In a blog I read regularly, the blog owner had posted that she had recently taken to writing with the pen again. She always writes well, but I was particularly fond of this post. I was about to put up a follow-up comment to the post saying that I had become so much dependent on the computer that I could no longer write with a pen, for the simple reason that my pen could hardly keep up with the pace I thought at. For some reason, I was unable to post this comment, and, later on, I forgot all about it.
A few days ago, I discovered my old Parker. The ink had dried within, and it took me a couple of hours of work to get it back to working condition. Eager to use my newly found antique piece, with the same excitement a child has when he discovers his great-grandfather's half-working pocket watch, I started to use my Parker.
The result was clearly visible when I wrote my first technical article with the Parker. It turned out to be the best technical piece I had written in a while. When, earlier, I was under the impression that my pen could not keep up with the speed of my thoughts, and my eight fingers at 80wpm did a better job, I was utterly mistaken. In fact it were my thoughts, which, in my hurry to publish them, emerged half baked. The use of the pen essentially slowed me down, giving me more time to refine my thoughts, fill in the holes and add beauty in the whole.
I may use the metaphor of the computer for everything that makes up hurry up and multitask in life, but it will not be incorrect to say that the computer has ensured that we will not have another Lev Tolstoy and another War and Peace; we will at best have our Chetan Bhagats and Five Point Someones.