Monday, May 25, 2009

Pot and Baby Pot


A Teaching Story



Mulla Nasrudin asked his neighbour if he could lend him a pot for cooking.

The neighbour gave him a cheap dented aluminium pot.

The next day Nasrudin returned the pot along with a brand new aluminium smaller pot.

“But I gave you only one pot,” the neighbour said.

“Congratulations. Your pot was pregnant. It had a baby!” Nasrudin explained.

A few days later Nasrudin again asked to borrow a pot and this time the neighbour eagerly gave him an expensive ornate vessel made of pure silver.

When Nasrudin did not return the expensive silver pot for a long time the neighbour asked him for it and Nasrudin replied with a sad look of condolence on his face: “I am sorry to inform you that your pot died. Please accept my heartfelt condolences.”

“What nonsense! How can a pot die?” the neighbour demanded.

“If a pot can get pregnant and have a baby, it can also die, isn’t it?” Nasrudin concluded triumphantly.


Sunday, May 24, 2009

Etiquette and Table Manners


[A Story]



Once a renowned philosopher was traveling through the wise Mulla Nasrudin’s village and he asked Mulla Nasrudin if he knew of any good place to eat.

Nasrudin suggested an eatery and the scholar, hungry for conversation, invited Mulla Nasrudin to join him for the meal.

Much obliged, Mulla Nasrudin accompanied the scholar to the restaurant, where they asked the waiter about the special dish of the day.

“Fish! Fresh Fried Fish !” replied the waiter.

“Bring us two,” they answered.

A few minutes later, the waiter brought out a large platter with two fried fish on it, one large fried fish and one small fish which was quite a bit smaller than the larger one.

Without hesitating, Mulla Nasrudin took the larger of the fish and put in on his own plate.

The scholar, giving Nasrudin a look of intense disbelief, proceeded to tell him that what he had just done was not only blatantly selfish, but that it violated the principles of almost every known moral, religious, and ethical systems and started to deliver a moral lecture and pontificated on the subject of etiquette for a long time.

Mulla Nasrudin calmly listened to the philosopher’s long winded extempore lecture patiently and when the scholar had finally exhausted his speech, Nasrudin asked the visitor, “Well, Sir, please tell me, what would you have done?”

“I being a conscientious and cultured human being would have taken the smaller fish for myself,” pontificated the scholar taking a high moral ground.

“Good. Here you are,” Mulla Nasrudin said, and placed the smaller fish on the scholar’s plate.

Tell me, Dear Reader, what is the moral of the story, the wisdom hidden in this tale?




A battle of wits



A learned foreign scientist said he wanted to challenge the wits of the most knowledgeable person in the city.

The townsfolk called for Mulla Nasrudin.

When Mulla Nasrudin arrived, the foreigner drew a circle in the sand with a stick.

Nasrudin frowned, took the stick, and divided the circle in two.

The foreigner then drew another line through the circle that divided it into four equal parts.

Nasrudin pretended to gather three parts toward himself and to push the remaining part toward the foreigner.

The foreigner then raised his arm above his head, and wiggling his extended fingers, he slowly lowered his hand to the ground.

Nasrudin did exactly the same thing but in the opposite direction – he moved his hand from the ground to a height above his head.

And, that completed the foreigner's tests, who bowed his head in deference before Mulla Nasrudin who smiled cannily at having won the academic duel and then walked away.

Later the renowned foreign scientist explained his game of wits privately to the city council..."Your Mulla Nasruddin is a very clever man," he began, "I showed him that the world is round – and your Mulla Nasrudin confirmed it but indicated that 'it also has an equator'.

Then when I divided the world into 4 parts, he indicated that it is '3 parts water and 1 part land', which I can't deny.

Finally, I asked him ‘what is the origin of rain’ and Nasrudin answered quite rightly that 'water rises as steam to the sky, makes cloud, and later returns to earth as rain.'"

When they got him alone, the ordinary townsfolk asked Mulla Nasrudin what the challenge was all about?

Nasrudin said, "Well, that other fellow first asked me, 'suppose we have this round tray of halwa’?

So, I said, 'You can't eat it all by yourself, you know. So, I'll take half.'

Then that haughty foreigner chap got a little rude, saying, 'What will you do if I cut the halwa into 4 parts?'

That upset me, so I said, 'In that case, I'll take three of the parts and only leave you one!'

That softened the impertinent foreigner scientist a bit, I think, because then, with the motion of his hand, he said, 'Well, I suppose I could add some walnuts and pistachio nuts on top of the halwa.’

I cooled down too and said, 'That's fine with me, but you'll need to cook it under full flame, because an ash fire just won't be hot enough'.

When I said that, the scientist knew I was right, so he gave up the game, and conceded defeat..."


Friday, May 22, 2009

Greed, Love, Lust, Bust


[A Teaching Story from the Panchatantra]



There was an old man, a good natured simple farmer, who had a young wife.

The young wife was not satisfied with her aged simpleton husband, neglected her household work, and always yearned for the company of young handsome men.

One day, a smart young good-looking man saw her and seeing that she was alone went to her and said, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world and I am the most eligible bachelor. I have fallen in love with you the moment I saw you. Please give me the pleasure of your company.”

Delighted, the woman said to the young Casanova, “Listen my dear, my husband has a lot of wealth. He is old and of no use to me. I will take out all the money and jewellery and let us elope to some other town and live there happily ever after.”

The con-man was very happy and asked her to bring all her wealth to the mango orchard near the river at midnight where he would be waiting for her.

“We will both disappear in the darkness and head for the next town,” he told assured her.

The lusty woman waited till it was dark and when her husband fell asleep she stole all the money, jewellery and gold, packed it in a bag and left the house at midnight to meet the trickster at a place he had indicated. The trickster took the bag full of money and gold from her on the pretext that he would carry it and walked towards the river.

The smart young handsome man looked at the woman and thought, “What is the point of wasting my whole life with this woman? She seems a bit older than me too and soon may turn into a shrew. Also if she couldn’t be loyal to her husband she may ditch me too for someone else. It is better I dump her but take her money and jewellery with me.”

With these thoughts in mind he told the woman, “Look, my dear, it is very difficult to cross the river. I will first swim with the money bag to the other side of the river and keeping it there I will come back and carry you on my back.”

She readily agreed and gave the bag to her new found lover.

He asked her to take off her clothes too and give them to him to carry across the river as he felt her clothes would hinder swimming. She took off all her clothes and gave them to the man who swam across the river the money-bag and her clothes.

Covering her naked body with her hands, the woman began waiting restlessly for her lover to return.

Just then a jackal with a piece of meat in his mouth happened to pass by. The jackal saw that big juicy fish had been washed ashore by a wave and desperate to catch it the jackal ran towards the fish and in the process he dropped the meat piece from his mouth.

But suddenly another big wave took the fish back into the water.

Disappointed, the jackal went back to pick up the piece of meat, but meanwhile a crow dived down fast and took the meat piece away before the jackal could reach it.

The woman laughed at the greedy jackal who had lost the both the fish and also the piece of meat.

Hurt by the woman’s behaviour, the jackal said, “Don’t laugh you stupid woman. I lost a piece of meat due to my greed but you have lost everything – your husband, your lover and your wealth – due to your lust.”

Tell me, Dear Reader, what is the moral of this story?


Monday, May 18, 2009

A Passionate Dating & Mating Story


[Short Fiction – A Passionate Love Story]



I am busy working in my office on the morning of the First of April when my cell phone rings. It is Sudha, my next door neighbour, so I take the call.

“Vijay, you lucky dog, your life is made,” Sudha says excitedly.

“Lucky Dog? Please, Sudha, I am busy,” I say, a trifle irritated.

“Don’t switch off your cell phone,” Sudha says, “you are going to get a very important phone call.”

“Important call?”

“From the hottest and most eligible woman in town,” Sudha says with exuberance, “She’s fallen head over heels for you, Vijay. She wants to date you.”

“Date me? Who’s this?”

“My boss.”

“Your boss?”

“Come on, Vijay, I told you, didn’t I, about the chic Miss Hoity Toity who joined last week…”

Suddenly it dawns on me and I say to Sudha, “Happy April Fools Day…”

“Hey, seriously, I swear it is not an April Fools’ Day prank. She is really going to ring you up…she desperately wants to meet you…”

“Desperately wants to meet me? I don’t even know her…haven’t even seen her…”

“But she’s seen you…”

“Seen me…where…?”

“Jogging around the Oval Maidan…I think she is stalking you…”

“Stalking me…?”

“She knows everything…your routine…where you stay…that you are my neighbour…so she called me to her office and asked for your mobile number.”

“I’ve told you not to give my number to anyone…”

“I told her…but she said it was very urgent…I think she wants to come over in the evening…”

“This evening…?... I am switching off my mobile…”

“No you don’t…You’ll like her…she is your type…”

“My Type?... What do you mean?...Sudha please…”

“Bye, Vijay…I don’t want to keep your mobile busy…She’ll be calling any time now…Remember, her name is Nisha…All the Best…” Sudha cuts off the phone.

As I wait for the mysterious lady’s call, let me tell you’re a bit about Sudha.

Ever since she dumped me and married that suave, slimy, effeminate, ingratiating sissy Suhas, Sudha probably felt so guilt ridden that she had taken upon herself the responsibility for getting me married.

Sudha was my neighbour, the girl next door; my childhood friend, playmate, classmate, soul-mate, confidante and constant companion. I assumed we would get married but she suddenly fell for Suhas who she met at a training seminar.

I hated Suhas – he was one of those glib, smooth-talking, street-smart, slick characters that adorn the corporate world – a clean-shaven, soft-spoken, genteel, elegantly groomed metrosexual type with an almost feminine voice and carefully cultivated mannerisms as if he had been trained in a finishing school.

At first, I was devastated and could not understand why Sudha had betrayed me, but when Sudha gently explained to me that she always saw me as a friend and never as a husband, I understood and maintained cordial relations with her, though I loathed her husband who had shamelessly moved into her spacious apartment after relocating from Delhi to Mumbai.

Probably Sudha thought I had remained unmarried because of her (which may have been true to an extent) so in order to allay her guilt conscience she kept on setting up dates for me hoping for the best.

The ring of my cell-phone interrupts my train of thoughts.

“Mr. Vijay…?” asks a sweet mellifluous feminine voice.

“Yes,” I say my heartbeat slightly increasing.

“Nisha here,” she says, “Is it a good time to talk.”

“Of course,” I say.

“I want to meet you…Is it okay if I come over to your place this evening…”

My My My! She comes to the point pretty fast isn’t it?

“Today evening…?” I blurt out a bit incredulous.

“It’s a bit urgent,” she says.

“Sure. You are most welcome,” I stammer recovering my wits.

“Six-thirty…before you go for your jog…or later after you return…or maybe we can meet up at the Oval…”

I am truly stunned… this Nisha is indeed stalking me…meet up at the Oval…as brazen as that… I have never experienced such blatant propositioning…Tocsins sound in my brain…

“Mr. Vijay…” I hear Nisha’s soft voice in the cell-phone earpiece.

“Yes, Yes, six-thirty is absolutely fine…I’ll wait for you in my house…you know the place…” I stutter recovering my wits.

“Yes, I know your place,” Nisha says, “I’ll be there at six-thirty,” and she disconnects.

I go home early, shower, deodorize, groom, titivate, put on my best shirt and wait in eager anticipation for this mysterious woman who is coming onto me so heavily.

Precisely at six-fifteen the bell rings.

I open the door.

“Hi, I’m Nisha,” the stunningly attractive woman in front of me says.

Sudha was right…Nisha is certainly very hot… oh yes, Nisha is indeed my type of woman.

“I’m sorry I’m a bit early, but I noticed you were in, saw your car below…”she says.

‘Noticed I was in’… My, My…She knows my car…about my daily jogs on the Oval…my routine…everything…she’s really hot on my trail…isn’t she?

I look at her. She comes closer towards me.

She looks and smells natural. No attempt to camouflage her raw steamy physical self behind a synthetic mask of make-up and artificial deodorants.

Her persona is tantalizingly inviting and temptingly desirable; her tight-fitting pink T-shirt tucked into hip hugging dark blue jeans accentuate the curves of her exquisite body and she radiates a captivating aura, an extraordinary magnetic attraction, I have never experienced before.

I cannot take my eyes off her, her gorgeous face, her beautiful eyes, her lush skin, so I feast my eyes on her, let my eyes travel all over her shapely body.

The frank admiration in my eyes wins a smile. She lets her eyes hold mine.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to come in?” she smiles as if reading my mind.

“Oh, yes, sorry, please come in,” I say, embarrassed at having eyed her so openly.

I guide her to the sofa and sit as near her as politely possible.

We sit on the sofa. She looks terribly attractive, very very desirable.

Our closeness envelops us in a stimulating kind of intimacy.

Overwhelmed by passion I inch towards her.

She too comes closer.

I sense the beginnings of an experience I have dreamt about in my fantasies.

“Actually, I have come for mating,” she says.

“Mating…?” I exclaim instinctively, totally shocked, stunned beyond belief.

I look at her tremendously excited, yet frightened, baffled, perplexed, wondering what to do, how to make my move, as the improbability of the situation makes me slightly incredulous and bewildered

I notice her eyes search the drawing room, then she looks at the bedroom door, and asks, “Where is your daughter?”

“Daughter? I’m not married,” I say, completely taken aback.

“I know,” she says, “I’m talking about your lovely dog…or rather, bitch…” she laughs tongue-in-cheek.

“I’ve locked her inside. She is not very friendly.”

“I know. Hounds do not like strangers…but don’t worry…soon I won’t be a stranger…” Nisha says, gets up and begins walking towards the closed bedroom door.

“Please,” I say anxiously, “Angel is very ferocious and aggressive.”

“Angel…what a lovely name,” Nisha says, “I have been seeing you two jogging and playing at the Oval. That’s why I have come here…to see your beautiful hound Angel…” and then she opens the door.

Angel looks suspiciously as Nisha enters the bedroom and as she extends her hand towards her to pat her on the head, Angel growls at Nisha menacingly, her tail becomes stiff, and the hackles on her back stiffen, since, like most Caravan Hounds, she does not like to be touched or handled by anyone other than me, her master.

“Please…please…” I plead to Nisha, but she moves ahead undaunted and caresses Angel’s neck and suddenly there is a noticeable metamorphosis in the hound’s body language as the dog recognizes the true dog lover. All of a sudden Angel licks Nisha’s hand, wags her tail and jumps lovingly at Nisha who embraces her.

I am really surprised at the way Nisha is hugging and caressing Angel as not even the most ardent of dog lovers would dare to fondle and take liberties with a ferocious Caravan Hound.

“She’s ideal for Bruno. They’ll love each other,” Nisha says cuddling Angel.


“My handsome boy… I was desperately looking for a mate for Bruno…and then I saw her…they’re ideally suited…a perfect made for each other couple.”

“You’ve got a hound?”

“A Mudhol.”


“Exactly like her.”

“But Angel is a Caravan Hound.”

“It’s the same…a Caravan Hound is the same as a Mudhol Hound …in fact, the actual name is Mudhol…”

“I don’t think so.”



“Dinner at the place of my choice.”


“Let’s go.”


“To my place.”

“To your place?”

“To meet Bruno…doesn’t Angel want to see him?”

“Of course… me too.”

And so, the three of us, Nisha, Angel and I, drove down to Nisha’s home on Malabar Hill. The moment we opened the door Bruno rushed to welcome Nisha…then gave Angel a tentative look…for an instant both the hounds stared menacingly at each other…Bruno gave a low growl…then extended his nose to scent…Angel melted…it was love at first sight.

Nisha won the bet…we surfed the internet…cross checked in libraries…she was right… Mudhol Hound is the same as Caravan Hound…but not the same as a Rampur, Rajapalyam or Chippiparai Hound.

But that’s another story.

Here is what happened to our “Dating and Mating Story”.

As per our bet, I took Nisha out to dinner – a sumptuous Butter Chicken and Tandoori affair at Gaylord’s. And while we were thoroughly enjoying our food, suddenly, out of the blue, Sudha and her husband landed up there, sat on the neighbouring table, and the way Sudha gave me canny looks, I wonder if it was a “contrived” coincidence.

Angel and Bruno had a successful mating and Nisha and Bruno would visit my pregnant girl every day, and then, on D-Day, Nisha stayed through the night to egg on Angel in her whelping.

Angel gave birth to four cute little puppies, and every day the “doggie” parents and “human” grandparents would spend hours doting on the little ones.

Since Nisha and I could not agree as to who should take which puppy we solved the problem by getting married – strictly a marriage of convenience – but Sudha, her aim achieved, tells me that Nisha and I are the most rocking couple madly in love.

And so now we all live together as one big happy family – ours, theirs, mine and hers.


Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009



Click the link above to read a passionate love story on my creative writing blog
Vikram Karve