LIVING IN WAKAD - Part 1 - Stay Inside Stay Cool

Vikram Karve: STAY INSIDE STAY COOL - LIVING IN PUNE

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: STAY INSIDE STAY COOL - LIVING IN PUNE.

LIVING IN WAKAD

Part 1 – Stay Inside Stay Cool

By

VIKRAM KARVE

 

STAY INSIDE STAY COOL

 

Stay Inside Stay Cool. That is the best thing to do if you live in Wakad, or for that matter, if you live in anywhere in Pune.

 

Just stay inside your home, for if you do decide to venture out it is highly possible that you will lose your cool.

 

To start with there is the crazy Pune traffic, and with most of the roads dug up for the never-ending repair, the chaos is even crazier. That is why I say: The best way to travel in Pune is to go nowhere!

 

As far as I am concerned, the best thing about this place is my apartment – it is a “no-neighbours” apartment.

 

On a lighter note, yes, there are no neighbours at present since most of the owners seem to be long-term investors waiting for appreciation of their property and have kept their flats securely locked in the hope that the value of real estate in Pune will shoot up. Then, there are a few short-term investors who have bought flats to rent them out to young IT Pros and balance their EMIs and one never knows whether they will ever stay in these lovely apartments: exemplifying the adage – Fools Build Houses and Wise Men live in them. Well, I am not a real estate investor. I have bought the house to live in it, so I seem to be one of the exceptional few who is enjoying staying in my own brand new house.

 

Luckily, this place is not in the middle of a concrete jungle and you do not feel boxed-in by huge buildings surrounding you like in most places in Pune, and in the proliferating townships on the other side of the road in Wakad. Here you have a much better view than your neighbour’s balcony.

 

There is plenty of natural light, plenty of fresh air, a breathtaking view of the Mula River and its verdant surroundings, and a “feel good” vibe, which fills me with cheer and makes me happy to stay at home. I must say that the architect who designed these apartments in Rohan Tarang has done a real good job. One gets a feeling of roominess, brightness and liveliness here as this is not one of those ubiquitous cramped matchbox design flats, proliferating all over Pune, where one feels claustrophobic and uncomfortable the moment one enters.

 

I like my home. First impressions are good and as far as the other aspects like quality of construction, amenities, maintenance services and promises kept are concerned, well, it is early days yet and I will tell you in times to come.

 

Where is Wakad?

 

If you drive along the road from Aundh to the Rajiv Gandhi InfoTech Park at Hinjewadi in Pune, the moment you notice a large number of hoardings advertising various apartment townships in the concrete jungle, which you can see to your right, you know you are nearing Wakad. Well I am quite fortunate since Rohan Tarang is not in this overcrowded concrete jungle but is the solitary housing complex to the left side of the Aundh-Hinjewadi Road adjoining the Wakad village on the banks of the Mula River. 

 

One of these billboards features a sexy skimpily clad model frolicking in a cool blue swimming pool with an iced cocktail in her hand and has the catchy slogan: Stay Inside Stay Cool. (I wonder whether the gorgeous beauty is really going to spend the rest of her life staying cool sipping cocktails and having fun in the swimming pool of that luxurious township or any of the others in the vicinity most of them bearing fancy enticing names reminding one of exotic destinations). Most of the advertisements for these so-called integrated townships exhort you to stay inside and claim that with all the amenities provided inside it is best to stay inside and there is no need to go outside.

 

Well I am not going to spend the rest of my life inside the walls of a ghetto immersed in a swimming pool or working out in the gym or brooding inside my house – no Stay Inside Stay Cool or Stay Inside Stay Enthralled for me.  

 

So I am going to go out, walk all over the place, drive around, explore, and tell you all about living in Wakad. By the way, I am quite fortunate that Rohan Tarang is not located inside the overcrowded concrete jungle coming up in Wakad, but is the solitary housing complex towards the southern side of the Aundh-Hinjewadi Road adjoining the serene Wakad village on the banks of the placid Mula River which affords quite a picturesque view from my balcony, especially at sunset. But then, everything has its pros and cons.

 

Bye for now – Stay Inside Stay Cool and don’t forget to read my ramblings on Living in Wakad right here in this blog of mine.

 

VIKRAM KARVE 

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

 

VIKRAM KARVE educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale, and Bishop's School Pune, is an Electronics and Communications Engineer by profession, a Human Resource Manager and Trainer by occupation, a Teacher by vocation, a Creative Writer by inclination and a Foodie by passion. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and creative non-fiction articles in magazines and journals for many years before the advent of blogging. He has written a foodie book Appetite For A Stroll and a book of fiction short stories which is being published soon and is busy writing his first novel. Vikram lives in Pune with his family and pet Doberman girl Sherry, with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.

Vikram Karve Creative Writing Blog: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm
Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.com
Professional Profile of Vikram Karve:

http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
Email:

vikramkarve@sify.com
Foodie Book:

Appetite for a Stroll 
http://books.sulekha.com/book/appetite-for-a-stroll/default.htm

http://www.flipkart.com/appetite-stroll-vikram-karve/8190690094-gw23f9mr2o

http://shopping.sify.com/appetiteforastroll-vikram-karve/books/9788190690096.htm

 

© vikram karve., all rights reserved. 

Me and My Ex

Dating Mating Hating Resuscitating

Short Fiction – A Love Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE


The much delayed monsoon has finally arrived in Pune. It’s been raining incessantly all morning.

Ideally, at 10 o’clock in the morning on a working day, I should have been safely ensconced in my office, but today I sit in the driving seat of my car, slowly negotiating my way in the torrential rain, for I have an important appointment to keep.

Suddenly I see Avinash, half drenched, shivering under the bus-stop at Aundh, trying to protect himself from the pouring rain.

He sees me too. Our eyes meet. I don’t know who is more surprised at this unexpected encounter – he or me.

At first instinct, I just feel like ignoring him and driving away.

But then my humanitarian side takes over, so I stop the car near him, lean across, open the door and beckon him to get inside.

He seems hesitant, “Thanks, but I’ll take an auto – I am going to Deccan…”

“Come on Avinash, get in fast or you’ll get wet – you won’t get a rickshaw in this rain – I too am going towards Deccan Gymkhana – I’ll drop you on the way.”

He gets in and for a while we drive in silence.

“It’s been five years,” he says.

“Yes,” I say, “Quite a surprise, seeing you here in Pune…”

“Yes. I just came in from Mumbai by the Volvo bus, got down at Parihar Chowk… and you…what are you doing in Pune?”

“I relocated here six months ago…you still in the States?”

“Yes. But maybe I’ll come back…”

“Recession…?”

“Not really…”

“So you’ve come to look for a job in Pune…?”

“It’s actually something else…a family matter…”

“Family matter…? In Pune…?”

“My wife is from Pune…”

“Wife…? You remarried…?

“Yes…two years ago…”

“And I didn’t even know…!”

“We decided…didn’t we…to move on…go off on our different ways…not look back…”

“Yes…we lost track of each other completely…”

“That was good…isn’t it…for both of us…”

“Yes…”

“And you…? You married again…?”

“Yes…soon after you left for the States after our divorce…”

“On the rebound…?”

“Maybe…” I laugh.

Avinash has not changed…the way he says these devastatingly rude things in such a naïve innocent way.

We are nearing the Pune University circle so I ask, “Where is your wife’s house...? I’ll take the road accordingly…”

“It’s okay…just drop me wherever you can…”

“Come on…tell me…see how much it is raining…you want me to take Senapati Bapat Road…or drive straight ahead…to Fergusson College Road…or Jangli Maharaj Road…?”

“It’s okay…you go wherever you want to go in Deccan…I’ll get off there…”

“Oh…so you don’t want to show me your wife’s house…” I say, tongue in cheek.

“No…No…it’s not that…I am going somewhere else…to the Family Court…”

“To the Family Court…? I ask, taken aback.

“Yes,” he says, “it’s beyond Deccan, past Lakdi Pul…near Alaka…”

“I know where the family court is…” I say, “I hope you are not…”

“Yes…first it was the Family Court in Mumbai with you…and now…” he stops, as tears well up in his eyes.

“I too am going to the Family Court…” I say, sensing a lump in my throat.

“What…?” he looks at me, startled.

“I am divorcing my husband…today is the final hearing…hopefully…”

I slow down, stop the car near the kerb past E-Square. I wipe my eyes with tissue and hold the tissue box towards Avinash. He too wipes his eyes.

“Maybe we should have stayed together, tried to make our marriage work,” I say.

“Yes…it all happened so fast …maybe we were too hasty, too impatient, too headstrong…”

“Yes…we could have tried to make it work…”

“I think we sought the easy way out…we were too young…unrealistic…immature…impetuous…volatile…”

“Yes… ours was a tempestuous stormy relationship…a terrible marriage…but there is one thing…”

“What…?”

“With you I could be myself…no mask, no pretence, no forced geniality…”

“Me too…with you I could truly be myself…no contrived feelings, no holding back…I could never be like that with anyone else…with her too…the way could naturally be with you…you know I think we were made for each other…”

“Maybe we should give it a try…one more time…make things work…”

“You’re serious…?” he asks with a curious look in his eyes.

“Yes, Avinash. Let’s empty our cups and start afresh. Like you said, I too think we are made for each other.”

“Okay, but there is one thing…”

“What…?”

“Is it allowed to marry the same person twice…?

“I think so...I’ll ask my divorce lawyer…she will know…”

“Yes…I’ll confirm at the Family Court too…”

“One more thing…”

“Now what…?”

“This time…No Expectations, No Disappointments, Happy Marriage…”

“Yes,” I say lovingly putting my hand on his: “No Expectations…No Disappointments…Happy Marriage…”

Suddenly I notice that it has stopped raining and the sun is peeping through the clouds.

I feel good. I start the car and we drive on towards the Family Court…to erase the second chapter of our marital lives forever and to begin writing our first inchoate chapter afresh.


VIKRAM KARVE

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.

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/
vikramkarve@sify.com

IF YOU CANNOT DO IT OUTSOURCE IT

A spoof on outsourcing - just click the link below and read on my fiction blog:

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2009/01/outsourcing.htm

Vikram Karve

INVISIBLE GATES OF PUNE

THE INVISIBLE GATES OF PUNE

By

VIKRAM KARVE


Every city has its “Gates” – especially historical cities with Forts and Heritage structures. While some actual physical gates are visible, a few are not. Here are a few “Gates” of Pune that are not visible and exist in parlance only. If you find the actual physical “Gate” do let us know.

Peru Gate [maybe derives its name from the guava orchards that may have existed in the vicinity or is it a corrupted Indianized pronunciation of the name Perron, a British Officer after whom the gate was named as I read somewhere?]. Located in the heart of the city surrounded by the best authentic food joints and near Bharat Natya Mandir and Tilak Smarak Mandir.

Pool Gate or Pul Gate [Is there a Bridge or Pool nearby?]. In Pune camp.

Swar Gate [is it named after swari - where one begins one’s travel?]. At the junction of Satara Road and Solapur Road, housing the main State Transport and PMT Bus Terminus.

Quarter Gate [Was the Quarter Guard of a military unit housed here? I will not even risk mentioning the other more popular meaning of the word “quarter” in local lingo!]

Mhasoba Gate [Named after a temple of the same name in the vicinity].

Mariaaee Gate [Is it the Marathi version of Mother Mary (aaee – mother, Maria – Mary) and named after the church nearby?]

Ramoshi Gate. I’m totally clueless and I just can’t figure out!

Body Gate – This one is near Aundh, on the way to Mumbai past Bremen Chowk, and has cute heritage buildings which house police offices. Probably Body Gate housed a body of cavalry outside the Aundh Military Camp across the Mula river.

Dear Reader: Do you know of any more such invisible “Gates” in Pune?

And if you have more information on the gates mentioned above, do comment and let us know.


VIKRAM KARVE

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

vikramkarve@sify.com

vikramkarve@hotmail.com

LAMINGTON IN PUNE - Foodie Memories

PUNE NOSTALGIC FOODIE MEMORIES

LAMINGTON

By

VIKRAM KARVE


When I lived near Aundh, in the evenings I often used go for a walk on Aundh Road from Bremen Chowk towards the railway line at Khadki. It is one of the best places to walk in Pune, wide roads with plenty of greenery and foliage on both sides.

Of course, Girinagar, where I live now, is a fantastic pristine verdant walkers' paradise, where you can rinse and invigorate your lungs with pure cool refreshing unpolluted air; but then it's far far away from the chaotic polluted noisy concrete jungle of Pune!

But one thing is for sure. While you can rinse your olfactory senses to your heart’s content with the wonderful pure air, you can’t relish a delicious Lamington and indulge your epicurean gourmand desires on your evening walks out here.

back then, in my memorable days in Aundh, on my way back to my erstwhile home near the banks of the Mula River, I would treat myself with a Lamington at the Spicer College Bakery Shop.

Let me close my eyes, transport myself to the glorious past, stop at Spicer College Bakery on my evening walk, buy a lamington and delicately place the soft delicacy between my lips, press and squeeze a piece of the wonderful stuff on my tongue, focus inwards, enhance the sensitivity of my gustatory senses in order to amplify the experience of supreme bliss as the Lamington melts in my mouth and the chocolatty-coconutty luscious syrupy sweetness permeates into me.

A Lamington is a delicious cube of sponge cake, dipped in melted chocolate and sugar and coated in desiccated coconut.

They originated in Australia around 1898 in what later became the state of Queensland. Whilst the origin of the name for the Lamington cannot be accurately established, there are several theories.

Lamingtons are most likely named after Charles Baillie, 2nd Baron Lamington, who served as Governor of Queensland from 1896 to 1901. However, the precise reasoning behind this is not known, and stories vary.

According to one account, the dessert resembled the homburg hats favoured by Lord Lamington.

Another apocryphal tale tells of a banquet in Cloncurry during which the governor accidentally dropped a block of sponge cake into a dish of gravy, and then threw it over his shoulder, causing it to land in a bowl of desiccated coconut or peanut butter. A diner thought of replacing the gravy with chocolate and thus created the lamington as we know it today.

Ironically, Lord Lamington was known to have hated the dessert that had been named in his honour, once referring to them as "those bloody poofy woolly biscuits".

Another theory is that they were named after Lady Lamington, the wife of the Governor.The Spicer College Bakery Lamington is my favourite – and can you imagine it costs just Eight Rupees [that’s five Lamingtons for a Dollar, for those who think in Dollars!].

The chocolate icing keeps the cake moist. The desiccated coconut protects it from drying out in the hot climate. And it’s quite a juicy generous lip-smacking treat!

The Spicer College Bakery in Pune serves a variety of healthy goodies like carrot cake, nut cake, doughnuts, samosas, soy patties, soya milk; but, for me, it’s always my all time favourite, the inimitable yummy succulent Lamington!

Tell me, Dear Fellow Foodies, have you tasted a Lamington, in Pune or elsewhere?

If so, do tell us all about it.

If not, enjoy one the next time you are in Pune and give me your feedback.



VIKRAM KARVE


vikramkarve@sify.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

http://www.ryze.com/go/karve

http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve

Love and a Bundle of Joy

Please click on the link below for your bundle of joy

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/05/a-bundle-of-joy.htm

Regards
Vikram

A Dog Lover's Tale

Dear Reader, please click on the link below and read a simple fiction short story about a dog and a dog-lover:


http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/01/a-dog-s-life.htm


Regards
Vikram Karve

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/

My Blog is my Best Resume

MY BLOG IS MY BEST RESUME

By

VIKRAM KARVE



This morning, while on my walk with my pet Doberman Sherry, I realized that it is a great misfortune to be stuck in a job that you don’t like. So I’ve decided to find my dream job. And for personal reasons I’d love to find my dream job in Pune.

I’m looking for work which will optimize my talents and skills, enable me to realize my full potential, and most importantly add value to the organization.

I’m an M.Tech. from an IIT, a Post Graduate in HR Management, an NLP Practitioner, a Quality and Safety Lead Auditor… I’ve taught, I’ve trained, published papers, organized academic events, and been a Manager, edited and produced journals and magazines…but all that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I love to teach, I love to train and mentor, I love to communicate, I love to write.

Yes, I love to write, and My Blog is my Best Resume.

Dear Reader, please help me find my dream job.


VIKRAM KARVE

My Blog: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

vikramkarve@sify.com

vikramkarve@hotmail.com

My Profile : http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve

http://www.ryze.com/go/karve

Falling in Love Fiction by Vikram Karve

Falling in Love - click the link below and read my story:

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2007/11/falling-in-love.htm

Vikram Karve

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

The Visitor - a love story

Click the link below and read my story - The Visitor

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2007/11/fiction-short-story-the-visitor.htm

happy reading
Vikram

Fiction by Vikram Karve

Click the link below and read my fiction short story - The Visitor:


http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2007/09/the-visitor-fiction-short-story.htm



VIKRAM KARVE

Why do people keep dogs?

ARE YOU THINKING OF GETTING A DOG?


[A musing by Vikram Karve]




If you ask me “Why do people keep dogs?” I will ask you “Why do people have children?”


And remember, your children will grow up and, one day, may go away from you, maybe for higher studies, or to pursue their careers, or just leave you because they want to stay separately; but your dog will never leave you and will loyally remain with you forever till death. [Of course, if you throw out your dog, or get rid of it, then it’s a different matter; but your dog won’t leave you of its own accord].


If you are thinking of getting a dog into your home, as a family member, remember you are making a commitment to that dog for its lifetime, probably even more than your own children. And once the dog joins your family, invest your love and time to build a special bond that only a dog can offer. You'll both be happy you did.





VIKRAM KARVE



vikramkarve@sify.com


vikramkarve@hotmail.com


http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com



http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve



http://www.ryze.com/go/karve

Khubani Ka Meetha

KHUBANI KA MEETHA
[Qubani Ka Meetha]

By

VIKRAM KARVE



What’s the perfect ending to a rich and spicy Mughlai meal? A cool soothing Falooda, perhaps!

And after fiery Kolhapuri fare? A chilled Mastani, maybe, to quench the fires within!

And do you know what the ideal finale to a Hyderabadi Biryani repast is? It is a unique refreshing apricot-based sweet-dish dessert called Qubani Ka Meetha, or Khubani Ka Meetha, spell it whichever way you like. And you get it only in Hyderabad. That’s what I thought, till yesterday afternoon, when famished after a tiring bout of shopping on Main Street, I entered my all time favorite eatery, George Restaurant on East Street, and spotted on the “Today’s Special” menu board, written as the last item – Qubani Ka Meetha.

Now first a bit about George “The House of Quality Food, since 1936” – as the logo says. When I was small boy, in the 1960’s and 1970’s, once in a while, my father used bring for a meal to East Street in Pune Camp, to Kamling for Chinese, or Latif or Kwality for Mughlai, and after our meal we always had a meetha paan at George Paanwala at the entrance to George Restaurant. I used to peer inside to see the animated expressions of the hungry hoi-polloi patrons vigorously devouring their food, and yearn to taste the fare, but it was only in the late 1970’s that I became a regular patron and began to savor the mouthwatering cuisine served at George. Since then, there has been a remarkable metamorphosis in the ambiance and variety of cuisine and George has transformed into a decent affordable family restaurant.

Having decided to end my meal with the legendary Hyderabadi dessert Qubani Ka Meetha, I ordered a Mutton Biryani to pave the way. Well, the Biryani at George is first-rate, but not as superb as those I have tasted in Hyderabad, or even as good as that served by Olympia or Shalimar in Mumbai, or Dorabjee, Blue Nile, or Good Luck in Pune. It certainly passed the spread-test with flying colours, and tasted wholesome, maybe, a wee bit bland. Now-a-days, I’d rather savor the inimitable tender succulent Rotisserie Chicken, a Mix-Grill, a Roast, or a Mughlai Gravy dish with Naan, at George, but right now I focus on mindfully relishing the Biryani in front of me, enjoying every morsel.

The Qubani Ka Meetha, or Khubani Ka Meetha, is served. I lovingly caress the bowl – it’s nicely chilled. They’ve put a dollop of vanilla ice cream on top. I wish they’d served it with chilled freshly whipped cream [malai] as they do in Hyderabad. I push aside the ice cream, dig deep, scoop some of the darkish brown dessert on my tongue, and close my eyes as the luscious tang, sublime flavor and invigorating aroma of the apricots permeates within me. [Qubani, or Khubani, means Apricots or Jardaloo]. Something tickles my taste buds – it’s a pistachio nut – delectable as it disintegrates and releases its characteristic taste and the contrasting flavors mingle on my tongue. I blend in a bit of vanilla ice cream, and slowly and deliberately, relish every bit of the ambrosial Qubani Ka Meetha as it glides on my tongue. Today I’m not going to have a Paan, for I’ve had an ideal end to a delicious meal.

Dear fellow Foodies, please do let us know if you know any places in your town where one can relish this splendid legendary Hyderabadi dessert – Qubani Ka Meetha.



VIKRAM KARVE

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

vikramkarve@sify.com

LOVEDALE

LOVEDALE

(a short story)

by

VIKRAM KARVE








Lovedale. A quaint little station on the Nilgiri Mountain Railway that runs from Mettupalayam in the plains on a breathtaking journey to beautiful Ooty, the Queen of Hill Stations. On Lovedale station there is just one small platform – and on it, towards its southern end, a solitary bench. If you sit on this bench you will see in front of you, beyond the railway track, an undulating valley, covered with eucalyptus trees, and in the distance the silhouette of a huge structure, which looks like a castle, with an impressive clock-tower. In this mighty building is located a famous boarding school – one of the best schools in India. Many such ‘elite’ schools are known more for snob value than academic achievements, but this one is different – it is a prestigious public school famous for its rich heritage and tradition of excellence.



Lovedale, in 1970. That’s all there is in Lovedale – this famous public school, a small tea-estate called Lovedale (from which this place got its name), a tiny post office and, of course, the lonely railway platform with its solitary bench.



It’s a cold damp depressing winter morning, and since the school is closed for winter, the platform is deserted except for two people – yes, just two persons – a woman and a small girl, shivering in the morning mist, sitting on the solitary bench. It’s almost 9 o’clock – time for the morning “toy-train” from the plains carrying tourists via Coonoor to Ooty, the “Queen” of hill-stations, just three kilometers ahead - the end of the line. But this morning the train is late, probably because of the dense fog and the drizzle on the mountain-slopes, and it will be empty – for there are hardly any tourists in this cold and damp winter season.



“I’m dying to meet mummy. And this stupid train – it’s always late,” the girl says. She is dressed in school uniform – gray blazer, thick gray woolen skirt, navy-blue stockings, freshly polished black shoes, her hair tied smartly in two small plaits with black ribbons.



The woman, 55 – maybe 60, dressed in a white sari with a thick white shawl draped over her shoulder and a white scarf around her head covering her ears, looks lovingly at the girl, softly takes the girl’s hand in her own, and says, “It will come. Look at the weather. The driver can hardly see in this mist. And it must be raining down there in Ketti valley.”



“I hate this place. It’s so cold and lonely. Everyone has gone home for the winter holidays and we have nowhere to go. Why do we have to spend our holidays here every time?”



“You know we can’t stay with her in the hostel.”



“But her training is over now. And she’s become an executive – that’s what she wrote.”



“Yes. Yes. She is an executive now. After two years of tough training. Very creditable; after all that has happened,” the old woman says.



“She has to take us to Mumbai with her now. We can’t stay here any longer. No more excuses now.”



“Even I don’t want to stay here. It’s cold and I am old. Let your mummy come. This time we’ll tell her to take us all to Mumbai.”



“And we’ll all stay together – like we did before God took Daddy away.”



“Yes. Mummy will go to work. You will go to school. And I will look after the house and all of you. Just like before.”



“Only Daddy won’t be there. Why did God take Daddy away?” the girl says, tears welling up in her eyes.



“Don’t think those sad things. We cannot change what has happened. You must be brave – like your mummy,” says the old lady putting her hand softly around the girl. The old lady closes her eyes in sadness.There is no greater pain than to remember happier times when in distress.



Meanwhile the toy-train is meandering its way laboriously round the steep u-curve, desperately pushed by a hissing steam engine, as it leaves Wellington station on its way to Ketti. A man and a woman sit facing each other in the tiny first class compartment. There is no one else.



“You must tell her today,” the man says.



“Yes,” the woman replies softly.



“You should have told her before.”



“When?”



“You could have written, called her up. I told you so many times.”



“How could I be so cruel?”



“Cruel? What’s so cruel about it?”



“I don’t know how she will react. She loved her father very much.”



“Now she will have to love me. I am her new father now.”



“Yes, I know,” the woman says, tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t know how to tell her; how she’ll take it. I think we should wait for some time. Baby is very sensitive.”



“Baby! Why do you still call her Baby? She is a grown up girl now. You must call her by her real name. Damayanti – what a nice name – and you call her Baby”



“It’s her pet name. Deepak always liked to call her Baby.”



“But I don’t like it! It’s ridiculous,” the man says firmly. “Anyway, all that we can sort out later. But you tell her about us today. Tell both of them.”



“Both of them? My mother-in-law also? What will she feel?”



“She’ll understand.”



“Poor thing. She will be all alone.”



“She’s got her work to keep her busy.”



“She’s old and weak. I don’t think she’ll be able to do the matron’s job much longer.”



“Let her work till she can. At least it will keep her occupied. Then we’ll see.”



“Can’t we take her with us?”



“You know it’s not possible.”



“It’s so sad. She was so good to me. Where will she go? We can’t abandon her just like that!”



“Abandon? Nobody is abandoning her. Don’t worry. If she doesn’t want to stay on here, I’ll arrange something – I know an excellent place near Lonavala. She will be very comfortable there – it’s an ideal place for senior citizens like her.”



“An Old Age Home?”



“Call it what you want but actually it’s quite a luxurious place. She’ll be happy there. I’ve already spoken to them. Let her continue here till she can. Then we’ll shift her there.”



“How cruel? She was so loving and good to me, treated me like her own daughter, and looked after Baby, when we were devastated. And now we discard her when she needs us most,” the woman says, and starts sobbing.



“Come on Kavita. Don’t get sentimental,. You have to face the harsh reality. You know we can’t take her with us. Kavita, you must begin a new life now – no point carrying the baggage of your past,” the man realizes he has said something wrong and instantly apologizes, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”



“You did mean it. That’s why you said it! I hate you, you are so cruel and selfish,” the woman says, turns away from the man and looks out of the window.



They travel in silence. An uneasy disquieting silence. Suddenly it is dark, as the train enters a tunnel, and as it emerges on the other side, the woman can see the vast green KettiValley with its undulating mountains in the distance.



“I think I’ll also get down with you at Lovedale. I’ll tell them. Explain everything. And get over with it once and for all,” the man says.



“No! No! I don’t even want them to see you. The sudden shock may upset them. I have to do this carefully. Please don’t get down at Lovedale. Go straight to Ooty. I’ll tell them everything and we’ll do as we decided.”



“I was only trying to help you. Make things easier. I want to meet Damayanti. Tell her about us. I’m sure she’ll love me and understand everything.”



“No, please. Let me do this. I don’t want her to see you before I tell her. She’s a very sensitive girl. I don’t know how she’ll react. I’ll have to do it very gently.”



“Okay,” the man says. “Make sure you wind up everything at the school. We have to leave for Mumbai tomorrow. There is so much to be done. We’ve hardly got any time left.”



The steam engine pushing the train huffs and puffs up the slope round the bend under the bridge. “Lovedale station is coming,” the woman says. She gets up and takes out her bag from the shelf.



“Sure you don’t want me to come?” asks the man.


“Not now. I’ll ring you up,” says the woman.

“Okay. But tell them everything. We can’t wait any longer.”


“Just leave everything to me. Don’t make it more difficult.”



They sit in silence, looking out of different windows, waiting for Lovedale railway station to come.



On the solitary bench on the platform at Lovedale station the girl and her grandmother wait patiently for the train which will bring their deliverance.



“I hate it over here. The cold scary dormitories. At night I miss mummy tucking me in. And every night I count DLFMTC ?”



“DLFMTC ?”



“Days Left For Mummy To Come ! Others count DLTGH – Days Left To Go Home.”



“Next time you too …”



“No. No. I am not going to stay here in boarding school. I don’t know why we came here to this horrible place. I hate boarding school. I miss mummy so much. We could have stayed on in Mumbai with her.”



“Now we will be all staying in Mumbai. Your mummy’s training is over. She can hire a house now. Or get a loan. We will try to buy a good house. I’ve saved some money too.”



The lone station-master strikes the bell outside his office. The occupants of the solitary bench look towards their left. There is no one else on the platform. And suddenly the train emerges from under the bridge – pushed by the hissing steam engine.



Only one person gets down from the train – a beautiful woman, around 30. The girl runs into her arms. The old woman walks towards her with a welcoming smile. The man, sitting in the train, looks cautiously trying not to be seen. A whistle; and the train starts and moves out of the station towards Ooty.



That evening the woman tells them everything.



At noon the next day, four people wait at Lovedale station for the train which comes from Ooty and goes down to the plains – the girl, her mother, her grandmother and the man. The girl presses close to her grandmother and looks at her new ‘father’ with trepidation. He gives her a smile of forced geniality. The old woman holds the girl tight to her body and looks at the man with distaste. The young woman looks with awe, mixed with hope, at her new husband. They all stand in silence. No one speaks. Time stands still. And suddenly the train enters.


“I don’t want to go,” the girl cries, clinging to her grandmother.


“Don’t you want to stay with your mummy? You hate boarding school don’t you? ” the man says extending his hand.



The girl recoils and says, “No. No. I like it here. I don’t want to come. I like boarding school.”



“Come Baby, we have to go,” her mother says as tears well up in her eyes.



“What about granny? How will she stay here all alone? No mummy - you also stay here. We all will stay here. Let this man go to Mumbai,” the girl pleads.



“Damayanti. I am your new father,” the man says firmly to the girl. And then turning to the young woman he commands, “Kavita. Come. The train is going to leave.”



“Go Baby. Be a good girl. I will be okay,” says the old woman releasing the girl.



As her mother gently holds her arm and guides her towards the train, for the first time in her life the girl feels that her mother’s hand is like the clasp of an iron gate. Like manacles.



“I will come and meet you in Mumbai. I promise!” the grandmother says. But the girl feels scared – something inside tells her she that may never see her grandmother again.



As the train heads towards the plains, the old woman begins to walk her longest mile – her loneliest mile – into emptiness, a void.



And poor old Lovedale Railway Station, the mute witness, doesn’t even a shed a tear. It tries. But it can’t. Poor thing. It’s not human. So it suffers its sorrow in inanimate helplessness. A pity. What a pity!





VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright 2006 Vikram Karve



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SHOR Paradigm

SHOR PARADIGM

[Effective Communication – an apocryphal anecdote I heard somewhere]

By

VIKRAM KARVE




Imagine that a husband and wife are driving one evening for a party, their car crawling at snail’s pace in the heavy traffic on the busy crowded roads of a city with terrible traffic like Pune. The car is waiting at a red traffic signal.

Suddenly the traffic signal turns green and the wife says to her husband, “The signal has become green!”

Now, in his mind’s eye, the husband can interpret this simple communication from his wife in a number of ways depending on his mental filters and reply to his wife accordingly.

One husband may think his wife means to say, “Can’t you see? The traffic light has turned green!” and he may retort angrily, “Of course I can see! I’m not blind!”

Another may think his wife is hurrying him up, “Come on, you slow-poke, hurry up; we are already late,” to which he may snap, “Don’t unnecessarily hustle me, let me drive properly.”

Or a “hen-pecked” husband may assume that his wife has started off her nagging again and say irritably, “Stop your nagging and backseat driving – why don’t you drive yourself instead of passing comments?”

Now, in each of these cases, on hearing her husband’s remarks, the wife may either choose to remain silent or she may “appropriately” respond to the husband’s comments and give him a “fitting” reply, and the conversation will go on and on till more “heat” and less “light” is generated.

What if a husband just ignores the wife’s remarks, remains silent, says nothing? Well, the wife may interpret his silence in a number of ways depending on her mental filters, and accordingly say something to her husband again and the “communication” cycle will continue.

Interpretation of communication, drawing inferences – it all depends on your mental filters, doesn’t it?

So, Dear Reader, whenever you converse and communicate, please avoid the usual “Stimulus-Response” (SR) paradigm, and instead try the Stimulus-Hypothesis-Options-Response (SHOR) paradigm.

Think about it, and do let us know your views.




VIKRAM KARVE

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Book Review - Pune Food Guide

Book Review – TIMES FOOD GUIDE PUNE 2007

[Reviewed by Foodie Vikram Karve]


I believe that if you want to write about food you must actually eat it. Being a passionate Foodie is probably more important than being a competent journalist. First hand gastronomic experience is sine qua non for a food guide or restaurant review. That’s why, when I read in the Pune Times supplement of today’s Times of India that, in the compilation of Times Food Guide 2007, in order to give a perfect picture of the Pune’s culinary scene, they had sent out food inspectors who visited restaurants incognito to sample and rate the food, I rushed out to the nearest Crossword bookstore in Aundh and bought the book.

With its eye-catching red cover, attractive get up, convenient size [a food guide must fit in your pocket and be easy to carry around during your foodwalks], and reasonable price, my first impression was quite favourable. It’s comprehensive, alphabetically compiled, well collated, aptly indexed, easy on the eye and pleasing to read, with helpful maps at the end. All in all, a delightfully compact food guide with superb production quality befitting the prestigious Times of India group who have published this pioneering Pune food guide.

It was only when I tried to find my favourite eateries that I was shocked by the glaring omissions. How could the incognito food inspectors have missed out all time Puneri favourites like Janaseva Dughda Mandir the ultimate Puneri Snacks place on Laxmi Road, Purepur Kolhapur, Durga and Nagpur of Sadashiv Peth, Ramnath and Bedekar Misal, Badshahi Boarding, Sweet Home, Ganu Shinde Ice Cream, Sujata and Gujar Mastani House, Olympia Kathi Rolls, Radio Restaurant, East End Chinese, Kalpana Bhel, Spicer Bakery famous for its inimitable delectable lip smacking Lamingtons, Ambika and New Ambika Amrututulya Teashops serving ambrosial tea, et al? And, please tell me, have Khyber, Eddie’s Kitchen, Kabir’s, Poona Goan, Santosh Bhavan, and Latif closed down? Does Café Sunrise still exist? By the way, my all time favourite Marz-O-Rin on Main Street is certainly not a roadside joint as categorized in the index. It’s a decent respectable family place. And Manmeet too, the chaat place on FC Road, is a decent eatery with proper seating. What about Radhakrishna caterers? And Shreyas’s cozy new branch on Satara Road opposite Panchami which also does not find a mention? And the excellent restaurants in hotels like Raviraj, for example? And back of the beyond places like Thomson in Navi Sangvi for Kerala cuisine, Mahableshwar in Baner for Butter Chicken, Sadanand on the Katraj byepass for Dabba Gosht, and Babumoshai on Aundh Road for Lavang Lata and Bengali Sweets.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to be critical and it is certainly not my intention to belittle the great effort that has gone into the making of this pioneering food guide to Pune, but then one has very high expectations from a publication from the highly esteemed Times of India group.

I’m glad I bought the Times Food Guide Pune 2007. It is a superb user-friendly guide covering a wide range of cuisines, and featuring many new places, especially in the upcoming suburbs of Pune. If this food guide is targeted at the newly arrived IT professionals, the high-falutin crowd of “restless achievers”, the rich hip and happening students flocking to Pune, visiting tourists, and the cosmopolitan elite living in posh suburbs like Kalyaninagar, Kondhwa, Aundh etc, it is certainly an excellent and informative compilation. But is it fair to ignore the fast dwindling diehard Punekar and the unique Puneri cuisine?

I’ve tasted better Chinese food in Kolkata, Mughlai Cuisine in Delhi, Irani, Continental and Multicuisine Mumbai, Biryani in Hyderabad and Lucknow, Chaat and Chola Bhatura in the north, Vindaloo and Fish Curry in Goa, and Dosas and Chettinad cuisine in the south, but where else but in Pune will you get the inimitable heritage Puneri Cuisine? A little more focus on traditional Puneri and Maharashtrian cuisine would certainly have made this Pune Food Guide more comprehensive and complete.

I wish that, for their next edition, the editors choose true blue Punekars with culinary knowledge, sensitive taste buds and cast iron stomachs as the incognito foodie inspectors who will dare to delve deep into the heart of the city, the nooks and crevices of the peths, and the underbelly of camp, and discover for us the best eateries serving the signature food of Pune and Maharashtra. For starters, I suggest they take a foodwalk on Laxmi Road starting from Alaka Chowk to Camp, delving into gallis and by-lanes and exploring the peths on either side. And then fan out all over Pune on a gastronomic trail. A section on Club-Food served at the many excellent clubs and institutes would be most welcome.

There is no greater love than the love of eating. Food reviews must be written with passion and candour, be exciting, and create in the reader strong gastronomic emotions. Most of the food reviews in this guide appear perfunctory and generic in nature. They don’t create in the reader the zest for eating! I feel that a good food review must mention the signature dish of the place, recommend specific cuisine, and describe the eating experience in its entirety, make one’s mouth water and trigger a zealous desire for eating, or otherwise. Take the review on Café Good Luck, for example. Surely Good Luck is not a mere run of the mill Irani Bun Maska – Chai – Mutton Masala place. How about letting readers know about the unique Mutton Cutlet Curry, matchless Biryanis, spicy yummy Tawa Goshts, and other specialties of the place. Have the writers actually savored the SPDP at Vaishali? Or relished the Shepherd’s Pie, Roast Chicken Supreme and Blueberry Pudding at Polka Dots? And remember, if it’s Bhavnagri, or Karachi, it’s the irresistible Sev Barfi!

One must tell the readers what to eat, the specialties of the place, and describe the restaurant, it’s background, and the eating experience a little bit more passionately, and enthusiastically, like has been so nicely done in the write-up on Arthur’s Theme Restaurant – it made my mouth water and I feel like rushing there right now – I’m sure the incognito food inspectors had a delightful meal at Arthur’s! Also the reviews on the bars and pubs are much more spirited – no prizes for guessing why!

As one peruses the guide one realizes that Pune is fast becoming a culinary melting pot of cuisine from all over the world. The writers need to be congratulated and commended for their excellent compilation of so many new exciting eateries, especially in the newly developing neighborhoods. There is so much new information. I was quite sad when my favourite non-veg eatery Aasra in Shukrawar Peth closed down. Now I learn from this guide that its namesake an Aasra Lunch Home exists in Chinchwad. I wonder whether it serves the same stimulating fiery nose watering Maharashtrian Mutton Rassa? Well I’m going to find out pretty soon! And I’m going to try out all the value-for-money College Canteens too – this is indeed a novel and innovative listing I have not seen in any other food guide.

This wonderful food guide is going to be my constant companion as I set forth on my gastronomic exploration of my beloved city of Pune. I strongly recommend that every food-loving Punekar get a copy of this handy and informative food guide too. Happy Eating!


DETAILS OF THE BOOK REVIEWED

Title: TIMES FOOD GUIDE PUNE 2007
Published by Ravi Dhariwal for Bennett, Coleman and Co. Ltd. New Delhi
ISBN: 81-89906-09-7
Pages: 232
Price: Rs. 100/-
Easily available at all book stores.



Reviewed by:

VIKRAM KARVE

vikramkarve@sify.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/

Traveling in Pune

TRAVELLING IN PUNE
by
VIKRAM KARVE



The best way to travel in Pune is to go nowhere. Just sit at home, watch the travel channel on cable TV, travel in your mind’s eye and enjoy yourself vicariously. That is if you are lucky to have electricity, and if there is no power supply due to load shedding or a routine maintenance shutdown you can do even more exciting things like meditation, playing patience, or doing nothing [doing nothing makes time pass slowly and prolongs life]. And if you are a workaholic just stay put at your workplace.

Sorry for digressing – this piece is about traveling in Pune. The roads are dug up, there are diversions, and there is traffic chaos, so think twice before taking out your car, especially during peak hours. A friend of mine started off towards my place near Aundh yesterday morning, got stuck in a massive traffic jam, tried to take a short cut, and got lost in the maze, like in the Bhool-Bhulaiya of Lucknow. I had to drive cross-country across the Range Hills, traversing unknown paths, taking adventurous short cuts, to reach the airport.

If you’re dying for a drive, head for the nearest highway – it’s easier to get to Mumbai from Hinjewadi than to get to Kharadi, Kalyaninagar, Hadapsar, or Wanowrie. And if you are lucky enough to live in the heart of the city or camp, just take out your parasol, put on your walking shoes and walk. Walk, don’t drive, is the motto of the day in Pune. But if you have made the blunder of shifting to the suburbs, it’s best to go nowhere, and languish away.

When I was a small boy [in the 1960’s], we used to cycle all over Pune – but I dare not try it today, lest I land up in a Hospital with my bones broken or worse still in Vaikunth or Kailas crushed to pulp. There is just no place for the poor cyclist in the murderous traffic and what’s left of the roads. And if you have a motorcycle, or scooter, and have the guts to negotiate through the chaotic traffic, best of luck! Otherwise try the PMT bus, or take an auto-rickshaw and tell me all about it!

There are just too many people traveling all over Pune. I don’t know why they don’t build living accommodation for employees in the workplace – that should reduce at least half the traffic traveling to work and back, besides enhancing productivity. Just imagine traveling from, say, your home in Kalyaninagar, Kondhwa or Hadapsar all the way to Hinjewadi and back every day. What a waste to time, fuel, and emotional energy!

I’m fortunate – I just have to walk down to my workplace which is just a stone’s throw away! But I live far far away from the heart of Pune, and though I often pine to go there, I dread traveling to town, and try to follow my dictum – The best way to travel in Pune is to go nowhere!


VIKRAM KARVE

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