MARRIAGE COUNSELLING

“Should I tell my would-be spouse everything about my past?” 


Click the link below to read the article in my journal and find out the answer 


Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: TRUST DEFICIT: 


Click the link above and read the article TRUST DEFICIT Musings on Trust in Relationships By VIKRAM KARVE 

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve : LOVEDALE - A STORY OF REMARRIAGE AND CHANGING RELATIONSHIPS

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: LOVEDALE - A STORY OF REMARRIAGE AND CHANGING RELATIONSHIPS

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: WAKAD PUNE - Poor Internet Connectivity

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: WAKAD PUNE - Poor Internet Connectivity: BSNL Landline Broadband Internet is NOT AVAILABLE in Rohan Tarang Wakad Pune hence the only available option is to use Slow Unreliable Wire...

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve ZAN ZAR ZAMEEN

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: ZAN ZAR ZAMEEN: This post has been published by me as a part of IBL; the Battle of Blogs, sponsored by WriteupCafe.com. Join us at our official website a...

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve PET DOG

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: PET DOG:

From Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve Discover the Walter Mitty in You and BE YOUR OWN HERO

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: BE YOUR OWN HERO:

BE YOUR OWN HERO DISCOVER THE WALTER MITTY INSIDE YOU By VIKRAM KARVE Though I have studied science, engineering and technology...

Click the link above and read the story.
Also posted below for your convenience

BE YOUR OWN HERO

BE YOUR OWN HERO

DISCOVER THE WALTER MITTY INSIDE YOU

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Though I have studied science, engineering and technology, I have learnt more from literature and the liberal arts. 

Science may help you understand physical nature but literature will help you discover human nature. 

To quote James T Farell: “Just as science helps man to understand nature, literature helps man to understand himself”

Of all types of literature, my favourite genre is the short story. 

A short story can be read in one sitting and each short story has just one message or “moral” -- yes, a short story can convey a message quite effectively.

I love reading short stories and I love writing short fiction too.

Whenever I want to say something, to get something off my chest, I write a short story because I feel that your thoughts can be conveyed best and you can get your message across effectively via short fiction rather than pontificating or delivering moral lectures.

One of my all time favourite pieces of short fiction is a short story called THE SECRET LIFE OF WALTER MITTY by James Thurber. 

This story illustrates how all of us live in two worlds -- the real world and the fantasy world -- the actual reality on ground and the mental maps in our minds -- the model and the paradigm. 

Of course, this story was written before the advent of the internet, so now our “fantasy” world includes cyberspace in addition to mind-space (our thoughts) -- so now we have our real life and a virtual life too.

Whereas the Real World is not fully in our control, our Fantasy World is fully in our control for we can choose what to think and we can have full control on our thoughts. 

You may be dubbed a “loser” in the Real World, but in your Fantasy World you can be a “winner”. 

Yes, in your mind’s eye you can always be your own hero. 

No one can stop you from fantasizing and that is why there is a “Walter Mitty” in all of us. 

All of us daydream and we all fantasize. 

A fantasy is a fulfilment of a wish, a vicarious realisation in one’s mind’s eye of unsatisfied desires in real life. 

Just like Joseph Heller gave a new word “Catch 22” to our vocabulary, James Thurber too gave us a new fascinating character “Walter Mitty” which has become a phrase to describe a person who daydreams of his heroic fantasies. 

The American Heritage Dictionary defines a Walter Mitty as “an ordinary, often ineffectual person who indulges in fantastic daydreams of personal triumphs”.

The protagonist of the story, Walter Mitty, a compulsive fantasist, is actually in real life a meek, faint-hearted, docile man who daydreams that he leads an exciting and heroic life in order to escape his humdrum existence. 

The story describes five heroic daydreams Walter Mitty as he performs the boring task of taking his dominating wife for shopping. He alternates between reality and his daydreams and these fantasies make his life exciting.

The story ends with a daydream, in which an intrepid Walter Mitty imagines himself fearlessly facing a firing squad, “inscrutable to the last”. 

I don’t want to spoil your fun by telling you more, so just go ahead and enjoy THE SECRET LIFE OF WALTER MITTY. 

This story is freely available on the internet. I am giving a few links to the story and, for your convenience, I  also pasting the story below (from the url links mentioned):

http://bnrg.cs.berkeley.edu/~randy/mitty.html

http://www.all-story.com/issues.cgi?action=show_story&story_id=100

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

by James Thurber

"We're going through!" The Commander's voice was like thin ice breaking. He wore his full-dress uniform, with the heavily braided white cap pulled down rakishly over one cold gray eye. "We can't make it, sir. It's spoiling for a hurricane, if you ask me." "I'm not asking you, Lieutenant Berg," said the Commander. "Throw on the power lights! Rev her up to 8500! We're going through!" The pounding of the cylinders increased: ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. The Commander stared at the ice forming on the pilot window. He walked over and twisted a row of complicated dials. "Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!" he shouted. "Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!" repeated Lieutenant Berg. "Full strength in No. 3 turret!" shouted the Commander. "Full strength in No. 3 turret!" The crew, bending to their various tasks in the huge, hurtling eight-engined Navy hydroplane, looked at each other and grinned. "The Old Man'll get us through," they said to one another. "The Old Man ain't afraid of hell!" . . .

"Not so fast! You're driving too fast!" said Mrs. Mitty. "What are you driving so fast for?"

"Hmm?" said Walter Mitty. He looked at his wife, in the seat beside him, with shocked astonishment. She seemed grossly unfamiliar, like a strange woman who had yelled at him in a crowd. "You were up to fifty-five," she said. "You know I don't like to go more than forty. You were up to fifty-five." Walter Mitty drove on toward Waterbury in silence, the roaring of the SN202 through the worst storm in twenty years of Navy flying fading in the remote, intimate airways of his mind. "You're tensed up again," said Mrs. Mitty. "It's one of your days. I wish you'd let Dr. Renshaw look you over."

Walter Mitty stopped the car in front of the building where his wife went to have her hair done. "Remember to get those overshoes while I'm having my hair done," she said. "I don't need overshoes," said Mitty. She put her mirror back into her bag. "We've been all through that," she said, getting out of the car. "You're not a young man any longer." He raced the engine a little. "Why don't you wear your gloves? Have you lost your gloves?" Walter Mitty reached in a pocket and brought out the gloves. He put them on, but after she had turned and gone into the building and he had driven on to a red light, he took them off again. "Pick it up, brother!" snapped a cop as the light changed, and Mitty hastily pulled on his gloves and lurched ahead. He drove around the streets aimlessly for a time, and then he drove past the hospital on his way to the parking lot.

. . . "It's the millionaire banker, Wellington McMillan," said the pretty nurse. "Yes?" said Walter Mitty, removing his gloves slowly. "Who has the case?" "Dr. Renshaw and Dr. Benbow, but there are two specialists here, Dr. Remington from New York and Dr. Pritchard-Mitford from London. He flew over." A door opened down a long, cool corridor and Dr. Renshaw came out. He looked distraught and haggard. "Hello, Mitty," he said. `'We're having the devil's own time with McMillan, the millionaire banker and close personal friend of Roosevelt. Obstreosis of the ductal tract. Tertiary. Wish you'd take a look at him." "Glad to," said Mitty.

In the operating room there were whispered introductions: "Dr. Remington, Dr. Mitty. Dr. Pritchard-Mitford, Dr. Mitty." "I've read your book on streptothricosis," said Pritchard-Mitford, shaking hands. "A brilliant performance, sir." "Thank you," said Walter Mitty. "Didn't know you were in the States, Mitty," grumbled Remington. "Coals toNewcastle, bringing Mitford and me up here for a tertiary." "You are very kind," said Mitty. A huge, complicated machine, connected to the operating table, with many tubes and wires, began at this moment to go pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. "The new anesthetizer is giving away!" shouted an intern. "There is no one in the East who knows how to fix it!" "Quiet, man!" said Mitty, in a low, cool voice. He sprang to the machine, which was now going pocketa-pocketa-queep-pocketa-queep . He began fingering delicately a row of glistening dials. "Give me a fountain pen!" he snapped. Someone handed him a fountain pen. He pulled a faulty piston out of the machine and inserted the pen in its place. "That will hold for ten minutes," he said. "Get on with the operation. A nurse hurried over and whispered to Renshaw, and Mitty saw the man turn pale. "Coreopsis has set in," said Renshaw nervously. "If you would take over, Mitty?" Mitty looked at him and at the craven figure of Benbow, who drank, and at the grave, uncertain faces of the two great specialists. "If you wish," he said. They slipped a white gown on him, he adjusted a mask and drew on thin gloves; nurses handed him shining . . .

"Back it up, Mac!! Look out for that Buick!" Walter Mitty jammed on the brakes. "Wrong lane, Mac," said the parking-lot attendant, looking at Mitty closely. "Gee. Yeh," muttered Mitty. He began cautiously to back out of the lane marked "Exit Only." "Leave her sit there," said the attendant. "I'll put her away." Mitty got out of the car. "Hey, better leave the key." "Oh," said Mitty, handing the man the ignition key. The attendant vaulted into the car, backed it up with insolent skill, and put it where it belonged.

They're so damn cocky, thought Walter Mitty, walking along Main Street; they think they know everything. Once he had tried to take his chains off, outside New Milford, and he had got them wound around the axles. A man had had to come out in a wrecking car and unwind them, a young, grinning garageman. Since then Mrs. Mitty always made him drive to a garage to have the chains taken off. The next time, he thought, I'll wear my right arm in a sling; they won't grin at me then. I'll have my right arm in a sling and they'll see I couldn't possibly take the chains off myself. He kicked at the slush on the sidewalk. "Overshoes," he said to himself, and he began looking for a shoe store.

When he came out into the street again, with the overshoes in a box under his arm, Walter Mitty began to wonder what the other thing was his wife had told him to get. She had told him, twice before they set out from their house for Waterbury. In a way he hated these weekly trips to town--he was always getting something wrong. Kleenex, he thought, Squibb's, razor blades? No. Tooth paste, toothbrush, bicarbonate, Carborundum, initiative and referendum? He gave it up. But she would remember it. "Where's the what's-its- name?" she would ask. "Don't tell me you forgot the what's-its-name." A newsboy went by shouting something about the Waterbury trial.

. . . "Perhaps this will refresh your memory." The District Attorney suddenly thrust a heavy automatic at the quiet figure on the witness stand. "Have you ever seen this before?'' Walter Mitty took the gun and examined it expertly. "This is my Webley-Vickers 50.80," ho said calmly. An excited buzz ran around the courtroom. The Judge rapped for order. "You are a crack shot with any sort of firearms, I believe?" said the District Attorney, insinuatingly. "Objection!" shouted Mitty's attorney. "We have shown that the defendant could not have fired the shot. We have shown that he wore his right arm in a sling on the night of the fourteenth of July." Walter Mitty raised his hand briefly and the bickering attorneys were stilled. "With any known make of gun," he said evenly, "I could have killed Gregory Fitzhurst at three hundred feet with my left hand." Pandemonium broke loose in the courtroom. A woman's scream rose above the bedlam and suddenly a lovely, dark-haired girl was in Walter Mitty's arms. The District Attorney struck at her savagely. Without rising from his chair, Mitty let the man have it on the point of the chin. "You miserable cur!" . . .

"Puppy biscuit," said Walter Mitty. He stopped walking and the buildings of Waterburyrose up out of the misty courtroom and surrounded him again. A woman who was passing laughed. "He said 'Puppy biscuit,'" she said to her companion. "That man said 'Puppy biscuit' to himself." Walter Mitty hurried on. He went into an A. P., not the first one he came to but a smaller one farther up the street. "I want some biscuit for small, young dogs," he said to the clerk. "Any special brand, sir?" The greatest pistol shot in the world thought a moment. "It says 'Puppies Bark for It' on the box," said Walter Mitty.

His wife would be through at the hairdresser's in fifteen minutes' Mitty saw in looking at his watch, unless they had trouble drying it; sometimes they had trouble drying it. She didn't like to get to the hotel first, she would want him to be there waiting for her as usual. He found a big leather chair in the lobby, facing a window, and he put the overshoes and the puppy biscuit on the floor beside it. He picked up an old copy ofLiberty and sank down into the chair. "Can Germany Conquer the World Through the Air?" Walter Mitty looked at the pictures of bombing planes and of ruined streets.

. . . "The cannonading has got the wind up in young Raleigh, sir," said the sergeant. Captain Mitty looked up at him through tousled hair. "Get him to bed," he said wearily, "with the others. I'll fly alone." "But you can't, sir," said the sergeant anxiously. "It takes two men to handle that bomber and the Archies are pounding hell out of the air. Von Richtman's circus is between here and Saulier." "Somebody's got to get that ammunition dump," said Mitty. "I'm going over. Spot of brandy?" He poured a drink for the sergeant and one for himself. War thundered and whined around the dugout and battered at the door. There was a rending of wood and splinters flew through the room. "A bit of a near thing," said Captain Mitty carelessly. 'The box barrage is closing in," said the sergeant. "We only live once, Sergeant," said Mitty, with his faint, fleeting smile. "Or do we?" He poured another brandy and tossed it off. "I never see a man could hold his brandy like you, sir," said the sergeant. "Begging your pardon, sir." Captain Mitty stood up and strapped on his huge Webley-Vickers automatic. "It's forty kilometers through hell, sir," said the sergeant. Mitty finished one last brandy. "After all," he said softly, "what isn't?" The pounding of the cannon increased; there was the rat-tat-tatting of machine guns, and from somewhere came the menacing pocketa-pocketa-pocketa of the new flame-throwers. Walter Mitty walked to the door of the dugout humming "Aupres de Ma Blonde." He turned and waved to the sergeant. "Cheerio!" he said. . . .

Something struck his shoulder. "I've been looking all over this hotel for you," said Mrs. Mitty. "Why do you have to hide in this old chair? How did you expect me to find you?" "Things close in," said Walter Mitty vaguely. "What?" Mrs. Mitty said. "Did you get the what's-its-name? The puppy biscuit? What's in that box?" "Overshoes," said Mitty. "Couldn't you have put them on in the store?" 'I was thinking," said Walter Mitty. "Does it ever occur to you that I am sometimes thinking?" She looked at him. "I'm going to take your temperature when I get you home," she said.

They went out through the revolving doors that made a faintly derisive whistling sound when you pushed them. It was two blocks to the parking lot. At the drugstore on the corner she said, "Wait here for me. I forgot something. I won't be a minute." She was more than a minute. Walter Mitty lighted a cigarette. It began to rain, rain with sleet in it. He stood up against the wall of the drugstore, smoking. . . . He put his shoulders back and his heels together. "To hell with the handkerchief," said Waker Mitty scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last.

This story brilliantly explores the conflict between the world of fantasy and the world of reality. 

Fed up with his dreary life and unable to cope up with the demands of the real world, Walter Mitty daydreams and finds both refuge and strength in his heroic fantasies. 

From being a “loser” in the Real World, Walter Mitty transforms himself to being a “winner” in his Fantasy World, and the metamorphosis is indeed fascinating.

The reader is awestruck as he reads how Walter Mitty transcends back and forth seamlessly from his dreary real life to his exciting virtual lives.

Is Walter Mitty headed for some sort of psychological breakdown? 

Or are his fantasies just a harmless way of making his life more exciting?

The story raises a dichotomy of the merits and demerits of living in the real world as a depressed loser versus being a happy winner in the virtual world and you are left with an unresolved question in your head. Does “happiness” in the mind compensate for the misery of real life?

In the context of cyberspace and social networking, does a “happy” online identity compensate for an unhappy offline identity.

The character “Walter Mitty” has become a subject of fascination since the story's publication, even prompting an article in a British medical journal suggesting “Walter Mitty Syndrome” might be a clinical condition that manifested itself in compulsive fantasizing. 

Everyone desires to be a hero, to achieve glory and success, to have an exciting life. 

We all have our unfulfilled dreams so there is a latent “Walter Mitty” lurking within us. 

I feel that sometimes it is good to fantasize and be your own hero.

It is only when your fantasising becomes obsessive and irrational that the Walter Mitty within you manifests itself and overwhelms your real identity, and then, things may go out of hand. 

Look around you, at home, in society and in your workplace – look carefully and observe people and observe yourself. 

Do you spot a “Walter Mitty” somewhere?

VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2012
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this review.
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Did you like this story?
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COCKTAIL ebook
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SMASHWORDS
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About Vikram Karve

A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and he is currently working on his novel. 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. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 15 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram lives in Pune India with his family and muse - his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts. 

Vikram Karve Academic and Creative Writing Journal: http://karvediat.blogspot.com
Professional Profile Vikram Karve: http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
Vikram Karve Facebook Page:  https://www.facebook.com/vikramkarve
Vikram Karve Creative Writing Blog: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm
Email: vikramkarve@sify.com        

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

From Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve - HOW TO QUIT DRINKING THE EASY WAY - ALCOHOL DE-ADDICTION MADE SIMPLE

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: HOW TO QUIT DRINKING THE EASY WAY - ALCOHOL DE-ADDICTION MADE SIMPLE

Click the link above if you want to quit drinking

From Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve - short story - CHUMMERY GIRL

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: CHUMMERY GIRL


click the link above and read the story in my journal

Quit Smoking on WORLD NO TOBACCO DAY 2012

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: WORLD NO TOBACCO DAY 2012

Click the link above and learn how to QUIT SMOKING on World No Tobacco Day 2012
(NIL Withdrawal Symptoms)

From Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve VULTURES - short fiction

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: VULTURES


Click the link above and read the story in my creative writing journal

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: RETIREMENT - THE RIGHT TIME TO RETIRE FROM YOUR JOB

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: RETIREMENT - THE RIGHT TIME TO RETIRE FROM YOUR JOB

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: ONLINE and OFFLINE

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: ONLINE and OFFLINE

From Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve : THE MOGUL PRINCIPLE

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: THE MOGUL PRINCIPLE


THE MOGUL PRINCIPLE

The Mogul Principle
THE MOGUL RAJ CONTINUES
ONE MOGUL REPLACES ANOTHER MOGUL
By
VIKRAM KARVE

This happened long back, more than 33 years ago, in the early days of my naval career, when I was a bright young officer.

It was the farewell party of our boss, the Captain of our ship.

Everyone was happy to see him go ashore on transfer at the end of his tenure, for he had been a terrible boss, a ruthless taskmaster, quite a tyrant, and he had made our life hell.

A strict authoritarian disciplinarian, he wielded total power and commanded the ship like a martinet, ruling us like an absolute monarch.

As far as he was concerned, it was “his” ship and there were just two categories of people on-board:

HE (the supreme master and commander)
and
WE (the rest of the crew, which included everyone else starting from the second-in-command right down the junior-most sailor).

He exemplified the naval saying immortalized by Captain Queeg in the classic Navy Novel by Herman Wouk – THE CAINE MUTINY:

“…there are four ways of doing things on this ship – The Right Way, the Wrong Way, theNavy Way, and My Way. On my ship we do things My Way…”

I had nicknamed him: “MOGUL”.

At the farewell party, whisky was flowing freely and everyone was thoroughly enjoying the party, downing peg after peg of the choicest whisky, happy to see off “Mogul” and celebrating in anticipation of the forthcoming “freedom” from “Mogul Tyranny”.

For me, it was an evening of mixed emotions, since it was my farewell party as well, for as luck would have it, by sheer coincidence, I too was going ashore on transfer.

In fact, our tenures, Mogul’s and mine, had been coincidental – we joined on board ship on the same day and we were leaving the ship together.

As it is customary to “look after” the farewell guest very well, my shipmates had plied me with plenty of whisky, peg after peg, down the hatch, and by the time I was called upon to deliver my farewell speech, I was feeling very “nice”.

As I told you once in my blog: In the Navy, Officers don’t get Drunk – they only feel “nice”.

And I was feeling awfully “nice”.

Being the junior, I was called to deliver my farewell speech first.

As I told you, I was feeling awfully “nice” due to the enormous amount of whisky I had imbibed.

At first, I said the customary things – I thanked my shipmates, talked about the good times we had together in the wardroom, but as I spoke, my inhibitions started peeling off, and then, in a spurt of audaciousness thanks to the Dutch Courage fuelled by the alcohol flowing in my veins, gesticulating towards the Captain, I blurted out:

“I know all of you are happy to see off this Mogul. But remember one thing – ONE MOGUL REPLACES ANOTHER MOGUL. Don’t be too happy, since it may well turn out that the new Mogul may be worse than this Mogul. And then you will reminisce and remember the “good old days” you had under this Mogul.”

After uttering those words, I narrated the story of one my favourite books – ANIMAL FARM (an allegorical novel by George Orwell) where the tyrant humans are overthrown by the animals, who achieve “freedom”, but soon, the pigs, who led the uprising, gradually assume control, and eventually the pigs become worse tyrants than the humans and they make life hell for all the other animals.

A few months later I ran into one of my ex-shipmates and he told me that my prediction had come true. Life onboard had indeed become so terrible under the new Captain that in the evenings, everyone sat in the wardroom drowning their sorrows and reminiscing about the “good old days” in the earlier “Mogul Empire”.

“The earlier Mogul was a bullshitter, but at least he was an honest bloke,” my ex-shipmate said, “but this new Mogul is not only a terrible bullshitter but he is a bloody freeloader to boot!”

Isn’t this “Mogul” theory true in real life too?

Leaders come and leaders go, elections happen, governments change, regimes come and go, sometimes democracy becomes dictatorship and dictatorship becomes democracy, socialism metamorphoses into globalization, liberalization, crony capitalism – all sorts of things happen, but for you and me and the common man (the “aam aadmi”) nothing much changes and our lives remain just the same (in fact, sometimes, it may even get worse).

Of course, there are exceptions – yes, there are a few genuine leaders who really make a difference, but nowadays, such examples are few and far between. But, by and large, the Mogul Principle prevails.

So before you rejoice too much on hearing the news that your tyrant boss is going to go away, remember THE MOGUL PRINCIPLE :

“ONE MOGUL REPLACES ANOTHER MOGUL”

Cheers. Have a good day.


VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2012
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Did you like this article?
I am sure you will like the 27 short stories from my recently published anthology of Short Fiction COCKTAIL
To order your COCKTAIL please click any of the links below:
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http://www.apkpublishers.com/books/short-stories/cocktail-by-vikram-karve.html
COCKTAIL ebook
If you prefer reading ebooks on Kindle or your ebook reader, please order Cocktail E-book by clicking the links below:
AMAZON
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005MGERZ6
SMASHWORDS
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/87925

Foodie Book: Appetite for a Stroll
If your are a Foodie you will like my book of Food Adventures APPETITE FOR A STROLL. Do order a copy from FLIPKART:
http://www.flipkart.com/appetite-stroll-vikram-karve/8190690094-gw23f9mr2o

About Vikram Karve

A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and is currently working on his novel and a book of vignettes and short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories, creative non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories and self help in magazines and published a large number of professional research papers in journals and edited in-house journals for many years, before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 15 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram lives in Pune India with his family and muse - his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.

Vikram Karve Academic and Creative Writing Journal: http://karvediat.blogspot.com
Professional Profile Vikram Karve: http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
Vikram Karve Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/vikramkarve
Vikram Karve Creative Writing Blog: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm
Email: vikramkarve@sify.com

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Would You Write If You Were Never Getting Published? Yes, I would Blog

An interesting article for budding writers

Would You Write If You Were Never Getting Published?

The solution to this is to Blog.
If you blog, it is in your hands to "publish" your writing and make your writing accessible to readers.

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: DON'T DELVE TOO MUCH - My Favourite Short Stories Revisited Part 62

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: DON'T DELVE TOO MUCH - My Favourite Short Stories Revisited Part 62

From Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve : REAL ESTATE

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: REAL ESTATE

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From Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve THE GIRL WHO DUMPED ME - A Love Story

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: THE GIRL WHO DUMPED ME - A Love Story

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From Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve - PUNE BLOGGERS MEET

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: PUNE BLOGGERS MEET

PUNE BLOGGERS MEET

A Report

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Part 1

When you “retire” you have two choices.

You can hang out with your fellow retiree “oldie-goldies” and make your life miserable in the company of pessimistic, gloomy, cynical old-fogies who keep living in the past, carping and complaining about the present, and speculating and worrying about the future.

In short you can succumb to what I call the “Auld Lang Syne” complex. This is guaranteed to make you feel older than your chronological age.

The other choice is to spend your time in the company of lively enthusiastic youngsters who have a zest for life. This is what I prefer to do, for it makes me feel young and cheerful.

That’s why I decided to attend and actively participate in the Pune Bloggers Meet the moment I came to know about it on the IndiBlogger IndiVine.

Chronologically I may have been the oldest participant, but those present will agree with me, that I am quite young at heart, and in enthusiasm and passion, I am as young as, or maybe, even “younger” than many who are half my age.

Though I have been blogging for around 9 years, this was my second Bloggers Meet.

Around 5 years ago (on 16 June 2007) I attended BlogCampPune at SCIT in theInfoTech Park in Hinjewadi. It was a huge sponsored affair and the focus was more on the business opportunities from Blogging,  rather than the creative aspects.

Though they called it an “unconference”, the proceedings were quite structured and the event was dominated by the marketing guys and the IT Nerds – the Bloggers hardly had any say. However, Blogging was still in its nascent stage in India, and as a budding blogger, this BLOG CAMP was quite an informative and instructive experience and I wrote a blog post about it the next day:

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2007/06/blog-camp-pune.htm

Though we got plenty to eat and lots of freebies, it was like attending a trade show or a seminar. I hardly got to personally interact with fellow bloggers and though I was educated about various aspects of blogging, especially from the technical and commercial points of view, there was nothing much for a simple blogger like me who blogged to showcase my creative writing and who wasn’t much interested in the business opportunities from blogging.

In contrast, the Pune Bloggers Meet (on 05 May 2012) which was more of a social get-together of the IndiBlogger Members of Pune, where the focus was on social interaction, fellowship and kinship, and the friendly informal atmosphere facilitated the formation of creative personal relationships between fellow Bloggers from Pune’s Blogging Community.

I am sure you have heard the famous Zen Story EMPTY YOUR CUP.

A university Professor went to visit a famous Zen Master. The Professor wanted to learn about Zen.

The Zen Master served Tea.

While the Zen Master quietly served tea, the Professor talked about Zen.

The Master poured the visitor's cup full to the brim, and then kept on pouring.

The Professor watched the overflowing cup and soon he could no longer restrain himself and so the Professor blurted out to the Zen Master, “Please stop pouring the tea. The cup is overfull. No more tea will go in.”

“You are like this cup, full of your own opinions and beliefs,” the Zen Master said, “How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup.”

The moral of the story is that even if you are an experienced  veteran, you must get rid the “Been There, Done That” mentality and keep your mind open to receiving new ideas. That is why I always “empty my cup” whenever I want to learn something. Though I am quite an experienced blogger I made sure that I emptied my “cup” before I went to the Bloggers Meet and this strategy paid me handsome dividends as it seamlessly enabled me to learn so many new things about blogging.

The Pune Bloggers Meet was scheduled to start at 11 AM on Saturday the 5th of May 2012 at RajLaxmi Sabhagruha, Kothrud, Pune. As per my habit, ingrained during my Navy days, I reached the venue well before time, at 10:45 AM, and was probably the first to reach, but soon Bloggers started trickling in, and in due course soon there was enough quorum start the meet.

In today’s parlance, it was an “awesome” event and the credit for this successful meet must go to the organizer Animesh Mishra and his volunteer colleagues, to IndiBlogger whose IndiBiker Vineet Rajan came all the way from Mumbai to attend, and, of course, to all the Bloggers from Pune who participated.

Well, it is past midnight, I am feeling sleepy now, so I will tell you more about what happened at the meet in Part 2 …

So, Dear Reader: Good Night, Sleep Tight, God Bless.

To be Continued in Part 2 …

VIKRAM KARVE 

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2012
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

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I am sure you will like the 27 fiction short stories from my recently published anthology of Short Fiction COCKTAIL 
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Foodie Book:  Appetite for a Stroll
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About Vikram Karve

A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and is currently working on his novel and a book of vignettes and short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories, creative non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories and self help in magazines and published a large number of professional research papers in journals and edited in-house journals for many years, before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 15 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram lives in Pune India with his family and muse - his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.

Vikram Karve Academic and Creative Writing Journal: http://karvediat.blogspot.com
Professional Profile Vikram Karve: http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
Vikram Karve Facebook Page:  https://www.facebook.com/vikramkarve
Vikram Karve Creative Writing Blog: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm
Email: vikramkarve@sify.com

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

 

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