Heads huddle over a table. Boxes open, pouches are unzipped and their contents — fine writing instruments — emerge. There is appreciative clicking of tongues and quiet gasps of excitement. Spread across the table before discerning eyes are polished ebonite barrels in ripples of black, green and burgundy. Patiently lacquered bodies, dried over several months, gleam beside them. Others are mildly frosted while a few are transparent, fashioned from acrylic. Bottles of ink, in hues ranging from a dark, moonless night to the sheen of green olives, occupy a corner. At the Hyderabad Fountain Pen Club’s congregation, fountain pen enthusiasts come together to experience the essential troika of writing: fountain pens, paper and ink.
At a time when even note-taking is done using artificial intelligence-driven transcription apps, and school projects are prepared with visual AI suites, the idea, enthusiasts say, is to share, compare, test and experience this troika.
“It is like the quintessential numaish of pens,” says Shreyas Yedla, a founding member of the Hyderabad Fountain Pen Club (HFPC), drawing an analogy with the Hyderabadi tradition of attending the All India Industrial Exhibition. “While some are crazy about premium pens, others are obsessed with inks, and some with paper.”
For years, fountain pen enthusiasts largely pursued the hobby in silos. What was missing was a community. The COVID-19 pandemic proved to be the catalyst.
“It was a lonely hobby about 10 years ago,” says Navin Sigamany, also a founding member of HFPC. “What started in 2016 on Facebook became bigger during the pandemic. The community grew then. People had some money to spend. They got to know penmakers other than those from their hometowns. Rajahmundry is famous for handmade pens. The whole thing, as a subculture, exploded. We first met in 2022 at Pelikan Hub, and have been meeting every month since.”
For Nuvvala Srikanth, fountain pens became part of his recovery. Although he had used them as a child, he returned to them after suffering a health episode that affected the right side of his body. As part of his rehabilitation, doctors advised him to write a page every day. “Since it was therapy, I wanted feedback from the nib, so I and got it customised.”
Around the table, latest acquisitions make their rounds. A newly acquired acrylic pen is passed around, it is tested on paper of varying GSM. Then comes a Pilot Custom Urushi belonging to Nikhil Bhargav M, its painstaking craftsmanship becoming the subject of a short discussion. Layer upon layer of lacquer applied over several weeks has given the pen its remarkable depth of colour. There is appreciation, even awe.
The choice of fountain pens at the club appears to be those handmade from ebonite, a vulcanised rubber which was developed in the 19th century.
It is here that conversation turns towards Hyderabad’s penmakers. Raj Ahmed, a member of the HFPC, holds up a fountain pen and underscores its maker: PLP, short for Poona Laxmi Pathi, a veteran of the craft.
Inside his workshop, PLP sits on a stool, fitting a pen nib into an ebonite barrel he has turned with his own hands. He looks up and says, “There are 35 operations that go into making a single pen. Ebonite rods, which are procured from Chennai, some two-and-a-half to three feet in length, are cut, and then hand-turned. The rods are bored. The ebonite is threaded by hand and hand polished. I am satisfied only when the pen is perfect. We make about eight to 10 pens a day. It was always about quality, never money.”
Now 73 PLP comes from a family of goldsmiths. At the age of 12, he apprenticed with Road Transport Corporation’s engineering division staff. It is here that he learned to operate a lathe machine.
Peering over his glasses as he checks the threading inside the barrel, he recalls, “In 1969, I worked for a pen company called Misak, it was Kasim spelled backwards. Then I worked for other pen makers like Hema and Milap. I also worked for the Deccan Pen Store. Later, with the help of the goldsmith society, I began on my own.”
In his about six decades as a vetern penmaker, ebonite has remained a material of choice. It is amenable to turning, is durable, and unlike wood, does not absorb ink stored in its barrel.
“While we were working as OEM [Original Equipment Manufacturer], in 2021, we thought of starting PLP as a brand,” PLP’s son, Poona Sathish says. “My brother and I wanted our father’s name to be a brand. Every pen is handmade.”
Another fountain pen brand slips into the conversation: Woodex.
The lane, a stone’s throw from Chacha Nehru Park in Masab Tank, resembles a clogged artery. Two-wheelers line both sides. Barely two people can walk abreast. It is where P Prabhakar Chari, another master penmaker, continues the tradition.
“Mere se aggad-baggad pen banana nai hota,” he says in Dakhni, meaning crafting pens sans finesse is out of the question. “I used to play marbles near the Mahankali temple [in Secunderabad] when I was 8 years old. This is also when I started to learn making pens.”
As the proprietor at Woodex and its sole craftsman, he says, “I may make only a few pens each month; about 25 to 30. But I cannot compromise on quality. My pens don’t have model names, but are known by serial numbers,” he says, before pointing to one with a dark tapered barrel. “Except that one. It is called Skyline.”
Dedication to his craft has earned him a dedicated clientele. These include a parliamentarian, a couple of legislators and a few police officers. “They call me and give me specifications. I called my brand Woodex because the texture of some pens reminds of wood,” he says.
It takes gentle prodding about his next steps. While he says he is content, Mr Chari wonders what happens when the lathe finally falls silent. “After me, there is nobody,” he says. “There is no one to carry this forward.”
