A welcome to arms, it's really all about literary swagger
sword. But for some writers, both objects hold equal fascination. Take Amir Khusrau and Babur. Or Samudragupta from an earlier time. Or Valmiki if we go mythological, who is said to have been the fierce bandit Ratnakar, adept with the bow and arrow before taking up the quill.
19th century French poet Arthur Rimbaud, who would become, among other things, a gunrunner in the Horn of Africa, found the calling to be much more lucrative and satisfying than writing poetry.
What fascinates most writers with the pen and the sword — or its modern avatars, laptop and gun — is that both can be used to right a wrong or commit a wrong. Both assure its owner that he or she is well protected. When you see a wrong committed, you could write a story, poem or report about it. Or air your grievances on social media. Sometimes you could just take out your Mauser and point it at the mob about to lynch a man, fire a few rounds in air, to disperse them. The effect of the gunshot is immediate. A good write-up may take days, even weeks, a poem or story years to gain ground.
The great Patna writer Phanishwar Nath 'Renu' knew all about this. His most prized possession was his Webley & Scott revolver, which his third wife, Latika Roy Chowdhury, gifted to him when they got married in 1950.
If there is ever a prize for 'Writer's Wife in India', it should be called 'Latika Prize'. A close second could be 'Manohara Prize,' named after the wife of Suryakant Tripathi 'Nirala', who persuaded her then 15-year-old husband to stop writing in Bengali
