ANECDOTE

Things That We Do for Love

A lost treasure and a ten-year-old

This happened when I was in fifth grade.

Let me give you a quick background here.

At our school, kids until the fourth grade were supposed to use a pencil to complete any written work in class or at home. Nobody was allowed to use ink in any form or colour in the notebooks. However, this patience paid off by the time students reach the fifth grade. We were permitted to decorate our books with our ineligible handwriting from grade five onwards using blue gel pens or fountain pens. So my dad bought me a brand-new uni-ball pen that would help me lose my pencil ‘virginity’ on the first day of my fifth grade. It was exactly like the one in the picture below.

Every time the ten-year-old me held this badass, she felt like the female version of Percy Jackson with her Riptide. I felt invincible. After all, it would mean that I was a big girl who couldn’t make any mistakes in the notebook.

Ah! Gone were the days where I’d need an eraser to clean my dirty deed.

I couldn’t wait to go to my first day of school the next day and get to the task of writing anything and everything with this beauty. Fast-forward to the next day. During the first period, The time came when the teacher asked us to write down the points jotted on the board. I was bubbling with a sense of excitement that was foreign to me. I carefully placed my beautiful pen on the table and dug out my English notebook from my bag. As I opened the book, I accidentally knocked off my pen, and it fell on the floor.

My heart dropped along with it.

I quickly bent to pick it up before the teacher erased the board. When I couldn’t spot it at first glance, I knelt on all my fours and frantically looked around for the pen. All those butterflies that I had felt moments earlier had transformed into this dinosaur-like knot in my stomach.

However, I didn’t have to endure that pain for too long. Moments later, I spotted the shiny silver clip of my pen under the chair in front of me. Filled with relief, as I picked up my pen, I saw an exact replica of my pen under my chair.

This got me confused. I wasn’t sure which one was mine. Both appeared brand new, but I wanted to write with mine. I tried to look for any mark that would give away, which pen was mine. However, both the pens were equally spotless.

Not wanting to waste more time, I picked up both the pens and peered around to see if anybody else lost their pen too. It turned out that the girl seated on my left side had also misplaced her pen. I released a sigh of relief, and I came outside from under the table and sat on my seat. After I inspected both the pens for once last time in vain, I handed one to my neighbour and kept the other one with me.

Finally, I unscrewed the cap to write.

The euphoria returned. I couldn’t contain myself with the excitement.

The moment my pen touched the page, no ink came out. I tried again. Nothing came out from the tip. Desperately, I scratched the end page of my notebook.

No ink came out. Nil. Nada.

Frantically, I turned towards my left and saw that girl happily write with my pen’s twin that I handed her a few minutes ago. Her pen did not seem to have any issue while writing.

Tears welled in my eyes. I had waited for this for so long, only to face this.

Frustrated, I tried writing with it for one last time. Nothing changed. The pen still didn’t work. I turned towards the neighbour again. She was still happily writing with my pen’s twin that I gave her.

It is possible that the pen she held was my pen and the one I had was her’s. Maybe her pen didn’t work. Mine was brand new, after all. I reasoned.

Seconds later, when the bell went off, and the lunch break followed, I did something that I am not proud of. After she left her seat, I opened her bag and took out the pen which was mine, and replaced it with her’s.

Ah! Things that we do for love.

The guilt never goes away, though.