Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 06, 2010

CONTRIVED COINCIDENCE

CONTRIVED COINCIDENCE
Short Fiction – A Fun Story 
By 
VIKRAM KARVE

From my Archives - here is one of my Perky Fun Stories from my Pune Fiction Collection guaranteed to cheer you up...


Pune. Fergusson College Road. Vaishali Restaurant. 5 PM on a Sunday evening.  
Crowded. Crammed full. Jam-packed. All tables occupied chock-a-block. Aisles teeming with people waiting with watchful eyes for signs of someone finishing their refreshments.   
Suddenly I see a woman waving to me, beckoning me with her hand. Her face seems familiar – oh yes, she is Ravi’s wife. She is sitting all alone on a table for two with a half eaten masala dosa in front of her.  
I walk towards her and give her a smile. 
“Sit down, sit down,” she says to me, gesturing with her hand towards the empty chair opposite her, “Sit down here with me, otherwise you will have to wait for hours.” 
I sit down opposite her and say, “Thanks.” 
She summons a waiter and orders peremptorily, “SPDP.” 
“Two?” the waiter asks. 
“No, one SPDP for Madam,” she says pointing to the empty plate in front of me without even bothering to ask me, “and get one Kachori for me.” 
Before I can recover my wits, she says, “You like SPDP don’t you? Ravi told me.” 
“Yes, I love the SPDP at Vaishali. In fact I come all the way here every Sunday…” 
“To spend the day reading in the library opposite followed by an SPDP at Vaishali,” she completes my sentence. 
Ravi told you all this?” 
“Of course. He’s told me everything about you. Ravi admires you so much, he always talks about you.”  
“Really? But he never tells me anything about you.” 
“What’s there to tell? I am only his housewife, you are his office wife.” 
“Come on. Please don’t say that. There is nothing like that between me and Ravi. We are just colleagues – workmates. That’s all.” 
“Workmates? I think you are his soulmate – and I am only his mate!” 
I am struck dumb, feel a bit uneasy, but suddenly the plate of SPDP is kept in front of me, so I look down and begin to eat. 
“I’m sorry,” she says, “Don’t get angry. I was just teasing. I want you to be Ravi’s friend. He likes you so much. That’s why he is so happy in office and doing so well in his work.” 
I stop eating and look up at her vacuously, wondering what to say. 
Ravi appreciates you so much he even brings you home to me every evening in his thoughts and talks…that’s why I wanted to meet you.” 
“We’ve met before…” 
“Only once, that too only an introduction, at the Office Annual Day get-together…we are hardly married for three months, you know, and you all are so busy, with your targets and all, so I decided to meet you, talk to you, get to know you better, make a friendship…” 
“You mean…” 
“Yes, I contrived this coincidence. I came to the library also, but you were so busy browsing that I did not want to disturb you, so I waited here in Vaishali knowing you would surely come for your SPDP.” 
“You’re not eating your Kachori,” I say, trying to change the direction of the conversation.  
“Here, you eat,” she says pushing her untouched plate of Kachori and katori of whipped curds towards me, “I am all full – I ate an Uttapam, Idli-Vada Sambar, god-knows-what, waiting for you to come…”  
She leans forward and casually picks up a Sev Potato Dahi Puri from my plate, pops into her mouth and says, “Wow. I love the chatpata flavour of SPDP – you call it Umami taste or something – that’s what you told Ravi, isn’t it?” 
“I think I’ll go now,” I say, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, making up my mind to have a long talk with Ravi the moment I meet him in the morning at work. 
“No, no, don’t go, I want to show you something.”  
“Show me something?” 
“Yes, that’s why I came all the way here to meet you.” 
We finish the SPDP and Kachori, I insist on paying the bill, she doesn’t object too much, and then she takes me to the drapery section of the Shopping Mall nearby. 
“We are furnishing our new house,” she says, pointing at the curtain cloth on display. 
I look at her clueless. 
“I like yellow, you like blue, and since you have told him about the aesthetic cool tranquil beauty of the blue colour, Ravi is besotted with everything blue – blue shirts, blue trousers, blue table-covers, blue bed-sheets, blue napkins, the sober blue everything that you make him buy…” 
I look furtively and self-consciously at the blue dress I am wearing, and say, “Okay, tell me which curtains you like.” 
She points to a bright yellow floral print and says, “I like that one, I love yellow, so lively and cheerful… I hate sober gloomy colours, especially blue, it depresses me.”   
Next morning at the office, Ravi says to me, “Hey, keep yourself free in the evening. We’ll go to Deccan for some shopping. You’ve got to help me select curtains for our new home. Then we’ll have SPDP at Vaishali.”  
“Sure, Ravi, I’ll love to come with you,” I say. 
Now I’ve got till evening to decide one thing – which colour curtains should I tell Ravi to buy – Yellow Curtains or Blue Curtains?

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.





Thursday, March 11, 2010

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


vikramkarve@sify.com

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

MARRIAGE A LA MODE

MARRIAGE A LA MODE

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE



Dear Reader, I am sure you have heard the saying: Absence makes the heart grow fonder

Now, please read this fiction short story:



At exactly 8 PM her cell-phone rings in her hand. She’s expecting the call – that’s why she’s holding the cell-phone in her hand. She looks at the caller-id, accepts the call, moves the mobile phone near her ear and says, “I love you, darling!”



“I love you, Sugar!” says her husband’s voice from half way around the globe. On his bed beside him, sprawled with arms and legs outstretched like a fallen statue, the woman is still asleep, her breathing untroubled.



It’s a long distance marriage, and the ‘married bachelors’ have been following the same drill for quite some time now – two calls every day at exactly the same time (Eight in the morning she calls him up just before leaving for work and eight in the evening she receives his call from half way across the globe just before he leaves for work. And both of them start their conversation automatically with the words: “I love you, darling! Or, I love you, Sugar!” He’s her ‘darling’ and she’s his ‘Sugar’!)



“How was your day?” the husband asks.



“Hectic. Lot’s of work. Deadlines to meet!” the wife answers. She steals a glance at the handsome young man sitting beside her in the darkened lounge bar.



“It’s terrible here too,” the husband says, “It’s killing – the work. Too much traveling. Sales meets, seminars, conferences. One hotel to another. Living out of a suitcase. I’m feeling exhausted.”



It’s true. The husband is indeed feeling exhausted; a relaxing, satiating kind of exhaustion. He gets up and opens the window and allows the early morning air to cool his body, then turns around and looks at the marvelous body of the woman on his bed. She looks lovelier than ever before, and as he remembers the ferocity of her lovemaking, he feels waves of desire rise within him. Not for a long time has the mere sight of a woman aroused the lion in him to such an extent. He smiles to himself. He feels proud and elated; it was a grand performance. Spontaneous lovemaking at its best; not like the planned and contrived “quality” lovemaking with his wife, full of performance anxiety, each performing for the other’s gratification, putting on an act and both faking pleasure thinking the other would not know.



“Yes, darling. Poor you. I can understand,” the wife says, and sips her potent cocktail. It’s her third. She wonders what it is – the mysterious but deadly intoxicating cocktails her companion is plying her with, and she is feeling gloriously high.



“I’m just waiting for this hectic spell of work to be over so we can meet,” the husband says. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at the sleeping woman. Mesmerized, marveling. It is difficult to believe that in a few hours from now they would be addressing each other formally again.



“Oh, yes. It’s been three months and I’m dying to meet you. When are we meeting?” the wife asks.



“I’m planning a fantastic vacation. I’ll let you know soon. We’ll go to some exotic place. Just the two of us. Quality Time!” the husband says to his faraway wife and at the same time looks yearningly at the gorgeously sexy woman lying so close to him.



“That’s great! We must spend some Quality Time together,” the wife says to her distant husband while she snuggles close against her strikingly handsome colleague. He presses his knee against hers. She presses hers against his. He moves his hand around her over her soft skin and pulls her gently. She feels an inchoate desire. He gently strokes her hair, and she turns towards him, her mouth partly open as he leans over her. Fuelled by the alcohol in her veins, she can sense the want churning inside her like fire. And as she looks into his eyes, and feels the intensity of his caresses, she can sense her resistance melting.



“I love you, Sugar!” the husband says.



“I love you, darling!” the wife says.



Their lovey-dovey conversation completed, both the long distance spouses disconnect their cell-phones, focus on their present objects of affection, and, with renewed zeal, carry on the passionate amorous activity presently in hand. After all, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.



At the beginning of this story I had quoted a famous saying: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.





Now I am temped to say: Absence makes the heart grow fonder – for someone else.





MARRIAGE A LA MODE

Fiction Short Story

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


vikramkarve@sify.com