Dark Academia and the fountain pens that accompany my melancholia
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- čas přidán 5. 07. 2024
- Dark Academia. I first stumbled upon this term while I was binge-watching Hemingway Jones’ fountain pen videos on CZcams. As his narrative enveloped me, I was progressively intrigued, then smitten, and finally caught plum before the wicket, foot firmly in the wrong place. Imagine an aesthetic that grows around the beauty of intellectual pursuits as one celebrates knowledge, not compelled by the prospect of earning a degree as a ticket to a financially secure tomorrow, but for the sheer joy of partaking in the journey - pursuing proficiency for the pure love of it.
Dark Academia, it is said, often draws its inspiration from the romance of the past - be that literature, music, or built history - has books in its center, and is often melancholic, mysterious, forlorn even. A delightfully analog pursuit, to silently raise the banner of revolt against the digital overwhelming of our lives: not so much a stepping on the brakes, as a gentle releasing of the pressure on the accelerator. A way of seeking enlightenment at a time when we are swamped with information. A deliberate way of slowing down, even as we march towards our individual trysts with destiny, our little moments of pure bliss, as we turn our heads away from the deluge of the inane that is right there in our palms, just a swipe away. It is not akin to the super-rich jet setting to a holiday at some exotic destination, but more like a weary pilgrim, firm in his belief, carrying his cross in the land of Saracens.
Calcutta was once the capital of the British Raj in India, the most thriving of the metropolises on this side of the Suez. Her port was the gateway to the vast hinterlands with Opium, Tea, Jute, Textiles, and Engineering products making nawabs of men, where untold riches could be made. Little wonder the Dutch, the Portuguese, the Danes, and the French all had established their presence within a few miles of this English port city. Calcutta was also the seat of learning with the Bengal Renaissance blooming in the city and her children having won her accolades in the form of the Noble to the Oscar and almost everything in between, which goes to underscore the rich cultural heritage of the city.
Today, the city has come a long way from her halcyon days and there is a delightful, though faint smell of decay that abounds her innards, as dark academia take me on a journey of self-discovery - to the cemeteries where forgotten epitaphs languish in gross neglect; the libraries where dust and mites celebrate the destruction of the sacred and the profane; the museums that house priceless artifacts that have invaluable tales to tell but no one willing to listen to them; the crumbling facades of once grand mansions that are now the haunt of the knaves and the riffraff, staring back at me from the other side of redemption; the footpaths of College Street where used booksellers pawn the knowledge of generations for the price of a paperback, often less.\
In these sojourns, I carry my faithful notebook to scribble notes that I know nobody will even bother to flip through, even though they may be my ticket to the past: the wormhole through which I imagine the ancient, interpreting events that were too overwhelming for me to comprehend when I had first learned about them, despising, even bemoaning the inevitable destruction, so that future generations can create the monuments to celebrate their achievements. Such is the power of dark academia.
I also carry my Kaweco Brass Sport fountain pen (and often its sibling the mechanical pencil), for its weight matches the heaviness of my heart and feels strangely reassuring in the hands when the obvious bares the fangs of the inevitable and the fierce pitch of time’s laughter numbs one into disbelief. Kaweco nibs are no-nonsense in the truest meaning of the term and are known to perform admirably even in the most trying circumstances. I do not know, but perhaps, by taking the Kaweco along, my subconscious self tries to communicate the fact that the word “forever” too is in the same dictionary and that some miracles are man-made.
My Platinum Curidas sometimes join me in my wanderings for the simple reason that it is so convenient to write with, especially when one is on the move. It is a one-hand pen and can be clicked open, to jot down things that are momentous, or for sketching that interesting nook that has been forgotten, like some lost love, by those who should have cared.
The pen that I mostly carry on me however is the Click Aristocrat, which is bereft of all thrills and frills, choosing to be just a reliable performer above all else. The pen fits into the world of academia as a duck takes to the water, writing miles at an end without any pretension whatsoever, and is strangely reminiscent of all that is old though it is itself of fairly recent origin.
Wonderful ❤️
Wow that was written exquisitely
This was lovely!
Or fantastic video! Wonderfully shot close ups!! Please do more like these!😊
thank you. please bear with us, trying hard to incorporate the suggestions and improve :)
Excellent in content and delivery, as only Chawm can create!
you flatter me sir!
Awesome
Thank You Sir!
খুব সুন্দর, আলাদা মাত্রা ...
Beautiful
A thought provoking video.
Kudos. Keep it up sir.
Thank you Doctor Sahab!
Loved this vlog! Fantastic!
Nice video sir, well done. I visited India several times in the 1980s. If you ever want to correspond with me, with the fountain pen of course, let me know. I would appreciate it. Greetings from Belgium.
Sounds great!
@@inkedhappiness 👍I have sent you a message.
:)
Beautiful video, sir. Do you know someone who can adjust the nib of my Pilot Custom 823? It has a medium nib and writes too wet for my taste.
depends upon where you are based?
@@inkedhappiness
Punjab, India.
@@Lovepreet_Singh93 there is one Mr Jaspreet Gill in Delhi who can help you - i guess he will be the nearest to you
@@inkedhappiness
I appreciate you taking the time to reply, Sir. Just one last question: how can I contact Mr. Jaspreet?
@@Lovepreet_Singh93 9990741362