Realty Check - Short Fiction - A Story of Changing Values and Relationships

REALTY CHECK

 

Fiction Short Story

 

By

 

VIKRAM KARVE 

 

 

 

 

“I want to go home...!” the father, a redoubtable intrepid tough looking old man, around seventy, shouts emphatically at his son.  

 

“Please Baba. Don’t create a scene,” the son, an effeminate looking man in his mid-forties, says softly.  

 

“What do you mean don’t create a scene...?” the old man shouts even louder, waving his walking stick in a menacing manner.

  

“Please calm down...! Everyone is looking at us...!” an old woman, in her mid-sixties, pleads with her husband.  

 

“Let them look...! Let everyone see what an ungrateful son is doing to his poor old parents...” the old man says loudly, looking all around. 

 

“Ungrateful...?” the son winces.  

 

“Yes, ungrateful...! That’s what you are. We did everything for you; educated you, brought you up. And now you throw us out of our house into this bloody choultry.”  

 

“Choultry...! You call this a choultry...! Please Baba... This is a luxury township for Senior Citizens...” the son says.  

 

“It’s okay,” the old woman consoles her husband, “we’ll manage in this Old Age Home.” 

 

“Mama, please...!” the son implores in exasperation, “How many times have I told you. This is not an Old Age Home. It’s such a beautiful exclusive township for Senior Citizens to enjoy a happy and active life. And I’ve booked you a premium cottage – the best available here.”  

 

The mother looks at her son, and then at her husband, and feels trapped between the two, not knowing what to say as both are right in their own way. So she says gently to her husband, “Try to understand. We’ll adjust here. See how scenic and green this place is. See there – what a lovely garden.”  

 

“I prefer Nana-Nani Park at Chowpatty. All my friends are there,” the old man says.  

 

“You’ll make friends here too,” she says.  

 

“Friends...! These half-dead highbrow snobs...?” the old man says mockingly.  

 

“Okay,” the son intervenes, “you both can take long walks. The air is so pure and refreshing at this hill station.”  

 

“Listen you...! Don’t try all this on me. I’ve been walking for the last fifty years on Marine Drive and that’s where I intend walking the rest of my life...” the old man shouts at his son. Then the old man turns to his wife and says peremptorily to her, “You pack our bags and let’s go back to Mumbai. We are not staying here...!”  

 

“Try and adjust,” his wife beseeches him, “you’ll like the place. Look at the facilities here – there’s a modern health club, gym, library, recreation... everything is here.”  

 

“Gym...? You want me to do body building at this age...? Library...? You know after my cataract I can hardly read the newspaper...! And I can get all the recreation I need watching the sea at the Chowpatty...”  

 

“Please Baba, don’t be obstinate,” begs his son. “This place is so good for your health. They give you such delicious nourishing food here.” 

 

“Delicious...? Nourishing...? The bloody sterile stuff tastes like hospital food. I can’t stand it – where will I get Sardar’s Pav Bhaji, Kyani’s Kheema Pav, Vinay’s Misal, Satam’s Vada Pav, Delhi Durbar’s Biryani, Sarvi’s Boti Kababs, Fish in Anantashram in Khotachi wadi next door…”  

 

“Please Baba...! All you can think of is horrible oily spicy street-food which you should not eat at your age...! With your cholesterol and sugar levels, you’ll die if you continue eating that stuff...”  

 

“I’d rather die of a heart attack in Mumbai enjoying the tasty good food I like rather than suffer a slow death here trying to eat this insipid tasteless nonsense,” the old man shouts at his son, then looks at his wife and commands, “Listen. Just pack up. We are not staying here like glorified slaves in this golden cage. One month here in this godforsaken place has made me almost mad. We are going right back to our house in Girgaum to live with dignity...!”  

 

“Please Baba. Don’t be difficult. I have to leave for the states tonight,” the son pleads desperately. “I’m trying to do the best possible for you. You know the huge amount of money I’ve paid in advance to book this place for you...?” 

 

“You go back to your family in America. I’m going back to my house in Girgaum...! That’s final...!” the old man says firmly to his son. Then he looks at his wife, the old woman, and says, “You want to come along...? Or should I go back alone...?”  

 

“Mama, please tell him...” the son looks at his mother.  

 

The old woman looks lovingly at her husband, puts her hand on his arm and says softly, “Please try to understand. We have to live here. There’s no house in Girgaum. Our tenement chawl has been sold to a builder. They are building a commercial complex there.”  

 

“What...?” the old man looks at his wife, totally stunned, as if he is pole-axed, “you too...!”

And suddenly the old man's defences crumble and he disintegrates... no longer is he the strong indefatigable redoubtable man he was a few moments ago -- the old man seems to have lost his spirit, his strength, his dignity, his self-esteem, even his will to live...!

The metamorphosis in the old man's personality is unbelievable as he meekly holds his wife’s hand for support and, totally defeated, the once tough and redoubtable old man obediently leans on his frail wife for support and walks with her towards their cottage where they both will spend the last days of their lives... lonely... unwanted... waiting for death. 

 

 

VIKRAM KARVE 

 
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2010
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work

vikramkarve@sify.com 

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Mr. and Mrs. X and the Baby

Mr. and Mrs. X and the Baby 

Fiction Short Story 

By

VIKRAM KARVE

(Dear Readers, this is a fiction short story, purely apocryphal, with a message for working couples on the threshold of matrimony)

Mr. and Mrs. X desperately wanted to have a baby.  

So they tried very hard to have a baby.  

Poor Mr. and Mrs. X, they tried and tried, all by themselves, but they couldn’t have a baby.

And as time flew, and the biological clock ticked away, Mr. and Mrs. X became more and more anxious, and so with resolute perseverance, they put everything at stake, made determined efforts, consulted the best doctors in town, spent huge amounts of money on the best and most sophisticated infertility treatments possible, tried all sorts of things, exoteric and esoteric, left no stone unturned, struggled and struggled, with dogged persistence, till, at long last, at the age of 35, Mrs. X conceived, and after a difficult, delicate, grueling, backbreaking, anxious, harrowing  pregnancy, she overcame all sorts of complications, and finally, after enduring for nine long months, successfully delivered a beautiful bonny baby.  

Everyone was delighted – the parents, having proved their mettle, the doctors, on the success of their treatment, the grandparents that the family lineage was preserved, the soothsayers, the relatives, the friends – everybody. 

Three months later I happened to be in town and decided to visit Mr. and Mrs. X and their bonny baby.  

On the way, at the jewellers, I bought a gold ornament as a present for the bonny baby.  

I found my way to their classy house in an elite condominium located in the most posh and exclusive neighbourhood of the city.  

I felt a tinge of envy thinking about Mr. and Mrs. X, the young IT whiz kids, who could achieve such expensive luxuries and an ostentatious living style so early in life. 

The proud grandparents opened the door.  

The baby, on her grandmother’s lap, looked cute, very cute and cuddly.  

The baby’s parents, the young mother and father, were conspicuous by their absence.  

It was late evening and I had expected Mr. and Mrs. X to be at home, doting upon their adorable little baby, so curious I asked, “Where is the young mother?”

“At work,” the grandfather answered.

“Oh! Back at work? So fast? But she should be back home soon, isn’t it?” I asked looking at the wall clock.

“No! No! She won’t be coming for at least six months now. She’s gone abroad, to the States, on an important project,” said the proud grandmother, cuddling and mothering the baby.

“And Mr. X, the proud father, he’ll be coming…” I asked.

“He’s in Singapore. He got a fantastic job offer the day the baby was born,” said the grandfather. 

“You know, the baby has proved real lucky for them. Her mother got promoted as project leader, a hefty raise and this foreign assignment and her father got this fabulous job offer in Singapore,” said the proud grandmother, cuddling the baby, who suddenly started to cry.

“It’s her feed-time,” the grandmother said, handing over the baby to the grandfather, and she went to the kitchen to warm up the baby’s milk.

“It’s good,” the grandfather said lovingly fondling the bonny baby, “for all these years when they were trying so hard to have this baby, they had put their careers on the back-burner; now that they have got their baby, they can focus on their careers once again.” 

The grandmother came out with the milk bottle and began feeding the bonny baby while the doting grandfather lovingly looked on.

I looked at the grandparents – the surrogate parents – and the baby – the light of their lives, their raison d’etre, probably their reason for living and certainly the source of all their present happiness.  

As I said earlier, this is a fiction short story, purely apocryphal, with a message for younger readers on the threshold of matrimony. 

Any Comments...?

VIKRAM KARVE  

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2010 

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

 

vikramkarve@sify.com

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

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

HOW TO REMAIN A BACHELOR FOR LIFE

The Art of Remaining Single
 

A Mulla Nasrudin Story   

By

 

VIKRAM KARVE  

 

 

There is a beautiful and bright young girl who lives in my neighbourhood.

She wants to get married but it seems that she just can’t seem to find anyone suitable matching her "stringent" requirements.

She is surrounded by so many “eligible” boys, colleagues at work, in her friends circle, if she prefers a "love" marriage; and also she has “seen” and “rejected” a large number of boys her parents and well-wishers keep lining up for her, in case she wants to go in for an "arranged" marriage.

None of the boys seems to come up to her perfect standards and high expectations. But one thing is sure - she does want to get married.

 

I wonder whether I should tell her this apocryphal Mulla Nasrudin Teaching story – THE PERFECT WIFE :

 

Mulla Nasrudin was sitting in a tea shop when a friend came excitedly to speak with him.

 

“I am about to get married,” his friend said, “and I am so very excited.”

 

“Congratulations,” Mulla Nasrudin said, nonchalant,  pokerfaced.

 

“Tell me, Nasrudin, have you ever thought of marriage yourself?” the about to get married friend asked Mulla Nasrudin who had remained a chronic bachelor.

 

Nasrudin replied, “Of course I did think of getting married. In my youth, in fact, I very much wanted to get married.”

 

“So, what happened...?” the friend asked curious.

 

“I wanted to find for myself the perfect wife,” Nasrudin said, “so I travelled looking for the perfect wife. I first went to Damascus. There I met a beautiful woman who was gracious, kind, and deeply spiritual, but she had no worldly knowledge."

"Oh, how sad...!" said the friend, " then what did you do...?

"Then I travelled further and went to Isphahan. There I met a woman who was both spiritual and worldly, beautiful in many ways, but her social graces were not of the highest standards.”

 

“What a tragedy...then what did you do...you gave up...?” the friend asked.

 

“No...No...I don't give up so easily...and I very much wanted  to get married...so I kept on searching for the perfect wife and travelled all over the world meeting so many women..." Nasrudin said.

 

“And did you find her...? Tell me, did you finally find the perfect wife...?” the friend asked eagerly.

 

“Yes,” Nasrudin said, “after travelling all over finally I went to Cairo and there after much searching I found her. She was spiritually deep, graceful, and beautiful in every respect, at home in the world and at home in the realms beyond it. I knew I had found the perfect wife.”

 

“Then why did you not marry her...?” the friend asked excitedly.

 

“Alas,” said Nasrudin as he shook his head in dismay, “Unfortunately, she was searching for the perfect husband.”

 

 

Dear Reader, please be so good as to advise me:

Should I tell the beautiful and bright young girl this Mulla Nasrudin story right now...?

Or should I wait till she perfects the art of remaining single...?

 

 

VIKRAM KARVE

 

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

 

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

vikramkarve@sify.com

THE DISEASE TO PLEASE : A Mango Story – Food for Thought

THE DISEASE TO PLEASE
A Mango Story – Food for Thought
By
VIKRAM KARVE

A much married couple was celebrating the golden jubilee, their 50th wedding anniversary, of their very happy and successful marriage.

They both loved mangoes and decided to start the glorious day with a delicious Alphonso mango first thing in the morning.

While serving the mango the subservient docile wife thought: "For 50 years I have always sacrificed and been considerate towards my husband and I have always given him the deliciously sweet cheek of the mango, those succulent fleshy slices next to the skin of the mango, and I myself always make do with the sour pulpy part enveloping the seed of the mango. Enough is enough…! Today I am going to enjoy the cheeks of the mango; I will savour the heavenly sweet fleshy slices myself…and, for once, let him have the seed…"

So she cut the mango, took the sweet chunky slices of the mango cheeks herself and gave the pulpy seed of the mango to her husband, and she waited for his reaction with bated breath.

To her utter surprise, and contrary to her fears, her husband was very happy and he kissed her hand and said: "My darling, you have just given me the greatest joy of this wonderful 50th wedding anniversary day. For 50 years I have never eaten the luscious tangy seed of the mango, which is what I like best, and I quietly ate the mango cheeks, because I always wanted you to enjoy and relish the mango seed since you love it so much as I have noticed that you always prefer the the juicy mango seed rather than the cheeks of the mango."

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2010

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

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

vikramkarve@sify.com

MARRIED BACHELOR OFFICE WIFE

MATRIMONY – A PARADIGM SHIFT

Short Fiction – A Story about Modern Life

By

VIKRAM KARVE


Married Bachelors are proliferating all around me.

Come, walk around with me in my workplace, and I’ll show you what I mean.

Let’s meet the latest entrant to the Married Bachelors’ Club.

“Congratulations,” I say.

“Thank you, Sir,” says the smart upwardly mobile young man standing before me.

“How was the wedding ?”

“Grand – it was really a fantastic wedding.”

“Honeymoon ?”

“In Seychelles.”

“Wow! Come to our place in the evening. We want to meet your brand new wife,” I say.

“Sir, she hasn’t come.”

“Hasn’t come?”

“She is working in Delhi, Sir.”

“Tell her to quit.”

“Quit her job – why should she quit her job ?” he looks at me as if I have said something blasphemous.

“She can take a year or two off, can’t she? Come on, newly married couples like you must stay together; especially in a beautiful place like this. Now is the time, when you are fresh and young.”

“She’s very career conscious, Sir,” he says proudly, “and this a very vital phase for her – she’s on the verge of a promotion, working on an important project.”

And it was the same for the ambitious high flier go-getter standing in front of me. He too had “heights” to scale.

From a true bachelor he had become a married bachelor.

Just like his brand new wife.

Of course, now that they were endorsed with the hallmark of marriage, both of them, husband and wife, married bachelors, were free to focus their entire efforts on climbing their respective separate career ladders to “success” and fulfill their professional ambitions.

She is married to her job; he is married to his job – and, of course, they are married to each other.

Why do people marry ?

For togetherness and companionship, isn’t it ?

Then why do they stay separately by choice, especially in the formative exciting passionate early years of marriage ?

I just can’t fathom this paradox.

And here is my colleague – a charming lady – a veteran married bachelor.

I prefer to call her a married bachelor rather than married spinster!

If actresses can be called actors, why not refer to spinsters as bachelors.

She’s not the overly ambitious type. She once told me that given a choice she would give up her monotonous backbreaking job.

Then why doesn’t she do what she wants and quit her job ?

Well, she is caught in the EMI trap.

They’ve bought an exclusive penthouse flat in the classiest posh township in the city and a weekend “farmhouse” bungalow in the hills. And they are so busy earning to pay off their backbreaking and never-ending loan EMIs, she grinding herself off here in her office while he is slogging it out at sea.

Far apart, sometimes wonder whether it was all worth it – sacrificing the best years of their lives for material comforts, fearing that life may pass them by and they may become too old and worn out to enjoy the very comforts they sacrificed the best years of their lives for.

And here is a similar tale.

Poor chap. He bought a house in Pune as he loved the place and comfortably settled down with his family.

And then he got transferred and had to move out.

But the family won’t move out.

They love the place, and have embellished their adorable abode with such loving care, that they can’t dream of giving it on rent either. They just don’t want to move out of their comfortable existence.

Well, no one likes to leave one’s comfort zone. Certainly not his well settled family.

So the poor man will have to spend the rest of his working life as a married bachelor.

It is difficult and painful.

Once you have tasted and savored the fruits of family life, it is difficult to live alone – you can take my word for it!

Let’s move on to another married bachelor. Just have a look at him - the man with the forlorn look. Why is he a married bachelor?

“Children’s Education,” he says.

“What’s wrong with the schools here ?”

“I don’t want to disturb them. I want them to get the best.”

So husband and wife sacrifice their marital happiness for the sake of their darling children, who owing to their brilliant academic accomplishments are sure to fly off to better pastures, leaving behind the “married bachelors” [the sacrificing parents] to endure the remains of their marital lives as strangers in their empty nest.

I wonder why these married bachelors prefer to live miserably in self-imposed desolation and loneliness. Will they never experience the warm glow of the “much-married” feeling that comes after years of togetherness and friendship ?

Ah! At last, I see the lovey-dovey couple I’ve been noticing for weeks now – a truly “made for each other” couple!

“Good to see a lovely married couple at the workplace,” I comment.

“Hah! Married couple ?” pipes up the office jester, “Of course both of them are married, but they are not married to each other.”

“What do you mean?” I ask bewildered, “I see them together everywhere. Can’t you see that distinctive togetherness about them that you can see only in happily married spouses ?”

“Oh yes. You can call them spouses – office spouses – office husband and office wife.”
“Office Spouses ?

“Yes, Office Spouse. Workplace mates. Call them what you like. It’s the in thing, you know, especially among ‘married bachelors’ as you call them – to have an office husband or an office wife.”

Married Bachelors. Office Spouses. What’s the world coming to?

I’ve had enough – and just imagine, I thought marriage is being together.

Well, it is time for a paradigm shift, isn’t it ?

MATRIMONY – A PARADIGM SHIFT
Short Fiction – A Story about Modern Life
By
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/

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

Appetite for a Stroll

vikramkarve@sify.com

WHY DO PEOPLE HAVE CHILDREN ?

WHY HAVE CHILDREN?


By


VIKRAM KARVE



Why do people have children?

I don’t know.

In our case it was just a simple natural process. We got married [She, 21; I, 25], followed our biological instincts, let nature take its course, and in due course of time we were blessed with a delightful little bonny baby who became the cynosure of our life.

This was almost a quarter of a century ago.

Now it’s different.

I’ll tell you a story.

There’s this “successful” couple. Accomplished, ambitious, and competitive, they [She, 33; He, 35] are both software geniuses, exceptionally brilliant IT Professionals. Their hearts passionately in love, their heads fervently in competition, each trying to outdo the other.

They got married five years ago, after both had established themselves in their careers. They planned everything. First they would focus on their careers for a few years, strive for new zeniths and realize their dreams with their quest and passion for excellence, and then when they were successful and reasonably prosperous, they would plan their first child, so that they could give their kid the “best” in the world. Doesn’t matter, if this plan entailed periods of separation and long-distance marriage from time to time in the nascent years of their wedded life!

Their planning was perfect. They have just been blessed with a bonny baby. Just like we were, a long time ago. But here the similarity ends.

For he, the father, is flying off to the States, and she, the mother, is off to Singapore, to separately pursue their respective professional dreams, material ambitions, and achieve new pinnacles of success.

And their bonny baby will stay right here in their luxurious apartment with her granny who will shower her with all the “motherly” love and look after her with loving tender care.

And, of course, they will ensure that the baby gets the “best” in the world – the best comforts, the best toys, the best schooling, the best docs, the best nannies, the best care – the best of everything, except motherly and fatherly love.

Why is the mother depriving herself of the bliss and joys of motherhood? And why is the father distancing himself from the baby’s growing up process? I still remember the supreme joy and happiness my wife experienced when doing simple things like massaging, bathing, feeding, tending to and nurturing our baby. And I can never forget the matchless delight and fun I felt taking an active part in all facets of the baby’s development and growing up process.

Nothing can even remotely equal the unique joys of motherhood and fatherhood, and there is no substitute for it. And if they didn’t want to fully experience it, why did they have the baby?

Was it to just to prove to the world, or maybe even to themselves, his manliness and her fertility?

And what about the poor hapless darling baby? Will she never know what true motherliness and fatherliness are like?

Can a proxy, however compassionate, be as good as the real thing? Why go against nature?

That brings me back to my first question. Why do people have children? When their priorities lie elsewhere, and they don’t want to cherish the sheer unadulterated joys and thrills of parenthood and parenting.

Dear Readers, will you please be so good and enlighten me?

VIKRAM KARVE

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/

vikramkarve@sify.com

MY PET DOGS

My Canine Companions

By

VIKRAM KARVE

I remember my first pet dog Goldie, a Cocker Spaniel, who was presented to us by our neighbour in Devlali in 1961, when I was just five.

We named him Goldie because of his colour, and the tiny one month old pup remained my constant companion and loyal friend till he passed away in 1970.

Then we had Bruno, a cute cuddly Lhasa Apso, who disappeared, or maybe was stolen one day.

After that a black playful Dachshund called Sherry entered our family.

I loved Sherry so much that I have named all my subsequent dogs Sherry.

In 1982 we were presented a lovable snow-white Lhasa Apso girl as a wedding gift.

Of course we named her Sherry.

Ours was an arranged marriage and probably the only thing that was compatible was that we both loved dogs.

Today it is my favourite Doberman girl Sherry who illuminates every moment of our lives with happiness, joy and delight.

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, and you will both be happy you did.

You can take my word for it!

VIKRAM KARVE

PS: - Hey, do read about SHERRY my current pet My Darling DobermanXRampur Hound Girl

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/

vikramkarve@sify.com

CANINE PSYCHOLOGY

Canine Psychology

by

Vikram Karve


My pet Doberman girl Sherry gives me a grand rousing welcome every time I return home. She waits for me at the compound gate, and the moment she sees me, Sherry goes berserk with sheer excitement, wagging her tail vigorously round and round, jumping up at me enthusiastically, making unique welcome yelps, nudging me with her mouth and nose, and when I, overcome by a flood of love, have caressed, patted and cuddled her, she runs round and round the compound in happy joyful exhilaration and ecstatic glee.

And then as I proceed towards the house, Sherry does something unique which I have never seen any other pet dog do – she brings me a “gift”.

Yes, she comes to me carrying in her mouth a welcome gift, and drops the gift at my feet.

And do you know what this welcome gift is?

Well, sometimes it is an old bone she digs out, or maybe an old soiled rag cloth or the pair of socks she had stealthily pinched from the drying stand and hidden, buried deep in the lawn, or one of her toy “babies”, or an old shoe, or maybe just some piece of muck she has dug up, or a twig, anything – but Sherry always welcomes me home with a gift.

She does this to my wife, kids, mother, friends, maid and others she knows well and though her welcome may not be as vigorously enthusiastic as she does for me, Sherry always brings them a “gift”. [For unwanted strangers Sherry has a ferocious, rather ominous bark, and, if unheeded, and they dare to enter our compound, maybe a vicious assault followed by a memorable bite – she is a superb guard dog].

Sherry’s “gifting nature” has me perplexed. As I said I have never seen any other pet dog bringing welcome gifts.

Sherry’s fantastic welcome overwhelms me with a delightful emotion of happiness, gratitude and love that I cannot describe in words, and I always look forward to returning home to Sherry [My wife and kids do sometimes welcome me home too, but certainly not as enthusiastically, and there is never the “welcome gift” at my daily homecoming after work].

Dear Reader, have you ever seen any dogs demonstrate their happiness and affection in this way?

Please can some dog lover or canine psychologist throw some light on this “gifting behaviour” – why does my darling pet Doberman girl Sherry express her love in such an inimitably endearing manner?

VIKRAM KARVE

vikramkarve@sify.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

Short Fiction - The Chic Woman

Click the link and read on my creative writing blog:

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/10/the-chic-woman.htm

Regards
Vikram Karve

Short Fiction - Engine - Waiting for the Signal

Click the link and read my story


http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/09/engine.htm


Regards
Vikram Karve

Sherry Karve tells her story

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/07/sherry-karve-1.htm

A Lazy Mumbai Story

Click the link below and read the fiction short story

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/03/a-lazy-mumbai-story-anonymity.htm

Regards

Vikram Karve

Fiction by Vikram Karve - The Defining Moment

Click the link and read my the story:


http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2007/11/the-realization.htm


Vikram Karve

Lovedale - a short story

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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Divorce and Children

Movie Review

AEVDHE SE AABHAAL

A Remarkable Contemporary Thought-Provoking Marathi Film with a most relevant message.

[ Reviewed by VIKRAM KARVE ]



Divorce is no longer an ugly word. It’s happening all around us. Rising expectations, coupled with diminishing tolerance levels, are taking their toll, even in the middle-class milieu of “conservative” towns and cities like Pune. Everyone wants a “perfect” relationship and “ideal” marriage, but they want it on their own terms. The modern mantra seems to be that if a relationship is not working it is better to sever it, split up, rather than endure and make efforts to patch up.

There are many stakeholders in a marriage, and divorce; the main ones being the husband, the wife, and the children. Aevdhe Se Aabhaal vividly portrays the repercussions of divorce on children, innocent victims who suffer for no fault of theirs.

Ten year old Bunty [played brilliantly by Rutvik Nadkarni] lives in Pune with his mother [Pratiksha Lonkar], a bank manager, separated from her husband [Ashok Shinde] who works in Mumbai. Bunty loves both his parents and looks forward to spending “quality time” with his father during his monthly visits. Now why the parents have split is a mystery as relationships seem quite cordial and amicable. [In my opinion “Amicable Divorce” is a most inexplicable oxymoron – if you can amicably divorce, why not amicably stay together? I thought only estranged marriages break up, and just can’t comprehend this mumbo jumbo about remaining good friends after the divorce when it’s much better to be good friends within the marriage! ]

Post-separation, things start happening quite conveniently. A relationship is slowly developing between Bunty’s mother and the Good Samaritan widower neighbourhood doctor [Harsh Chhaya] in Pune, while something similar is brewing between Bunty’s father and his Bengali friend Shibani [Shibani Sengupta] in Mumbai. So Bunty’s parents divorce each other with mutual consent and remarry, and bask in happiness with their newfound loves, leaving Bunty psychologically confused and emotionally devastated. His mother gets a new husband, his father gets a new wife, and the hapless Bunty is left high and dry.

It is at this juncture that the movie truly takes off with a sensitive and realistic depiction of Bunty’s losing struggle to come to terms with harsh reality. There are no vamps and villains in this story. The bewildered Bunty just can’t cope up with the circumstances as they snowball beyond his control.

The brilliant perceptive direction by Bipin Nadkarni who inspires natural virtuoso performances from the gifted actors creates a powerful and engrossing film which leaves a lasting impact on the audience.

Aevdhe Se Aabhaal is a remarkable contemporary thought-provoking Marathi film with a most relevant message and deserves a much wider viewership. I wish they dub it in English, Hindi and other languages and release it all over, or maybe screen it on TV.




VIKRAM KARVE

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vikramkarve@hotmail.com

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Parenting

HOW TO SPOIL YOUR CHILDREN
[and how not to]
By
VIKRAM KARVE



It seems to be in thing today to have spoilt children. I was a strict old-fashioned father, but looking around, I have realized that in today’s world, where materialistic desires overshadow traditional values, my ascetic style of parenting is hopelessly outmoded and distinctly passé. It’s too late for me to change now, so let me pontificate a bit on what I did not do.

Apart from the conventional vices like drinking, smoking, drugs, gambling etc, all types of new and novel temptations and addictions like Internet, Gaming, TV, sex, compulsive spending and shopping, indulging in wild reckless behaviour, breaking the law and criminal thrills are on the rise and indeed becoming status symbols in some sections of society. There is plenty of choice available for those who want to “live it up”. For children in today’s consumerist society there is no place for concepts of thrift and frugality and conspicuous consumption and expensive lifestyles are more important. Pamper your kids, pander to all their whims and fancies and they will love you; and, of course, in the long run they will ruin their own lives and cause you distress.

If you want to spoil your children remember there are four factors or resources that help develop and nurture bad habits, addictions and anti-social behaviour: TIME, INCLINATION, OPPORTUNITY, MONEY.

TIME: One must have time to indulge in whatever one’s pursuits, good or bad. So, if you want to spoil your children, don’t burden them with too many “mundane” things like studies, sports, hobbies etc so that they have plenty of leisure time to live it up and pursue their temptations to their heart’s content.

INCLINATION: This depends on your sense of values, home and family atmosphere, social environment, religious and cultural taboos, peer pressure, influence of school and friends. Are you inculcating the right values in your kids by your own actions?
I’ll give a real life example. My friend’s son, age 15, lost his expensive mobile cell-phone forgetting it in a taxi due to his own carelessness and negligence. Instead of admonishing him, my friend bought him the latest, even more expensive and fancy cell-phone. Obviously the boy had no remorse, guilt or regret at losing the expensive gadget, and instead of feeling contrite and responsible, displayed a “couldn’t care” attitude. Can one even expect such actions of parents to inculcate the correct values of thrift, frugality and responsibility in their children? If you drink, smoke, and party in front of your children, won’t they be inclined to do the same? How about your friends, your kids’ friends, their behaviour, and the general atmosphere and culture around? What are your own values? If you’re going to “live it up”, flaunt your lifestyle, be corrupt and dishonest, your kids will be inclined to do so too!

OPPORTUNITY: You have the Time, you have the Inclination, but do you have the opportunity to do what you want to do? Suppose you want to drink, but there is prohibition in force? Or religious, social, cultural taboos which do not give you the opportunity to drink? Opportunity to indulge in an activity is governed by external circumstances, rules and regulations, which either inhibits or makes it conducive for you to do what you want. Enforcement of restrictions like No-Smoking Zones, Prohibition, No Entry into Bars and Pubs for Kids inhibit opportunity. Or do you want to give your kids a laissez faire opportunity to do what they want?

MONEY: If you want to spoil your children make sure you give them plenty of money to splurge and to do as they please. “Vices” and profligate lifestyles are expensive, you know? Give them the latest gadgets and gizmos, cars and bikes, pander to all their whims and fancies, and never ask them to account for their extravagant spending. You’ve open-mindedly given your kids the time, the inclination, and the opportunity, but finally it’s the money that matters! It’s money that helps them sustain their vices and habits.


So go ahead, spoil your kids if you want to; but if you don’t want to, you know what to do, don’t you? Just remember the four key factors – Monitor their Time, give them the proper Inclination in life, restrict their Opportunity for undesirable activities, and, last but not the least, keep a tight leash on their Money.


VIKRAM KARVE

vikramkarve@sify.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com