What is “moral”…? What is “immoral”…?

WHAT IS “MORAL”

Simple Test of “Morality”

Ethical Musings By Vikram Karve

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WHAT IS “MORAL”…?

This story happened around 45 years ago in the 1970’s.

It was quite late in the night.

Our ship was in harbour – and – I was sitting in the Wardroom of my ship (a frontline warship – a frigate) – in a relaxed mood – enjoying my favourite after-dinner liqueur “digestif” – Bénédictine – while leisurely smoking my pipe – listening to some soothing music being played on the gramophone – yes – those days we had “record players” which played “records” – at 78 RPM, 45 RPM and 33¹⁄₃ RPM or 33 RPM (Long Playing Records).

Two of my shipmates entered the wardroom – discussing something quite animatedly – and this disturbed my serene “reverie”.

One of the shipmates had “broken up” with his girlfriend.

(in today’s parlance – he had “dumped” his girlfriend)

He had “dumped” his girlfriend because he wanted to marry the “back-home-type” girl his parents had chosen for him.

The other shipmate was reprimanding him for being a “coward”.

I looked at the shipmate who had “dumped” his girlfriend and I asked him:

“Tell me – how are you feeling after “dumping” your girlfriend…?

Are you feeling good – or – are you feeling bad…?”

__________

He looked at me for some time before speaking.

“I am feeling good…” he said, “In fact – I am feeling really relieved – yes – I am feeling good after “breaking up” with her…”

“If you are feeling good – then – what you have done is “moral”…” I said.

“What do you mean…?” the other shipmate said, “he had a “good time” with her and then he “dumped” her. How can you say that what he has done is “moral”…?”

“Well – you may do something that seems “immoral” in the eyes of the world – but – if you feel good after doing it – then for you – it is “moral”…” I said, “and – since he feels good after “dumping” his girlfriend – for him – it is “moral” – even if you may think otherwise…”

“Your theory on “morality” is all bullshit…” he said.

“It is not my theory…” I said, “it is a quote by Ernest Hemingway: 

“What is moral is what you feel good after – and what is immoral is what you feel bad after…”

As per this quote – how you feel after doing something gives you a clue whether your action was moral or immoral.

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TEST OF MORALITY

After doing something:

If you feel good – your action was moral.

If you feel bad – your action was immoral.

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QUOTE ON MORALITY

“So far, about morals, I know only that what is moral is what you feel good after and what is immoral is what you feel bad after.”

― Ernest Hemingway, Death in the Afternoon

(This quote about morality is from Chapter 1 of the book “Death in the Afternoon” by Ernest Hemingway. Death in the Afternoon, originally published in 1932, is a non-fiction book by Ernest Hemingway about the ceremony and traditions of Spanish Bullfighting. The book delves into the grandeur of bullfighting and contemplates on the nature of fear and courage)

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CONCLUSION

Sometimes you do something – and – you wonder if what you did was “moral”.

Like me – you too must have received many “sermons” and read many “pontifications” on the subject of “morality” – but – the above quote about “morals” by Nobel Laureate Ernest Hemingway is my favourite definition of “what is moral” – and – I found it in literature.

(in fact – I have learnt most of my philosophy of life via literature)

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Morality is not always absolute – moral issues often differ along cultural lines – and – from person to person – and also from situation to situation.

In a nutshell – if you feel good after doing something – for you – it is “moral” – even if it may seem otherwise in the eyes of other people.

Conversely – if you feel bad after doing something – for you – it is “immoral” – even if other people think otherwise.

In my opinion – this is the “test” of “morality”.

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Dear Reader – do you agree…?

Please comment at tell us your views.

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VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:
1. This story is a spoof, satire, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.
2. This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story is a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.
Copyright © Vikram Karve (all rights reserved)

Link to my source post in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2021/03/test-of-morality.html

This story is also posted in in my writing blog at url: https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/03/11/what-is-moral-simple-test-of-morality/

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Love Trap

LOVE TRAP

Story by Vikram Karve

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I look at myself in the full-length mirror.

I like what I see.

Yes.

I am beautiful.

Very beautiful.

I am very beautiful – very beautiful indeed.

No doubt about it.

I always was a great beauty.

They say that a beautiful woman often has a tragic life.

Does tragedy always come from being a great beauty…?

I don’t know whether this is universally true – but certainly – I have had a very tragic life.

But – I will not tell you too much about it right now – and spoil my mood.

Now – I will look into the mirror – and I will admire myself.

I look at my exquisite body.

Not many women close to 40 can stand in front of a mirror with so much pride and assurance.

I look like a woman in full bloom.

I admire my perfect body.

I fall in love with my own body.

Like Narcissus.

Suddenly – I experience a tremor of anxiety – as I see the first signs of the process of ageing.

Infinitesimal.

Almost indiscernible.

But indisputable.

Two small furrows on my forehead.

The slight coarsening of the skin below the eyes.

The almost unnoticeable heaviness of the abdomen with its suggestion of fold.

I can easily cover them up.

With make-up.

And – the right dress.

But – for how long can I wear a “mask”…?

Time is running out for me.

Sameer is my last chance.

I am already regretting the lost opportunity.

I had put the matter so lightly the last time we had met – and before that.

Tonight is my probably my last chance.

I have to go in for the kill.

Love Trap.

What a phrase to use.

But that’s exactly what I am going to do.

I am going to ensnare Sameer in my “Love Trap”.

And then – I will move in for the kill.

Like a predator.

For the first time in my life – I will use my beauty to my advantage.

Yes – for the first time in my life – I will not be taken advantage of – like it happened all these years.

_________________

I was just 19 years old – a fresh graduate – wondering what to do in life – when my elder sister Nisha died in childbirth – leaving behind a newborn girl – and a young heartbroken husband – Ashok.

Nisha’s husband Ashok was totally devastated.

So – we – my mother and Me – we went to stay with Ashok in Mumbai – to nurse the baby girl – and to help Ashok recover from the tragedy.

After a few months we named the baby “Smita” – as she was a cheerful smiling baby.

From time to time – especially on weekends – my father – who was still working at that time – he would come over from Pune – and I could see that he was getting quite irritable – having to stay separated from his long-married wife – though he didn’t say it in so many words.

One day Ashok proposed to me.

Yes – my brother-in-law – the husband of my dead sister – he proposed marriage to me.

Actually – he asked my mother for my hand in marriage.

My mother was overjoyed.

She put lovingly her hand on my arm – looked into my eyes – and said to me:

“Ashok loves you and wants to marry you.

He is still young – only 27.

He needs a wife.

And – Smita needs a mother…”

_________________

“Yes, Smita needs a mother…” I said, tightly holding the baby – wondering what would happen to the small baby if Ashok married someone else – who would be a stepmother to Smita – and maybe – the stepmother may have antagonistic feelings towards Smita.

My mother spoke to my father.

He agreed.

To him – it seemed quite a logical thing to do – and maybe – he was relieved that my mother – his much-married wife – she would be coming back to live with him.

So – I got married to Ashok.

And – I put on hold all my immediate dreams of higher studies and a career.

How should I describe my marriage…?

No expectations, no disappointments, no role-ambiguity, a cordial relationship, a happy family, a blissful marriage – at least from the outside.

Children…?

Our children – Ashok’s and Mine.

It just didn’t happen.

With Nisha’s death – a little something in him had died.

Ashok must have loved her very much – too intensely.

I accepted the situation with grace.

I tried to focus on being a good wife and a doting mother.

As Smita grew older – Ashok encouraged me to study – do my MBA – and start a career.

Ashok was married to his job.

Things were fine – till one evening Ashok came home looking distraught – and – he broke the news that he had been passed over for promotion.

Ashok was shattered.

He had worked sincerely, slogged hard.

He given his life for his career.

And now – he had failed in is career.

He had remained loyal to his company without getting loyalty in return.

He felt terribly betrayed.

For Ashok – after Nisha had gone – his career meant everything.

He just couldn’t take it – being sidelined in his career – having to work under his erstwhile juniors.

He just could not cope with this setback – so he tried to find solace in alcohol.

Within months – he slipped into the abyss of alcoholism.

From a workaholic – he became an alcoholic.

Day by day – he became more and more bitter and cynical.

And then – one day – my world disintegrated.

Ashok died in a car accident – while driving home – totally drunk.

I wish he had died in some better way.

_________________

So – after eight years of marriage – at the age of 27 – I found myself widowed – with an 8 year old Smita.

Though Smita was my “step-daughter” – I loved her more than birth-mothers love their actual daughters.

Smita meant everything to me – she was my world – the light of my life.

And – I knew that Smita loved me too.

Yes – I was single – a single mother – but I was not helpless – as I was doing quite well in my career as a bank executive.

12 years passed.

And now – Smita is 20 – already working in my bank – and doing her MBA in the evenings.

She is earning while she is learning – and I am so proud of her.

And then – I fell in love – for the first time in my life.

Let me tell you about it.

_________________

I still remember the day Sameer breezed into my office announcing that he would be working with me.

“Hi, Nalini – I am Sameer – your new Deputy…” he announced superciliously – sitting down and lighting a cigarette.

“Put off that cigarette…!!!” I shouted, “And don’t you dare come into my office unless I call you.

“Hey, Sweetie – you look red hot sexy when you are angry. My wife is going to be really jealous when I tell her how stunning my boss is…” Sameer said, laughing mischievously.

“She won’t – when you tell her that your boss is a 35 year old widow with a college going daughter…” I retorted in anger.

And then – I stormed out of my office to protest against Sameer’s appointment – for which I had not been consulted.

__________________

My Boss said to me:

“Sameer is a genius.

The directors head-hunted him and managed to lure him over from our biggest rival with great difficulty.

He is going to rejuvenate your department…”

__________________

I got the message.

This new man was a threat – and – if I wasn’t careful – it wouldn’t be surprising if he leap-frogged over me – or – even eased me out of my job.

I walked back to my office.

Sameer was waiting in my office.

“I am sorry Ma’am – I didn’t know the culture was so formal out here. I will maintain decorum in future…” Sameer said, contrite, when I returned.

“It’s okay…” I said – and – I began to tell Sameer about our work.

Sameer was extremely intelligent, knowledgeable, supportive, open, sincere, affable and great to work with – but initially – I kept my distance – and I treated him with forced geniality – tinged with wariness.

Gradually – I got to know more about him – and his personal life.

However – we – Sameer and Me – we became close friends only during his painful divorce – the seeds of which seemed to have been sown much earlier.

Maybe – that was the reason why he had relocated to Mumbai – to separate from his wife who stayed on in Delhi.

During those depressing days – I often lent him my shoulder to cry on.

It was inevitable that we fell in love.

We were lonely buddies with a thirst for life – “soul-mates” – attracted to each other – “office-spouses” – who now needed to become real spouses.

Normally – a man is supposed to make the first move.

So – I waited for Sameer to propose to me.

But – maybe – he was shy – being seven years my junior.

Now – I realized that I had waited long enough – for him to propose to me.

Maybe – he too had waited long enough – for me to propose to him.

And – I shuddered to think – what would happen to me if I lost him.

Oh My God – it would be so terrible.

I was already 39 years old.

Sameer was my last chance – he was my only love.

Soon – my daughter Smita would get married – and – she would go away – and – I would be all alone.

I did not want to live the rest of my life like a loveless lonely maid – a forlorn spinster – with nothing to look forward to – for the rest of my life.

Yes – time was running out for me.

Sameer was my last chance.

I had to act fast.

Yes – I had to talk to him today.

I looked at the wall-clock.

7:30 PM.

Sameer would he here any time now to take me out for dinner.

Normally we take Smita out with us too – but tonight – I had insisted that only the two of us – Sameer and me – only we two would go – and surprisingly – Smita did not protest.

I put on the final touches of make-up – then generously dabbed on my favourite perfume.

The door-bell rang.

“Mummy – Sameer is here…” I heard Smita yelling.

I gave myself a final look in the mirror.

I looked really gorgeous.

Yes – I looked truly stunning – dressed to kill.

I couldn’t have titivated better than this.

“Wow…!!!” Smita said – looking at me with delightful surprise in her eyes, “You look dashing…!!!”

Sameer looked at me – he seemed mesmerized.

I could see that he was attracted to me.

He desperately tried to stop his eyes from roaming all over my body – especially to those places where it would be considered naughty.

“Hey – what’s with you two…? Aren’t you two going to go out fast – and let me enjoy my TV and popcorn…?” Smita teased.

Soon – Sameer and Me – we were driving on Marine Drive towards our favourite restaurant – the best place for an unhurried romantic dinner.

“It’s a beautiful evening. Let’s sit by the sea…” Sameer said spontaneously – slowing down the car.

“I would love to…” I said.

We sat close to each other on the parapet – facing the placid waters of the Arabian Sea – the lights of the ships in the distance – the twinkling stars in the clear sky above us – the sea breeze blowing in our faces – pure and refreshing.

“I want to say something…” Sameer hesitated.

“Say it. Please say it…” I urged him.

“I wanted to ask you…” he faltered.

“Then ask me. Please ask me…” I beseeched him.

Sameer looked at me – directly into my eyes – and he said to me:

“I want ask your permission to marry your daughter Smita.

We love each other.

We want to get married.

I told her to tell you – but Smita said that I must ask you.

Smita said that she will do as you say.

I promise I will keep your daughter Smita happy…”

________________

Sameer kept on speaking.

Yes – Sameer kept on speaking.

But – his words did not register – as my mind had gone blank.

I could see his lips moving – but I could not hear his words.

I kept staring at Sameer.

My mind went blank – as if I had become a Zombie – a living corpse…

_________________

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:

No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.

Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)

Link to my original post in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve:http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2017/06/a-love-trap.html

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

This is an abridged and revised re-post of my story LOVE TRAP written by me more than 14 years ago in the year 2007 and published in my book COCKTAIL. This story was posted online by me earlier a number of times in my various creative writing blogs at urls: http://creative.sulekha.com/a-beautiful-woman-often-has-a-tragic-life_81543_blog and http://creative.sulekha.com/love-trap_73693_blog and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2012/06/cougar-on-hunt.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2012/11/setting-love-trap.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2013/03/blog-fiction-story-no-14-love-entrapment.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/08/love-trap-intriguing-romance.html and https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/10/11/love-trap-2/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/03/10/love-trap-story/ etc

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

“Scuttlebutt”

PROLOGUE (for civilian readers)

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ORIGIN OF THE NAVY SLANG “SCUTTLEBUTT”

Scuttlebutt in Navy Slang means rumor or gossip.

The origin of the word “scuttlebutt” – which is nautical parlance for a rumor or gossip – comes from a combination of “scuttle” – to make a hole in the ship’s side causing her to sink – and – “butt” – a cask used in the days of wooden ships to hold drinking water.

Thus – the term “scuttlebutt” means a cask with a hole in it.

Water for immediate consumption on a sailing ship was conventionally stored in a scuttled butt – a butt (cask) which had been scuttled by making a hole in it so the water could be withdrawn.

Since sailors exchanged gossip when they gathered at the scuttlebutt for a drink of water – scuttlebutt became Navy slang for gossip or rumors.

Metaphorically:

“Scuttle” describes what most rumors accomplish – if not to the ship – at least to morale.

“Butt” describes the water cask where men naturally congregated for casual discussions and exchanging gossip – and that’s where most rumors begin.

Other naval terms for “scuttlebutt” are – “galley yarn” – “galley news” – “mess-deck intelligence” etc. – all these terms also mean the spreading of rumors, gossip etc.

Like scuttlebutt – in many instances – rumors also start in the ship’s galley (kitchen or dining hall) – or – on the mess-decks (living quarters) of a ship.

__________

A related term is “Bilge” – which is naval slang for “nonsense”.

The bilge is the lowest part of a ship where the bottom curves up to meet the sides.

The water that collects there is also called bilge.

Since bilge is dirty and smelly – the word is also slang for “nonsense.”

On a large ship – some water inevitably ends up in the part that’s below the water line – the bilge.

Because the waste water (bilge) tends to remain there for a long time – sloshing around – and mixing with oil, chemicals, waste etc. – so – bilge tends to stink – bilge looks dirty – bilge smells dirty – hence the slang term “bilge” for “nonsense”.

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Humor in Uniform

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Disclaimer:

This story is a fictional spoof, satire, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.

_______

SCUTTLEBUTT

“Spy” in the Wardroom

Spoof By Vikram Karve

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The TASO sidled up drunkenly towards me and said to me:

“I will tell you something – but – you must keep it to yourself…”

____________

The “TAS Officer” aka TASO (Torpedo Anti-Submarine Officer) – he was the senior-most “in-living” officer.

With our penchant for changing names – and – in consonance with the increasing “Americanization” of our Naval Culture – TASO was later re-designated as ASWO (Anti-Submarine Warfare Officer)

I prefer the original designations TAS and TASO – they sound better – more military seaman-like.

___________

Dear Reader – this story happened around 45 years ago – in the 1970’s – when I was serving on a frontline warship of the western fleet.

After a long sailing exercise – we had returned to our base port Mumbai (then called Bombay).

It was the first day of the monsoon – and – it was raining heavily.

The TASO had returned from leave from New Delhi (his hometown).

Normally – the “Deluxe” Express Train from New Delhi arrived at Bombay Central (Mumbai Central) at 5 PM – but today – due to the heavy rains – the train had arrived 5 hours late- and by the time the TASO had reached our ship berthed in the Dockyard – it was past 11 PM – late in the night.

I called the “Duty Steward” – I told him to open the Wardroom Bar – and I told him to fry some “Luncheon Meat” as “Small Eats” for the hungry TASO.

_________

(Well – things may be different today – some ships may be sticky about bar and meal timings – but those days – we treated our ship’s wardroom as our home – and – things were quite informal and comfortable – especially for officers)

_________

The TASO had a bath and arrived in the Wardroom.

I smiled at the TASO.

He smiled back.

The TASO was a good guy – and – despite the fact that he was 5 years senior to me in the rank of Lieutenant – we were good friends.

__________

(Those days – in the 1970’s – after being commissioned as an Officer in the Navy – it took you 3 years to become a Lieutenant – and then – you remained a Lieutenant for 8 long years – before being promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander – after a total of 11 years of commissioned service.

Today – you see “greenhorns” – who haven’t yet fully grown their whiskers – strutting around wearing “two and a half stripes” of a Lieutenant Commander – after just 6 years of commissioned service – thanks to the benevolent Ajai Vikram Singh Cadre Review Report aka AVS 2006 – which has reduced the value of senior ranks to subaltern status…)

___________

The Duty Steward placed the plate of Luncheon Meat in front of us.

The Steward asked the TASO:

“Sir – would you like a drink…?”

The TASO looked at the Steward.

“Take out a bottle of whisky – fill up the ice box – keep a jug of water – and give me the keys to the fridge – in case we want soda or something else…” the TASO said to the Steward.

“Aye Aye, Sir…” the Steward said, “should I tell the cook to make some dinner for you…?”

“No. This Luncheon Meat should be enough. You can “secure” for the night…” the TASO said to the Steward.

“Thank you, Sir…” the Steward said – he kept everything on the table as instructed – gave us the keys to the fridge – and went away.

__________

We – the TASO and I – we started drinking.

“Sir – did you visit DOP…?” I asked the TASO.

“Of course I visited DOP – that’s the advantage if your home station in Delhi – you can make your “pilgrimage” to DOP at least once a year – maybe twice – when you go on leave…” the TASO said.

__________

(DOP is “Director of Personnel” at Naval Headquarters – who looks after appointments and transfers)

__________

“Sir – any news…?” I asked the TASO.

“I will tell you something – but – you must keep it to yourself…” the TASO said.

“Of course, Sir…” I said.

“Our “Old Man” is going on transfer…” the TASO said.

“What…? Our Captain is going on transfer…? So suddenly…?” I said, surprised.

“Yes – most unexpected – his normal tenure was for another 6 months at least – but they are pulling him out urgently for a diplomatic assignment…” the TASO said.

“Diplomatic Assignment…? Our Captain is going as NA…?” I asked, curious.

“Yes – Naval Attaché – to one of the best countries – a most prestigious appointment…” the TASO said,

“We didn’t know anything about this…” I said.

“No one knew. It happened quite suddenly – just last week. The guy who was supposed to go – he had a severe car accident and is hospitalized with his legs and bones all broken – he will take a long time to be medically fit – so – our boss was chosen…” the TASO said.

“Does our “Old Man” know…? He didn’t say anything…” I said to the TASO.

“I am sure he knows – but he must be keeping it to himself till everything comes in black and white…” the TASO said.

“Are you sure, Sir…? I asked the TASO.

“Of course I am sure…” the TASO said, “the DOP told me all this in strict confidence. You know how close I am to the DOP, don’t you…?”

“Yes, Sir – you told me that he is your uncle…” I said.

“He is not my uncle – his wife is related to me – his wife is my cousin sister…” the TASO said.

“Oh…” I said, “Sir – any idea who is the new Captain…?”

“That’s the bad news…” the TASO said.

“Bad news…?” I asked, anxiously.

The TASO looked at me – and he said with a wicked smile:

“Brace yourself – our new Captain is going to be “Bum Bandit”…” the TASO said.

“Shit…! “Bum Bandit”…? Is “Bum Bandit” really coming as our new Captain…? Are you sure, Sir…?” I asked the TASO.

“100% sure – the DOP told me himself…” the TASO said.

“I thought “Bum Bandit” was “dry listed”…” I said.

“He pulled some high-level strings and got himself “wet listed”…” the TASO said.

“But why our ship…?” I said.

“The first vacancy – our bad luck…” the TASO said.

“So – it’s bad days ahead…” I remarked, pessimistically.

“Yes – this “Bum Bandit” bugger has a terrible reputation – he is a bloody sadist – he screws the hell out of everyone – literally and figuratively. And just imagine – the bugger is a confirmed bachelor – so – he will be staying on board even in harbour – so our life will be hell 24/7…” the TASO said.

“Hopefully – he will get his own “fags” and “peg boys”…” I said.

“He wanted to – but DOP refused – no crew change…” the TASO said.

“Then – we better steer clear and cover our backsides…” I said.

“Don’t worry – there are plenty of “Sea Dolls” on board for “Bum Bandit” to target…” the TASO said.

“Anyway – we are in for a tough time. We will really miss our “Old Man” – he was a good Captain who ran a happy ship…” I said, wistfully.

“He will be leaving next week – the official letter may be issued tomorrow…? the TASO said.

“That’s sad…” I said.

“Let’s kill the bottle and go to sleep…” the TASO said.

So – we polished off the remains of the whisky – and – we hit our bunks and went to sleep.

__________

NEXT MORNING

We were enjoying a hearty Navy style “English” breakfast of porridge, bacon and eggs, sausages, ham, salami etc – when the Captain’s “Doggy” entered the wardroom – he looked at the TASO and said:

“TASO, Sir – Captain’s Compliments…”

“Now…?” the TASO asked the Captain’s “Doggy”.

“After “Both Watches”, Sir…” the Captain’s “Doggy” said.

Then – the Captain’s “Doggy” looked at me and said: “You too, Sir…”

__________

30 minutes later – we knocked on the Captain’s Cabin.

“Come in…” the Captain shouted from inside.

We entered – and saluted the Captain.

The Captain shouted at us:

“What’s this bloody “bilge” you are spreading around…?”

We remained silent.

The Captain looked at the TASO and said:

“Well – I would love to go on a diplomatic assignment – but – I am not going anywhere – I am here to stay as your Captain – whether you buggers like it or not…”

“Sir – we wanted to expose your “spy” in the wardroom…” the TASO said.

“What…? “Spy” in the Wardroom…?” the Captain said.

“Yes, Sir – you seem to know everything that goes on in the wardroom – so we knew you that had a “spy” who was ratting on us…” I said.

“And have you have found out the identity of my “spy” in the wardroom …?” the Captain said.

“Yes, Sir – your spy is “Cute Boy” – he was the only other person in the wardroom last night – sitting quietly in the corner watching the late night movie on TV…” the TASO said.

“He was the bloody OOD – it is his job to report things to me…” the Captain said.

“Sir – is he supposed to eavesdrop and come squealing to you…?” the TASO said.

“Shut up…” the Captain said, “Anyway – you buggers leave him alone – he was terrified when he heard the name of the new “Captain” who was going to replace me…”

“Terrified…? Why was he terrified…?” we asked, curious.

“You know what happened to him when he was a “Snotty” – don’t you…?” the Captain said.

“No, Sir…” we said.

“I’ll tell you sometime…” the Captain said, “I had half a mind to “log” you buggers – but I’ll let it go this time. Now – you buggers listen to me – you stop your bloody antics and get on with your jobs…”

“Aye Aye, Captain…” we said.

Then – we saluted the Captain – and – we beat a hasty retreat.

____________

VIKRAM KARVE

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Disclaimer:

1. This story is a fictional spoof, satire, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.
2. All Stories in this Blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the stories are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Link to my original post in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2019/06/humor-in-uniform-scuttlebutt.html

This story is also posted in my writing blog at urls: https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/12/21/humor-in-uniform-a-spy-in-the-wardroom-2/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/07/27/humor-in-uniform-a-spy-in-the-wardroom/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/01/08/humor-in-uniform-scuttlebutt/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2019/06/26/spy-in-the-wardroom/ etc

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.