The Typewriter

I saw an old typewriter in the neighborhood library the other day. I had visited the library several times but somehow I had overlooked her presence all this time, on the top of a shelf in one corner. Despite her age, the white alphabets on the black keys were intimidatingly clear. On the contrary, a worn out paper was still waiting where it should be. The flimsy paper, I thought, did not do justice to her dark elegance. There was already some text in it, which I did not bother to read. The text could have been meaningful adages of wise gentlemen or impromptu salutations of superstitious women or just plain gibberish by fascinated kids. Whatever it might have been, I ignored it for it horrified me. To me, it wasn't mere text but was a motif of scars and wounds inflicted upon her by curious and careless visitors. I hated every one of them. I cursed them all from the depths of my heart that I never imagined to exist. All she would have hoped for is some peace but men and women alike deemed her unworthy of it because she was just one more of her now obsolete kind, to have survived. She wasn't the one who inspired a great writer of the past; otherwise, she might have been taken better care of. Instead, she may have been the one, who faced the ire of a failed writer, who forever seeked, in vain, the elusive masterpiece.Suddenly, a thought struck my mind. May be she still awaits that one masterpiece. The possibility transformed me. I ventured to commit an action, which only a few moments ago, I condemned to be grotesquely sinful. But this new thought took complete possession of me. I lifted my hand and my forefinger tapped the key 'A', pushing it downward, her type head raised forward immediately and smoothly as if injected with new life. It failed to make any impression on the paper. I put my head down, overcome by shame and guilt. It was her turn, I concluded, to deem me unworthy.

"You can take it home if you want..", I heard a voice say. I had a vague idea of what the voice referred to. I turned towards the door and walked back.