COCKTAIL Short Stories about Relationships By VIKRAM KARVE - EBOOK

ebook - COCKTAIL Short Stories about Relationships By VIKRAM KARVE

I have written a book of short stories called COCKTAIL. 

The twenty-seven stories in this collection explore fascinating aspects of modern day relationships – love, romance, sex, betrayal, marriage, parenting and even pet parenting. Relationships are like cocktails, emotions shaken and stirred, and I assure you that you will enjoy reading these stories.

COCKTAIL is my first book of fiction. I want COCKTAIL to sell well as I feel that the success of this book will be an important morale booster and launch pad as I embark on my creative writing journey and help me successfully publish my novel, which I am currently writing.

I seek your blessings and good wishes and I am sure you will motivate me by buying a copy of my book COCKTAIL. 

Please click the links below to buy the book online:

http://www.flipkart.com/cocktail-vikram-karve-short-stories-book-8191091844?affid=nme

http://www.indiaplaza.in/cocktail-vikram-karve/books/9788191091847.htm

http://www.apkpublishers.com/books/short-stories/cocktail-by-vikram-karve.html

If you prefer reading ebooks on Kindle or your ebook reader, please order Cocktail E-book from smashwords by clicking the link below:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/87925

I promise you that you will thoroughly enjoy this delicious COCKTAIL and you will be happy to have this book on your bookshelves. 


Book Details
Book: Cocktail: Short Stories About Relationships

Author: Vikram Karve

ISBN: 8191091844

ISBN-13: 9788191091847, 978-8191091847

Binding: Paperback

Publishing Date: 2011

Publisher: APK Publishers

Number of Pages: 192

Language: English

ABOUT COCKTAIL by VIKRAM KARVE

Relationships are like cocktails. Every relationship is a unique labyrinthine melange of emotions, shaken and stirred, and, like each cocktail, has a distinctive flavour and taste. The twenty-seven stories in this collection explore fascinating aspects of modern day relationships: love, romance, sex, betrayal, marriage, parenting and even pet parenting. You will relish reading these riveting cocktails of intermingling emotions narrated in a temptingly engaging style, and once you start reading you will find this delicious “cocktail” unputdownable till the very end.
Author Bio

VIKRAM KARVE educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale, and Bishop’s School Pune, who was once a Naval Officer by profession, likes to describe himself as an Electronics and Communications Engineer by qualification, a Human Resource Leader 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 and published a foodie book “Appetite for a Stroll”. Vikram lives in Pune, India and welcomes your feedback by email at vikramkarve@sify.com

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My First Crush - Rendezvous at Sunrise

"Do you remember the first fiction short story you wrote...?" a young friend, and a fan of my writing, asked me this evening.

"Of course I remember," I said, "it was a short story called RENDEZVOUS AT SUNRISE."

"I am sure it was about your first crush...your first romance," she said.

"Yes," I said, "How did you guess...?"  

"I want to read it," she said, "why don't you post it on your blog."

"I have already..." I said, "I've posted the story long back on my creative writing blog...".

"Why don't you post it once more..." she said.

So here is my first creative baby – a fiction short story written by me more than twenty years ago. It is a simple love story. I am sure you will love reading it, even if you have read it earlier in my blog.

RENDEZVOUS AT SUNRISE   

By  

VIKRAM KARVE 

Sunrise, on the eastern coast, is a special event.

I stood at Dolphin’s Nose, a spur jutting out in to the Bay of Bengal, to behold the breaking of the sun’s upper limb over the horizon of the sea.

As the eastern sky started unfolding like crimson petals of a gigantic flower, I was overcome by a wave of romance and nostalgia – vivid memories, not diminished by the fact that almost ten years had passed.

  

I was a young bachelor then, and Vizag (Visakhapatnam) did not have much to offer.

Every Sunday morning, I used to rise before dawn and head for Dolphin’s Nose to enjoy the resplendent spectacle of sun majestically rising out of the sea.

The fresh salty sea breeze was a panacea for all the effects of the hangover caused by Saturday night excesses.

  

After the viewing the metamorphosis at sunrise, I used to walk downhill along the steep mountain-path towards the rocky beach for a brief swim.

I used to notice a flurry of activity at a distance, in the compound of a decrepit building, which I used to ignore, but curious, one day I decided to have a closer look.

  

It was a fish market.

Most of the customers were housewives from the nearby residential complexes who were in their “Sunday-worst” – sans make-up, slovenly dressed, face unwashed and unkempt hair – what a contrast from their carefully decked-up appearances at the club the previous evening.

  

I began to walk away, quite dejected, when I first saw her.

I stopped in my tracks.

She was a real beauty – tall, fair and freshly bathed, her long lustrous hair dancing on her shoulders.

She had large expressive brown eyes and her sharp features were accentuated by the rays of the morning Sun.

I cannot begin to describe the sensation she evoked in me but it was the first time in my life that I felt my heart ache with intense yearning.

I knew this was love.

  

But I knew in my heart that I stood no chance – she had a mangalsutra around her neck.

She was married – maybe happily too.

Nevertheless I went close to her and made her pretense of buying some fish.

Smiling cannily at me she selected a couple of pomfrets and held them out to me.

I managed to briefly touch her soft hands – the feeling was electric and a shiver of thrill passed through me.

She communicated an unspoken good-bye with her teasing dancing eyes and briskly walked away.

I was too delightfully dazed to follow her.

I returned to my room and had fried pomfret for breakfast. Needless to say they were delicious.

   

I religiously followed this routine every Sunday morning.

She never missed her rendezvous with me – same place, same time, at precisely Seven o’clock in the morning.

But not a word was exchanged between us.

I was too shy and she probably wanted to keep it this way – a beautiful ethereal relationship – a love so delicate that one wrong move might destroy everything.

   

Meanwhile, I have developed a taste for fried pomfret – quite creditable, considering that I had never eaten fish before.

   

I left Vizag and traveled around the world, met so many beautiful girls in the numerous exotic places I visited, but I never forgot her.

A man’s first love always has an enduring place in his heart.

   

And now I was back in Vizag almost ten years later.

As I walked down the slope towards the beach, in my mind’s eye I could still vividly visualize the playfully sublime look on her face - her gentle smile and communicative eyes – although ten years had passed.

I could not contain the mounting excitement and anticipation in me. I was desperately yearning to see her again. It was a forlorn hope but I was flushed with optimism.

   

As I reached the beach I noticed that the Sun was well clear of the horizon.

I glanced at my watch. It was almost Seven O’clock.

I hastened my step – almost broke in to a run – and reached the fish market and stood exactly at the same spot where we used to have our rendezvous at sunrise.

  

With tremors of anticipation, almost trepidation, I looked around with searching eyes.

Nothing had changed. The scene was exactly the same as I had left it ten years ago.

Only one thing was missing - she wasn’t there.

I had drawn a blank.

I was crestfallen.

My mind went blank and I was standing vacuously when suddenly I felt that familiar electrifying touch, the same shiver of thrill.

It shook me to reality, as quick as lighting.

She softly put two promfret fish in my hands.

I was in seventh heaven.

   

I looked at her.

I was not disappointed.

Her beauty had enhanced with age.

But something had changed.

Yes, it was in her eyes.

Her large brown eyes did not teasingly dance anymore.

There was a trace of sadness, a tender poignancy in her liquid brown eyes as she bid me an unspoken goodbye.

I was so dumbstruck by the suddenness of the event, and the enormity of the moment, that I stood frozen, like a statue, unable to react or to say anything.

   

It was only as she was leaving that I noticed that there was no mangalsutra around her slender neck.

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

Appetite for a Stroll

  

vikramkarve@sify.com

INFIDELITY - Fiction Short Story

INFIDELITY
Fiction Short Story
By 

VIKRAM KARVE
 

 

“Your relationship has become so demoralized by distrust that you two better break up rather than try to patch up.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yes. It’s better you split instead of living in perpetual suspicion like this. Why live a lie?”

 

“How can you say this? You are a marriage counsellor; you’re supposed to save marriages, not break them.”

 

“But then what can I do if you don’t change your attitude?” I said in desperation, “you have to learn to trust your wife; just stop being jealous, suspicious, possessive. Mutual trust is important in a marriage, especially a long distance marriage like yours.”

 

I looked at the man sitting in front of me.

He was incredibly handsome; mid thirties, maybe forty, well groomed, sharp features accentuated by a smart neatly trimmed beard, clean brown eyes, he looked strong and confident, and his outward appearance betrayed no sign of what was going on inside him.

He looked at me longingly, in a lingering sort of way that women secretly want men to look at them.

 

I blushed, felt good, but quickly composed myself.

In such vulnerable situations anything could happen and I had to be careful, so I said to him in a firm dispassionate tone, “I think you better go now. It’s time for your flight.”

 

“It’s delayed.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Of course. I’m the pilot – the commander of the aircraft. I’ve to report after an hour.”

 

“I’ll leave? It’s almost check-in time.”

 

“No! No! Please stay. There’s still two hours for your flight to London . I’ll get you checked-in. There’s something I want to tell you,” he pleaded, “I’ll order some more coffee.”

 

The airport restaurant was deserted at this late hour and wore a dark, eerie look, with just a few people huddled in muted whispers.

 

“I want to thank you for giving me this special appointment – agreeing to meet me here at such short notice,” he said.

 

“It’s okay. It was quite convenient for both of us, enroute catching our flights. A nice quiet discreet place, this airport restaurant.”

 

He paused for a moment, then spoke guiltily, “I did something terrible today.”

 

“What?”

 

“I stole my wife’s cell-phone.”

 

"Stole?"

"Yes."

"You stole your wife’s mobile?"

 

“Yes. Just before I left. I took it from her purse. She was fast asleep.”

 

“This is too much! Stealing your wife’s mobile. That was the most despicable thing to do. I don’t think we should talk any more. You need some serious help,” I said, gulped down my coffee and started to get up.

 

“No! No! Please listen. It’s those tell-tale SMS messages!”

 

“SMS messages?”

 

“From ‘Teddy Bear’.”

 

“Teddy Bear?”

 

“Someone she knows. 'Teddy Bear'. She’s saved his number. She keeps getting these SMSs, which she erases immediately.

"This 'Teddy Bear' SMSs your wife?"

"Yes. I think they are having a good time right behind my back the moment I take off on a flight. This 'Teddy Bear' and my wife. This evening when she was bathing while I was getting ready to leave for the airport, her cell-phone was lying on the bed, an SMS came from ‘Teddy Bear’ : “I am yearning for you. SPST.”

 

“SPST? What’s that?” I asked.

 

“I don’t know. I called the number. A male voice said: ‘Hi Sugar!’ Just imagine, he calls her ‘Sugar’. I hung up in disgust immediately. Then during dinner she kept getting calls and SMSs – must be the same chap: ‘Teddy Bear’.”

 

“Your wife spoke to him?”

 

“No. She looked at the number and cut it off. Four or five times. Then she switched her mobile to silent and put in her purse.”

 

“You asked her who it was?”

 

“No.”

 

“You should have. It may have been a colleague, a friend. That’s your problem – you keep imagining things and have stopped communicating with her. Ask her next time and I’m sure everything will clear up.”

 

“No! No! I am sure she is having an affair with this ‘Teddy Bear’ chap. Had it not been for the last minute delay in my flight, I wouldn’t have been home at that time.” he said. And then suddenly he broke down, tears pouring down his cheeks, his voice uncontrollable, “The moment I take off, she starts cheating on me.”

 

It was a bizarre sight. A tough looking man totally shattered, weeping inconsolably.

 

“Please,” I said, “control yourself. And you better not fly in this state.”

 

“I think you’re right,” he said recovering his composure, “I’m in no mood to fly.”

He took out a cell-phone from his shirt pocket, dialled the standby pilot and a few other numbers and told them he was unwell and was going off the roster.

 

He kept the mobile phone on the table.

 

“Your wife’s cell-phone?” I asked pointing to the sleek mobile phone he had kept on the table.

 

“Yes.”

 

“She’ll be missing it.”

 

“No. She’ll be fast asleep. I’ll go back and put it in her purse.”

We sat for some time in silence. It appeared he was in a trance, a vacuous look in his eyes. Years of counselling had taught me that in such moments it was best to say nothing. So I just picked up my cup and sipped what remained of my coffee.

Suddenly he got up and said, “I think I'll go home,” and he quickly turned and walked away.

It was only after he had gone, as I kept my coffee cup back on the table, that I noticed that he had forgotten the cell-phone on the table, his unfaithful wife's cell-phone.

An idea struck me.

At first I was a bit hesitant; then curiosity took charge of me and I picked it the mobile phone.

Hurriedly I clicked on ‘names’, pressed ‘T’, quickly found ‘Teddy Bear’ and pressed the call button.

A few rings and I instantly recognized my husband’s baritone voice at the other end: “Hey Sugar, where are you? Why aren’t you answering? Did you get my SMS  -  ‘SPST’  -  ‘Same Place Same Time’. Why did you give me a blank call?.....” 

 

I couldn’t believe this. My dear own husband – ‘Teddy Bear’. Right under my nose. It was unimaginable, incredulous.

I felt shattered. My very own world came tumbling down like a pack of cards.

 

I cannot begin to describe the emotions that overwhelmed me at that moment, but I’ll tell you what I did.

 

I put the cell-phone in my purse, walked briskly to the check-in counter without looking back, quickly checked in, and boarded the flight; and, Dear Reader, as you read this, at this very moment, I am on my way to London to present my research paper on ‘The efficacy of marriage counselling in the alleviation of marital discord’ at the International Conference of Counsellors.

 

And till I return, let everyone here stew in suspense.  

 

 

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

SHOULD I TELL HER...? Pure Romance

PURE ROMANCE

SHOULD I TELL HER...?

Short Fiction – A Love Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

I love making love on a Sunday morning.

I make love to a beautiful woman on Sunday morning – yes, I make love to her with my eyes.

Here is how we make love.

Tell me, what does a beautiful woman do when a handsome young man looks at her in an insistent, lingering sort of way, which is worth a hundred compliments? 

I’ll tell you what she does.

First, she realizes I am looking at her, then she accepts being looked at and finally she begins to look at me in return.

  

Suddenly her eyes become hard and she grills me with a stern stare that makes me uncomfortable.

    

Scared and discomfited, I quickly avert my eyes and try to disappear into the crowd. I feel ashamed of having eyed her so blatantly. ‘What will she think of me?’ I wonder. 

But soon, by instinct and almost against my will, my eyes begin searching, trying to find her again.

Ah, there she is. She stands at the fruit-stall, buying fruit.

She is an exquisite beauty – tall, fair and freshly bathed, her luxuriant black hair flows down her back, her sharp features accentuated by the morning sun, her nose slightly turned up, so slender and transparent, as though accustomed to smelling nothing but perfumes.

I am mesmerized.

Never before had anyone evoked such a delightful tremor of thrilling sensation in me.

An unknown force propels me towards the fruit-stall. I stand near her and made pretence of choosing a papaya, trying to look at her with sidelong glances when I think she isn’t noticing.

She notices.

She looks at me.

Her eyes are extremely beautiful – enormous, dark, expressive.

Suddenly her eyes began to dance, and seeing the genuine admiration in my eyes, she gives me smile so captivating that I experience a delightful twinge in my heart.

 She selects a papaya and extends her hands to give it to me.

Our fingers touch.

The feeling is electric. It is sheer ecstasy. I feel so good that I wish time would stand still.

I can’t begin to describe the sensation I feel deep within me.

I try to smile.

She communicates an unspoken good-bye with her eyes and briskly walks away.

Three months have passed. She has never misses her Sunday morning love date with me, same time, same place, every Sunday – at precisely Seven o’clock in the morning.

But, my dear Reader, do you know that not a word has been exchanged between us.

We just make love every Sunday morning using the language of our eyes and part with an unspoken good-bye.

Once I was slightly late for our rendezvous.

I could see her eyes desperately searching for me.

And when her eyes found me, her eyes danced with delight, and began making love to my eyes.

Tell me, is there any love making that can surpass our fascinating alluring love making?

It feels like the supreme bliss of non-alcoholic intoxication.

Should I speak to her?

I do not know.

Why doesn’t she speak to me?

I do not know.

Does one have to speak to express love? 

Are words from the mouth the only way to communicate love?

Maybe we both want our beautiful romance to remain this way.

Our silent love making with our eyes – so lovely, so esoteric, so exquisite, so pristine, so divine, so fragile, so delicate, so sensitive, so delicately poised.

Just one word would spoil everything, destroy our enthralling state of trancelike bliss, bring everything crashing down from supreme ecstasy to harsh ground reality.

I think it’s best to let our exquisite Sunday morning love making go on for ever and ever, till eternity.

What do you feel, Dear Reader?

How long should we go on making love like this?

Tell me, should I make a move, talk to her, break the spell...?

Tell me, My Dear Reader...Should I tell her...?

I’ll do exactly as you say.

Till then, I will make love to the beautiful woman every Sunday morning – yes, I’ll make love to her with my eyes.

PURE ROMANCE

SHOULD I TELL HER...?

Short Fiction – A Love Story

By

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