family | Vikram Karve

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Do you have to “work” on your marriage to make it work…?

May 18, 2024

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MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE

Story by Vikram Karve

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PROLOGUE

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7 PM on the 2^nd of September 2016.

It was late evening on the first day of the Pune International Literary Festival 2016.

It was 7 PM – I was quite tired after attending sessions the whole day – and – I wanted to go home.

But – I had promised a fellow blogger (and a novelist) that I would attend a session where she was a panelist.

The topic of the session was:

“Women, Relationships and Law – Single to Singlehood in Fiction and Reality”

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Maybe it was due to fatigue – or owing to the topic – I went into the hall expecting a lackluster session.

I was in for a big surprise.

The session on “Women, Relationships and Law – Single to Singlehood in Fiction and Reality” was most engrossing and illuminating – and was easily the best session of the day.

The 3 Panelists were Erudite and Articulate.

The lawyer panelist enlightened the audience with her wealth of knowledge and kept us engrossed by narrating real life stories from her vast experience.

The 2^nd panelist – a novelist – was brilliant – she articulated her views most eloquently giving an interesting and thought-provoking perspective on the subject.

The 3^rd panelist – an author and a counsellor – she spoke well – highlighting the patriarchal mindset still prevalent in society while advocating a balanced approach in effecting cultural change in these sensitive matters pertaining to marital relationships.

The moderator was well-informed and conducted the session most efficiently.

It was a memorable discussion – and – for me – most educative and thought-provoking.

I had thought that marriages broke up for serious reasons like infidelity, adultery, cruelty, domestic violence, physical and mental abuse, mental illness etc.

But – it was brought out that reasons for breakup of marriages have changed over the years – and – today – married people seek divorce for the most “frivolous” reasons (these reasons may appear “frivolous” to us – but – obviously – the same reasons were most serious and grave for the couples seeking divorce).

During the interesting discussion – analyzing the reasons for the increasing divorce rates – even among newly-married couples – seven main underlying causes for divorce emerged.

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SEVEN MAIN CAUSES FOR DIVORCE

1. Reduced Tolerance Levels.

2. Unrealistic Expectations.

3. More Wives work and are Financially Independent. And – this Financial Independence leads to Emotional Independence (from the husband).

4. People get married for the wrong reasons.

5. Breakup of Joint Family System.

6. Divorce no longer carries a stigma (especially in urban areas) – in fact – divorcees are well accepted by society.

7. Single Parenting is a “norm” abroad (in “advanced” societies) – and – single parenting is becoming quite common in urban metros in India too. So – the earlier reason for couples continuing to remain in an embittered marital relationship for the sake of their children is getting outmoded.

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Surprisingly – no one talked specifically of “mutual incompatibility” – but – I guess this aspect may be a reason for “Reduced Tolerance Levels” – or – maybe – because “compatibility” is a nebulous concept which can dramatically change over the years as “masks” peel off – and – the husband and wife start discovering each other.

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Well – you can ponder over these reasons for divorce.

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And – also reflect on what makes a marriage work.

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Do you have to “work” on your marriage to make it work…?

Do both husband and wife have to make conscious efforts to make their marriage work…?

Or – should they just not bother about the other partner and the relationship…?

Maybe – the answer lies in this story I wrote many years ago…

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Story of Two Marriages by Vikram Karve

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Dramatis Personae (Characters in the Story)

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1. ME (the Narrator of this Story)

2. MY PARENTS (“Made for Each Other Couple”) – “Daddy” and “Mummy”

3. SHE (My Friend)

4. HER PARENTS (“Incorrigible Couple”) – “Uncle and “Aunty”

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Dear Reader – I am the daughter of the “Made for Each Other Couple” – and I am going to tell you this story…

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PART 1

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GIRINAGAR

Circa – 1985

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“I wish I had parents like your parents…” she said to me.

“What do you mean…?” I asked her.

“I mean – I wish my parents were like your parents – refined, cultured, sophisticated, soft-spoken… ” she said to me.

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What she said was true.

My parents were a perfect “made-for-each-other couple”.

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In contrast – her mother and her father – were both unique “characters”.

Both of them were quite crazy.

Her parents were the opposite of my parents.

Whereas my parents were urbane, suave, polite and cultivated – her parents were quite coarse, forthright, indiscreet and outspoken in their behavior.

In fact – her parents were nicknamed as the “incorrigible couple”.

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Now – before I begin narrating the story – let me give you a bit of backdrop – of the setting of the story – and also – tell you about her – my best friend at that time – and her parents – who were nicknamed as the ‘incorrigible couple’.

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This story begins many years ago – more than 39 years ago – in 1985.

We were both “Fauji Brats” – children of Armed Forces Officers.

Her father was in the Navy – and my father was in the Army.

We first met in a verdant and picturesque forested place in the hills called ‘Girinagar’ – a remote ‘cantonment style’ township – located in the ‘back of beyond’ – at an ‘out-of-the-way’ –place – nestled in the jungle on the slopes of the Sahyadri Mountains overlooking a huge lake – around 30 kilometers away from Pune.

Though located far away from urban civilization – it was a ‘self contained’ campus – with a small “Gol” Market – a School – a Hospital – and – of course – lovely officers’ mess and club with plenty of sports, recreation and entertainment facilities.

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Then – “She” and “Me” – we both were 12 years old.

At that impressionable age – parents do matter a lot.

My father – and – her father – had been ‘course-mates’ for 3 years as cadets in the same squadron at the academy opposite the lake – and they had been the best of friends.

Both the course-mates – her father (“uncle”) and my father – they had been posted into this out-of-the-way place called Girinagar in the back of beyond at the same time – and we became our next door neighbours.

Actually – “Uncle” and “Aunty” lived exactly on top of us – we were allotted typical old-style ‘duplex’ accommodation.

We lived in the ground floor flat – and they – on the first floor flat above ours.

We – the two children – she and me – were classmates – and soon – we became ‘best friends’.

Yes – we became ‘best friends’ on the very first day of school – when her parents – “Uncle” and “Aunty” – showed their feisty temperament.

Yes – her parents had a ‘public brawl’ on the very first day of school – in full view of students, parents and teachers.

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On our first day at school – there was a formal meeting of all ‘class-teachers’ with the newly admitted students along with their parents – in order to introduce the new students and parents to the ethos, rules and procedures of the school.

The meeting was at 2:30 PM in the afternoon.

In my case – both my parents – my Dad and my Mum – were present.

But – in her case – only “Aunty” – my friend’s mother – had come for the meeting.

It seemed that “Uncle” – my friend’s father – was busy at “work”.

It later transpired that the “work” with which “Uncle” was “busy” turned out to be “elbow bending” at the officers’ mess bar – drinking beer at his customary afternoon PLD (Pre-Lunch Drinks) session.

Well – after guzzling plenty of beer – “Uncle” turned up around 3:30 PM – gloriously drunk – looking quite a spectacle – with his disheveled hair – and unruly demeanor.

He walked into the classroom – roaring drunk – swaying menacingly from side to side.

“Uncle” looked at the class-teacher – and in a loud drunken voice – he cheerfully greeted her “Good Afternoon”.

Then – “Uncle” looked around – and he merrily waved to all the parents and students in a boisterous manner.

He seemed to be in top spirits.

Then – “Uncle” spotted his wife “Aunty” sitting in one of the middle rows.

He staggered animatedly towards her.

“Aunty” saw his ‘wild’ state – so – “Aunty” asked “Uncle” to leave the classroom at once.

But – “Uncle” refused to leave – saying that he too was a ‘parent’.

At first – there was a verbal argument between them.

Then – suddenly – “Uncle” and “Aunty’ started quarrelling noisily in the classroom – getting physical – pushing each other – fighting in a most rowdy manner – till the class-teacher – who was the wife of a senior officer – along with some other parents – intervened – and tried to calm them down.

I could see that my friend was most embarrassed by the spat between her parents – as her parents were shouting loudly – and fighting rowdily in front of her classmates and their parents – and I felt sorry for her.

The public brawl between “Uncle” and “Aunty” created an extremely awkward atmosphere in the classroom – and most parents and students were aghast.

To avoid further escalation of the brawl between “Uncle” and “Aunty” – and to prevent worsening of the embarrassing scene – the class-teacher quickly ended the ‘parent-teacher-student’ meeting – and invited all parents for tea in the main hall.

Meanwhile – my parents spoke to “Uncle” and “Aunty” and calmed them down.

My father took “Uncle” home – and my mother took “Aunty” for tea with the other parents.

Later – “Aunty” refused to go “home” to “Uncle” till he apologized – but he was in a mood to sleep – as a result of imbibing that enormous amount of beer in the afternoon.

So – “Uncle” started growling when “Aunty” tried to wake him up and asked him to say “sorry” – and – to avoid further fracas between them – my parents brought “Aunty” and my friend home for the evening – till the effect of the alcohol wore off – and “Uncle” sobered up.

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Then – in the evening – my friend and I went to play table-tennis in the officers’ mess.

It was dark by the time my friend and I returned from the officers’ mess – and we saw that “Aunty” had gone upstairs to her home – but – my mother asked my friend to stay for dinner and a “sleepover”.

At night – when we lay in bed – we could her loud arguments from the room upstairs – it seemed that “Uncle” and “Aunty” had started quarrelling again.

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It was then that my friend said to me:

“I wish my parents were like your parents – refined, cultured, sophisticated, soft-spoken… ”

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I felt surprised on hearing my friend’s comments – so – I spoke to her.

“Come on – ‘Uncle’ and ‘Aunty’ – your parents – they are so full of life – your parents may be a bit ‘lively’ – but they are so loving and good by ‘nature’…” I said to my friend.

“You say that my parents are ‘lively’ – ‘full of life’ – and they have a ‘loving nature’ – are you crazy – you saw the terrible fight they had in the evening – didn’t you – they were abusing each other – manhandling each other – almost exchanging blows – and that too in public…” she said to me.

“Don’t worry – everything will be okay – don’t think about it too much and go to sleep – they will make up in the morning – as all couples always do…” I said.

“I don’t think so – their brawls are getting worse and worse – and this time it has gone too far – you saw the violent physical fight they had – and that too in front of everybody …” she said.

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My friend seemed to be right.

“Uncle” and “Aunty” would fight almost every day – on some pretext or the other – and their unruly brawls – sometimes in full public view – would get quite ‘vocal’ and ‘physical’ – much to the embarrassment of my friend.

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He (Uncle) was a tough guy with a formidable personality – and he looked really wild and fearsome after he had imbibed a few drinks and he got ‘roaring drunk’ – which happened almost every evening.

However – she (Aunty) was no meek docile wife either – she was sturdy, forceful and gutsy – quite a pugnacious woman – who gave back as good as she got.

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Every evening – “Uncle” would go to the officers’ mess bar for a heavy drinking session till he was in ‘high spirits’.

(he preferred to drink in the officers’ mess bar since he hated drinking at home because of his wife’s nagging)

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Every night – “Aunty” would be waiting for “Uncle” at the door – as he arrived in ‘high spirits’ after his drinking session in the officers’ mess bar.

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The moment “Uncle” arrived home feeling ‘happy’ – and swinging in ‘high spirits’ – “Aunty” would start ‘nagging’ him.

“Uncle” would react – then “Aunty” would retaliate – and the quarrel would snowball.

Then – “Uncle” and “Aunty” would go for each other’s throats – at first – figuratively – and later – if things got out of hand – even literally – and – my parents would rush upstairs to intervene and calm them down.

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Many times – my friend would sleepover at our place – to avoid the turbulent atmosphere and disturbing vibes due to her parents’ “marital discord” at home.

My friend openly said that she loved the marital harmony between my parents – and the congenial atmosphere in our home – and she wished that her parents were like my parents – and she often said that my parents were her ‘role model parents’.

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A few days later – “Uncle” and “Aunty” had a horrible fight – and my friend was terribly distressed.

It was indeed a very violent fight between her mother and her father – and everyone was so stunned and scared.

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It was the New Year’s Eve Party at the Club – and – as usual – her father – “Uncle” – was in “high spirits” – well before the arrival of the New Year.

In fact – “Uncle” was quite drunk – much to embarrassment of my friend.

Then – fuelled by the alcohol in his veins – in his carefree uninhibited style – “Uncle” started flirting openly with the ladies – including my mother – who laughed it off – since she knew that he meant no harm.

But soon – “Uncle” asked our teacher for a dance.

Now – our teacher was a fellow army officer’s wife.

So – out of courtesy – she accepted.

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We saw that “Aunty” was closely observing “Uncle” close-dancing with our teacher.

Suddenly – “Aunty” blew her fuse.

“Aunty” rushed to the dancing couple (“Uncle” and our Teacher) and spoke in a loud voice.

“What “Hanky-Panky” are you two “Lovers” upto…?” a livid “Aunty” shouted at “Uncle” and our Teacher.

“…“Hanky-Panky’…? …“Lovers”…? What nonsense are you saying…? What’s wrong with you…?” a surprised “Uncle” said to his wife “Aunty”.

“I am watching the intimate way in which you two are dancing – it seems that you are having a passionate love affair…” a furious “Aunty” shouted at the dancing couple – her husband (“Uncle”) and our Teacher.

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Everyone was stunned.

Then – “Aunty” looked angrily at our Teacher.

And gesticulating with her finger in a menacing manner – “Aunty” said to our Teacher:

“You “man-eater” – are you trying to seduce my husband…?”

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Our Teacher turned crimson with embarrassment.

At first – “Uncle” appeared stunned on hearing his wife’s words.

Then – “Uncle” got angry – and he started shouting at “Aunty” – abusing her using unspeakable foul language.

“Uncle” seemed terribly angry – and – in his drunken state – he looked dreadfully ferocious – as he abused “Aunty” uttering obnoxious invectives.

“You are a “…Khoon Ki Pyaasi Daayan…”(Bloodthirsty Witch) – you are worse than a “…Zeherelee Nagin…” (Poisonous Female Snake)…” the wildly drunk “Uncle” shouted loudly at “Aunty”.

“You “…Tharki Buddha…” (Lecherous Old Man) – I will kill you…” she retorted angrily.

“You will kill me…? Come on – kill me…!!!” shouted “Uncle” – and he advanced towards “Aunty” – as if he was going to attack her.

But “Aunty” did not seem scared – she did not back off – but she tried to strike “Uncle” on his face.

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Officers and their wives intervened – and they separated the quarrelling couple – who were about to violently go for each other’s throats.

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“Uncle” was taken away by officers to a guest-room in the officers’ mess.

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The officers’ wives calmed “Aunty” on the sofa.

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My friend (daughter of “Uncle” and “Aunty”) was weeping.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

I felt very bad.

My mother and father took “Aunty” and my friend to our home.

So – Me and my Friend – and her mother – “Aunty” – and my parents – we all “celebrated” the arrival of the New Year at home – while “Uncle” was kept in the guest-room of the officers’ mess.

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At night – when we were in bed – my friend was crying – and she said to me:

“You are so lucky – you have got such good parents – and look how unlucky I am – why do my parents fight like this – I don’t know what is going to happen…?”

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I felt sad for my friend and tried to comfort her.

“Don’t worry – everything will be alright…” I consoled her – but I knew that the way things were deteriorating between her parents – it was going to become worse and worse for her.

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And – things did get worse.

The “Bosses” had taken a dim view of the happenings at the New Year’s Eve Party.

“Uncle” was posted out immediately – he was transferred to a hardship appointment in a “non-family” station in “Kala Pani”.

“Uncle” had to leave the very next day – and he came home just to collect his luggage – and say “goodbye” to us.

We all sat down to have lunch.

My parents were very polite to “Uncle”.

“Aunty” was crying throughout.

Suddenly – “Aunty” could not control her tears – she broke down – and she went inside into the washroom.

“Uncle” looked at “Aunty” going towards the washroom – and then – he said to my mother:

“See – my wife is crying because she is going to miss me – but don’t worry – this posting is only for one year – we will be together soon…”

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But – it seemed they – “Uncle” and “Aunty” – they were not going to be together ever after.

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“Uncle” left for Madras (Chennai) by the evening train – on his way to his “punishment posting” on a remote island.

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Aunty’s parents – my friend’s Nana and Nani – arrived the next morning by flight.

“Enough is enough – we will not allow our daughter to live with that brute…” Aunty’s parents asserted.

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And – they decided to take “Aunty” and my friend with them to their hometown.

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We went to see them off at the Pune railway station – and my friend said to me:

“It looks like my parents are going to get divorced…”

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I felt upset on her speaking like this and tried to give her solace.

“Don’t say such things – everything will be alright…” I consoled her.

“Not this time – my Nana and Nani are very angry…” she said – in an anxious voice.

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The guard blew his whistle – the engine sounded its horn – the train started moving – and – I said ‘goodbye’ to my best friend – not knowing whether I would even see her again.

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15 Years Later

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PART 2

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DELHI AIRPORT

Circa – 2000

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I was waiting at Delhi Airport for the 6:30 PM evening flight to Pune.

It had been quite a strenuous journey so far – San Francisco – Hong Kong – Delhi – and I was feeling tired.

Now – I waited for the last leg of my journey – the domestic flight to my destination – Pune.

I was waiting to reach my hotel in Pune and go to sleep – because tomorrow was going to be a very busy day.

Suddenly – I saw “her” – the same friend I told you about in Part 1 of this story – my ‘best friend’ during my ‘Girinagar Days’ in 1985.

Though 15 years had passed – I recognized her at once.

I called out her name – and I walked towards her.

She turned – she looked at me for some time – then – she showed a trace of recognition – and she smiled at me.

“What a surprise…?” I said to her.

“Yes – we are meeting after so many years – and that too here – at the airport…” she said.

“Where to…?” I asked.

“I am going to Pune…?” she said.

“Really – I am going to Pune too…” I said.

“That’s great – we can talk in the flight – come – let’s go to boarding and ask for seats together…” she said.

“My flight is not yet announced…” she said.

“Are you going by the 6 o’clock flight…?” she asked me.

“No – I am booked on the 6:30 flight…” I said.

Suddenly – the ‘final call’ for 6 o’clock flight boarding was announced.

“You better hurry – your flight has been announced…” I said to her.

“I will wait for you in Pune – I will be there at the arrival gate waiting for you…” she said – and she walked to the boarding gate.

In a few minutes – my flight was announced too – and – soon – I was airborne – on my way to Pune.

I thought about my friend – about our ‘Girinagar’ days – about her parents – the “incorrigible couple” – “Uncle” and “Aunty” – their terrible fights – and the acrimonious circumstances in which they had parted – on the verge of divorce.

I remembered that moment at the Pune Railway Station – when I said ‘goodbye’ to my friend – the last time I saw her – and I thought we would never meet again.

Those days – in the 1980’s – there was no internet – no email – no mobile phones – so the only way to keep in touch was by ‘snail mail’.

I wrote a few letters to her – but she never wrote back – and it was understandable – her unpleasant family situation – the acrimony between her parents – “Uncle” and “Aunty” – it must have become worse – maybe her parents must have got divorced – and she had withdrawn into a shell.

Then – after a few months – my Army father was posted to a place in the North-East – so we went there – and then – a few years later – he got selected for a prestigious overseas assignment – and we moved abroad for a few years – and my parents seemed to have lost touch with her parents too – because I did not hear them mention anything about “Uncle” and “Aunty” – or – maybe they avoided the topic in front of me.

And now – we had suddenly met by coincidence – at Delhi Airport – it was pure serendipity.

I was happy to see that my friend looked okay – she seemed to have recovered from the trauma of her parents’ acrimonious relationship – which I was sure – must have ended in a bitter divorce.

Lest it touch a raw nerve – I had to be careful not to mention her parents – especially “Uncle”.

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2 Hours Later

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PART 3

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PUNE AIRPORT

Circa – 2000

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I walked to the exit of Pune Airport.

My friend was standing there – waiting for me.

I had expected this.

What I had not expected was to see her parents – “Uncle” and “Aunty” – standing right behind her.

They seemed delighted to see me.

“Aunty” hugged me warmly – and then “Uncle” hugged me too – I could smell the Rum on his breath – it looked like he had not changed his ways.

“Come – let’s fit your luggage in the car…” my friend said.

“No – I have been booked in a hotel – in fact – they must have sent a car for me…” I said.

“What hotel…? You are staying with us…” said “Aunty” firmly.

“I saw a driver holding out a placard with your name – I sent the taxi back…” said “Uncle”.

“But “Uncle”…” I said.

“No “if’s and but’s” – we will cancel the hotel booking – you just come with us…” said “Uncle”.

“But – I have come for work – I am staying in Pune for 3 days…” I said.

“You are staying with us – it is decided – we will drop you to wherever you want to go…” said “Uncle” with finality.

Soon – we were sitting in their car – “Uncle” driving – “Aunty” sitting next to him – and my friend and I in the back-seat.

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“Uncle” said to me:

“So – you are surprised to see that “Aunty” and Me are still together – aren’t you…?

I could see it in your expression when you saw us.

You thought we would get divorced – didn’t you…?”

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For a moment – I was taken aback by his words.

But – I recovered quickly and replied to him.

“No ‘Uncle’…” I said shamefacedly.

“You think I am going to divorce this horrible fellow and let him enjoy…?” said “Aunty” jokingly – pointing at “Uncle” – her husband.

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“Uncle” told me that he had quit the Navy long back and joined the Merchant Navy – and now they were settled in Pune.

My friend told me that she had done her MBA and was working in a bank in Pune – she had gone on a tour to Delhi for some official work.

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Then – my friend wanted to know about me.

“What about you…? You haven’t told us anything about yourself…” my friend said to me.

“Well – I am an “IT Nerd” – a “Techie”…” I said, “I work in California – in San Francisco…”

“Wow…” my friend said, “and how are your parents..?”

“They have settled down in America too…” I said.

“Really…? That’s great…” ‘Uncle’ said, “When did your Dad quit the Army…? I was so busy in the Merchant Navy that I totally lost track of him…”

“We were posted to the US. He put in his papers soon after that tenure – and then he relocated there since he got a good job – I did my college there – and now – we all live in the US…” I said.

“So that is really good – so all of you live in San Francisco…?” my friend asked me.

“No – I live in San Francisco – Daddy lives in Seattle – and Mummy lives in New York…” I said.

“Your Daddy and Mummy live separately…?” my friend said – looking a bit surprised.

“Yes…” I said.

“Aunty” gave me a quizzical look and spoke

“I can’t believe it – how can your Daddy and Mummy stay separately – they were such a perfect ‘made-for-each-other couple’ – they were inseparable – I wonder how they are surviving a ‘long distance marriage’…?” “Aunty” asked me.

“Uncle” looked at me and spoke.

“Yes – I am surprised too – why are your Daddy and Mummy staying at different places…?” “Uncle” asked me – with a curious look on his face.

“They are divorced…” I said – matter-of-factly.

“What…?” both “Uncle” and “Aunty” exclaimed loudly in surprise.

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Then – “Uncle” stopped the car on the side of the road.

They looked at me, confused.

I smiled and I told them the truth.

“Yes – Daddy and Mummy got divorced 7 years ago…” I said to them.

My friend looked at me disbelievingly and spoke.

“What are you saying…” my friend asked me, “how can your parents ever get divorced…? They loved each other so much – they were an example of an ideal “role model marriage”. I wonder what happened…? How can such a “perfect marriage” break-up and end in divorce…?”

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“I am sure “HE” must have had an affair…” commented “Aunty”.

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(The “HE” that “Aunty” was referring to – that “HE” was my father…)

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“Uncle” looked at “Aunty” and spoke.

“No – No – my “course-mate” – he is a perfect gentleman – I am sure it was “HER” fault…” retorted “Uncle” – trying to defend my father.

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(The “HER” that “Uncle” was referring to – that “HER” was my mother.

“Uncle” was implying that my mother was at fault for the divorce – and that my father was a perfect gentleman.

After all – my father was his friend and “course-mate”…)

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“Don’t talk nonsense – she was such a gracious person…” argued “Aunty” – praising my mother.

“So – don’t so-called “gracious” women do “Hanky-Panky”…?” countered “Uncle”.

“You shut up – you terrible fellow – you will not say a word about my friend…” shouted “Aunty” – defending my mother.

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“Uncle” looked at “Aunty” angrily – and he said to her in a threatening tone:

“You don’t make false accusations against my “course-mate” .

I am sure it was his “smooth-talking” devious wife – she is responsible for their divorce…”

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And then – “Uncle” and “Aunty” started angrily arguing with each other – and within minutes – they were engaged in a full scale brawl – shouting horrible expletives at each other – and even having a scuffle.

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It was just like the “good old days”.

I looked at my friend – and we broke out into laughter.

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EPILOGUE

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At night – when we were in bed – my friend said to me:

“I am so sorry about your parents.

I could never imagine that your parents would get divorced.

What happened…?

They were such a perfect “made-for-each-other” couple.

I thought that their marriage was such a great success…”

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I looked at my friend – and I said to her:

“I think that my parents’ marriage failed – because – they worked “too hard” on their marriage…”

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My friend looked surprised at what I had just said.

Then – she spoke to me in a tone of disbelief.

“What…? You are saying that your parents’ marriage failed because they worked “too hard” on their marriage…?” she exclaimed.

“Yes – my parents’ marriage failed because they worked “too hard” on their marriage. They put in too much effort to make their marriage a “success”…” I said to my friend.

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VIKRAM KARVE

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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.

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Link to my source blog post in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2017/04/two-marriages-story.html

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Posted in writing | Tags: breakup, children, divorce, family, fiction, humor, love, marriage, parenting, relationship, short story, story | Leave a Comment »

Romantic “faux pas” : a Love Story

May 11, 2024

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IT STARTED ON A RAINY NIGHT

Romantic “faux pas”

Love Story By Vikram Karve

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Dear Reader :

This afternoon – I saw a movie.

Then – in the evening – it suddenly rained during my evening walk – and – I got drenched in the rain.

These two things – the plot of the movie – and – my getting drenched in the rain – they reminded me of a story I had written many years ago.

Here is the story – I am sure you will enjoy the amusing romance…

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IT STARTED ON A RAINY NIGHT

A Romance

Love Story By Vikram Karve

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Mumbai (Bombay)

Circa 1977

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PART 1

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A RAINY NIGHT

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It was a scary night – dark – windy – thunder – lightning – and heavy torrential rain.

After the official “cocktail-cum-dinner” party in the Western Naval Command Officers Mess (Wardroom) was over – seeing the heavy rain – my friend advised me.

“It is raining heavily. Why don’t you stay over for the night in the Mess – you can sleep in my cabin if you want…” my friend said to me.

“No…” I said, “I will go back to my ship.”

“You have had quite a bit to drink…” my friend said, “Do you really want to drive in this heavy rain…?”

“I am okay – you don’t worry – I will reach safely…” I said.

“Be careful…” my friend said, “Drive slowly…”

“Yes…” I said to my friend.

Then – I put on my black oilskin raincoat over my evening “Red Sea Rig” uniform.

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A Digression – “Red Sea Rig”

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RED SEA RIG

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Red Sea Rig was originally a Royal Navy concept appearing during the nineteenth century.

In the 19th Century – when the Sun never set on the British Empire – and the British Royal Navy ruled the waves – Royal Navy Officers were required to wear the full Naval Mess-Dress Uniform in Wardrooms on Warships.

The sole exception was when the ship was in the Red Sea – where the heat and humidity often made this physically impossible.

Here – Naval Officers were permitted to remove their mess jackets in the wardroom – provided they added a Cummerbund to temper the somewhat informal look.

Since this evening mess-dress was worn when ships were in the Red Sea – this Naval Uniform was nicknamed as the “Red Sea Rig”.

Because of its comfort and practicality in hot and humid climates – “Red Sea Rig” was gradually adopted as daily summer evening mess-dress in tropical waters on ships and in Stone Frigates located in hot climate stations.

The Indian Navy (IN) evolved from the Royal Indian Navy (RIN) and adopted all its customs and traditions from the Royal Navy (RN).

At the time of this story – in the 1970s – “Red Sea Rig” was worn by Naval Officers as daily informal summer evening mess-dress in Wardrooms on board Warships and Naval Establishments.

“Red Sea Rig” consists of a white short sleeved shirt, worn with shoulder-boards (rank stripe epaulettes) and chest medal ribbons and badges, with black trousers, black shoes, and a black cummerbund.

“Red Sea Rig” is worn at night in darkness hours – from sunset to sunrise.

“Red Sea Rig” is never worn during the daytime.

On most ships and naval establishments – officers change into “Red Sea Rig” after sunset.

A Naval Peak Cap is worn as headgear with “Red Sea Rig” when the Officer is outside the Wardroom.

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End of Digression on “Red Sea Rig”.

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Story continues …

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It was a scary night – dark – windy – thunder – lightning – and heavy torrential rain.

After the official “cocktail-cum-dinner” party in the Western Naval Command Officers Mess (Wardroom) was over – my friend said to me:

“It is raining heavily. Why don’t you stay over for the night in the Mess – you can sleep in my cabin if you want.”

“No…” I said, “I will go back to my ship.”

“You have had quite a bit to drink…” my friend said, “Do you really want to drive in this heavy rain…?”

“I am okay – you don’t worry – I will reach safely…” I said.

“Be careful…” my friend said, “Drive slowly…”

I put on my black oilskin raincoat over my evening “Red Sea Rig” uniform.

I wore my helmet.

Then – I started my motorcycle – and I drove off in the rain.

A few minutes later – while I was driving through the married accommodation area – there was a sudden “cloudburst”.

Suddenly – there was a huge torrent of rain – a flood of water on the road.

I lost control – my motorcycle skidded – and I fell into a gutter.

And – I got totally drenched in the deluge of water.

I struggled and got up – hauled up my motorcycle – and dragged the bike into the parking lot of the multistory high-rise married accommodation building nearby.

I was totally drenched – soaked to the skin – and my oilskin raincoat was covered with muck from the gutter.

It was raining very heavily – and – in this torrential rain – it was impossible to drive my motorcycle.

Yes – in this terrible rain – and the flood of water on the roads – even going back to the Command Mess was out of the question.

And – from the way it was raining – it did not look like the downpour of rain was going to subside very soon.

I stood shivering in the parking lot of the multistory high-rise building – wondering what to do.

My eyes went to the wooden board on the wall – on which the names of occupants of the high-rise building were listed.

I was delighted to spot the name of “course-mate” – against Flat No. 303.

I had not met this “course-mate” after graduating from the Naval Academy.

In fact – I did not know that he was in Mumbai.

But then – that was the “Bombay Culture” those days – where everyone was “index” – on his own trip.

I took off my stinking oilskin raincoat and helmet – and left them on my bike.

Then – I walked to the lift – and pressed the 3^rd floor button.

I stood outside Flat No. 303 and rang the doorbell.

After some time – a young woman opened the door.

It was obvious that this charming young woman was my course-mate’s wife.

She was dressed in her night-clothes – and it was evident that she had been sleeping.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Ma’am…” I said.

She looked at my wet “Red Sea Rig” uniform – but she said nothing.

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So – I said to her:

“I am a course-mate of “X”.

“X” lives here – isn’t it…?

I had a small accident on my motorcycle – and I thought I will spend some time here till the rain lessens a bit…”

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She gave me a friendly smile.

And – she said to me:

“He is not here – he is away on duty…”

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“Oh – I am sorry – I will go…” I said.

“No…No – it is raining very heavily – please come in…” she said.

“Thank you…” I said.

I walked in – and I sat on the sofa in the drawing room.

“Shall I make you a cup of coffee…?” she asked.

“No – Ma’am – I have already troubled you so much – please go to sleep – I will relax here on the sofa – and I will quietly go away once it stops raining…” I said.

She smiled – and she went away – leaving me alone in the drawing room.

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I do not know when I dozed off to sleep on the sofa.

What I know is that when I woke up – and opened my eyes – the first thing I saw was my course-mate’s wife looking at me.

She was freshly bathed – and she looked very beautiful – incredibly attractive and alluring.

She looked very sensuous and desirable – and I could not take my eyes off her.

She responded to my yearning look of admiration with a sweet smile.

I felt ashamed at having eyed her so brazenly – so I quickly moved my eyes away.

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“Good Morning…” she said.

“Good Morning, Ma’am…” I said.

I looked out of the window.

It has stopped raining – in fact – there was bright sunlight.

“What time is it…?” I asked.

“7:30 AM…” she said.

“Oh My God – I slept whole night – I am so sorry – I must go…” I said, filled with embarrassment.

“At least wash up – and have a cup of tea…” she said.

“No – Ma’am – thanks a lot – but I have already overstayed my welcome – and I have to get back to my ship quickly…” I said.

“Okay…” she said.

“When will my friend “X” be back…?” I asked.

“He should be back by tomorrow evening…” she said.

“Okay – then I will come over – and we will have a proper dinner…” I said.

“Yes…” she said.

“Thank you again, Ma’am…” I said – and I left the house and drove down to my ship.

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Three Days Later

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PART 2

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FAUX PAS

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I asked around – and I found out the “X” was posted in an inconsequential appointment in the back of beyond.

No wonder I had not met him all these days.

Three days later – in the morning – I called up his office.

“Yes – “X” had reported back the previous day from outstation duty – and he would be in office by 9:30 AM…” I was told by his staff.

I reached his office at 10 AM.

“X” was happy to see me.

I shook hands with him – and I said to him:

“I have come to thank you for the hospitality when I was stuck in the rain the other night.

It was very sweet of your wife to let me stay…”

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On hearing my words – “X” gave me a curious look.

“Wife…?” he asked – looking confused.

“Yes – I was all drenched in the rain – I took shelter in your building – then I saw your name on the board – so – I just barged into your house – and – it was very kind of your wife to let me stay all night…” I explained to him.

“Wife…? How could she be there…?” he asked.

“Of course your wife was there…” I said.

“Impossible…” he said.

“Then who was that charming lady…?” I asked.

“That “charming lady” you met in my house was my “Maid”. Yes – Ha Ha – she is my “Maid”…” “X” said – laughing.

“What…?” I said, stunned.

“Yes – the woman you met at my home that evening was my “Maid” – she is my “Kaamwali Bai” – she is certainly not my wife…” he said – giving me humorous look.

“What…? She was your “Maid” – she was not your wife…?” I blurted out – totally bewildered.

“Yes – the woman who you met is my “Maid” – she told me that some friend of mine had got stuck in the rain and he slept on the sofa – she didn’t remember your name – so now – I know that it was you…?” he said.

“Oh – I am very sorry. But – your “Maid” is so smart and elegant – she is so chic that I mistook her for your wife – yes – I really thought that she was your wife…” I said.

“Ha Ha – I must tell my wife this…” he said – laughing loudly.

“No – please don’t tell her – it will be very embarrassing…” I said to “X”.

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Tea arrived – and we sipped our tea.

I noticed that “X” wasn’t telling me anything about his wife.

So – I asked him:

“By the way – your wife – is she out of station…?”

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“My wife is an “air-hostess” in an international airline – so she is out on flight duty for around 15 days in a month…” he said.

“Oh – that’s great – we must meet sometime in the club – I owe you a dinner…” I said.

“Sure – my wife should be back by weekend…” he said.

“One more thing – please don’t tell anyone about my faux pas – it was a stupid blunder on my part to think that your “Maid” was your wife…” I said to “X”.

“X” laughed – and he said to me:

“Okay – you don’t worry – I won’t tell anyone that you thought that my maid was my wife…”

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But – alas – “X” told everyone about my stupid goof-up.

And – I became a laughing stock in the entire Naval community.

This angered me so much – that I did not visit “X” again.

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Three Years Later

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PART 3

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THE AIR HOSTESS

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I was flying abroad for some work.

An “air-hostess” came to me – and she asked me my name.

I told her my name.

The “air-hostess” smiled at me – and she said to me:

“Come – we’ll upgrade you to “business class”…”

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I was delighted to be ugraded.

When I was comfortable in my new luxurious seat – the “air-hostess” came over to me – and she said to me:

“Didn’t you recognize me…?”

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“I am sorry…” I started to say.

But the “air-hostess” interrupted me – and she said to me:

“Of course – we have never met.

I saw your name on the passenger manifest – and I guessed it must be you.

Well – I am the wife of your ‘course-mate’ “X”.

Remember – you and the “Maid” episode.

That night when you thought that my “Kaamwali Bai” was Me…”

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She said these words giving me a mischievous smile.

Oh My God – the “air-hostess” was my ‘course-mate’ X’s wife – and her husband “X” had told her about that night’s episode when I had mistaken his maid for his wife.

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I smiled at her and said to her:

“Oh – yes – how can I forget that “faux pas” on my part – I thought your “Maid” was my course-mate X’s wife.

Yes – I mistook your “Maid” for You.

Your husband “X” told everyone about it – and I became a laughing stock…”

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My ‘course-mate’ X’s wife smiled naughtily – and she said to me:

“In fact – my husband told our “Maid” too – that you thought that she was his wife…”

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On hearing this – I felt totally embarrassed.

“Oh My God…!!! Did your husband “X” tell your “Maid” that I thought that she was you…?” I asked.

“Well – my “Maid” did have some inkling – she told us that you kept addressing her as “Ma’am” again and again…” X’s wife said with a mischievous smile.

“I wanted to come over to your place – but I was so embarrassed to face your “Maid” again – after my terrible faux pas…” I said.

“Well – you can meet her when you are in Delhi – the same “Maid” is still with us…” X’s wife said.

“You’ve got the same “Maid” even now…?” I asked her.

“Yes – we took our “Maid” along with us when we were posted to Delhi – she is a big boon – it is because of her that I am able to do this “air-hostess” job which requires me to be out from home for so many days…” she said.

“Yes – I saw that your “Maid” was very good…” I said.

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X’s wife – the smart “air-hostess” – she looked at me and said to me:

“Yes – my “Maid” is indeed very good.

She looks after everything at home – in fact – I have handed over all “homemaker” duties to her.

She manages each and every thing – she even looks after my husband so well.

In fact – my “Maid” is so good – that I just don’t have to bother about anything…”

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I looked at X’s wife – the smart “air-hostess” – a successful career-woman – and – I gave her a mischievous smile and spoke to her in a joking tone.

“You know – there is saying – “Behind Every Successful Woman there is a “Kaamwali Bai”…” – Ha Ha Ha…” I said to her – in jest.

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X’s wife – the smart “air-hostess” – she laughed as she spoke.

“Ha Ha – well – this surely seems true in my case…” she said – sportingly.

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Suddenly – there was a call for her.

So – X’s wife smiled a “good-bye” – and she left to attend to her cabin-crew duties.

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Ten Years Later

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PART 4

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MY COURSE-MATE “X” AND HIS “CONSORT”

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Ten years later – one morning – while driving down from Mumbai to Pune by the Expressway – I stopped at the ‘Food Court’ for a cup of tea.

A car entered the ‘Food Court’ parking lot.

I could not believe my eyes.

My course-mate “X” was in the Driver’s Seat – and sitting next to him was his “Maid”.

Both of them got out of the car – they walked to a vacant table and sat down.

Obviously – “X” had not seen me.

Or – if he had seen me – then “X” probably did not want to meet me.

But – I was curious to meet “X”.

And yes – I was quite intrigued by his rather intimate demeanor towards his “Maid”.

I wondered why “X” had seated his “Maid” beside him on the front seat of the car.

And even now – “X” and his “Maid” – they seemed to be talking in a rather friendly and intimate manner.

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I picked up my cup of tea – and I walked towards their table.

“Hello…” I said to my course-mate “X”.

“Oh – Hi – so nice to see you after so many years…” my course-mate “X” said to me with a smile.

“May I join you…?” I asked.

“Of course…” he said.

“I will just “freshen up” and come…” the “Maid” said – and she left for the washroom.

“So – I heard that you suddenly quit the Navy…” I said to “X”.

“Yes – I quit 5 years ago – I am in the Merchant Navy now…” he said.

“That’s great…” I said.

“Yes – the Merchant Navy is much better – especially moneywise…” he said.

“So – are you going to Pune…?” I asked “X”.

“No – I am driving down to Mahabaleshwar…” he said.

On hearing this – I was totally aghast and shocked.

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So – I said to my course-mate “X” :

“What is wrong with you…?

Why are you driving with your “Kaamwali Bai” sitting next to you on the front seat…?

Where is your wife…?

Just you and and your “Maid” – going to Mahabaleshwar together…?

Are you going to Mahabaleshwar – to have a good time – with your “Maid”…?”

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My course-mate “X” looked at me – and he said to me :

“She is no longer my “Maid”…”

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I was taken aback – totally bewildered – on hearing this.

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So – I said to my course-mate “X”:

“What do you mean…?

She is no longer your “Maid”…?

Don’t tell me that you have married her…?”

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My course-mate “X” looked at me – and he said nonchalantly:

“Not yet…”

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Baffled out of my wits – I blurted out excitedly to my course-mate “X”:

“What…?

“Not Yet”…!!!

What do you mean by “Not Yet”…?

Are you saying that you intend marrying your “Maid”…?

You are going to marry your “Kaamwali Bai”…?

So that means that you two are living together…?”

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“X” did not say anything – he just looked down at the table.

His silence spoke volumes.

For me – the whole thing was unbelievable – most bizarre.

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Then – after I recovered my wits – I looked at “X”– and I said to him:

“Have you gone crazy…?

Have you have dumped your “air-hostess” wife for your “Maid”…?

Are you really thinking of marrying your “Maid”…?”

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“X” did not answer – he just looked away.

I followed his gaze.

I saw that the “Maid” had come out of the washroom and she was walking towards us.

I got up from my seat.

“Okay – Good Bye – it is time for me to move on…” I said to “X”.

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Meanwhile – the “Maid” had reached our table – and she was smiling at me.

So – I looked at the “Maid” – and I said to her:

“All the Best – Ma’am…”

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Yes – I addressed her as “Ma’am”.

Last time – calling her “Ma’am” was a faux pas on my part – because then – she was my course-mate’s “Maid” – his “Kaamwali Bai”.

But now – she was no longer my course-mate’s “Kaamwali Bai”.

Now – the “Maid” had become my course-mate’s “Consort”.

So – she had earned the right to be called “Ma’am”.

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The “Maid” gave me a cute smile.

I smiled back at her.

Then – I turned – and I walked towards my car.

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VIKRAM KARVE

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.
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.
E&OE

Copyright Notice:

Link to my source blog posts in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2017/02/hostess-and-air-hostess.html and writing blog: https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/08/09/a-rainy-night/

This is a revised and abridged version of my story titled THE MAID posted online earlier by me Vikram Karve on this blog on July 13, 2015 at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/07/the-maid-love-story.html AND http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/08/faux-pas-with-beautiful-woman-on-rainy.html AND http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/10/romance-maid.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/01/my-friends-maid-passionate-love-story.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/03/the-air-hostess-and-her-kaamwali-bai.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/05/the-housekeeper.html and https://karve.wordpress.com/2017/07/24/are-you-too-dependent-on-your-maid/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2018/10/05/the-charming-lady/ and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/08/maid-of-honour.html and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/02/03/the-maid-a-romance/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/08/04/the-maid/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/05/19/romance-a-rainy-night-a-sensuous-woman/ and https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/pretty-woman-fiction-story-vikram-karve/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2023/10/13/it-started-on-a-rainy-night/ etc.

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“I want to go home…!!!”

April 18, 2024

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“I WANT TO GO HOME…!!!”

Short Story by Vikram Karve

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Dear Reader:

I wrote this story during my last tenure in Mumbai – around 19 years ago – in the year 2005.

Hence – the story portrays the Mumbai atmosphere of those days.

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“I WANT TO GO HOME…!!!”

Story By Vikram Karve

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Dramatis Personae:

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1. Father (Baba) – a 72 year old man.

2. Mother (Mamma) – a 69 year old woman.

3. Son – a 45 year old man.

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Place:

A “Retirement Resort” aka “Old Age Home”

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Circa – 2005

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“I WANT TO GO HOME…!!!”

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The father – a redoubtable intrepid tough looking old man – who is 72 years old – shouts at his son.

“I want to go home…!!!” the old man shouts emphatically.

“But why…? What happened…?” asks the son.

“I have had a terrible time out here for the last one month since you dumped us here…” the father complains loudly.

“Please Baba. Don’t create a scene…” says the son – a soft-spoken effeminate looking man in his mid-40’s – maybe 45 years old.

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

“Please calm down…!!! Everyone is looking at us…!!!” says the 69 year old woman – pleading with her husband to be silent.

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

“Ungrateful…?” the son winces.

“Yes, ungrateful…!!! That’s what you are…!!! We did everything for you – we educated you – we brought you up. And now – you throw us out of our house into this bloody “choultry”….” the old man shouts at his son.

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

“It’s okay…” the old woman consoles the angry old man – her husband.

The old woman looks lovingly at her husband and speaks softly to him.

“We will somehow manage in this “Old Age Home”…” the old woman says to her husband.

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

The mother looks at her son – and then at her husband.

She feels trapped between the two – not knowing what to say – as both are right in their own way.

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So – the old woman says gently to her husband:

“Try to understand.

We will adjust here.

See how scenic and green this place is.

See there – what a lovely garden…”

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But – the old man is not impressed by his wife’s words.

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

“You will make friends here too…” she says.

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

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

“Listen you impertinent kid…!!!” the old man shouts at his son, “Don’t try all this bullshit on me. I have been walking for the last 50 years on Marine Drive – and – that is where I intend walking the rest of my life – till my dying day…”

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Then – the old man turns to his wife – and he says peremptorily to her:

“You pack our bags and let’s go back to Mumbai.

We are not staying here in this godforsaken place…!!!”

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The old woman looks at her husband and says in a pleading voice.

“You must try and adjust…” the old man’s wife beseeches her old husband, “you will like this place. Look at the facilities here – there is a modern health club, gym, library, recreation – everything is here.”

“Gym…? Do you want me to do body building at this age…? Library…? You know that after my cataract operation – I can hardly read the newspaper…!!! And – I can get all the recreation I need in Mumbai – watching the sea at the Chowpatty – and walking with my lifelong friends on Marine Drive…” the old man says, angrily.

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On hearing this – the son begs his father:

“Please Baba – don’t be obstinate.

This place is so good for your health.

They give you such delicious nourishing food here…”

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“Delicious Food…? Nourishing…? The bloody sterile stuff tastes like hospital food. I can’t stand the food over here – where will I get Sardar’s Pav Bhaji, Kyani’s Kheema Pav, Vinay’s Misal, Satam’s Vada Pav, Delhi Durbar’s Biryani, Sarvi’s Boti Kababs, Noor Mohammadi’s Nihari, and the delicious Fish of Anantashram in Khotachi Wadi next door…” the old man shouts.

“Please Baba…!!! All you can think of is horrible oily spicy street-food – which you should not eat at your age…!!! With your cholesterol and sugar levels – you will die if you continue eating all that stuff…” the son says.

“I prefer to die of a heart attack in Mumbai enjoying the good food I like – rather than suffer a slow death here – trying to eat this insipid tasteless nonsense food…” the old man shouts at his son.

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Then – the old man looks at his wife – and he commands her:

“You listen to me.

Just pack up all our things.

We are not staying here like “glorified slaves” in this “golden cage”.

One month here in this godforsaken place has driven me mad.

I will go crazy if I stay here even one day longer.

We are going right back to our house in Girgaum to live with dignity…!!!”

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The son seems upset to hear his father’s words.

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

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The old man looks sternly at his son – and he says firmly to his son:

“You go back to your family in America.

I am going back to my house in Girgaum.

That’s final…!!!”

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Then – the old man looks at his wife and says to her:

“You want to come along with me…?

Or – should I go back to Mumbai alone…?”

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“Mamma – please tell him…” the son says – looking at his mother.

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The old woman looks lovingly at her husband – she puts her hand on his arm – and she says softly to her husband:

“Please try to understand.

We have no choice.

We have to live here in the old age home.

We can’t go back because we don’t have a house in Girgaum any longer.

Our tenement chawl has been sold to a builder.

They are building a commercial complex there…”

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As the old woman says these words to her husband – she looks at the changing expression on her husband’s face.

“What…? They have sold our chawl…? They are going to demolish our chawl and build a commercial complex there…? Why didn’t you tell me all this before…?” the old man shouts at his wife.

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The old man looks devastated.

He is stunned by his wife’s betrayal.

The old man turns his head and looks at his son for some time – with an expression of disgust.

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Then – the old man looks at his wife with a perplexed expression on his face – unbelieving – as if he is shattered – and he says to his wife:

“You knew all this – but kept it hidden from me…?

You are my wife – but you betrayed me…?”

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“Please try and understand…” the old woman says to her husband.

“Yes. Now – I understand. You and your son – you both have fooled me. You secretly “sold” our rooms in the chawl to the builder without telling me. Then – you tricked me and brought me here saying we had to vacate our house for one month as our rooms had to be repaired – and then – your son handed over the tenement to the builder. I am sure he got a huge amount for vacating the chawl – so – he spends a fraction of it to lease a place in this old age home – and he pockets the rest of the money…” the old man says bitterly.

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The old man looks at his son – then he looks at his wife – and he says to her:

“Am I right…?

Your smart son did a deal with the builder and you connived with him..?

Because of my love for you – as a magnanimous gesture – I put the tenement in your name – and you betrayed my trust…”

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On hearing her husband’s words – tears well up in the old woman’s eyes.

The son looks away – trying to avoid his father’s eyes.

Both mother and son remain silent.

For sometime – there is a grotesque silence.

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Reality dawns on the old man – he realises that he will be never going back to his beloved home in Girgaum again.

Maybe there is no home left – the builder may have already demolished the chawl after getting the few remaining people to vacate it – the few – like him – who were determined to stay there for the rest of their lives – and – like him – they too may have been betrayed by their near and dear ones for money.

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But – now – it is too late – and – there is no point thinking these things.

The old man realises that he will have to stay in this wretched “Old Age Home” for the rest of his life.

He is overcome by despondency – a sense of hopelessness and depression.

Suddenly – the old man’s defences crumble – and – he disintegrates.

No longer is he the strong indefatigable redoubtable tough man he was a few moments ago.

He seems to have lost his spirit, his strength, his dignity, his self-esteem – he seems to have even lost his will to live…!!!

There is a drastic and unbelievable metamorphosis in the old man’s personality as he meekly holds his wife’s hand for support.

Totally defeated – his heart and soul totally broken – the old man obediently walks with his wife towards their cottage – where they both – along with many other similar Senior Citizens – will spend the last days of their lives – lonely – unwanted – waiting for death – in the “Old Age Home”.

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VIKRAM KARVE

Disclaimer:

Copyright Notice:

Link to my original post in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2017/04/i-want-to-go-home.html

This is a revised and abridged version of my Story METAMORPHOSIS written by me Vikram Karve around 19 years earlier in the year 2005 and earlier posted online by me Vikram Karve in my creative writing blogs a number of times including at urls: http://creative.sulekha.com/a-poignant-short-story_35479_blog and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2012/03/old-age-home.html and https://www.quora.com/profile/Vikram-Karve/Writing-by-VIKRAM-KARVE/New-Age-Living-Old-Age-Home and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2011/06/i-want-to-go-home.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/05/old-age-dilemma-metamorphosis-story.html and https://karve.wordpress.com/2017/08/02/metamorphosis-a-story/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/07/31/metamorphosis-2/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/01/29/metamorphosis-3/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2023/08/08/metamorphosis-short-story/ etc

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Posted in writing | Tags: blog, care, children, family, fiction, marriage, mumbai, oldage, parenting, pune, relationships, senior, story, veteran, writing | 1 Comment »

Love Story : Bun Maska and Chai

April 6, 2024

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BUN MASKA and CHAI

LOVE STORY By VIKRAM KARVE

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BUN MASKA AND CHAI

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“Why have you brought me here…?” the man asks his wife.

“Do you remember this place…?” the man’s wife says.

“Of course I remember this place – we used to meet here…” the man says.

“Good. Let’s have a “Bun Maska and Chai” – for old times’ sake…” the man’s wife says.

“Here…?” the man asks, surprised.

“Why not…? You used to love this café – didn’t you…?” the man’s wife says.

“That was in those days…” the man says.

“And now…? You have become rich – and you have “status” in society. So – you find this place below your dignity…?” the man’s wife says.

“Okay. We’ll have a cup of tea here…” the man says.

__________

They sit down.

The man sips his tea with distaste – he seems uncomfortable in this unpretentious café.

His wife is enjoying her “Bun Maska and Chai” – she dips the bun in her tea before putting it in her mouth.

___________

The wife says to her husband:

“Do you remember…?

Those days – you were so poor that this was the only place where you could afford to bring me on a “date”.

Do you remember those days…?”

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The wife looks at her husband after saying these words – gesturing with her eyes – asking him to answer.

The husband answers.

_________

“Of course I remember those days…” the man says, “but why are you talking about the past…? Why suddenly bring up unpleasant memories…? I have forgotten about those days…”

“Exactly…” the woman says, “you seem to have forgotten everything. So – I want to remind you of those days of struggle…”

“Let’s go…” the man says to his wife, “I don’t want to talk about those days…”

“No. I want to talk about those days…” the wife says, “Do you remember why my father was opposed to our marriage – why he was against my marrying you…?”

“I was poor. You were rich. You were much better off than me…” the man says.

“And…? What else…?” the man’s wife asks him.

“You belonged to “high society” – the “elite” – the so-called “crème de la crème” of society. And – I was “riff-raff” – that’s what your father called me – “riff-raff” – he said that I was not worthy of your high “status”…” the man says.

“Is that all…?” the man’s wife asks him.

“Yes. Your father felt that I didn’t have enough money to meet your needs – and – there was a huge difference in our “status” – and – of course – I was “uncultured”. So – he opposed our marriage…” the man says.

“And my mother…?” the man’s wife asks him.

“She was against our marriage too. Of course – your mother was more polite – she told me: “the gulf between our backgrounds was too much and could not be bridged”…” the man says.

“But – I stood by you – against my father’s wishes – against my mother’s wishes. Both my parents were strongly opposed to my marrying you. But – I did not listen to my parents – and – I married you. Do you remember…? Or – have you forgotten…?” the man’s wife says.

“I have not forgotten anything. I remember. I remember everything. I am grateful to you for marrying me – okay…!!! Are you happy…? Now – let’s go…” the man says to his wife.

____________

They walk towards their limousine.

“Girgaum…” the woman tells the driver, “take us to Girgaum…”

“What..?” her husband protests, “why are we going to Girgaum…? Let’s go home…”

“You promised me – do you remember…? You promised me that you will spend the evening with me – and – you will do as I wish…” the woman says.

“Okay – Okay…” her husband says.

__________

At Girgaum – their limousine stops opposite Charni Road Railway Station – and they negotiate their way through the narrow lane which leads them to a decrepit old tenement building – a dilapidated old chawl which is almost crumbling.

“Do you recognize this place…? Or – have you forgotten…?” the woman asks her husband.

“Of course I remember this place…” her husband says, “my room was in this chawl…”

“After we eloped – we came straight over here – and we lived in your small room for the first few years of our marriage. Do you remember those difficult days of our life – when our relationship was severely tested…? At my father’s luxurious home – I had my own bedroom and attached bathroom – and here – there wasn’t even an attached toilet or bathroom – and I had to wait in the queue every morning for a bath in the common bathroom…” the woman says to her husband.

“I know. I know. But now – everything is fine. Let’s get out of here. This place stinks…” her husband says.

“I thought we’ll go and see our room – and visit the common toilet and bathroom – just for old times’ sake…” the woman says.

“Please stop it…” the man shouts at his wife – and – he starts walking away.

___________

When they reach their car – the woman whispers to the driver – and they drive off.

___________

When they reach their next destination – the man says with surprise in his voice.

“Why have you brought me to the court…?” he asks his wife.

___________

“Do you remember what happened inside…? Or – have you forgotten…” the woman asks her husband.

“Your father had filed a case against me – for abduction – he said that I had kidnapped you…” the man says.

“And – I stood by you – I went against my father and supported you – I told them that I was an adult – I told them that I had eloped with you of my free will. I told them that I wanted to marry you. Do you remember…? Or – have you forgotten…?” the man’s wife says.

“I remember – I remember – I haven’t forgotten anything. But – why are you torturing me by reminding me of those terrible days…?” the man says to his wife.

“Torture…? I though harking back to those days would evoke nostalgia in you…!” the woman says to her husband.

“Please stop. Enough is enough. I know. You sacrificed a lot for me. I will always remain grateful to you. But now – things are good – aren’t they…? We are doing so well in life – moneywise – status-wise – we are the “crème de la crème” of society now – aren’t we…?” the man says to his wife.

“Yes. We suffered difficult days for some years – those were testing times – but we endured them cheerfully because of our steadfast love for each other. And then – your fortunes changed – your business took off – and today – we are indeed the “crème de la crème” of society…” the man’s wife says.

“I have had enough of “nostalgia”…” the man says, “Let’s go home…”

“No. We are going to the “Golf Club”…” his wife says.

“Golf Club…? You want to play golf now…? It’s already getting dark…” the man says to his wife.

“Let’s have dinner at the club…” the woman says.

“Okay…” her husband says.

___________

When they arrive at the golf club – the wife looks at her husband and speaks.

“Come with me. I want you to meet someone…” she says to he husband.

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The woman walks towards the end of the parking lot – her husband follows her.

They see a young man standing there.

“Hello, Aunty – Good Evening, Sir…” the young man says.

“Hello…” the woman says to the young man.

Then – the woman turns towards her husband – and – she speaks to her husband.

“You know this young man – don’t you…?” she asks her husband.

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The woman’s husband looks at the young man and recognises him.

“Yes…” the woman’s husband murmurs to his wife.

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The woman looks at the young man and speaks to him.

“Come home for dinner on Saturday. We will wait for you…” she says to the young man.

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And – before her husband can react – the woman pulls his arm and speaks to him.

“Let’s go inside the clubhouse bar for a drink…” she says to her husband.

__________

They walk towards the clubhouse.

“What’s going on…?” the flabbergasted man asks his wife.

“Did you recognize the boy…” the woman asks her husband.

“Of course – he is a “caddie” – he carries my golf clubs…” the man says.

“He is also our daughter’s fiancé…” the woman says to her husband.

“What…? Our daughter wants to marry a bloody “caddie”…?” the man says, stunned.

“Yes…” the woman says to her husband.

“Has she gone crazy…? I will never allow her to marry this good-for-nothing bugger…” the man says to his wife.

“He is not a “good-for-nothing” bugger – he is studying – and he does golf caddying in the evenings to support his studies…” the woman says.

“I don’t care – I don’t want our daughter to marry this guy…” the man says to his wife.

“Why…? Because he is poor – like you were…? Because he doesn’t have so-called “status” – like you didn’t have…? Because he is “riff-raff” – like you were…?” the woman says to her husband.

“Please stop it…” her husband says angrily, “don’t try emotional blackmail…”

“Emotional Blackmail…?” the woman says to her husband, with a questioning look.

“Yes. First – you take me to all those painful places I want to forget. Then – you want me to allow our daughter to marry a bloody “caddie”…?” the man says, looking upset.

“Our daughter is 20 years old…” the woman says to her husband.

“So what…?” the man says to his wife.

“Our daughter loves this boy…” the woman says to her husband.

“So what…? She cannot marry this guy…” the man says to his wife.

“Do you want our daughter to elope with this boy – like we did…?” the woman asks her husband.

“Please. Please. Please. You talk to her and tell her to stop this nonsense. We will find an excellent match for her…” the man says to his wife.

“They are in love – like we were…” the woman says to her husband, “try to understand – think about those days when we were in love…”

“We are still in love – aren’t we…? I am still in love with you…” the man says to his wife.

“If you are in love with me – then listen to me…” the woman says to her husband, “give the young man a chance. I have called him for dinner on Saturday. Talk to him. Be nice to him. Maybe you will like him. He is good boy. Our daughter is in love with him. He loves our daughter immensely…”

The man remains silent.

____________

The woman holds her husband’s hand tenderly and she says to him:

“Let’s not make the same mistake as my parents did.

Let’s not make things difficult for our daughter.

Do you remember the trials and tribulations we suffered…?

Do you remember those terrible days…?

Do you remember…?

Or – have you forgotten…?

Have you forgotten our “Bun Maska and Chai” days…?”

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VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
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© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:
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.

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.

Link to my original source post in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2019/05/have-you-forgotten.html and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/01/08/bun-maska-and-chai-story/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2019/07/31/bun-maska-and-chai/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2019/12/16/a-re-visit/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2019/05/10/do-you-remember-or-have-you-forgotten/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/07/23/bun-maska-chai/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/09/18/bun-maska-and-chai-love-story/ etc

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The “Tomboy”

April 5, 2024

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The “Tomboy”

Story By Vikram Karve

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THE “TOMBOY” – PART 1

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The doorbell rings.

It must be my husband.

Hope he is not drenched.

It is raining heavily – a sudden unexpected shower – so – my husband must have gone out without an umbrella.

I open the door.

I am taken aback with surprise.

Instead of my husband – I see a horrible looking creature standing outside the door.

Actually – it is young woman – but – she looks so disheveled and dirty – that “creature” is an apt word to describe her.

She is totally drenched – and looks horrible – covered from head to toe with filthy wet mud – as if she has had a “mud bath”.

“Hello Aunty…” she says.

Why is this girl calling me “Aunty” – I wonder to myself.

“Who are you…? What do you want…?” I ask her rudely.

“I am Tanya – Rohan’s friend…” she says.

For a moment – I am perplexed.

My son Rohan – he is such a nice well-groomed boy.

How can he have such scruffy uncultured girl as a friend…?

I decide to call up Rohan and ask him.

But – before I can do that – the girl says to me: “Aunty – aren’t you going to ask me to come in…?”

And – she brazenly pushes her way into my house.

Shocked by her impertinent behaviour – I feel very angry at her.

I want to throw this filthy woman out my house.

“Should I call the police…? Is she some sort of criminal – a thief who has come to burgle my house…?” I wonder to myself.

But – before I can react – she speaks again.

“Aunty – I didn’t think it would rain today – I was caught off-guard by a sudden heavy shower – and I got all drenched – I even got sprayed by a shower of mud as a passing car drove over a puddle…” she says – and – she walks past me towards the bedrooms.

While walking – she looks at me – and she says to me: “Aunty – I will go and dry myself – maybe I’ll have a nice hot shower – and put on some dry clothes…”

And – she walks towards Rohan’s room.

“How does she know the layout of your house…” I wonder to myself.

So – I ask her: “Have you been here before…?”

She says: “Yes – Rohan had brought me here once – when you had gone a tour to Europe – in fact – we spent the night together…”

“What…? You stayed here with Rohan the whole night…?” I ask, scandalized.

“Aunty – it’s not what you think – we didn’t do anything improper – he had brought me here to show me the house – we were just planning to spend the evening together having pizza and beer – and – it suddenly started raining heavily – just like today – so – Rohan asked me to stay here – it rained heavily the entire night – so – I went back in the morning…” she says to me.

Then – she opens the door of Rohan’s room – she goes inside – and she closes the door.

I stand there – totally flabbergasted – by her insolent behaviour.

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THE “TOMBOY” – PART 2

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I feel angry – very angry – at this ill-mannered girl – the way she has barged into my house and behaved in a most brazen manner.

Just imagine – she is in my son’s bedroom – probably in his bathroom having a hot shower.

For some time – I sit on the sofa – wondering what to do.

Then – I decide to call my son Rohan – but – as expected – his mobile phone is switched off – as expected – he always keeps his mobile phone off when he is working.

Hopefully – he will see my missed call and call me back during his lunch break.

I call my husband – he says he is stranded in the market because of the heavy rain – and he will come back after it stops raining.

I tell him to come home at once – take an autorickshaw or taxi or something.

“You want me to come home immediately…? Is there a problem…?” he asks me.

“Yes – there is a “intruder” in the house – I want you to come immediately and throw her out…” I say to my husband.

“Intruder…? Her…? Is it a woman…? Should I call the police…?” he asks – with anxiety in his voice.

“You just come home immediately…!!! Do you understand…?” I shout at my husband – and – I disconnect the call.

The door of Rohan’s room opens – and – the girl called “Tanya” – she comes out.

She is wearing Rohan’s clothes – shorts – and T-Shirt – they look quite baggy on her.

Her face looks presentable – and her short hair is combed like a man’s hairstyle – giving her a “Tomboyish” look.

The girl smiles at me and says: “Come on, Aunty – I am not an intruder – I told you I am Rohan’s friend…”

I give her a quizzical look – was she eavesdropping when I was speaking to my husband…?

“You were shouting so loudly on the mobile that I could hear everything in the other room…” the girl says with a smile.

“You can go now…” I say to her.

“Please, Aunty – let it stop raining – and let “Uncle” come home – I want to speak to both of you – that’s why I have come here – without telling Rohan…”

“Without telling Rohan…? I will call him right now – and tell him to come home and take you away…” I say to her.

“Aunty – you know that his mobile will be off now – you can call him after an hour – during lunch break…” she says.

“How do you know all this…?” I ask her.

“Aunty – Rohan and I work in the same office – we are colleagues…” she says, “in fact – we are more than just colleagues – we have been seeing each other for the last few months – and now – we want to take our relationship to the next level – we want to get married…” the girl says.

“What nonsense…!!!” I say – taken aback.

“I want to marry your son Rohan – and – I have come to take your permission to do so…” she says, with a smile.

“No. No. It’s not possible – Rohan has never told me about you – he tells me everything…” I say – when she interrupts me.

“I know, Aunty – Rohan wanted us to elope and get married…” she says.

“Elope…?” I say, stunned out of my wits.

This is a total shock to me – I thought my son Rohan was “Mamma’s Boy” – normally – he told me everything – but – Rohan had not told me about this girl – and worse – I never expected him to betray me and elope and marry this girl.

It is unbelievable.

The doorbell rings.

“It must be “Uncle”…!!!” the girl says excitedly – and she quickly goes to open the door.

The girl opens the door.

My husband stands outside – looks at the girl.

“Hello Uncle – I am Tanya – the “intruder”…!!!” the girl says with a mischievous smile.

My husband looks at the girl – he looks at the clothes she is wearing – Rohan’s T-Shirt and Shorts.

Then – he looks at me and raises his eyebrows as if questioning me.

The girl moves aside.

Then – she looks at my husband and speaks to him.

“Uncle – why don’t you go in and dry yourself up…? Then – we can sit and talk…” the girl says to my husband.

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THE “TOMBOY” – PART 3

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My husband nods at her – and – he goes into his room to dry up and change his wet clothes.

The girl – Tanya – she looks at me – and she speaks to me in a confident voice.

“Aunty – please make some Tea – Rohan tells me that you make lovely “Masala Chai” – and – make something to eat also – I am feeling hungry…” the girl says to me – as if she is ordering me.

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I am aghast at her behaviour.

But – I don’t want to talk to this impertinent girl – so – I go into the kitchen – and – start making Tea – and – I take out the pan to make some Pohe…”

A few minutes later – my husband comes into the kitchen.

“Who is this girl…? my husband asks me.

“She says that she is Rohan’s fiancée – they are going to get married…” I say to my husband.

“What nonsense…!!!” my husband exclaims in surprise, “have you to spoken to Rohan…?”

“I tried – his phone is switched off – like he does at work – he should see my missed call and call back at lunch time…” I say to my husband.

“What about the girl…? Why has she some here…?” he asks me.

“You go out and tell her to get out of the house…” I say to my husband.

“Let’s go out and speak to her – let’s she what she has to say…?” my husband says.

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I put 3 cups of tea and 3 plates of Pohe on a tray.

My husband picks up the tray, carries it out and places it on the table in front of the girl called “Tanya”.

I follow my husband and sit on a chair in front of Tanya.

Tanya picks up a plate of Pohe – eats a spoonful – and looks at me.

“Aunty – it’s so delicious – you are such a good cook – Rohan always tells me you make such lovely food…” she says excitedly.

________

I seethe with anger at her impudence – how dare she make such condescending remarks…!!!

I can’t control myself any longer – so – I shout at the girl.

“Do you think I am your servant…?” I say angrily to her.

“No, Aunty…” she says, flummoxed, “why do you think that…?”

“You don’t bother to come and help me in the kitchen – you sit here like a “Maharani” – and – you comment that the food is “good” – as if you are a customer in a restaurant…” I say to her, indignantly.

“I am sorry, Aunty…” she says – I can see tears forming in her eyes.

My husband interrupts.

“Tell me – why have you come here…?” my husband asks her.

“I have come to take your permission to get married to your son, Rohan…” the girl says.

“Well – Rohan hasn’t told us anything about you – and – why hasn’t he come with you…?” my husband asks.

“He is afraid of you…” the girl says to my husband.

“Afraid of me…? My son Rohan is afraid of me…?” my husband says, surprised.

“Yes, Uncle – he is terrified of you – the way he painted the picture – as if you were an autocratic tyrant – even – I felt scared…” the girl says to my husband.

I feel totally appalled – so – I say to the girl: My husband – a tyrant…? What nonsense…!!! Would I have been living with my him for 30 years if he were a tyrant…? Yes – he is strict and very old-fashioned – but he is a good man…”

“I am sorry, Aunty…” the girl says to me.

Then she looks at my husband and says: “Rohan told me you both are conservative people. He said that you would never agree to our marriage. So – he wanted us to elope and get married…”

“Elope…?” my husband says, angrily.

“I think I mentioned it to Aunty…” the girl says.

“Are you threatening to elope…? Are you trying to blackmail us…?” my husband shouts at the girl, “go ahead and elope – you are both adults – do as you please…”

“No. No. Uncle. I feel that marriage must begin on a good note. I don’t want your ill feelings – I want your blessings – so – I told Rohan that I will marry him only if you give permission…” the girl says to my husband.

“And – if we don’t agree…?” my husband asks her.

“If you don’t give permission for our marriage – I will leave your son Rohan and go away forever. I have had no happy relationships in my life – this is my first relationship of love – and – I want it to begin in a happy note – I don’t want my marriage to start on a bitter note by annoying you – I want your love and blessings – not your hate and curses…” the girls says to my husband – and – she looks at me too.

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I can see my husband softening.

I fear the worst.

This “tomboyish” uncultured girl called “Tanya” – she is nowhere near the image of the ideal daughter-in-law that I wanted.

In fact – I had already started looking for prospective brides for my son.

And now – my dreams will be dashed – if my husband “melts” after hearing the girl’s sweet talk.

__________

I decide to call a spade a spade – and make things clear to this cheeky girl.

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I look at the girl – and – I speak to her in a firm voice.

“You – Tanya – you listen to me carefully. You have no manners, no culture, no upbringing – you barge into our house unannounced and behave in a most insolent manner – we should have thrown you out – but – we are cultured people…” I say to her in a rather angry tone of voice.

“Yes, Aunty…” she says, looking contrite.

“What “Yes Aunty…” I say angrily, “you want to marry our son – you want to be our daughter-in-law – you should have shown us some respect – though we don’t expect you to touch our feet as is the normal practice when one meets elders…”

“I am sorry, Aunty – I didn’t know…” the girl says.

“It is not your fault – you have not been raised properly…” I say to her.

“I am sorry, Aunty – I am very sorry if I have behaved improperly…” she says, apologetically.

“That’s okay – but – it is not proper for a girl to barge into her prospective in-laws house as ask them permission to marry their son – you ask your parents to come over and talk to us…” I say to her.

“I have no parents…” she says.

“What do you mean “you have no parents”…?” I ask her.

“I am an orphan – I don’t have any parents – both of them died in an accident when I was 6 years old – and I was sent to a boarding school – my whole life I have lived in hostels – I have never lived in a family – now – if you agree to our marriage – I will live with you – and you will be my parents – my first and only parents – and I will learn from you – manners, how to live in a family, culture, values – whatever you want to teach me…” the girl says – and she breaks into tears.

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On hearing her words – I am filled with remorse and pity for this girl.

I walk towards her – I take her in my arms.

She sobs – her wet nose touches my neck.

I console her.

“Don’t cry, Tanya – we are your parents from now on…” I say to her.

“Thank you, mother…” she says to me.

________

Then she looks at my husband.

My husband smiles at the girl.

“Go and freshen up – we are going out…” my husband says to Tanya.

“Going out…?” she asks, confused.

“Yes – we are going to the Marriage Registrar’s Office…” he says to her.

“Marriage Registrar…?” she asks him, looking confused.

My husband looks at the girl and gives her a loving smile.

“Yes – let’s go to the Marriage Registrar’s Office – we will come with you and submit the form together…” he says to Tanya, “the notice for your intended marriage…”

My husband looks at me – and – he gestures to me.

“Come on, get ready…” my husband says to me.

Then – my husband looks at his watch – and speaks to Tanya.

“I think it’s almost lunch break for Rohan – his mobile phone should be “on” now…” my husband remarks.

“Yes, Uncle – I will check…” Tanya says to him.

_________

My husband looks at Tanya lovingly and speaks to her.

“You tell your fiancé Rohan to take the rest of the day off – we will pick him up from his office…” my husband says to Tanya, “he has a lot of explaining to do…”

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VIKRAM KARVE

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.
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.
E&OE

Copyright Notice:

Link to my source blog posts in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2022/01/the-tomboy-unfinished-story.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2022/01/the-tomboy-parts-1-and-2.html etc.

Parts 1 and 2 also posted in this blog at url: https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/01/05/unfinished-story-the-tomboy-parts-1-and-2/

Full Story posted in my writing blog at url: https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/01/08/the-tomboy/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/11/18/tomboy/ etc.

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Posted in writing | Tags: blog, children, dating, family, fiction, love, marriage, parenting, romance, short story, story, writing | Leave a Comment »

A Bottle of Whisky

April 3, 2024

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Disclaimer:

A few days ago my friend treated me to one of the best whiskies I have ever tasted (picture below)

The picture is just for you to see and not related to the fiction story below.

The whisky mentioned in the story is not this one.

And – the story is pure fiction – a product of my imagination.

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A BOTTLE OF WHISKY

Story By Vikram Karve

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A Bottle of Whisky – Story by Vikram Karve

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Part 1 – THE DEAD BODY

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I looked at the dead body – at the dead man’s face.

Even in death – he had the stamp of defeat on his face.

“Yes – it is him…” I said to the cop.

They covered the dead body.

We walked out of the morgue.

“The doctors will have to do a post mortem. They’ll do it straightaway – at night – and – we will get the body in the morning…” the cop said.

“Okay…” I said.

“If his family comes tomorrow – we can cremate him and complete the last rites tomorrow itself…” the cop said.

“That’s the problem – how do we inform his wife – his family…?” I said.

“Sir – you don’t have their address – phone numbers – anything…?” the cop asked me.

“No. His children have settled down abroad – in the US – and – his wife lives with them in America. I don’t have any contact details of his wife or his children. Tell me – did you not find anything on him – his wallet – mobile – some ID…?” I asked the cop.

“No, Sir – I told you – the only thing we found was a piece of paper with a mobile number written on it…” the cop said.

“That’s funny…” I said.

“Looks like he has been robbed…” the cop said, “except the piece of paper on which a mobile number was written – your mobile number. The dead man had nothing on him – no wallet, no mobile phone, no watch, absolutely nothing…” the cop said.

“Oh – so the robbers may have killed him…?” I said.

“I don’t think so, Sir – most probably he was dead before he was robbed – but – we will wait for the post-mortem report to confirm that…” the police inspector said to me.

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Part 2 – DEATH REPORT

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Well – Dear Reader – this was what had happened exactly one hour ago.

Around midnight – at 2330 Hours – or 11:30 PM – to be precise – a police patrol saw a man lying unconscious on the street in a sleazy “red light area”.

Actually – the man had fallen into a filthy gutter by the street.

They thought it was a drunkard – it was quite common to see intoxicated men wallowing dead-drunk on the streets in that squalid area.

However – on a closer look – than man appeared to be dead – so the cops called an ambulance.

The man was declared “brought in dead” by the doctors at the hospital.

On searching the dead man – the cops found nothing – except a piece of paper in his trouser pocket with a 10 digits – which the inspector correctly assumed to be a mobile number.

The inspector called that number – and – my mobile cell-phone rang.

I picked up my mobile phone.

“I am Inspector ‘XXX’ speaking from ‘YYY’ Police Station. A man was found dead and we found your mobile number on a chit in his pocket – you will have to come to the police station…” a voice said curtly.

“It is past midnight…” I said.

“So what – it is a police case…” the cop said rudely.

I identified myself.

I told the Police Inspector who I was.

There was a remarkable change in his tone – and – the cop said politely:

“I am sorry, Sir – I didn’t know…”

“That’s okay – where do you want me to come…?” I asked.

“Sir – we are in the civil hospital – I will send my jeep to pick you up…” the cop said.

“Don’t take the trouble – I will come down myself to the civil hospital – you just give me the directions and tell me where exactly…” I said.

“No, Sir – I will personally come and pick you up – please tell me your address…” the cop said.

Outside – it was pitch dark – and – it was raining heavily – and – I didn’t quite fancy driving on that harsh night in the torrential rain – so – I accepted the inspector’s offer to pick me up.

I told the police inspector my address.

I changed my clothes – and – I waited for the cop to arrive.

Soon – we – the Police Inspector and Me – we were driving in the police jeep towards the hospital to identify the body.

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The cop looked at me – and – he said to me:

“Sir – the place where his body was found – Sir – it is a “red light area” – that area is notorious for crime – vagabonds and urchins must have looted everything – there was nothing on him – no wallet, no watch, no mobile phone – nothing – only his clothes – and – this chit with your mobile number written on it…”

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I looked at the piece of paper on which I had written my mobile number – and – I said:

“I met him in my club – he wanted to have a drink with me – but – I was in a hurry – so – I told him that I would have a drink with him some other time – he told me that he had got a bottle of my favourite single-malt whisky…”

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“Single-Malt Whisky…? Imported…?” he asked me.

“Yes – he told me that he had recently returned from the US after visiting his children and wife there – and – he had got a bottle of my favourite whisky from the duty-free store at the airport…” I said.

“Oh – he must have really liked you…” he said.

“Yes – we were good friends when we were in the Air Force – and – later too – I kept contact with him after he retired long ago – and – after I retired 6 months ago – I met him once at his house – just before he flew down to America…” I said.

“Oh – Sir – what happened at the club…? How did you give him the chit with your mobile number…?” the cop asked me.

“Oh, Yes – I told you – I met him in the foyer of the club – near the reception area – he said that he had misplaced the visiting card I had given him a few months ago – and – he asked for my mobile number so – I asked the receptionist for a piece of paper – I wrote my mobile number on it – and – I gave it to him…” I said.

“Sir – you could have given him your visiting card…” the cop said.

“Actually – I was in a hurry to get home – and – he was totally drunk…” I said.

“He was already drunk – at what time – Sir…?” he asked me.

“Around 9:30 PM…” I said.

“Sir – you must have seen him drinking in the bar…?” he asked me.

No – I was attending a private party in the blue room – and – when I was walking towards the foyer of the club on my way out – he suddenly came lurching towards me – he asked for my mobile number – I could have given him my card – but – I was so disgusted seeing him in a drunken condition – that – I just wrote my number on a piece of paper – and – I gave it to him – and then – I walked to my car and drove off…” I said.

“What surprises me is why he went all the way to the filthy “red light area” which is quite far away from your club…” the cop said.

“Yes – that’s surprising…” I said.

“Or – maybe – the dead body is not your “friend” – oh – I am sorry, Sir…” the cop said.

“It’s okay – I told you – he was a good friend…” I said.

“Sir – maybe it is him – maybe not…” the cop said.

“What do you mean…?” I asked the cop.

“Sir – it is possible some other man “mugged” your friend – and – he took the “chit” with your number on it – and – the dead man is that man who mugged your friend and took the chit from him. But – that is a remote possibility – as I said – most likely it was your friend who is the dead man and he died before he was robbed – but – the post-mortem will give us a clue…” the cop said.

It was obvious that the cop hoped that I would identify the dead man – so that – the police could close the case.

Soon – we reached the hospital.

The doctors took us to the morgue.

I identified the body – it was him.

Yes – the “Dead Body” was that of my “Friend”…

They covered the body – and – we walked out of the morgue.

“We will have to do a post mortem. They’ll do the post-mortem straightaway – at night – and we will get the body early in the morning…” the cop said.

“Okay…” I said.

“Sir – I have already put my men on the job to get information from our informers in the area – so that we can rule out any foul play – and we can give clearance to cremate him once the doctors give their “all okay” report…” the cop said.

“That’s a good thing you have done…” I complimented the inspector.

“If his family comes tomorrow – we can cremate him and complete the last rites tomorrow itself…” the cop said.

“That’s the problem – how do we inform his wife – his family…?” I said.

“Sir – you don’t have their address – phone numbers – anything…?” the cop asked me.

“No. I don’t know the contact details of his wife or children. Tell me – did you not find anything on him – his wallet – mobile – some ID…?” I said.

“No, Sir – I told you – the only thing we found was a piece of paper with a mobile number written on it…” the cop said.

“Okay – let’s go to his house – maybe we will find some clue about the contact details of his family there…” I said.

“You know his house…?” the cop asked me.

“Yes – he had a bungalow in Deccan Gymkhana…” I said.

“A Bungalow…? In Deccan Gymkhana…?” the cop said.

“Yes – the Bungalow built by his father – and – since he was the only son – he inherited it…” I said.

“Oh – let’s hope he hasn’t sold it off and gone to live somewhere else – he seems to have been an alcoholic – and – alcoholics are always short of money…” the cop said.

“I don’t think he would have sold the bungalow – he was quite well-off financially – and – he was getting a decent pension…” I said.

“Oh…” the cop said.

“Well – I had been to his house around 6 months ago – he was living all alone – his wife had gone to live with his children who are settled abroad in America…” I said.

“Sir – you knew him well…?” the cop asked me.

“Of course – we joined the Air Force together as cadets – that was 45 years ago – we were ‘course-mates’ at the Academy – he was an ace fighter pilot – he stood first in our course – he won all the flying trophies – we all thought that he would reach high rank…” I said.

“And just see what happened to him…! Sir – what a sad end…” the cop said.

“Yes – a very sad and pitiful end to a good man…” I said.

A doctor gestured to the Police Inspector.

The Inspector excused himself – and – he went across to talk to the doctor.

After some time – the Police Inspector returned – and – he said to me:

“Sir – the doctors say that – prima facie – they don’t suspect any foul play – and – the cause of death seems to be cirrhosis of the liver due to excessive consumption of alcohol – but – they will give a full proper post-mortem report in the morning – then – we can get the death certificate – and – hand over the body for cremation…”

“Shall we go to his house and try to find out contact details of his families…?” I asked the cop.

“Yes – Yes – Sir – let’s go. I will tell them to send some force to break the lock and force the door open…” the cop said, “Sir – can you tell me the address of his bungalow…?”

I told him the location of the bungalow.

The Police Inspector spoke for some time on his mobile – repeating the location that I had told him.

Then – he said to me:

“Sir – let’s go to his bungalow…”

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So – we drove to the Dead Man’s House in Deccan Gymkhana.

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Part 3 – THE DEAD MAN’S WHISKY

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One hour later – we – the police inspector and me – both of us were sitting in the drawing room of the bungalow – while a constable sat in the police jeep parked outside. The rest of the police party had been sent back to the police station.

The door had been forced open – and after a brief search – we found a diary with the addresses and phone numbers of the dead man’s wife and children living in America.

I called the Dead Man’s Wife.

In Pune (India) – it was the unearthly hour of 2 AM.

In America – it must have been afternoon.

The Dead Man’s Wife picked up the phone.

I identified myself.

The Dead Man’s Wife recognized me – though it was more than 15 years since we had met – after all – I was her husband’s course-mate and squadron-mate – and – I had kept contact even after her husband had prematurely left the Air Force.

“Is everything okay…?” she asked me.

I gave her the sad news that her husband was dead.

“Oh – it was bound to happen – the way he was drinking himself to death…” she said.

“We will get his body in the morning – I will arrange to keep his body in the morgue till you come to Pune…” I said to her.

“Why should I come to Pune…?” the Dead Man’s Wife said.

“For his cremation – don’t you – your children – don’t you want to perform the last rites of your husband…?” I asked the Dead Man’s Wife.

“No – you cremate him – I will send you whatever money is required for the expenses…” she said.

“It is not a question of money…” I said to her, “won’t you like to see your husband for one last time…? Or – at least – wouldn’t the children like to see their father for one last time…?” I said.

“No – No – we are not interested in seeing his dead body – for us – he “died” long back…” the Dead Man’s Wife said.

For a moment – I was dumbstruck.

Before I could recover my wits – the Dead Man’s Wife said on the phone to me:

“Please cremate him – we really don’t have time to come to India now – but – we will try and come next month during the Christmas Vacations to “settle matters” – please get his death certificate – and – just see that our bungalow is cleaned and locked up properly…”

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I smiled to myself at the way the Dead Man’s Wife had said “our bungalow”.

She had abandoned her husband – but – she had not abandoned his bungalow.

It was “his” bungalow – given to him by his father – but his wife called it “our” bungalow.

I did not wish to speak anything further with the Dead Man’s Wife.

Also – it seemed that she too did not want to speak anything to me.

So – I said to the Dead Man’s Wife:

“Don’t worry – I am in your bungalow right now – I will do the needful formalities and paperwork…”

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Then – I disconnected the phone.

We looked around the house.

We found empty liquor bottles lying all around – and – there were a few full bottles of Rum – and – some cheap country liquor bottles – but – conspicuous in his drawing room display case – there was a bottle of Single Malt Scotch Whisky.

“This must have been the bottle he bought for you, Sir…” the cop said.

“Yes…” I said – and – I took out the big one litre bottle of Highland Malt Whisky out of the display case.

I noticed that the inspector was looking at the bottle with a look of genuine desire.

“Come on – let’s “kill” the bottle…” I said to him.

“Sir…?” he said, confused.

“Well – my friend had got this whisky bottle for me – I was going to drink the whisky with him – but now – he is dead – so why not the both of us have a drink and talk…? Anyway – we have to kill a few hours till morning – you like “Single Malt” don’t you…?” I said to him.

“Yes, Sir – I tasted it once – at a party…” he said, “Sir – I will get some glasses from the kitchen…”

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We sat on the sofa – sipping the Dead Man’s Whisky.

“Sir – what is the exact story of the “Dead Man”…?” the cop asked me.

“I told you – we were together in the Air Force – and – he was an ace fighter pilot – doing very well in his career – we were sure he would reach high rank – and then – one day – he suddenly resigned and left the Air Force…” I said.

“Resigned…? Why…?” the cop asked me.

“Yes – he quit when he was at his best – just when his career was taking off – for the sake of his children’s education…” I said.

“Sir – are you saying that he quit the Air Force for his “children’s education”…?” the cop asked.

“Yes. He had two sons – I think one was in the 9^th and the younger was in the 7^th class – and – he wanted them to be in the best school in Pune so that could prepare well for the IIT Entrance Exam. In those days – airbases were quite desolate – located at remote places which did not have good schooling facilities – and – there were no coaching facilities for IIT and other such competitive exams…” I said.

“Sir – he could have sent his wife and kids to Pune – and – he could have lived alone wherever he was posted…” the cop said.

“He did that – he lived as a “bachelor” in the officers’ mess for some time – but – once you get used to family life – it is difficult to live alone – and – his wife kept nagging him to quit the Air Force and come and stay with them – as she was finding it difficult to manage the two teenage boys alone. Also – his wife wanted him to supervise their children’s studies – as I told you – his main aim was that both his sons get into IIT – so – he was willing to do anything to achieve this aim…” I said.

“So – he quit the Air Force at the prime of his career…?” the cop said.

“Yes – in a nutshell – he gave up his career for the sake of his children…” I said.

“And, Sir – what about his children – did they do well in studies…?” the cop asked.

“His children did well – both got into IIT. His efforts had borne fruit – he had totally dedicated his life for his children – for 5 years – till his younger son finished his 12^thand gave the IIT exam – for all these 5 years – he did not take up a job – but – he focused full-time on his children’s studies…” I said.

“He was a doting father…!” the cop said.

“Yes – he was more than a “doting” father – he sacrificed his career for the sake of his children…” I said.

“And his children – they did well – didn’t they…?” the cop said.

“Yes – both his sons did well at IIT and got excellent grades. Then – like most IIT graduates do – both his kids went abroad to America for higher studies and they settled down permanently in the US…” I said.

“And your friend…? What did he do…?” the cop asked me.

“He tried to get a job – but couldn’t get a decent job…” I said.

“You said that he was an “ace” pilot – surely – he could have joined the airlines…” the cop said.

“Sadly – there was a glut of civil pilots at that time – besides – he was a fighter pilot – and – the civil airlines prefer transport pilots…” I said.

“That’s sad…” the cop said.

“Yes – that is the time he started regretting leaving the Air Force – he was unemployed – he felt humiliated at being treated as “good for nothing” in the civilian world – whereas he saw all of us who had remained behind in the Air Force – we were doing well in our Air Force careers and reaching high rank…” I said.

“It must have been depressing – you said he was a “flying trophy winner” – the best in his batch – it must have been terrible for him – he must have felt like a man lying in a gutter watching others climbing mountains…” the cop said.

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I smiled at the metaphor:

“lying in a gutter watching others climbing mountains”.

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Alcohol seemed to be unleashing creativity in the cop.

I wondered whether it was a coincidence that he had used the metaphoric example of a “gutter” – because – my friend – the dead man – he had actually been found lying in a gutter.

I decided to cut the story short.

Why speak ill about a dead man…?

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So – I said:

“Well – to put it in a nutshell – things went downhill after that – maybe because of his frustration – he started drinking heavily.

Meanwhile his sons got married and had kids – and – his wife kept going to her children in America for long durations abroad for “nanny” duties – and – maybe because of loneliness – he started drinking even more…”

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“Sir – he could have gone to America…” the cop said.

“He did go to America – but then – maybe because of his drinking – his children did not want him there for long – so – he would come back – and – his wife would stay on for months…” I said.

“Sad – to be unwanted by the same children for whom he had sacrificed his career…” the cop said.

“Yes – and then – things got even worse – there were all sorts of sordid rumours that he was seen in unsavoury company…” I said.

“Oh – so that explains why he was found in the “red light area”…” the cop said.

“His wife must have heard about his sordid affairs – so – she abandoned him here – and – she went to live permanently live with her children in the US…” I said.

“It must have broken him – poor man – it must have been very sad…” the cop said.

“A sad end to a good man…” I said.

I finished off the whisky in my glass.

It looked at my watch – it was almost 5 AM.

So – I said to the inspector:

“Shall we go…? It’s almost morning…”

“Yes, Sir…” the cop said, “I will just check up with the doctors…”

The police inspector made a call – he spoke for some time – and then – he said to me:

“Sir – everything is okay – death was due to “cirrhosis of liver” – we can take the body now…”

“That’s good…” I said.

“Sir – “Vaikunth” or “Kailas” – which crematorium do you prefer – I will tell them to make the cremation pass accordingly…” the police inspector asked me.

“Wherever you want – and – I don’t want any rituals – let’s keep it to the bare minimum – I want to get over with his cremation as fast as possible…” I said.

“You are right, Sir – if his own wife and children are not even interested in seeing him for one last time – why should we bother about having rituals and ceremonies…?” the cop said – and – once again – he spoke on his mobile phone.

“Sir – shall we go…?” the cop said.

I got up from the sofa.

The cop picked up the Whisky Bottle – and – he said to me:

“Sir – the “Dead Man’s Whisky” – there is still plenty of whisky left in the bottle…”

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I looked at the cop and remaining whisky in the bottle.

“You keep the bottle…” I said to the cop.

The cop looked at me – and – he said to me:

“No, Sir – I think you should keep the “Dead Man’s Whisky” – as a token of remembrance of your friend…”

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He gave me the bottle of whisky – the “Dead Man’s Whisky”.

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EPILOGUE

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So – I took the bottle of Whisky with me.

But – I didn’t finish off the bottle.

I kept the bottle of the “Dead Man’s Whisky” on my writing table – as a souvenir – a reminder – and – I promised myself – that I would not touch the bottle the whisky till I wrote this story and posted it on my blog.

And – now that I have done so – now that I have written this story – I think I deserve to finish off the “Dead Man’s Whisky”.

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Dear Reader – I am feeling sad – as I pour myself a drink of the “Dead Man’s Whisky”…

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VIKRAM KARVE

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.
E&OE

Copyright Notice:

Link to my original post in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve:http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2017/02/the-dead-mans-whisky-fiction-short-story.html

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Posted in writing | Tags: alcoholism, blog, career, children, divorce, failure, family, fiction, life, marriage, online, parenting, story, veteran, writing | Leave a Comment »

Work From Home (WFH)

March 26, 2024

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COVID LOCKDOWN FICTION

STORY BY VIKRAM KARVE

WORK FROM HOME (WFH)

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WFH – WORK FROM HOME

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In the IT Software Sector – Work From Home (WFH) had become the norm during COVID Lockdown – and even later – when the lockdown was lifted – employees of many IT Software Firms are still working from home.

The COVID Pandemic started in Feb/March 2020 and lasted for around 2 years.

Today – COVID is a distant memory – and – life is back to normal – and – everyone is working in their workplaces – but still – as far as the IT Software Sector is concerned – the COVID Lockdown hangover remains – and – some pampered “IT Nerds” – aka – “Techies” are still working from home – and some are refusing to work from office and insisting on working from home.

It seems Work From Home (WFH) has become an addiction for a few “Techies”.

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I wrote this story four years ago in May 2020 when COVID Lockdown was relaxed a bit and employers were permitted to ask a small percentage of employees to work from office (“Mission Begin Again”)

“Mission Begin Again” comprised the easing of restrictions and gradual “un-lockdown” in a selective manner.

However – even after “Mission Begin Again” was announced – most “IT Nerds” – aka – “Techies” – they continued to work from home – and – with very few working from office.

Here is a story on “Work From Home” from those COVID days when limited “Work-From-Office” started for very few employees – but most “Techies” still had to work from home.

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WORK FROM HOME

Story By Vikram Karve

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Pune – circa May 2020

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Two “IT Nerds” – a “Techie” Couple – Nisha and Nikhil – Wife and Husband – Software Professionals – they both work for a famous IT Company.

Nisha and Nikhil are both “Working from Home” for over one and half months after the “COVID Lockdown” was announced due to the Corona Virus Scare.

Since they live in a “Joint Family” with Nikhil’s parents – Nisha and Nikhil have to work in the bedroom – so – Nikhil works with his laptop on the solitary work-table – while Nisha sits on the bed with her laptop.

Nisha’s mother-in-law is forever watching TV in the living room – while her father-in-law sits in the “master bedroom” reading books to pass his time during the “lockdown”.

One afternoon – when Nisha and Nikhil are busy working in their bedroom – Nikhil suddenly gives Nisha the news that their office is opening.

“Office is opening tomorrow…” Nikhil says to Nisha.

“What…? Office is opening…? How do you know…? Nisha says.

“I just got an email from HR…” Nikhil says.

“Email…?” Nisha asks.

“Yes – the email came just a few moments ago. You must have got one too. Why don’t you check…?” Nikhil says.

“I’ll just check…” Nisha says.

Nisha checks her email – there is no email from HR.

So – Nisha looks at her husband Nikhil and tells him.

“I checked my email. There is no email from HR…” Nisha says to her husband Nikhil.

“Oh. You may get the mail after some time. It’s quite a long email – lots of instructions about Corona Virus Precautions, Social Distancing at Work, Sanitizing Hygiene etc. – everyone has to come by bus – only 15 per bus – they have allotted me a bus and seat…” Nikhil says.

“Can you forward the email to me…?” Nisha says to Nikhil.

“Of course…” Nikhil says – and he forwards the email to Nisha.

Nisha reads the elaborate email – and then – she speaks to Nikhil.

“I wonder why they didn’t send the email to me…?” Nisha says to Nikhil.

“It says that only 33% of the employees can work in office – so – they must have called the important people…” Nikhil says.

The male chauvinistic nuance is not lost on Nisha.

She knows that her husband has a typical male superiority complex.

But – does her Team Leader feel that she is less important than her husband…?

Is that why her husband has been called to office and she has been asked to stay at home…?

Or – is it something worse…?

Is she going to be made redundant – or even fired – once this “lockdown” is completely lifted…?

There were rumors on the Social Media that IT Companies are going to cut costs and downsize to cope with the losses during the COVID-19 Lockdown and its aftermath.

Will she lose her job…?

Even if she doesn’t lose he job – will she have to work from home forever – while her husband goes to office every day…?

All sorts of thoughts perambulate in her brain.

Nisha can’t concentrate on her work anymore.

She shuts her laptop and gets up.

“What happened…?” her husband Nikhil asks her.

“I am going to the balcony to get fresh air…” Nisha says.

Nisha picks up her smartphone and walks to the door.

Nisha goes out of her bedroom into the living room – on her way to the balcony.

Her mother-in-law is sitting on the sofa and watching TV – which she does the whole day – lockdown – or no lockdown.

The moment her mother-in-law sees Nisha – she calls out to Nisha.

“I was waiting for you to come out. Make some tea for me – I am dying for a cup of tea…” Nisha’s mother-in-law says to Nisha.

“I have an important call to make. I will make you tea after that…” Nisha says to her mother-in-law – and – Nisha walks towards the balcony.

“Just look at her arrogance…!” her mother-in-law mumbles, “She thinks she is a “Maharani”…”

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Nisha ignores the taunt of her mother-in-law – walks into the balcony – and – she closes the glass sliding door since she doesn’t want her mother-in-law to snoop on her telephonic conversation.

First – she calls up her friend in HR and tells her about not receiving the email to come to office.

Her friend in HR explains to Nisha.

“Only those working on certain projects have been called to office…” her friend in HR says, “the rest can work from home…”

“But my husband and I – we both work in the same team – and he has been called to office – and – I haven’t been called – why…?” Nisha says.

“Well – please ask your Team Leader…” her friend in HR says, “Team Leaders send the names to us and we just send emails and make arrangements for transportation and the necessary corona hygiene precautions…”

“Thank you…” Nisha says to her friend in HR.

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Nisha does not want to speak to her Team Leader on this issue – especially – Nisha doesn’t want to tell the Team Leader the reasons why she doesn’t want to work from home.

If her Team Leader was a man – maybe Nisha would have spoken to him – but – her Team Leader is a woman – and an extremely gossipy woman – she is an incorrigible flirt – and Nisha suspects that the Team Leader has a “glad eye” on Nisha’s husband.

Is that why she has called him to office and ensured that Nisha remains at home…?

There is turmoil inside Nisha’s brain – she doesn’t want to work from home – especially when her husband will be working from office.

What should she do…?

Who should she talk to…?

Who will understand her problem…?

Who can solve her problem…?

And – most importantly – who will be discreet about it…?

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Suddenly – an idea come to Nisha.

Nisha decides to call the big boss – the CEO of the IT Company.

She remembers her CEO saying that every employee is free to speak to him on any issue and his doors are always open.

It is time to see whether he means what he says.

At the worst – the CEO may get annoyed – but Nisha feels the matter is urgent and requires a quick decision – so – under the circumstances – speaking to the CEO is the best option.

Otherwise – she would have to stay at home whole day – while her husband would be in office – and this – she doesn’t want to do.

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Nisha searches for her CEO’s mobile number on her smartphone.

Then – she thinks for a moment.

Calling the CEO directly may be too rude.

So – Nisha decides to send him an email – requesting a suitable time to call and speak to him.

She types the email to her CEO on her smartphone – wording it carefully – saying that she wishes to urgently speak to the CEO on a personal problem – requesting a convenient time to call – and she gives her details and mobile number at the end of the email.

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Then – Nisha waits for the reply to her email.

She makes tea for her mother-in-law – and then – she goes inside her room and starts working on her laptop.

Nisha keeps checking her email – but there is no reply from the CEO.

Suddenly – her smartphone starts vibrating.

She looks at the screen – it is an unknown number.

Maybe it is the CEO calling – Nisha thinks – so she accepts the call and says: “Hello…”

The person calling identifies himself – yes – it is the CEO.

Nisha misses a heartbeat – then she recovers her wits – and stammers into the phone: “Hello, Sir. Just a moment, Sir…” – and she decides to go to the balcony.

Nisha doesn’t want to talk to the CEO in front of her husband.

She quickly goes to the balcony – and apologises to the CEO.

“Sorry, Sir – to keep you waiting…” Nisha says to the CEO

“That’s okay – what is the matter…?” the CEO says, “I saw your email – so I have checked all your details – now just quickly tell me your problem…”

“Sir – my husband also works in the same team. He has been asked to come to office tomorrow…” Nisha says.

“I know…” the CEO says, “I approved the final list…”

“Sir – I also want to work from office…” Nisha says.

“You want to work from office…? Why is that…? Aren’t you happy working from home…?” the CEO asks Nisha.

“No, Sir – I am not comfortable working from home…” Nisha says.

“Comfortable…? You are not comfortable working from home…? Well that isn’t a convincing reason…” the CEO says.

“Personal reasons, Sir…” Nisha says.

“That won’t do. You’ll have to give some proper reason…” the CEO says.

“It’s quite embarrassing for me to say…” Nisha says.

“You can tell me in strict confidence…” the CEO says.

“Sir – I live in a joint family. When my husband goes to office from tomorrow – I will be working from home – my mother-in-law – she will harass me, Sir…” Nisha says.

“Please be serious and stop wasting my time…” the CEO says with irritation in his voice.

“Sir – my father-in-law – his intentions are not honorable – he has his lecherous eyes on me – I am scared of him – when I am alone – he tries to get close and behaves in an inappropriate manner – my mother-in-law looks the other way – I can’t tell my husband because he won’t believe me – and – with my husband away in office – I will be all alone in my room – Sir – please try to understand…” Nisha says in a pleading voice.

“Okay – Okay – I’ll see what I can do…” the CEO says, “but there are restrictions on the number of people we can call to office – we can’t call more than 33% of the employees. So – if we call you to office – since both of you are on the same team – we will swap you with your husband – and – your husband may have to work from home…”

“Thank you so much, Sir – I will come to office – my husband will work from home…” Nisha says, “I am so grateful to you, Sir…”

“It’s okay…” the CEO says, “You come and see me sometime – my doors are always open…”

“Yes, Sir – Thank you, Sir…” Nisha says – but the CEO has already disconnected the call.

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One hour later – Nisha gets an elaborate email asking her to come to office the next morning.

And – Nisha’s husband Nikhil – he gets a short email asking him to continue working from home.

Surprised – Nisha’s husband Nikhil – he calls up the Team Leader – but the Team Leader says that says that the instructions for the swap came from the “Top” – she can’t do anything about it – and she would give him his “work from home” instructions next morning.

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At night – when they are in bed – Nisha’s husband – Nikhil – he grumbles to Nisha.

Nisha’s husband – Nikhil – he says:

“This is nonsense…!!!

They want you to go to office – and – I have to work from home.

How will I manage…?

There is no maid – no cook – no house-help – due to this painful “lockdown”.

Who is going to cook lunch – wash the dishes – do the housework – go down to the store to get milk, foodstuffs and vegetables…?

You know that my mother does nothing except watch TV – and my father just sits in his room reading books.

I don’t know how I am going to manage all this housework – plus – work from home – all day…”

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Nisha’s husband Nikhil – he keeps complaining and grumbling.

With his wife Nisha working from office – he is going to have a tough time – working from home – and also doing all the housework.

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Next morning – with a mask on her face – and – a spring in her step – Nisha walks to the company bus stop near her apartment – on her way to work from office.

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VIKRAM KARVE

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.
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.
E&OE

Copyright Notice:

Link to my source blog posts in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2020/05/work-from-home.html

This story is also posted in my writing blog at: https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/12/29/work-from-home/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/05/07/work-from-home-a-lockdown-story/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/03/20/work-from-home-wfh-a-story/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/05/06/wfh-work-from-home/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2023/06/12/covid-lockdown-fiction-wfh-work-from-home/ etc

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Posted in writing | Tags: blog, children, covid, family, fiction, health, humor, india, life, lockdown, love, management, marriage, office, online, parenting, pune, reading, relationships, romance, story, stress, techies, wfh, work, workfromhome, writing | Leave a Comment »

“Trial Divorce”

March 2, 2024

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TRIAL DIVORCE

STORY BY VIKRAM KARVE

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I looked at the lock on the door.

It was the same lock.

My husband hadn’t bothered to change the lock.

Why should he have…?

He probably didn’t realize that I had a key.

Or maybe — he knew.

When I had left — 3 months ago — I hadn’t given him the house-key that I normally kept in my purse.

He hadn’t asked for the key.

Maybe — he had forgotten.

Or maybe — he wanted me to have the key.

I inserted the key in the lock and turned the key.

The lock opened.

I slid the door handle and opened the door.

I shouldn’t have opened the door to his flat.

In fact — I shouldn’t have come to his flat at all.

It was a violation of our “contract”.

I had broken the cardinal rule of our “Trial Divorce” agreement.

We had agreed that we — my Husband and I — we would remain absolutely “incommunicado”– for six months.

Yes — we had promised to each other — that — for a full 6 months — we would remain out of each other’s lives — totally out of contact — offline and online.

And then — if our “Trial Divorce” was “successful” — we would take a final decision.

Actually — I had no intention of breaking the “Trial Divorce” pact.

It had happened due to sheer chance — serendipity.

I had not planned to stay in this city.

I was just passing through — in transit — but my flight was delayed — and — I missed my connecting flight — so — they booked me on the next flight to my destination.

This flight was scheduled to leave after 12 hours — late in the evening — so — they took me to a hotel to relax for the day.

Believe it or not — but — coincidentally — my husband’s house was located right opposite the hotel.

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(Technically — it was still my house too — since I had not formally divorced my husband)

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Through my hotel window — I could see the balcony of our flat.

I could not resist the temptation.

It was 10 o’clock in the morning.

And — it was a Wednesday.

Most likely — my husband wouldn’t be home.

He would have left for office before 9 AM — and — he would return late in the evening.

And suppose he was home…?

Well — I decided to take a chance.

I could always check the lock on the door — and — if the door was unlocked — I would rush back.

I opened my purse — the house key was there — in the inside pocket — where I had kept it three months ago — when I had left my husband’s house.

I thought about it.

If he wasn’t home — I wouldn’t meet him — so — strictly speaking — it wouldn’t be a “breach” of our “Trial Divorce” contract — since — there would be no “contact” between him and me.

So — I walked across the street — I took the lift to our flat.

I was relieved to see — that the house was locked — and my husband was not at home.

I opened the lock — I entered the house — and — I looked around the living room.

It was exactly as I had left it — three months ago.

Everything was “spick and span” — as always.

He liked “spit and polish” — and everything was clean, dusted and shining.

I walked towards the bedroom.

I opened the bedroom door.

I looked around the bedroom.

The room — the bed — everything was neat and tidy — as before.

I opened the cupboard.

Everything was in its right place.

Of course — my clothes racks were empty.

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(since I had taken all my clothes with me when I had left)

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And — in their place — he had put his shirts there — neatly folded.

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I checked the bathrooms — absolutely spotless and clean.

It was evident that he was living all alone.

There was no “scent” of a woman.

He was in love with his loneliness.

He did not want his loneliness to be “polluted”.

Yes — he had kept his loneliness absolutely pure — idyllic — blissful.

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I closed the bedroom door.

I went into the kitchen.

Everything was in its place.

Utensils had been washed and neatly stacked.

He liked to cook his own food.

He did all the house work himself.

And — it was obvious — that he was doing so now.

Nothing had changed.

I thought about it.

The living room, the bedroom, the kitchen — this was the home of a self-sufficient man — he did not need a wife.

I opened the fridge — the kitchen cabinets — everything neat, clean and orderly.

In the side cabinet — I saw the bottle of Single Malt Whisky.

The Whisky bottle was unopened.

It was good to see that he hadn’t started drinking again.

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(My husband had quit drinking around 10 years ago)

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He had bought the bottle of whisky from the “Duty Free” Store at the Airport after our Europe Tour six months ago.

Yes — it was on that same fateful tour when we realized that we were not “made-for-each-other”.

We always knew that we were “incompatible” — but — it was on this Europe Tour that we had our “epiphany”.

Our children had married and settled abroad — our “familial” obligations were over — we were still in our 50’s — and — it was right time for us to go our separate ways.

So — we decided to give it a try.

You must have heard of “Trial Marriage” — where a couple tries to discover whether they can live with each other.

We decided to have a “Trial Divorce” — to see whether we could live without each other.

After all — we had been married for 30 years.

And yes — the “Trial Divorce” seemed to be succeeding.

I was happy to be alone — in love with my loneliness — and — he seemed to be happy to live alone and enjoy his solitude too.

I looked at the unopened bottle of Single Malt Whisky.

I wondered why he had bought it.

Was it just to buy something “duty free” — just for the sake of it…?

Would he give the Single Malt Whisky to someone — or — would the whisky bottle keep lying there in the cabinet for eternity…?

Should I take the bottle of Single Malt Whisky with me and present it to someone…?

Maybe — he would never discover that the bottle was missing.

Or maybe — he would — and complain to the cops or something.

No — No — there was no point in stirring up his tranquil life of solitude.

Also — it would be unethical.

I closed the cabinet.

I walked out of the kitchen.

I walked across the living room.

The balcony glass-door was closed.

I looked into the balcony.

The potted plants were there — freshly watered.

He must have watered the plants in the morning before his bath — as he always did.

I went into his study.

Yes — “his” study — where no one was welcome — even I was not welcome.

I looked around his study — his “sanctum sanctorum” — immaculate — neat and tidy — “shipshape”.

Everything was in its right place.

Or — was it…?

I looked again — at his desk.

Something was “amiss”.

Yes — my photo was missing.

The Photo Frame on his Desk which had my Photo — it was missing.

I opened the drawers — searched around — but I couldn’t find my photo — the one he kept on his desk.

I rushed to the living room.

I looked at the mantelpiece.

Even that photo was missing — the photo of both of us — newly wedded husband and wife — clicked during our honeymoon.

He had removed me from his life.

He had eliminated all traces of me — even my photos.

It was clear that he did not need me in his life.

I felt relieved.

Our “Trial Divorce” had succeeded.

Now — once our mutually decided six months “Trial Divorce” period was over — we could complete the necessary formalities — to make the divorce “full and final”.

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I looked around the house for one last time.

Then — I went out of the house — locked the door — and — I walked towards my hotel.

In the evening I boarded my flight — and — I flew to my destination.

I flew back home — to my own home.

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EPILOGUE

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FOOD FOR THOUGHT

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You must have heard of “Trial Marriage” — a live-in relationship — where a couple tries to discover if they can live with each other.

On similar lines — if a married couple intends to divorce — isn’t it a good idea to have a “Trial Divorce” — to see if the divorcing spouses can comfortably live without each other…?

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VIKRAM KARVE

Disclaimer:

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.

Copyright Notice:

Link to my source post in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve:http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2018/09/trial-divorce.html

Also posted earlier in my writing blog at url: https://karve.wordpress.com/2018/09/25/trial-divorce-a-story/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2019/01/18/trial-divorce-a-good-idea/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/12/29/trial-divorce-3/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/03/20/trial-divorce-a-story-2/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/07/03/trial-divorce-4/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/02/20/trial-divorce-5/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/11/01/trial-divorce-story/ and https://vikramkarve.medium.com/trial-divorce-4244ebe42d0f etc

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Posted in writing | Tags: blog, divorce, family, humor, literature, love, marriage, online, pune, relationships, story, veteran, wisdom, writer, writing | Leave a Comment »

Lovedale : a story

January 7, 2024

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PROLOGUE

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Here is one of my earliest pieces of short fiction – LOVEDALE – a story from my collection of short stories about relationships COCKTAIL

I wrote this story sometime in the early 1990’s – after a visit to Lovedale – around 30 years ago – and it still remains one of my all time favourite stories.

The story is set in the Nilgiris – also called The “Blue Mountains”.

On the blue “toy-train” of the Nilgiri Blue Mountain Railway .

Lovedale is a story of Changing Relationships.

Yes, there is a place called Lovedale with a cute little Railway Station which is the highest Railway Station in South India, and maybe in India.

I have lived in Lovedale for 6 years in the 1960s for my schooling in a boarding school.

I wonder whether Lovedale is still the same quaint little place as it was back then.

This longish story was written be by me long ago – around 30 years ago – in old fashioned leisurely style.

I am sure you will enjoy reading this story and reflect on it too.

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Dear Reader:

Read on and tell me if you liked the story.

I look forward to your comments and feedback.

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LOVEDALE

Story By Vikram Karve

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This Story happened 54 years ago – in the year 1970

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circa – 1970

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LOVEDALE

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Lovedale.

A quaint little station on the Nilgiri Mountain Railway that runs from Mettupalayam in the plains up the Blue Mountains on a breathtaking journey to beautiful Ooty, the Queen of Hill Stations.

On Lovedale Railway Station there is just one small platform – and on it – towards its southern end – there is a solitary bench.

If you sit on this bench you will see in front of you – beyond the railway track – an undulating valley, covered with eucalyptus trees – and in the distance – the silhouette of a huge structure – which looks like a castle – with an impressive clock-tower.

In this mighty building is located a famous boarding school – one of the best schools in India.

Many such “elite” schools are known more for snob value than academic achievements – but this one is different – it is a prestigious public school famous for its rich heritage and tradition of excellence.

Lovedale – in 1970.

That is all there is in Lovedale – this famous public school, a small tea-estate called Lovedale (from which this place got its name), a tiny post office – and – of course – the lonely railway platform with its solitary bench.

It’s a cold damp depressing winter morning, and since the school is closed for winter, the platform is deserted except for two people – yes, just two persons – a woman and a small girl, shivering in the morning mist, sitting on the solitary bench.

It’s almost 9 o’clock – time for the morning “toy-train” from the plains carrying tourists via Coonoor to Ooty, the “Queen” of hill-stations, just three kilometres ahead – the end of the line.

But this morning the train is late, probably because of the dense fog and the drizzle on the mountain-slopes, and it will be empty – for there are hardly any tourists in this cold and damp winter season.

“I am dying to meet mummy. And this stupid train – it’s always late…” the girl says.

The girl is dressed in her school uniform – gray blazer, thick gray woollen skirt, navy-blue stockings, freshly polished black shoes, her hair tied smartly in two small plaits with black ribbons.

The woman – 55 – maybe 60 – dressed in a white sari with a thick white shawl draped over her shoulder and a white scarf around her head covering her ears – the woman looks lovingly at the girl.

The woman softly takes the girl’s hand in her own – and – she says to the girl:

“It will come. The train will come. Look at the weather. The driver can hardly see in this mist. And it must be raining down there in Ketti valley.”

“I hate this place. It’s so cold and lonely. Everyone has gone home for the winter holidays and we have nowhere to go. Why do we have to spend our holidays here every time…?” the girl says.

“You know we can’t stay with your mummy in the hostel…” the woman says.

“But her training is over now. And she’s become an executive – that’s what she wrote…”

“Yes. Yes. Your mummy is an executive now. After two years of tough training. Very creditable – after all that has happened…” the old woman says.

“She has to take us to Mumbai with her now. We can’t stay here any longer. No more excuses now…”

“Even I don’t want to stay here. It’s cold and I am old. Let your mummy come. This time we’ll tell her to take us all to Mumbai…”

“And we’ll all stay together – like we did before God took Daddy away…”

“Yes. Mummy will go to work. You will go to school. And I will look after the house and all of you. Just like before…”

“Only Daddy won’t be there. Why did God take Daddy away…?” the girl says, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Don’t think those sad things. We cannot change what has happened. You must be brave – like your mummy…” says the old lady putting her hand softly around the girl.

The old lady closes her eyes in sadness.

There is no greater pain than to remember happier times when in distress.

Meanwhile the toy-train is meandering its way laboriously round the steep U-Curve – desperately pushed by a hissing steam engine – as the train leaves Wellington station on its way to Ketti valley.

A man and a woman sit facing each other in the tiny first class compartment.

There is no one else in the compartment.

“You must tell her today…” the man says.

“Yes…” the woman replies softly.

“You should have told her before…” the man says.

“Told her before…? How…? When…?” the woman says.

“You could have written – you could have called her up. I told you so many times…” the man says.

“How can I be so cruel…?” the woman says.

“Cruel…? What’s so cruel about it…?” the man says.

“I don’t know how she will react. She loved her father very much…” the woman says.

“Now she will have to love me. I am her new father now…” the man says.

“Yes – I know…” the woman says, tears welling up in her eyes, “I don’t know how to tell her – I don’t know how she’ll take it. I think we should wait for some time. Baby is very sensitive…” the woman says.

“Baby…!!! Why do you still call her Baby…? She is a grown up girl now. You must call her by her real name. Damayanti – what a nice name – and you call her Baby…!!!” the man says, angrily.

“It’s her pet name. Deepak always liked to call her Baby…” the woman says.

“Well I don’t like it…!!! It’s childish, ridiculous…!!!” the man says firmly, “Anyway, all that we can sort out later. But you tell her about us today. Tell both of them…” the man says.

“You want me to tell both of them right now…? My mother-in-law also…? What will she feel…? She will be shocked…!!!” the woman says.

“She will understand. Anyway – she is your ex-mother-in-law now…” the man says.

“Poor thing. She will be all alone…” the woman says.

“Stop saying “poor thing”…“poor thing”… She will be okay. She’s got her work to keep her busy…” the man says.

“She’s old and weak. I don’t think she’ll be able to do that hostel matron’s job much longer…” the woman says.

“Let her work till she can. At least it will keep her occupied. Then we’ll see…” the man says.

“Can’t we take her with us…?” the woman asks the man.

“You know it’s not possible…” the man says.

“It’s so sad. She was so good to me. Where will she go…? We can’t abandon her just like that…!” the woman says.

“Abandon…? Nobody is abandoning her. Don’t worry. If she doesn’t want to stay on here in the school in Lovedale – I’ll arrange something – I know an excellent place near Lonavala. She will be very comfortable there – it’s an ideal place for senior citizens like her…” the man says.

“You want to me to put her in an Old-Age Home…?” the woman asks the man, taken aback.

“Call it what you want – but actually – it’s quite a luxurious place. She’ll be happy there. I’ve already spoken to them. Let her continue here till she can. Then – we’ll shift her there…” the man says.

“I can’t be that cruel and heartless to my mother-in-law. She was so loving and good to me – she treated me like her own daughter – she and looked after Baby when we were devastated. And now – how can we discard her when she needs us most…?” the woman says, and starts sobbing.

“Come on, Kavita. Don’t get upset. You have to face the harsh reality. You know we can’t take your mother-in-law with us. And by the way – I told you – she is your ex-mother-in-law now…” the man says.

“How can you say that…?”

“Please, Kavita, don’t get too sentimental…you must begin a new life now…there is no point carrying the baggage of your past…” the man realizes he has said something wrong – and he instantly apologizes, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“You did mean it…!!! That’s why you said it…!!! I hate you – you are so cruel, mean and selfish…” the woman says, turns away from the man and looks out of the window.

They travel in silence – an uneasy disquieting silence.

Suddenly it is dark – as the train enters a tunnel – and as it emerges on the other side – the woman can see the vast lush green Ketti Valley with its undulating mountains in the distance.

“Listen Kavita, I think I’ll also get down with you at Lovedale. I’ll tell them. Explain everything. And get over with it once and for all…” the man says.

“No! No! I don’t even want them to see you. The sudden shock may upset them. I have to do this carefully. Please don’t get down at Lovedale. Go straight to Ooty. I’ll tell them everything – and we’ll do as we decided…” the woman says.

“I was only trying to help you, Kavita. I want to make things easier for everyone. I want to meet Damayanti. I want to tell her about us. I’m sure she’ll love me and understand everything…” the man says.

“No – please. Let me do this. I don’t want Damayanti to see you before I tell her. She is a very sensitive girl. I don’t know how she’ll react. I’ll have to do it very gently…” the woman says.

“Okay…” the man says, “Make sure you wind up everything at the school. We have to leave for Mumbai tomorrow. There is so much to be done. We’ve hardly got any time left.”

The steam engine pushing the train huffs and puffs up the slope round the bend under the bridge.

“Lovedale station is coming…” the woman says.

The woman gets up – and she takes out her bag from the shelf.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you to the school…?” asks the man.

“No. Not now. You go ahead to Ooty. I’ll ring you up…” says the woman.

“Okay. But tell them everything. We can’t wait any longer…” the man says.

“Just leave everything to me. Don’t make it more difficult…” the woman says.

They sit in silence – looking out of different windows – waiting for Lovedale railway station to come.

On the solitary bench on the platform at Lovedale Railway Station – the girl – and – her grandmother – both of them wait patiently for the train which will bring their deliverance.

“I hate it over here in boarding school. I hate the cold scary dormitories. At night I miss mummy tucking me in. And every night I count DLFMTC…” the girl says to her grandmother.

“DLFMTC… ?” her grandmother asks.

“Days Left For Mummy To Come…! Others count DLTGH – Days Left To Go Home…” the girl says.

“Next time you too…”

“No. No. I am not going to stay here in boarding school. I don’t know why we came here to this horrible place. I hate boarding school. I miss mummy so much. We could have stayed on in Mumbai with her…” the girl says.

“Now we will be all staying in Mumbai. Your mummy’s training is over. She can hire a house now. Or get a loan. We will try to buy a good house. I’ve saved some money too…” her grandmother says

The lone station-master of the forlorn Lovedale Railway Station strikes the bell outside his office.

The occupants of the solitary bench look towards their left.

There is no one else on the platform.

And suddenly the train emerges from under the bridge – pushed by the hissing steam engine.

Only one person gets down from the train – a beautiful woman, around 30.

The girl runs into her arms.

The old woman walks towards her with a welcoming smile.

The man, sitting in the train, looks furtively, cautious, careful not to be seen.

A whistle – and the train starts and moves out of Lovedale station towards Fern Hill tunnel on its way to Ooty – the end of the line.

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That evening the small girl and her granny sit near the fireplace with the girl’s mother eating dinner – and – the woman tells them everything.

Yes – the woman talks to the old woman (her mother-in-law) and the small girl (her daughter) – and – she tells them everything – from the beginning to the end – just as the man had asked her to do.

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At 12 Noon the next day – four people wait at Lovedale Railway Station for the train which comes from Ooty and goes down to the plains – the girl, her mother, her grandmother and the man.

The girl presses close to her grandmother – and – she looks at her new “father” with trepidation.

The man gives the girl a smile of forced geniality.

The old woman holds the girl tight to her body – and – she looks at the man with distaste.

The young woman looks with awe – mixed with hope – at her new husband.

They all stand in silence.

No one speaks.

Time stands still.

And suddenly – the train enters.

“I don’t want to go…” the girl cries, clinging to her grandmother.

“Don’t you want to stay with your mummy…? You hate boarding school don’t you…? ” the man says, extending his hand towards the girl.

The girl recoils and says: “No. No. I like it here. I don’t want to come. I like boarding school. I want to stay here.”

“Come Baby – we have to go…” her mother says, as tears well up in her eyes.

“What about Granny…? How will she stay here all alone…? Mummy – please don’t go. You also stay here. We all will stay here. Let this man go to Mumbai…” the girl pleads to her mother.

“Damayanti – I am your new father…” the man says firmly to the girl.

And then – the man turns to the young woman – and – he says in a commanding voice to her: “Kavita. Come. The train is going to leave…”

The old woman looks at her granddaughter – with tears in her eyes.

“Go Baby. Be a good girl. I will be okay…” the old woman says, releasing the girl.

The girl goes to her mother – the young woman called Kavita.

As her mother gently holds her arm and guides her towards the train – for the first time in her life – the girl feels that her mother’s hand is like the clasp of an iron gate – like manacles.

“I will come and meet you in Mumbai. I promise…” the grandmother says to the girl, fighting back her tears.

But – the girl feels scared – something inside tells her she that may never see her grandmother again.

As the train heads towards the plains – the old woman begins to walk her longest mile – her loneliest mile – into emptiness – a void.

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Poor old Lovedale Railway Station.

It wants to cry.

It tries to cry.

But – it cannot even a shed a tear.

Lovedale Railway Station cannot cry – because it is not human.

So it suffers its sorrow in inanimate helplessness – powerless – hapless – a silent spectator – and a mute witness.

Yes – Lovedale helplessly watches love being torn apart.

“Love being torn apart at Lovedale…”

A pity – isn’t it…?

Yes – a pity – a real pity…!!!

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VIKRAM KARVE

Disclaimer:

Copyright Notice

Link to my original post in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve:http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/09/lovedale.html

This Story was written by me in 1992 and First Posted Online by me Vikram Karve in the year 2006 in my creative writing blog at url: http://creative.sulekha.com/lovedale-a-short-story-by-vikram-karve_160343_blog and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2011/09/my-favourite-short-stories-part-41.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2012/02/lovedale-my-favourite-short-stories.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2013/07/lovedale-love-story.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2014/11/lovedale-love-story.html and https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/08/11/lovedale-a-story/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/04/12/lovedale-4/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2019/04/11/lovedale-3/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/06/16/lovedale-5/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/04/04/lovedale-6/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/11/20/lovedale-7/ etc

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Posted in writing | Tags: blog, children, family, fiction, life, literature, love, lovedale, marriage, online, parenting, reading, relationships, school, short story, story, travel, writing | Leave a Comment »

To Divorce or Not to Divorce – “CATWOE” Ethical Analysis

December 22, 2023

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TO DIVORCE – OR – NOT TO DIVORCE

Ethical Perspective

“CATWOE” Analysis by Vikram Karve

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TO DIVORCE – OR – NOT TO DIVORCE

ETHICAL PERSPECTIVE

“CATWOE” ANALYSIS by VIKRAM KARVE

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ETHICAL DECISIONMAKING

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THE STAKEHOLDER CONCEPT

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When you take a decision – do you identify all the stakeholders concerned with and affected by your decision…?

Do you consider the perspectives of all stakeholders related to the decision…?

If so – you are taking an Ethical Decision.

Here is an easy way to take Ethical Decisions – the CATWOE model.

This model can be applied universally to any type of decision – personal and professional.

As an illustrative example – I will demonstrate how the CATWOE model can be applied in taking a decision pertaining to Divorce in an Ethical manner.

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“CATWOE” MODEL

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During my professional career – I implemented many management techniques at work.

I tried my best to use the same management techniques in my personal life too.

For example – I successfully used Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) to quit smoking.

I used a Project Management Technique called “Force Field Analysis” to quit drinking – and to ensure I didn’t start smoking again.

And – I have extensively used the Soft Systems Methodology (SSM) “CATWOE” Model to help me understand and resolve many ethical dilemmas that I faced from time to time.

Dear Reader – let me explain the CATWOE Model in brief.

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CATWOE STAKEHOLDER MODEL

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SOFT SYSTEMS METHOLDOLOGY (SSM)

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The CATWOE model adapted from Soft Systems Methodology (SSM) is a useful decision-making technique in ethical situations which helps resolve ethical dilemma and helps you take an “ethical” decision.

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Ethical dilemma occurs due to mismatch in ethical perspectives of various stakeholders involved in the ethical situation.

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Every person (or entity) that is likely to be affected by your decision is a “stakeholder” with a moral claim on you (the decision-maker).

Sometimes – when you take a decision in a hurry – you don’t even realise how many “stakeholders” exist – who are going to be affected by your decision.

A CATWOE analysis will help you identify all stakeholders involved in a decision and analyse their respective ethical perspectives.

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CATWOE is an acronym to categorize various stakeholders:

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CATWOE

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C = CUSTOMERS – “CLIENTS” OF THE DECISION

A = ACTORS – “AGENTS” WHO CARRY OUT THE DECISION

T = TRANSFORMATION PROCESS – THE DECISION MAKER

W = WELTANSCHAUUNG – “WORLD VIEW” PREDOMINANTLY HELD

O = OWNERS – OWNERSHIP OF THE DECISION

E = ENVIRONMENT – ENVIRONMENTAL IMPOSITIONS

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To elaborate a bit:

C: The “customers” of the decision. In this context – ‘customers’ mean those who are on the receiving end of your decision. Is it clear from your definition of “C” – as to who primarily will gain or lose from your decision…?

A: The “actors” – meaning those who would actually carry out the activities envisaged in the implementation of the decision.

T: The “transformation process”. What does the system do to the inputs in order to convert them into the outputs…?

W: “Weltanschauung” – The “World View” pertaining to the Ethical Situation.

O: The “owner(s)” – those who have sufficient formal power to stop the decision.

E: The “environmental constraints” – in which the decision is being taken.

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DIVORCE

AN ETHICAL SITUATION

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Any time one human being intervenes in the life of another human being directly or indirectly – an ethical situation arises.

Ethical Situations are frequently charged with emotions.

When you divorce your spouse – you “intervene” in the life your spouse.

And – your children – your parents, relatives, friends etc. – they may be affected by your divorce as well.

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So:

Divorce is an “ethical situation”.

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In fact – in addition to your spouse – many others may also be affected quite severely by your divorce.

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Therefore:

There are many “stakeholders” that may be affected by your decision to divorce your spouse.

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Let us try to identify and categorize the “stakeholders” affected by a divorce.

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(Dear Reader – let me add a disclaimer that I don’t have any first-hand experience of divorce – so – this is “hypothetical” case study – an “illustrative example” – to demonstrate how to use the CATWOE model in reaching an “ethical” decision – after considering the perspectives of various of stakeholders. Also – the “stakeholders” – and their perspectives may vary in different situations)

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ETHICAL DIVORCE MADE SIMPLE

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CATWOE

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The Dramatis Personae in a Divorce and their Ethical Perspectives

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C – A – T – W – O – E

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CUSTOMERS

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The main “customers” in a divorce are the husband and wife who want to divorce.

Are both on the same page as far the decision to divorce is concerned…?

(This may be the case in amicable divorce with mutual consent)

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Or – do they have differing perspectives…?

(In which case the divorce may be contested entailing acrimonious litigation involving nasty court battles)

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Are there any other “customers” who are affected by the divorce – like children, parents, relatives etc…?

Or maybe – are there any lover(s) of the husband/wife – who are interested in the divorce – since the lover(s) want to marry the husband/wife after they get divorced…?

What are the perspectives of these “customers”…?

Do the children want their parents to divorce – or – are they opposed to it…?

What about the parents of the husband and wife – and their relatives and friends…?

What are their perspectives in this divorce situation…?

In this divorce situation – you may be either the husband – or you may be the wife – but – before you make your decision – you must introspect with vicarious empathy – and try to envisage, comprehend and appreciate the perspectives of all “customers” – both “primary” (you and your spouse) – and “secondary” (children, parents, relatives, friends, lovers etc.)

Perspectives may differ among “customers” – primary and secondary.

For example – a husband may want a divorce – but the wife may not want a divorce – and – vice versa.

Even among children, parents, relatives etc. – there may be various perspectives.

You may introspect and evaluate various perspectives – and assess whether they are “justified” or not.

As far as the main “customers” (husband/wife) are concerned – there are two types of divorce:

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1. “Pull” Divorce

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In “Pull” Divorce – your attraction for someone else is the reason why you want to divorce your spouse – in order to enable you to marry and cohabit with your “lover”.

You are “pulled” out of your marriage by external attraction.

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2. “Push” Divorce

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In “Push” Divorce – some internal marital issues are “pushing” you out of your marriage – incompatibility issues, infidelity, cruelty, abuse, insanity, impotence, alcoholism of spouse etc. – which are causing irretrievable breakdown of your marital relationship – and “pushing” you out of marriage.

You are “pushed” out of your marriage due to internal marital problems with your spouse (or his/her family).

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You must ask yourself:

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Is your divorce – a “pull” divorce – or – a “push” divorce…?

__________

Are you being “pulled” out of your marriage…?

Or – are you being “pushed” out of your marriage…?

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Think about it.

Do you really want to breakup your marriage…?

__________

Think about all the other “customers” and their perspectives – before you take a decision.

In one case of “amicable” divorce by mutual consent – the divorcing parents did not anticipate the extent to which their teenage daughter would get upset by their divorce – the daughter became rebellious and wayward and took to drugs and was psychologically scarred for life.

In another case – the mother (of the divorced wife) went on a guilt trip and blamed herself for the divorce of her daughter – thinking that she hadn’t brought up her daughter well.

Where the marriage is an arranged marriage – the parents of the divorced couple may get upset.

Remember – there are a lot of “customers” who will be affected by your decision to divorce – and – there may be a lot of “collateral damage” because of your divorce.

So – you must take a soft holistic “systemic” view – before you take a final decision.

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ACTORS

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Actors include all the persons/agencies involved in the divorce process – counsellors, lawyers, family courts etc.

They too have their own perspectives.

For Example – a marriage counsellor may try to “save” the marriage.

Divorce Lawyers will try to “win” the case and get the best “deal and maximum “benefits” for their “client”.

The Family Court will have a “legal” perspective.

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TRANSFORMATION PROCESS

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This is the process which “transforms” a marriage into a divorce – the lawful procedure to split the legal bond between husband and wife.

Different countries and different religions may have different divorce procedures.

You have to consider the perspectives of the “transformation process” – under which law were you married – on what grounds are you seeking divorce – various aspects like alimony/maintenance, property distribution, children’s custody etc.

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WELTANSCHAUUNG

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Weltanschauung (World View) on Divorce will vary depending on the prevailing culture of the society to which you belong or the place you live in.

In “modern” societies – divorce is easily acceptable – and indeed – a part of life.

In “conservative” societies – divorce may carry a “stigma” – not only for the divorcees – but for their children, parents, siblings, relatives and friends of the divorcees as well.

In “dogmatic” societies – perspectives may be even more rigid, harsh and unsympathetic – maybe gender-biased too – and divorcees may even be “ostracized”.

Before you take a decision to divorce – you must consider the Weltanschauung (World View) on how divorce is perceived in your society – and introspect on the likely social ramifications of divorce – and – once you take a decision to divorce – you must be prepared for the repercussions.

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(As an aside – you may be surprised to know this – but – many years ago – in the “cantonment culture” of the military – divorce was frowned upon.

Maybe – this was due to the vestiges of the “Victorian” culture of the colonial days of the British Raj…)

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OWNER

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The “owner” is the entity who has the formal power to stop the divorce.

This depends on place to place.

Can courts stop a divorce…?

In ethnic societies – can community leaders stop a divorce…?

In some countries – can religious authorities stop a divorce…?

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I request experts to please throw some light on this aspect – about – who has the formal power and authority to stop a divorce.

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ENVIRONMENTAL CONSTRAINTS and IMPOSITIONS

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Do you live in a modern urban metropolis or cosmopolitan city…?

Or – do you live in the “mofussil” – in a rural town or village…?

Do you live in a Joint Family…?

Or – are you a Nuclear Family living all by yourself…?

Are you financially independent…?

Is your environment safe for a divorced “single” person…?

Which country do you live in…?

Well – though “Environment” may be linked to “Weltanschauung” (World View) – there is a slight difference.

Weltanschauung (World View) is connected with “culture” – whereas – Environmental Constraints encompass other “administrative” aspects and support systems for day-to-day “ease of living” – especially for divorcees and single parent families.

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TO DIVORCE or NOT TO DIVORCE

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Once you have identified and categorized all “stakeholders” affected by your decision to divorce – and analyzed their perspectives – you will now be better equipped to take an ethical and informed decision on divorce – and decide whether:

TO DIVORCE – or – NOT TO DIVORCE

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Dear Reader:

I would love to hear your views and feedback.

Please comment here on my Blog – or on Social Media (Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn etc.)

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VIKRAM KARVE

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.
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.
E&OE

Copyright Notice:

Link to my source post in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: https://karvediat.blogspot.com/2020/03/ethical-divorce-made-simple-catwoe-model.html

This article has also been posted earlier in this blog (my writing blog) at url: https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/03/13/ethics-and-divorce-catwoe-model/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/07/27/how-to-divorce-ethically/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2020/11/19/catwoe-model-for-ethical-decision-making/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/01/27/to-divorce-or-not-to-divorce-ethics-model/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2021/12/08/to-divorce-or-not-to-divorce-ethical-perspective/ and https://vikramkarve.medium.com/to-divorce-or-not-to-divorce-the-ethical-aspect-ec04ce8b5f9f and https://karve.wordpress.com/2022/09/21/to-divorce-or-not-to-divorce-an-ethical-perspective/ etc

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Posted in writing | Tags: analysis, blog, catwoe, children, counselling, decision, divorce, ethics, family, HR, management, marriage, model, online, parents, reading, selfhelp, stakeholders, therapy, wisdom, writing | Leave a Comment »

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Vikram Karve

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To Divorce or Not to Divorce – “CATWOE” Ethical Analysis

VIKRAM KARVE

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