fountain-pen

Bạn thời thơ ấu,,en,Khi tôi còn nhỏ,,en,Tôi có một người bạn trong khu phố,,en,Một thông minh,,en,và hơi nerdy,,en,đứa trẻ,,en,không khác gì bản thân tôi,,en,Chúng tôi thường đi chơi,,en,chơi cầu lông và làm thí nghiệm vật lý,,en,Vào thời điểm chúng tôi còn là thanh thiếu niên,,en,chúng tôi đã trôi dạt,,en,khi đường dẫn của chúng tôi phân kỳ,,en,Tôi đã đi IIT-USA,,en,lộ trình công dân toàn cầu và kết thúc tại Singapore,,en,Anh ấy,,en,tham vọng khiêm tốn hơn,,en,ở lại nhà,,en,và có một công việc gần tương tự như những gì cha tôi đã từng làm,,en,Tôi tiếp tục nghe anh ấy,,en,mặc dù tôi chưa bao giờ thực sự gặp anh ta,,en,Anh ấy đã kết hôn,,en,có lẽ đã có một vài đứa trẻ,,en,và mọi thứ phải diễn ra suôn sẻ,,en,thậm chí một chút bắt nạt,,en,Nhưng một vài năm trước, anh đột nhiên chết vì bệnh bạch cầu,,en,hữu nghị,,en,bút parker,,en,Bắn súng trường Mỹ,,en,Một ngày khác,,en,một trường học Mỹ bắn súng,,en,Hậu quả dự đoán được sẽ là,,en,suy nghĩ và lời cầu nguyện,,en

When I was a child, I had a friend in the neighborhood. A smart (and slightly nerdy) kid, not unlike myself. We used to hang out, play badminton and do physics experiments. By the time we were teenagers, we kind of drifted apart, as our paths diverged. Sau đó, I went the IIT-USA, global-citizen-route and ended up in Singapore. He, of more modest ambitions, stayed back at home, and got a job roughly similar to what my father used to do. I kept hearing of him, although I never really ran into him. He got married, probably had a couple of kids, and everything must have been going smoothly, even a bit dully. But a couple of years ago he suddenly died of leukemia.

The news of the death of a friend is a bit of a milestone in life. It is a reminder that your generation is beginning to wilt and wither, falter and fall. This particular death was actually the fourth one (that I know of) among my contemporary friends and classmates. Có, we have begun to fade away.

This death also gave me a sense of incompleteness, or the opposite of closure. In order to explain it fully, I have to tell you about my strange relationship with pens. It started early. When I was about four, Tôi smashed my dad’s favorite pen, as a favor to him. About ten years later, I lost another fancy pen, which resulted in a lesson in tough love – presumably a favor to me. The tough-love treatment probably left me depressed for a while, and this childhood friend of mine kindly and selflessly gifted me his own fancy Parker pen to ease my pain.

It was secret project of mine to get him a decent Parker pen some day. I always felt that I had time, and never got around to doing it. All of sudden, I find myself too late. I do have couple of other secret projects like this one, I hope the targets and I stay alive long enough to see them through. But who knows, may be the completion of the project may have been a flop, an anti-climax. When I hand over my precious gift, heavy with long years of anticipation and emotions, the recipient may well say something like, “I don’t know what you are talking about, mate, but thanks anyway!” I guess the gift is not so much for them, but for myself, and I do hope I don’t run out of time again.

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