what you want.
It is a lot more comforting to sit at home and enjoy a sensible novel with a bowl of ice cream in hand than get drunk at some birthday bash and spend the next hours with a raging headache. I have had enough of wanting to be somebody else: You can keep your parties to yourself.

Friday, June 17, 2011

What's next? Cracy or Archy?

content will follow... meantime try to figure out what I mean. not a difficult task with google.

A FEW DAYS LATER...

Sorry, a few days turned out to mean a couple of weeks.

------------------------------------------------
The United Repubic of Mania formed on the epsilonth of Adember 45 pi A.D. only to be declared a militarist regime by the rest of the world. This was because the big export group of firms Big Export had exploited its workforce and paid the workers a pittance, while at the same time supplying sub-standard, non-quality controlled goods to the importers in Europe, the USA and Asia. Where did it put all its money? Well for one the rich guys at the top of BIG EXPORT were not fattening. Nor were the guys sitting in the management. The money was all going to the corrupt government officials who kept reinforcing their army and extending its bases and the control it had over the activities that went on all around the country. Now they had become powerful enough to conduct a pseudo-election and get away with cheating on it. The United Nations decided to accept their membership under the condition that some neutral observers would be positioned at Crazia, the capital of Mania. In the meantime, some other sovereign important democratic states decided to put their own military personnel there to stabilize the self-justified government. Furthermore, some neighbouring states decided to try get some "economic progress" by lending the newly formed government of Mania a large sum of money to help bail out the nation's broken banks.
------------------------------------------

This is the standard form of government that is chosen in newly formed states these days. Just open a newspaper to see. Citizens in developed nations are no longer seriously interested in staying well-informed about current events around the world, but they will be perfectly well-informed about the latest phones and laptops available, and about the most recent cosmetic products. Especially we younger citizens may be described this way. The so-called democracies of developed nations are being lead by a few interested people while the majority of the populace is just watching the TV news at most, hardly able to understand what's actually going on, while particitpation rates in elections seem inversely proportional to measures of economic well-being. I doubt this can be called democracy. Perhaps political participation is evolving to a form of dumbarchy or dumbocracy in which only the specialists feel they need to have a say, or even know what they can choose from. So somebody, please tell me, what is being reported in the news these days? I have no clue.

Friday, June 10, 2011

My monkey

Instant gratification
Untimely interruption
I don't want to be noticed doing what i am doing
I am trying to hide
Nobody needs to know

You are sitting here
I am watching you
Whenever you try to hide I get mad
You do not notice how many times
I turn around

There is a bee outside my window and I
Am trying to let it in
However hard it is
It is definitely harder than getting it out
It doesn't know what I want

I can wear a tee
I can wear shorts
But I can't make the sun shine

I can tell you what I want but I cannot make you see
My monkey is inner
My human is outer
My monkey come here
Make me smile.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

the moment is sweet

The moment is Now. Not a second later to begin what I really feel like doing because there is a pause, a deep breath, and the beautiful clouds of thought swirling around me just now might never be here again. Just felt like sharing this with you guys.


Tuesday, April 19, 2011

TCS Technopark at SIPCOT by night

Here is a series of photos taken during those jobless hours from the terrace of CMI using my friend's camera...

Central building of three on the east side. There are three more on the west

shadow of some leaves

In between the centre and left buildings the "connector" building can be seen

central building again

south building, east side

detail of the "sun shades"

east centre and north buildings in background, a part of CMI terrace in foreground

detail of the garden in TCS complex (photo by Prateek Karandikar)

a short stretch of 1st Main Road in SIPCOT IT Park in front of CMI (photo by Prateek Karandikar)

Orion, setting above TCS building

Full moon on 18/04/2011 (photo by Prateek Karandikar)

Full moon above further offices and construction sites

another, longer exposure to capture Orion (bulb shot without remote control)

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Fear

There is nothing left worth following, nowhere left to go. With only a hundred rupee note in my purse and a couple more in the bank I set off towards my next destination, name unknown. I hold in my hand a certificate which says I have studied Mathematics and Computer Science for three years in some godforsaken corner of this country. There is water in a puddle attached to my foot wherever I walk and it threatens to reach my foot and soak it, rotting the very skin of my soles, if only I stay someplace long enough. So there is no question of staying put, I must move on.
I have a water bottle from which I take a sip now and then to refresh myself. There is a pair of headphones perched on my head. It is my drug, it transports me to other corners of the globe and beyond. It transports me to a place where time flows in all directions and oozes through the cracks under the door. Time is a viscous fluid and I dare not try and stop it even for a second because once its natural course is tampered with there is no telling what damage it might cause. It has a life of its own, however much I hate to accept it.
I cannot go home anymore because I have been soiled. After having breathed the dirt of centuries of men who all left their homes and took stock of themselves, I can still step into the space which was once home. A brief pause, a brief illusion of getting back into security and that is all. I know even during this break that things will never be the way they used to be before. I must proceed. Something called "my life" lies ahead of me and from here I am scared to even look at it because I dread it is going to be a tread mill without an "off" switch.
Perhaps it will look different a short distance from here.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Undecidability of decisions

Big time. Decision time. So sit down with your paper and pencil and put on your thinking cap (if you have got one). Start out by listing first the possibilities and all the pros and cons. When you get confused, call up a friend and ask him to come over to help you. That way your piece of paper will look a lot fuller than you could have made it look if you had done the whole thing alone.

Finally when you make a decision it may have nothing to do whatsoever with what you have written down. Are you under the impression that you can make decisions about your life? Then think again. Many unexpected things keep happening and there are so many surprises. If there is one illusion which humans suffer it is the illusion that they will be able to steer their way through the course of events in future sitting here in the present. I am almost sure that this is not possible.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Dust cloud


I sleep in a bedroom. Or should I perhaps say I try to sleep. The place where I live being the beautiful metropolis that it is, simply a pleasure. Last year this time, a whole series of earthquakes caused by passerby lorries ROCKED the bedroom scene every night. A very nursery-rhymish scenario, is it? Statutory warning: Construction of a nearby flyover dispels sleep. But (almost) every flyover once begun was soon completed. So that should have meant sweet dreams again, then? Far from it. I think the stray dogs in the street began missing the noise and the stream of cars that used to pass through our road instead of the nearby main road... In any case, they more than made up for it by scheduling nightly howl-concerts between midnight and One A. M. of excellent quality. And totally free of cost. One of those dogs developed a regular, perfectly rhythmic bark-pattern with a time period of about five seconds. I am certain that the ratio of intervals noise to silence in those dog-bars was none other than the Divine Golden Ratio.

A lot of vehicles, a lot of noise and a lot of dust. How unfortunate it is that we cannot just sweep and mop the road the way we are supposed to sweep and mop our rooms and houses. Going to the supermarket never used to be something I avoided. A short stay in this city has changed this. The problem with most supermarkets being that I need to cross the road to get there. Now tell me, how am I supposed to cross the road? It takes five minutes (alright, let me not exaggerate, three minutes) for one side of the road to get clear. By which time the other side has already got frightfully full of vehicles driven by people who need to honk incessantly to ascertain their own existence. So full I feel that perhaps if I tried to swim across the road I would be more successful than if I tried to walk.



I wonder where all the sand at the edge of the roads comes from. Alright, I know Chennai lies on the coast. But does that make it a beach? If a city lies on the coast does it mean that the sand will be everywhere? Most major roads are swept early in the mornings and that makes it a pleausre to go for a ride anywhere by bus, car or otherwise before the office rush hour traffic sets in. Just observe the roads, say, at 10 am. Just about two hours after their daily sweep. Already there are clouds of dust swirling on the roads, sand is fast collecting close to the sidewalks. I conclude that not only is Chennai a coastal city, it is a desert too, with dust clouds blurring the vision of every pedestrian and polishing people's hair thin. Long live the shampoo industry.

(Image source: Wikimedia Commons, Marina_Sandstorm_Chennai)


Tuesday, March 22, 2011

On the variety of balcony grills

Perhaps this is a post which I should not write but rather photograph. Sadly for those who sit down to read this I didn't have my camera on me when I wandered with a friend through the little roads tucked away in Indira Nagar. Ever built a house? Yes? Does it have a balcony or a gate that leads to it? How much thought did you spend on choosing that particular piece of appearance?
These are the details which make up a locality. Do I just buy the stuff that is available nearby or do I make a conscious choice according to preference and decorate carefully?
The balcony and gate grills I saw were all of similar shapes and patterns. Four-leafed clovers as shown in the picture of the blog title, and a lot of similar four-and eight-leafed clovers. Maybe this just tells me when the house was built. Maybe that was the fashoin of the day in the 1970's. Or are these the patterns typical of houses in Tamil Nadu in particular.

Variety is limited because variety implies lower efficiency. Have a look at the major shopping streets for apparel in European cities. What makes the difference between such a street in a metropolis and a small city are merely the small boutiques. Major shops are the same in all cities. If there are warehouses, then most products are made by a small number of manufacturers. Pencils are made by Herlitz, Faber Castell or Staedler in Germany. With pencils this makes sense. But with clothing this is monotonous. People allow the manufacturers of major brands to determine the colours, the shapes and the materials of the clothing they wear. Just because smaller shops "don't survive".

This feature of the globalized market we have today for most goods struck me as I saw the similarities in iron grills during my walk. It seemed unexpected to see any product look so "standard" in Chennai, India, where to some extent the clothes we buy are unique pieces and not pre-decided the way clothes are in the average European market. I looked at the H & M online clothing store recently. This is one of my favourite stores because the clothes are really affordable and last about one or two seasons. Not to be compared with the wide choice I have in any (individual) store in Pondy Bazaar.After having spent time here I realize how nice it is to have stores to buy material and get it stitched with a local tailor at a reasonable price. I am going to miss this when I go to Germany.

Anyway now in most cities apartment blocks are on the rise, and with them, dear average consumer, your builder will choose your balcony and window grills for you! One choice less for you to make...

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Perception


Just the other day We were walking around When suddenly out of nowhere A large number of people found That the moment of time We had spent on the highway Was longer than it was Actually allowed to be
So they started chasing us Down the busy road We decided to hide It was a weird episode
They would not let us be They found us in a trice And before we knew it They were giving us advice
Youth is not the time To stretch the moment long You should be busy working You must burst into song

What only had we done We failed to understand Were just trading stories Trying to sound grand
I think we overlooked The fact that on a ray Of purest light from heaven The rainbow turns to grey
The stars appear close The wind begins to scream And then, lo behold! You have a time machine
You live in little gasps An hour can touch a year Your days they may be numbered You will lose your fear
The surface of the earth It has these little holes I wish you luck in finding one I think it's pretty cool

Monday, March 14, 2011

To The Great Morpheus

Here's why I breathe,
Here's why I live
Some lovely creature gave birth to me
And some others keep me nourished
Part of the consciousness
Part of the whole
I love my life
Life is so worth living
When there is somebody around me
Who watches out
Who keeps me going
Who is full of life
Who is not a mere dummy
Who is not a mannequin in a shop window
Who doesn't worry about differing
Who is his own
Who is not dependent
Who knows what he has in his hands
Who can tell  a human from a robot
Who knows how to improvise
Who is with the moment
Who has life in him
Who tells me to come back
Who has been there
And come back
He is not a magician
And yet I could swear I saw the sparks fly from his eyes
Who has charm
The charm of knowing
The charm of knowing that
The charn of knowing that there is so much to know
The charm of knowing that there is so much to know but hey,
We don't need to look very far to see it
Things are generally close by
 And who can be so totally stupid at times
The charm of knowing lies
The charm of knowing is not a lie
The charm of knowing pretends that there is nothing to know
It lies in forgetting what you know and just knowing
Like you walk
Like you jump
Like you open your mouth to speak
What has become part of your repertoire
What has become your consciousness
You can do without being conscious of it
You have a weird little nose
And a potato for a head
And you behave like a toad
And you move like a bulldozer crossed with a buffalo
So all in all it is pretty easy to recognize you from afar
So it is not surprising
That coexisting is fun
More fun than losing your mind
Coexist and get bored
Go out and have nothing to say
Eat something and then pay the bill
Keep looking for a good place
And catch a car, hitchhike across the place
Have a good day.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Pen and Paper


Once upon a time there were ink pens and ink wells and a little dent in the desk to place them. They were followed by fountain pens. Then came the ball point pen, a major innovation that totally transformed stationery stores. Refills in bubble packets.
Today is the age of the gel pen. Buy not just one pen, a personal possession, but a whole packet of quick-to- use- easy-to-throw six inch sticks that run out of ink ever so quickly to make you buy more! Keep writing and scratching out. It's quite easy. I must admit gel pens are convenient because if you asked the ink, oh sorry, the gel, inside them, I am sure it would say it didn't care about the kind of paper it wrote on. It has no real preference in that sense. The frustratingly thin paper in my scratch pad or "rough notebook" is just as good as the 90 grams per square metre luxury paper from France. The paper certainly seems to care though. As for me I like the uniformly thin lines I can write with plastic one way gel pens as compared to the ball pens of the same price.

Nothing compares to the fountain pen though. With real liquid flowing out of the nib. The drawback being that fountain pen ink is a rather more selective being. It needs paper in which it does not bleed. And ink-ready paper may be the standard in Europe but here in India getting notebooks that are able to hold the ink out is a matter of buying notebooks of some expensive brand (and often getting disappointed). No wonder broad nibs on fountain pens are not as popular here.

As it has been with writing so it will be with typing too... There is a wide variety of keyboards available that react to pressure, typing speed and all those. I wonder what they feel like and whether somebody has done extensive research on those. But then the world is full of people who work for companies that need to find out minute details of the force exerted by your digits on your keyboard when you type your next blogpost... So I suspect that yes, somebody has.

(Image from http://www.marcuslink.com/pens/)