I am posting this story about Sherry on the occasion of National Pet Day.
Sherry was born on the 9th of April 2006.
Sherry passed away to her heavenly abode seven years ago on the 17th of December 2014.
Here is the obituary I posted one day after she passed away — on 18 December 2014.
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RIP Sherry Karve (09 April 2006–17 December 2014)
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With profound grief in our hearts we regret to inform you of the sad demise of our beloved pet dog Sherry who passed away this morning and went to her heavenly abode.
To us — Sherry was much more than a pet — she was our daughter.
Sherry entered our lives as a baby in 2006 — she was our constant companion and showered us with love, joy and loyalty.
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As far as I was concerned, my life can be divided into 3 parts:
1. Life before Sherry
2. Life with Sherry
3. And now — there will be Life without Sherry
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Yes, for me — there was life before Sherry — life with Sherry — and now — there will be life without Sherry.
Thank You Sherry — for the immense love and happiness you gave us — for all those unforgettable moments of joy.
You have crossed the Rainbow Bridge — and I know you will wait for me — and when I come — you will welcome me with your trademark welcome bark and a vigorous wag of your tail.
We pray that may your soul rest in peace.
RIP Sherry Karve (09 April 2006–17 December 2014)
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MEMORIES OF SHERRY
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Here is a blog post I wrote on the 9th of April 2014 — Sherry’s Birthday — just 8 months before he passed away to her heavenly abode on the 17th of December 2014.
I miss Sherry — she brought so much happiness and joy in my life — and she kept me physically fit.
Yes — when Sherry was alive — I never fell ill even for a single day — since — every morning and evening — I had to take her out for long walks and had to play with her — first — when she was a puppy and in her growing up years in Aundh Camp on the grounds on the banks of the Mula where we would chase birds — later — up the hills of Girinagar overlooking Khadakwasla lake — and — finally — all over Wakad — especially on the verdant spacious lawns on the Mula Riverside Park.
Now — I have become lazy — and — this has affected my fitness — so — I must revitalize myself — and — start my super-long walks again — at least — as a remembrance to Sherry.
Sherry kept me emotionally fit too — especially in my lonely retirement days — and — even before that — when I lived all alone in a desolate “Bhoot Bangla” in hills of Girinagar — since — Sherry was always ready to “talk” to me — and she was always eager to listen to what I had to say.
I have two human children — but both of them love their mother (my wife) much more than they love me.
But — Sherry made her loyalties crystal clear — and to her — I was both mother and father.
Sherry was always by my side — trying to protect me — and many (including my wife) — have been at the receiving end of her displeasure — when they tried to approach me in a menacing manner — or if came too close for comfort.
One thing is sure — my wife may be better at parenting human children — but I am unsurpassed at “pet parenting”.
I am a short tempered person — and — whenever I scolded my human children — they would sulk for days — but — if I shouted at Sherry — she would immediately come to me in a loving manner to be cuddled.
I could see — and — everyone could see — that Sherry truly loved me — and — I dearly loved her too.
As a remembrance — I am reposting a story about Sherry which I had posted 10 years ago — on April 9, 2014 — Sherry’s 8th birthday.
(I wrote this on Sherry’s 8th Birthday — her last Birthday on Earth — she crossed the Rainbow Bridge on 17 December 2014)
Dear Sherry: You may not be physically with me — but you will always have the most special place in my heart.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHERRY KARVE
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(A loving accolade from Sherry’s human father Vikram Karve)
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Sherry on guard outside her grandfather’s home
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NB:
This story was written in the year 2014 — on the 9th of April 2014 — to be precise.
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Today — the 9th of April 2014 — is Sherry’s Birthday.
She is 8 years old.
Sherry was born on 09 April 2006.
And — since they say that one dog year is equal to eight human years — 8 dog years is 56 human years (8×7= 56).
So — Sherry is 56 human years today (April 9, 2014)
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Ever since she fortuitously — and most unexpectedly — came into my life — Sherry has occupied the prime place in my heart — and she has become my favourite child (my human children are envious about this) — and even my wife says that I love Sherry more than her (which may be true).
As I said — Sherry suddenly came into my life out of the blue — most unexpectedly.
Being in the Navy — I had no intention of keeping a pet dog.
If you are in the Army — it is easy to keep a pet dog.
The Army is a dog-friendly service and encourages officers to keep pet dogs.
They even provide a “sahayak” who can look after your dog — if you don’t have the time or energy.
Even bachelors can keep dogs — because pet dogs are allowed in army officers’ messes — and there is always the ubiquitous “sahayak”.
I have seen that when Army Officers go on leave — they leave their pet dog behind with the “sahayak”.
In contrast — in the Navy — it is difficult to keep a dog.
Firstly — you or your wife will have to look after your dog yourself — there is no “sahayak” in the Navy.
Secondly — in the Navy — married accommodation is scarce — and even when you get accommodation — you will get a flat in a multi-storey high-rise building — and this accommodation is not very convenient for keeping pet dogs.
Thirdly — Navy Bachelors cannot keep dogs — since dogs are not allowed onboard ships — in fact — pet dogs are not allowed in most shore based Officers’ Messes too, like the Command Messes at Mumbai and Vizag.
So — as a bachelor — I could not keep a pet dog.
Then — I got married to a nice girl and we had babies.
All our babies entered our lives unplanned.
We got our first baby a few days after our wedding.
Now please don’t let your imagination run wild.
Our first baby was a “canine daughter” — a cute little cuddly snow-white “ball-of-wool” Lhasa Apso puppy girl gifted to us during our honeymoon in the hills.
We promptly named her Sherry — meaning “Beloved”.
Everyone was aghast that we had got a pet dog immediately after our marriage — and — that too into our tiny one-room flat at Curzon Road Apartments in New Delhi.
Most of our friends and relatives did not recommend having a pet when we were just starting our new married life together — especially since it was an arranged marriage — and husband and wife needed time together to get to know each other better.
“Wouldn’t the pet dog ruin all the fun and romance you newlyweds are supposed to enjoy during the blossoming days of our marriage?” my mother-in-law asked.
“A pet dog is a big encumbrance,” my mother said, “You’ll be tied down to the house and won’t be able to go anywhere.”
All these fears were totally unfounded.
Far from being an encumbrance — Sherry filled our lives with fun, delightful joy and happiness — and she enlivened those early days of our marital relationship.
My newlywed wife and I were like strangers — quite incompatible — with differing tastes and lifestyles — and it was Sherry who was the cementing bond of our marital relationship.
In fact the only thing my wife and I had in common was that we were both ardent dog lovers.
In due course — with nature taking its own course — we had our two human babies — a son and a daughter — but Sherry still remained the apple of our eyes till in the year 1987 — she passed away one sad evening — dying at my feet after her evening walk.
We were so distraught and heartbroken at the loss of our pet that we vowed to never have a pet dog again.
Towards the end of my naval career — I was lucky to be posted to an inter-service organization located in an army style “cantonment” near Pune — and was allotted “bungalow” type accommodation with plenty of space around — a spacious garden in front and lots of space behind too.
However — as I said — we had no intention of keeping a pet dog.
Sherry came into my life by sheer coincidence, or shall I say serendipity.
In April 2006 — my much-married darling wife, at the spur of the moment, accompanied her sister to the bungalow of an acquaintance in Pune.
There she chanced upon a majestic Doberman mother who had given birth to a large litter of eleven pups just a few days ago.
Most of the pups were healthy, handsome and smart and were already sold or booked by discerning dog lovers.
Suddenly my wife noticed a sickly, ugly, emaciated, weakling puppy lying distraught and hapless.
The small baby puppy was being pushed away by her strong aggressive siblings whenever she tried get close to her mother’s nipple, trying to feed herself.
“She is the last of the litter — the eleventh pup — the “runt of the litter” — and it looks like she will die as she can’t feed herself from her mother. Even if she lives — we will have to get rid of her — dispose her off — we will leave her somewhere to fend for herself — because no one will take her,” the owner said.
My wife was overcome by a flood of compassion.
She picked up the feeble baby puppy in her soft hands, and said: “I’ll take her.”
“Are you crazy? How can you just pick up a puppy dog and take her home?” my wife’s sister asked her, “Have you asked your husband?”
“I don’t have to ask my husband — I don’t need to,” my wife said with confidence.
Then — my wife brought the scrawny little creature straight home — and deposited her in my hands.
“Sherry!” I said holding the frail, terrified, shivering puppy dog — and my wife nodded in agreement.
I rushed to the market — and bought a feeding bottle.
Soon — Sherry was drinking warm milk cuddled up in my hands.
With the nourishment of love — Sherry blossomed — and soon became the “apple of our eye” — and — Sherry added a new zest and joy in our lives.
When our children grew up and flew away from the “nest” — and are busy with their careers and lives — it was our canine daughter Sherry who brightened up our lives and filled up our empty nest.
Oh, Yes — as my kids say — Sherry is my favourite child.
My wife was quite busy with her job — so I have become the “de-facto” mother and father to Sherry — since my office was nearby — and we had easy working hours.
Yes — I became both father and mother to Sherry.
In fact — I have invested more love, time and effort in “pet parenting” Sherry — than have I spent in parenting my own children — which was my wife’s province — as then — I was quite busy with my career.
I wanted to tell you all about my life with Sherry — about her naughty pranks and fun and frolic — and the trials and tribulations in our lives.
I told Sherry about it.
But — Sherry insisted that she would like to tell the story herself.
So — I shall now let Sherry tell you her life story.
I am sure you will enjoy it.
The title of her story is “RUNT OF THE LITTER” — and Sherry intends publishing her life story the moment she completes writing it.
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RUNT OF THE LITTER
(Sherry’s Story — as told to her father VIKRAM KARVE)
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PROLOGUE
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With my Dad — Girinagar 01 Jan 2009
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This morning I did the unthinkable.
I was in deep sleep in my den when my father lovingly tried to tuck me up with a blanket since it was cold.
Out of reflex I snapped at him.
He did not say anything, he did not scold me, and he just behaved as if nothing had happened.
But I could sense that he was very upset for while you can hide your emotions from another human, you cannot hide them from a dog.
I felt very bad and so I tried my best to make up.
I gave him a shake hand, raised myself on my hind legs and begged for forgiveness.
And like always he melted and smiled and fondled me.
My father has been so good to me.
He is the only thing I have in the world.
And for him too, I am the only thing he has, out here in the forests of Girinagar, where both of live in this huge “bhoot bangla”.
He could have gone to Mumbai, he could have lived with his family in Pune, but he gave me priority over his career and his family life — he did all this just for me.
While we were on our evening walk in the hills of Girinagar, my father told me that he was going to write a book about our life.
I told him that I wanted to write the story myself.
He said yes — so here I am penning my story, our story, a love story — yes, this is a love story, a unique love story of a different kind, the story of agape unconditional pure love between a man and a dog.
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RUNT OF THE LITTER
Sherry’s Story
(As told by Sherry to her father Vikram Karve)
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CHAPTER 1
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MY NAME IS SHERRY
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Aundh Camp November 2006
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My name is Sherry.
I am a naughty young girl and I live with my family in a lovely spacious bungalow surrounded by plenty of greenery.
I wake up early in the morning, jump off my sofa, go to my father’s bed, rub my cold wet nose against his hand and give him a loving lick with my warm soft tongue.
He grunts and growls and opens his sleepy eyes, and the moment he sees me his face lights up and he lovingly caresses me and says, “Good Morning, Sherry.”
The he gets up from bed and opens the main door to let me jump out into the garden.
First I do my ‘little job’ at my favourite place near the mango tree.
Then I generally dig with my paws in the soft morning mud and sniff around with my keen beautiful black nose to find out if there are any new morning smells, not forgetting to run and welcome the milkman the moment he comes on his cycle.
When I return I find that my father is back in his bed and my mother is up and about.
She pats and cuddles me and goes about her business making tea in the kitchen while I loiter around the house.
She surreptitiously sneaks to the bedroom and slyly hands over a tidbit to my half-sleeping father under the blanket when she thinks I am not looking.
I pretend not to notice, as I do not want to spoil their fun.
Earlier, when I was small and impatient, I used to snuffle out the tidbit from my father’s hand, but this spoilt his fun and he became grumpy.
Now that I am a mature young girl well experienced in the ways of the human world and I have realized that it is better to act dumb and let these humans think they are smarter than me.
So I go outside, sit down and put on a look of anticipation towards the gate and pretend not to notice my mother hiding and peeping through the corner of the window and giggling to herself.
The moment the newspaperman comes on his cycle and shouts “paper, paper”, I rush to the gate and fetch the newspaper in my mouth, gripping it just right between my teeth.
I run back with the newspaper held firmly in my mouth and hold it up to my horizontal father.
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Fetching the Newspaper — Sherry’s Morning Duty
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My father gets up, takes the paper from me and gives me the dog-biscuit he’s been hiding in his hand, and my mother, who has rushed behind me, watches me with loving pride in her eyes.
My brother and my sister, who till now were fast asleep in the other room, call out my name — “Sherry! Sherry!”
And as I dart between their beds wagging my tail, they both hug and cuddle me all over saying, “Good Morning, Sherry. Sherry is a good girl!”
Everyone is cheerful and happy and my day has begun!
I love my family, even though they are humans!
And I love my house, my surroundings, the place I stay, the life I live.
But — before I tell you all that — let me tell you where I came from.
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CHAPTER 2
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THE “X” FACTOR
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Posing with my Dad (in our Aundh Camp Bungalow
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My ‘birth-mother’ is a ferocious Doberman who lives in a bungalow in Kothrud in Pune and my ‘dog-father’ is unknown, though they suspect it may be the Caravan (Mudhol)Hound who lurks in the neighbourhood.
For making my registration papers the vet wanted proof of my paternity.
And since nobody could say with certainty, the vet looked at the form, and in the column against Breed he wrote ‘Doberman X’.
I was a sickly weakling, just a few days old, the only girl, last-born of the litter of 11 puppies, and the owners were wondering what to do with me.
Most of my handsome brothers had already been selected and taken away, and the owners wanted to keep the most beautiful and healthy of them all.
They had kept me all alone separated from my ferocious Doberman mother who was growling menacingly in a cage nearby.
No one wanted me and I could hear people whispering how ugly and weak I was and I wondered what fate lay in store for me.
It hurt me to feel unwanted.
Then I heard people talking about sending me away to a farmhouse, and some said it was best to get rid of me and “dispose” me off.
I felt terrified and shivered with fright as I wondered what was going to be my destiny.
One evening a few people came over and a gentle woman with kindness in her eyes looked at me.
Then, suddenly, on the spur of the moment the lady lovingly picked me up, and the way she tenderly snuggled me I felt true love for the first time.
This was my new mother.
She took me securely and lovingly in her soft hands, got into a car and they all drove across Pune, past Aundh, crossed the river, till we reached a bungalow.
The kind woman was wondering what her husband’s reaction would be.
It was dark.
I was scared and I cuddled up snugly my mother’s arms to feel safer.
Suddenly I found a tough-looking bearded man staring at me.
Shivering with fear I looked back at him in terror as he extended his hands towards me.
But the moment he held me in his large cozy hands, caressed me lovingly, and put his finger tenderly in my mouth, I felt protected, loved, safe and secure.
This was my new father and he had already decided my name — Sherry — the same name of his earlier canine “daughter”.
(By the way “Sherry” means “beloved” — not the wine drink you are thinking about!).
“She was destined to come here,” my mother said.
“Yes,” my father said feeding me warm milk.
They made a nice warm bed for me in a basket and put it below theirs.
And as I drifted into sleep, they both fondled me with their hands.
I felt so wonderful and happy for the first time in my life.
I had found my true home and my family.
I am feeling quite sleepy now.
So, I will end here now and have a nap.
But don’t worry, the moment I get up from my nap, I am going to tell more about me, my delightfully mischievous life, and the naughty things I do.
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CHAPTER 3
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FUN AND FROLIC — The “Bone-Game”
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Sherry as a Baby in Aundh Camp — Bone Game
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“Sherry… Sherry… Bone… Bone…”
My father is calling me for playing the “bone-game” but before that let me tell you about my home.
In front there is a huge garden, or rather an orchard, with all types of trees and bushes, and a lush green lawn on which I love to frolic, prance and roll upside down, and lots of flower beds which I love digging up to my mother’s horror.
I love digging up the mud — it’s so tasty — and there is plenty of it in the spacious kitchen garden behind the house where I create havoc digging up to my heart’s content, and the only thing I have spared are the tomatoes and some horrible tasting leaves called Alu because they itch.
I’m lucky — they don’t tie me up but leave me free to roam and play around as I please.
And there is so much to explore and investigate, in the nooks and corners of our verdant garden with plenty of trees, bushes and hedges.
There is so much to sniff, so much to dig, and so much to chase — squirrels, mongooses and birds to chase.
The cats have disappeared though; ever since the day I almost caught one.
When I was small, and my gums itched, and my milk teeth began to break through, I could not resist chewing up anything I could lay my teeth upon — like shoes, slippers, clothes, toothbrushes, furniture.
I especially loved my father’s favourite Kolhapuri kapshi chappals which were so soft and yummy.
So my father bought me a chewy bone which, it said on the wrapper, was guaranteed to save everything else.
I don’t know why, but I secretly buried the bone in a hole I dug below the Mango tree, and I used to dig it out when I thought no one was looking, chew it a bit, and bury it in some other secret place.
One day my inquisitive mother found out, and she dug up the bone when I was sleeping and hid the bone under the pomegranate tree.
When I didn’t find my bone, at first I was confused, maybe it was my neighbour Bruno, but then he was too old for chewy toy bones.
Then I tracked the bone down with my nose, and when I spied my mother giggling and grinning like a Cheshire cat, I knew who the culprit was, it was my mother who had mischievously hidden my bone.
This started the “bone-game”.
First they (the humans — my mother and father) would give me the bone, and after
I hid it they would rush out into the garden and dig it out.
Then they would hide the bone (after locking me in the house so I could not see) and if was my turn to find the bone, which I did using my nose and keen sense of smell.
I wondered how they found the bone so fast; till one day I caught them, both my mother and my father, spying crouching behind the hedge when they thought I wasn’t looking and the mystery was solved.
So now I first let them see where I am hiding the bone, and when they complacently and confidently go inside thinking they know everything, I dig out the bone and hide it some other place which they do not know and then watch the fun as they search in vain.
Then when they give up searching and go inside and my father asks me to get the bone, I run out and get it, for which I earn a tidbit.
The way these humans act sometimes, I really wonder who is more intelligent — they or I…?
Apart from my mother and father, who I have told you about, there are some more humans who live in my house — my sister, my brother, sometimes my grandmother — and I’ll tell you all about them next time.
I hear my father’s voice again: “Sherry… Sherry… Bone… Bone…”
So there I go — I speed off to find the hidden bone.
Sherry on the Lawns of our Bungalow in Girinagar
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RUNT OF THE LITTER
(Sherry’s Story — as told by her to her father VIKRAM KARVE)
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.
So – you see fancy expensive high-tech bicycles on the roads and in shops.
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Earlier – cycling was a necessity – to commute – the most convenient, popular and economical mode of transport.
That is why you saw simple sturdy roadster bicycles on the roads those days.
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Here is a piece I wrote 14 years ago called CYCLE TOWN PUNE – harking back to memories of the 1960’s and 1970’s when Pune was known as the Cycle Capital of India.
In theory – it is possible to ride a bicycle even today in the city of Pune – especially on BRTS Roads – which have dedicated “Cycle Tracks”.
But – in practice – it is not feasible to commute on cycles in Pune – since the cycle tracks are encroached upon/damaged and are unfit for cycling.
(even the pedestrian lanes are encroached and are unfit for walking)
Of course – cycling on roads had become dangerous due to the heavy and chaotic traffic.
But – this was not so in the Pune of Yesteryear – when – the bicycle was the primary mode of transportation – and – we enjoyed cycling all over – and – Pune was indeed a “Cycle Town”.
Let me share some memories of those carefree days of cycling.
I am sure you will enjoy these reminiscences – and maybe – this will tempt you to hark back to your good old days and memories of your hometown too.
Please do let me know if you liked this article and comment – I look forward to your feedback.
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CYCLING MEMORIES BY VIKRAM KARVE
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When I was a small boy (in the 1960’s) – and later in the 1970’s – we used to cycle all over Pune.
Pune was a “Cycle-Town”.
In the 1960’s – Poona (as Pune was called then) – was known as the “Cycle Capital” of India – since Pune had the maximum number of cycles.
But – with the advent and proliferation of scooters – this honour of “Cycle Capital” was taken over by Delhi – and Pune became the “Scooter Capital” of India.
Let’s hark back to the 1960’s – and talk about “Cycle Town Pune”
Those days 90% of the vehicles on the roads were Bicycles.
A few Scooters could be seen zipping by – and occasionally – an Ambassador or Fiat Car would appear on the roads.
Auto-rickshaws were beginning to make their appearance – and the PMT Bus was the second-most popular mode of transportation after the bicycle.
If you do not believe me – you just watch the scene from the iconic Hindi Movie Sangam (1964) – where Raj Kapoor can be seen merrily cycling down Jangli Maharaj (JM) Road Pune.
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(Jangli Maharaj Road was then known as “80 Feet Road” – the widest road in Pune)
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As I said – in those days – Pune was a “cycle town”.
You just picked up your bicycle – and you went wherever you wanted to.
Today – I dare not try to cycle on the roads of Pune – unless I want to land up in a hospital with my bones broken – or worse still – in the morgue – with my body crushed to pulp.
There is just no place for the poor cyclist to cycle in the murderous traffic of Pune.
In fact – in Pune – the only place you can cycle are on the cycle-lanes on those small stretches of the BRTS routes – which thankfully have still not been encroached upon (of course – even here – you risk being knocked down by a motorcyclist) – or you can pedal away on those obscure cycle-tracks which take you nowhere.
Those days – in the 1960’s and 1970’s – cycling was the primary means of transportation.
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I cycled a minimum of 20 kilometers everyday during my college days.
This has given me strong legs and tough thighs.
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Nowadays – for most young people – cycling is a hobby – a sport – a recreation – a “passion” – or – an “environment friendly” thing to do.
But earlier – in the 1960’s and 1970’s – cycling was the primary means of transportation.
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That’s why today you have all types of fancy bikes (which cost the roof) – and snobbish people want to show off their cycles as “status symbols” whenever they get off their expensive limousines and take a rare bike ride wearing funny outfits and contraptions like gloves, helmets et al.
There are Terrain Bikes, Sports Bikes, BMX Bikes, Racing Bikes – all sorts of hybrid combinations – which look good – but are most uncomfortable to ride.
Sometime ago – I took a long ride on a youngster’s fancy Mountain Terrain Bike (MTB)
Since I was used to normal cycles (Roadsters) – I found the MTB uncomfortable to ride.
And – after the ride –I got such a pain in my “you-know-where” – that I thought I had got Hernia.
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In my younger days – it was not “Snob Appeal” – but it was “Utility Value” that governed the Design of Bicycles.
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The predominant cycle those days was the “Roadster”(in bicycle parlance)
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The Roadster was a utility bicycle designed for practical transportation – unlike the fancy bikes of today which are primarily designed for recreation sport and for showing-off.
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The “Roadster” Bicycle was designed for “Occupational Commuting” – and it was designed to give you a comfortable ride.
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As I said earlier – those days – you did not ride a bike to burn calories.
A cycle was the primary means of transportation – and you commuted from one place to another on a cycle.
Of course – fitness was a by-product.
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In my college days – I used to cycle about 20 Kilometres every day – breathing fresh unpolluted air – and this was healthy exercise.
We cycled in our normal clothes – and not in “biking wear” – and that’s why the Roadster Design Bicycle had proper mudguards and chain guards to keep it clean.
In addition to comfort – the qualities we looked for in a cycle were sturdiness, durability and endurance.
A cycle was a permanent long term acquisition – not a “use and throw” item.
Well – if you go to Bicycle Shop today – you may not find the humble “Roadster” displayed along with those fancy fashionable bikes.
In fact – there is a proliferation of high-falutin Cycle Shops in Pune selling all sorts of fancy and expensive bicycles.
But if you look on the roads – you will see that the redoubtable Roadster is still going strong.
And – if you care to go to the mofussil– you will see that this humble Roadster Cycle is still the predominant mode of transportation.
And – if you go to those good old cycle marts in Budhwar Peth in Pune – you will see that these unpretentious Roadster bikes are still selling in plenty.
When we were children – there were no “kiddie” or “children’s” bikes to pamper us.
We learnt how to cycle the hard way on the hardy Adult Roadster Bikes – which entailed many falls and bruises – including one on my forehead – the scar of which is prominently visible even today.
I learnt how to cycle when I was 7 years old.
But – I got my first cycle in 1968 – on my 12th Birthday.
Until then – I used to hire a bike on an hourly basis from one of the many “Cycle Marts” that adorned almost every street corner of Pune – or manage a ride my uncle’s cycle whenever he was not using it.
The moment it was announced that I would be getting a bike as a birthday gift – I was very excited.
My friends and I started our market survey.
Which cycle did I want…?
There were so many brands to choose from.
At the top end was the matchless Humber – the prized crème de la crème brand from Raleigh Cycles.
The Humber Men’s Roadster had a unique double-fork – a duplex fork design which had two tubes for absorbing shocks better – and a frictionless chain for a smooth ride.
Owing to all these refinements – the Humber Cycle gave you the ultimate in riding comfort.
Now my Dad had given me a budget of Rs. 200 – and the Humber which cost around 400 bucks was out of the question – as were other premium brands of cycles like Raleigh, Rudge, Buke and BSA.
So – I had to choose from Hercules, Phillips, Hind Superb, Hero, Eastern Star, Avon or Atlas – which were the popular bicycle brands those days.
At first – I wanted to buy a Phillips Cycle which looked very handsome.
Every Phillips Roadster bicycle had embossed on its badge its famous motto:
“Renowned the World Over”
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But the dealer insisted that I try the latest model of Atlas Cycle.
(which he claimed was sturdy and comfortable – and this bicycle had the best bearings – and the cycle was long lasting, economical and ideal for a student like me).
So I took a “test ride” – and I acquired an Atlas Cycle for the princely sum of One Hundred and Eighty Rupees
(yes – Rupees 180 only)
I fitted my bike with a dynamo and light (for night riding) – a bell – a carrier – and a sleek stand – and a basket.
As I rode my brand new shining black Atlas cycle – I felt on top of the world.
___________
Here is a picture of me and my large size 24” Atlas Cycle taken more than 56 years ago in 1968 (when I was 12 years old)
Vikram Karve with his Atlas Cycle (Circa 1968)
___________
This Atlas Cycle rendered yeoman’s service.
(I told you that I said I cycled about 20 kilometers every day).
My bicycle accompanied me all over on my cycling trips – including one touring UP and Bihar – where we just carried our cycles in the second class train compartment – and we got down wherever we wanted – and cycled away for our sightseeing – and caught a train again at the nearest station.
No one dared to ask any questions – because we were “students”.
I used my rugged Atlas Cycle for over 15 years – and it was still going strong – when I gave it away to a needy student.
___________
(I was happy to see that this redoubtable bike was fully operational when I last saw it in the year 1998 – when the cycle was 30 years old)
___________
Soon – I bought a brand new Hero Roadster Cycle for around three hundred bucks (Rs. 300 only) – which I used for cycling all around town – whenever I came to Pune on my weekend trips or holidays from Mumbai – where my ship was based.
Though I had acquired a scooter by then – which I used for “family” outings – I still rode my bike for my solitary travels in Pune.
Alas – my newly acquired wife refused to ride “double-seat” with me on my cycle – à la Dev Anand and Mumtaz in the movie Tere Mere Sapne – though my wife had been an avid cyclist and she rode a Ladies’ Cycle herself in college.
By the way – riding double-seat – and without a light at night – were traffic offences.
If a cop caught you without a light at night – or riding double-seat on your bike – he would deflate your tyres as punishment – and you would have to walk all the way dragging your cycle along.
For parking your cycle – there was cycle-stands all over – in cinemas – at railway stations – in parks – everywhere.
Till the 1980’s – in Pune – the bicycle was still the most popular mode of transportation – since – in Pune – distances were not that much – and – the traffic was not that heavy.
But gradually – scooters were slowly taking over – as people were increasingly in a hurry to get wherever they wanted to go.
I quit cycling in Pune sometime in the end 1980’s – because cycling had become increasingly unsafe.
The traffic situation in Pune had become quite bad.
Heavy vehicles, buses, cars and scooters ruled the roost.
And after a few close shaves in the dangerous traffic – I decided to stop cycling on the streets of Pune.
Cycling keeps you healthy.
Cycling also keeps you stress-free.
Those days – as I cycled to college or work – the physical effort while cycling helped remove my stress – unlike driving a car or scooter in the chaotic traffic of Pune – which drives you crazy.
Almost everyone cycled to school and college – and – to work and back – all the way from the heart of Pune City – even to far-off places like the factories in Khadki and beyond.
Cycling was a healthy affordable way of commuting.
Yes – cycling was primarily a means of travel – and not a competitive sport or a means of working out for exercise as it is now.
Of course – exercise was a byproduct of cycling.
I have decided to relive those good old days.
So I am going to get myself a cycle – not a fancy bike – but an a old-style standard roadster bike – maybe I will try out the good old tried and tested Hercules Roadster Cycle this time.
The only problem is that I will have to find a safe road to cycle on – which is nigh impossible in Pune – or a Cycle Track on the side of a BRTS Road.
(BRTS = Bus Rapid Transit System)
I eagerly await the removal of encroachments on the Cycle Tracks on the BRTS in Wakad – so all of us can cycle down the bicycle track – as people do on the BRTS route on Satara Road near Padmavati/Bibwewadi.
I wonder how safe it is to cycle in other cities – and whether clear good safe cycle tracks are available for speedy and safe cycling…?
If the Government is really keen on promoting cycling – Top Ministers/Politicians and Senior Officers should lead by example and cycle to work every day instead of commuting in cars.
Schools must insist that Children Cycle to School on bicycles instead of travelling by Bus.
Organisations must encourage their Employees to use a bicycle to cycle to work instead of using vehicles – this especially applies to Senior Management who must lead by example.
We see some VIPs or Celebrities merely paying “Lip Service” (for “Photo Ops”) on some occasion and then using luxurious cars to commute to work throughout the year.
As they say:
Actions Speak Louder than Words.
In the mornings and in the evenings – I watch the serpentine traffic moving at snail’s pace on the Wakad Hinjewadi Road towards the InfoTech Park.
I wonder how different things would have been if everyone rode bicycles to work like in yesteryear Pune.
We would have a more healthy, unpolluted and stress-free Pune.
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.
“I can’t believe this…” Vibha moans, “It’s horrible…” she sobs, “Everything has collapsed like a pack of cards…” she cries, “I invested my life in two things — my marriage and my career — and look what I have got in return…? My marriage is a sham — and my career — my job…” she looks crestfallen and says, “the two things I banked on — both have jilted me — and all I am left with is myself…”
“Your career…? Your job…? What happened…?” I asked her — curious.
“It’s terrible…” she says, “I’m going through a very bad patch. Last week I was demoted — my junior promoted over my head,” she pauses, wipes her nose, “And — this so-called conference at the Head Office in London — it’s all a masquerade. I have a feeling they are going to fire me — give me termination letter — have an exit interview — settle my dues — and tell me to go home…”
I listen silently, say nothing.
“I’m feeling so down…” she weeps. “I thought I’ll stop over and talk things over with Avinash — find some solace in his arms — plan our future — see what happens — and — he does this…?” she sobs — holding out the letter.
“Maybe you can talk to him, patch up…” I try to console her — when she interrupts me.
“Patch up…?” she scorns mockingly, “A relationship in which the seeds of distrust have been sown — such a relationship — I think it is better to terminate it — break up — finish off the relationship permanently — once and for all — rather than try to patch it up — isn’t it…?”
I move my hands — wanting to take her into my arms — to console her — but I hesitate — not knowing what to do.
She starts speaking in an angry voice.
“I will never forgive him for this — for betraying me so terribly when I needed him the most…” she screams — and then — suddenly her flaming red eyes look at me with such furious distress — that I think she has gone raving mad.
“Please calm down…” I say to her.
“Why didn’t you tell me…?” she asks hoarsely — waving the letter.
I see tears trickling down her cheeks.
She covers her face with her hands — shakes her head wildly — disheveling her hair.
I want to comfort her.
I touch her shoulder.
She flashes her eyes at me through the tangled strands of her hair — and suddenly — the blazing fury in her eyes collapses into incredulous despair.
“I loved him so much — why did he do this to me…? Why did he do this to me…?” she sobs hysterically — wildly clutching my arms — totally breaking down — her knees giving way.
I grab her — I hold her tight — and she slumps forward into my arms.
Then she looks up into my eyes — yearning, thirsty, ravishing.
And suddenly — naturally — instinctively — it happens.
The most spontaneous, natural, beautiful and passionate experience of my life.
Spur of the moment, unplanned, unforeseen frenzied love.
Like a volcano.
It is wonderful, lovely, exquisite.
I feel good, cherished.
But what about her…? Vibha…?
Is it spontaneous love…?
Or an explosion of fiery pent up passion…?
Or — is it an act of frenzy, rage, expiation…?
__________
I gradually come into consciousness, my eyes heavy, my body overwhelmed by the pleasurable sensation of lethargy in the aftermath of passion.
Everything looks blurred and slowly Vibha’s face comes into focus.
“Vibha. I’m so sorry…” I begin to say.
She gently puts her hand on my mouth and looks into my eyes.
“It was lovely…” she says to me in a loving voice.
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Dear Reader:
Did you like the excerpt…?
Well — if you are in the mood for a mushy romance — do read this rather longish love story…
_______________
THE WALLFLOWER
Mushy ROMANCE
Love Story By VIKRAM KARVE
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The Wallflower is a Love Story from COCKTAIL — my anthology of short fiction.
I wrote this story more than 20 years ago — in the year 2003.
Please take your time reading it.
I have suitably revised and edited the story to make it easy to read on the digital screen.
If you like this story — do tell me.
If you like to read short fiction stories, do click on COCKTAILand order your copy of Cocktail: Stories About Relationships.
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THE WALLFLOWER — A Love Story by Vikram Karve
_____________
“I don’t want to marry Manisha…” I told my mother.
My mother looked stunned — as if she had been stunned pole-axed.
Suddenly there was a metamorphosis in her expression — a distant look across my shoulder followed by a smile of forced geniality.
“Keep quiet. Manisha is coming…!” my mother whispered.
I turned around quickly and saw Manisha entering the wicket-gate and walking towards us.
Manisha wished my mother, she smiled at me and said to me: “I want to come and see you off at the airport.”
“Why bother? I’ll go on my own,” I said, “The flights are quite unpredictable. They never leave on time. And how will you come back all the way?”
“You two talk here in the garden,” my mother said, “I’ll go inside and pack your things.”
“I am sorry about last night,” Manisha said, with genuine regret in her voice.
“It’s okay…” I said.
I looked at Manisha — plump and full-faced — with small brown eyes and dusky complexion — hair drawn back into a conventional knot — there was only one adjective to describe Manisha — “prosaic” — yes — she looked prosaic — so commonplace, unexciting and pedestrian.
“I’ll go inside and help your mother,” Manisha said, and went inside.
‘Last night’ was the fiasco at the disco. Manisha and I — An unmitigated disaster…!!!
“Let’s dance,” I had asked Manisha.
“No,” Manisha was firm.
“Come on. I’ll teach you,” I pleaded, “Everyone is on the floor.”
But Manisha did not budge.
So we just sat there watching.
Everybody was thoroughly enjoying themselves.
Many of my friends and colleagues were on the floor, with their wives, fiancées and girlfriends. Among them Sanjiv and Swati.
“Who is this “wallflower” you have brought with you…?” taunted Sanjiv, during a break in the music.
“She is my fiancée, Manisha…” I answered, trying to keep cool.
“Your fiancée…? How come you’ve hooked on to such a “Vern”…?” Swati mocked me.
Then — Swati said derisively — coming close and looking directly into my eyes:
“Come on Vijay — you are an Executive now — not a clerk. Don’t live in your past. Find someone better. She doesn’t belong here.”
If someone had stuck a knife into my heart it would have been easier to endure than these words.
It always rankled — the fact that I had come up the hard way — promoted from the ranks.
“This is too much…!!!” I said angrily to Sanjiv.
“Cool down, Vijay,” Sanjiv said putting his hand on my shoulder, “You know Swati doesn’t mean it.”
But I knew that Swati had meant every word she uttered.
“Let’s go,” I told Manisha. “I’ve had enough.”
When we were driving home, Manisha asked innocently:
“What’s a “Vern”…?”
“Vernacular…!” I answered.
And at that moment there was a burst of firecrackers and rockets lit up the sky to usher in the New Year.
That night I could not sleep.
I thought of my future, trying to see both halves of my future life, my career and my marriage, side by side.
I realized that my career was more important to me than anything else.
I had to succeed at any cost.
And a key ingredient in the recipe for success was a ‘socially valuable’ wife.
It mattered. It was the truth.
A ‘socially valuable’ wife helped your career.
It was the blunt truth — whether you liked it or not…!!!
Swati was right.
Manisha just didn’t belong to that status and class of society of which I had now become a part.
I had crossed the class barrier — but Manisha had remained where she was.
And she would remain there — unwilling and unable to change.
In marriage one has to be rational.
Manisha would be an encumbrance, maybe even an embarrassment.
It was a mistake — my getting engaged to her.
She was the girl next door — we had grown up together and everyone assumed we would be married one day.
And our parents had got us engaged.
At that point of time I didn’t think much of it.
It was only now, that my eyes had opened — and — I realized the enormity of the situation.
I was an upwardly mobile executive now — not a mere clerk — and the equations had changed.
What I needed was someone like Swati — smart, chic and savvy — Convent Educated — well groomed — and accustomed to the prevalent lifestyle — a perfect hostess — an asset to my career.
And most importantly — she was from a well-connected family.
I tired to imagine what life would have been like had I married Swati.
Sanjiv was so lucky.
He was already going places.
After all — Swati was the daughter of the senior Vice President of our company.
Suddenly — I returned to the present.
I could bear my mother calling me.
I went inside.
Manisha was helping her pack my bags, unaware of what was going on in my mind.
I felt a sense of deep guilt — but then it was question of my life.
“What’s wrong with you?” my mother asked me — after Manisha had left.
“Why were so rude to Manisha, so distant. She loves you so much…!” my mother said to me.
“I don’t love her,” I said.
“What?” my mother asked surprised, “Is there some else?”
“No,” I said.
“I don’t understand you.”
“Manisha is not compatible anymore. She just doesn’t fit in.”
I could see that my mother was angry. Outwardly she remained calm and nonchalant; her fury was visible only in her eyes.
“Who do you think you are?” she said icily, trying to control herself, “You know Manisha from childhood, isn’t it? For the last two years you have been engaged and moving around together. And suddenly you say Manisha is not compatible?”
My mother paused for a moment, and then taking my hand asked me softly: “What happened last night?”
I told her.
Then we argued for over two hours and till the end I stuck to my guns.
Finally my mother said: “This is going to be difficult. And relations between our families are going to be permanently strained. Think about Manisha. It will be so difficult for her to get married after the stigma of a broken engagement. Forget about last night. It’s just a small incident. Think about it again. Manisha is the ideal wife, so suitable for you.”
But — I had made up my mind — so I told my mother: “If you want — I will go and talk to her father right now and break off the engagement.”
“No,” my mother snapped, “Let your father come home. He will decide what to do.”
The doorbell rang.
I opened the door.
Standing outside — along with My Father — were Manisha and Her Parents.
“I have fixed up your wedding with Manisha Patwardhan on the 30th of May of this year…” my father thundered peremptorily, in his usual impetuous style.
“Congratulations…!!!” echoed Manisha’s parents, Mr. and Mr. Patwardhan.
I was dumbstruck.
Manisha was smiling coyly.
My mother was signaling to me with her eyes not to say anything.
She was probably happy at the fait accompli.
I felt trapped.
I excused myself and went up to my room.
I locked the door.
Someone knocked.
“Give me five minutes,” I said, “I’ll get ready and come down.”
“Come soon,” said Manisha from the other side of the door.
I took out my notepad — and I wrote a letter to Manisha:
__________
Dear Manisha,
Please forgive me — but I have discovered that I cannot marry you — and I think that it is best for us to say goodbye.
Yours sincerely,
Vijay
__________
I knew the words sounded insincere — but that was all I could write — because my mind had bone blank — and I wanted to get it over with as fast as possible.
Just one sentence to terminate our long relationship.
I knew I was being cruel — but I just couldn’t help it.
I sealed the letter in a postal envelope — I wrote Manisha’s name and address on it –and — I put the letter in my bag.
I looked at my watch.
It was time to leave.
Everyone came to the airport to see me off.
Sanjiv and Swati had come too.
They were located at Pune — and — I was off on a promotion to New Delhi.
“I am really very sorry about last night…” Swati apologized to us. She took Manisha’s hand and said tenderly, “Manisha, please forgive me. You are truly an ideal couple — both of you are made for each other.”
As I walked towards the boarding area Manisha’s father Mr. Patwardhan shouted to me jovially, “Hey, Vijay. Don’t forget to come on 30th of May. The wedding muhurat is exactly at 10.35 in the morning. Everything is fixed. I have already booked the best hall in town. If you don’t turn up I’ll lose my deposit…!!!”
I nodded to him — but in my mind’s eye I smiled to myself — the “joke” was going to be on him…!!!
Then I waved everyone goodbye — I went to the waiting hall, sat on a chair, opened my bag and took out the letter I had written to Manisha.
I wish I had torn up the letter there and then — but some strange force stopped me.
I put the envelope in my pocket and remembered my mother’s parting words:
“Please Vijay. Marry Manisha. Don’t make everyone unhappy. Manisha is good girl. She’ll adjust. I’ll talk to her.”
During the flight I thought about it.
I tried my utmost — but I just could not visualize Manisha as my wife in my new life any more.
Till now — I had done everything to make everybody happy.
But what about me…? It was my life after all.
Time would heal wounds, abate the injury and dissipate the anger — but if I got trapped for life with Manisha — it would be an unmitigated sheer disaster.
I collected my baggage and walked towards the exit of Delhi Airport.
Suddenly I spotted a red post box.
I felt the envelope in my pocket.
I knew I had to make the crucial decision right now.
Yes — it was now or never.
I walked towards the red post box and stood in front of it, indecisive and confused.
I took a deep breath, took out the envelope from my pocket and looked at it — the address, postage stamp — everything was okay.
I moved my hand to post the letter.
A strange force stopped my hand in its tracks. I hesitated, and in my mind I tried to imagine the severe ramifications, the terrible consequences of what I was about to do.
At first Manisha would be delighted, even surprised, to see my handwriting on the letter.
And then — she would read my letter…!
I dreaded to even think about the unimaginable hurt and distress she would feel… and then her parents… and mine…the sense of betrayal and insult…relationships built and nurtured for years would be strained, even broken, forever.
And poor Manisha…everyone knew we were engaged…how tongues would wag…the stigma of broken engagement…the anguish of my betrayal of her love… she would be devastated… may even commit…
Suddenly my cell-phone rang interrupting my train of thoughts.
‘It must be Manisha — monitoring me as usual…’ I thought getting irritated at her.
Manisha’s suffocating familiarity and closeness seemed like manacles and I was glad I was getting away from her.
I decided not to answer — but my mobile kept ringing persistently — so I looked at the display.
It wasn’t Manisha — but an unknown new number.
“Hello…” I said into my cell-phone.
“Mr. Joshi…?” a male voice spoke.
“Yes. Vijay Joshi here. Who is it, please…?” I asked.
“Sir, we have come to receive you. Please come to the exit gate and look for the board with your name…” the male voice said.
“I’m coming…” I said.
___________
I looked the letter addressed to Manisha in my hand.
No.
Not now in a hurry.
Providence was giving me signals to wait, reflect, and think it over, not to do something so irretrievable in such a hurry.
So — I put the envelope in my pocket — and I walked away from the post box towards the exit.
I settled down well in my new job and liked my place in Delhi. Every morning I would put the envelope in my pocket determined to post it in the post box outside my office on my way to work but something happened and I didn’t post the letter to Manisha. Meanwhile I rang up Manisha, and my mother, every evening, and made pretence that everything was okay. The stress and strain within me was steadily building up.
Every time I looked at the envelope I felt as if was holding a primed grenade in my hand. With every passing day, the 30th of May was approaching nearer and nearer. Time was running out, and I knew I would have to unburden myself of the bombshell pretty fast. So one day, during lunch break, I decided to post the fateful letter and get it over with once and for all.
As I was walking out someone from the reception called out to me, “Hey, Mr. Joshi — is Mr. Gokhale in his office?”
Gokhale was my boss, and he was out on tour, so I said: “No — Mr. Gokhale has gone on tour. Anything I can do…?”
“Sir, there’s a courier for him,” the receptionist said.
“I’ll take it and give it to him when he comes,” I said — and I signed the voucher and took the envelope from the courier.
The moment I looked at the envelope — an electric tremor of trepidation quivered through me like a thunderbolt.
I cannot begin to describe the bewildered astonishment and shocking consternation I felt when I saw Manisha’s distinctive handwriting on the envelope — beautiful large flowing feminine writing with her trademark star-shaped ‘t’ crossing, the huge circle dotting the ‘i’… there was no doubt about it. And of course her favorite turquoise blue ink.
Yes — it was Manisha’s handwriting — there was no doubt about it.
I turned the envelope around hoping I was wrong — but I was right — the letter to my boss Mr. Gokhale was indeed from Manisha — she had written her name and address on the reverse — as bold as brass…!!!
My pulse raced, my insides quivered, my brain resonated and I trembled with feverish anxiety.
At first impulse I wanted to tear open the envelope and see what was inside — but I controlled myself.
I tried to mask my inner emotions — I put on a fake smile of geniality for everyone around.
I gently put the letter in my pocket — and I began retracing my steps back to my office.
I discreetly felt the two envelopes in my suit pocket — one — my unposted letter to Manisha — and — the other — a much fatter envelope — Manisha’s unopened letter to my boss Mr. Avinash Gokhale.
I locked myself in my office, sat down, calmed myself with a glass of water, took out the two envelopes and put them on the table in front of me.
My unposted letter to Manisha would now have to wait — I thanked my stars that some mysterious hidden restraining force had stopped me from posting it every time I tried to.
I picked up Manisha’s envelope addressed to Avinash Gokhale.
It was sheer serendipity that I happened to be at the reception when the courier arrived — otherwise I would have never known.
I looked at the envelope. The whole thing was incredulous. Why on earth should Manisha write to Avinash Gokhale? What was the connection? How did she know Gokhale? What had she written to him?
Had my simpleton mother blurted out something to her — had my mother told Manisha or her parents about what I had said — that I didn’t want to marry her…?
My mind went haywire with strange thoughts.
Revenge…!
Yes — Revenge.
Stung by my betrayal — Manisha had somehow found out the name of my boss — from Sanjiv — or from Swati most probably — and she was out to ruin my career — wreck vengeance on me for ditching her.
Maybe Mahisha had written to Avinash Gokhale what a jerk I was.
These things mattered in my company.
My heart skipped a beat. I felt a tremor of trepidation. I suddenly realized that I had to swiftly interrupt this pernicious line of thinking and insidious train of thoughts.
No, No…!!!
It was just not possible. No chance. Manisha was not the vindictive type. She would never do such a thing. Especially to me. She always loved me so much. And I was sure my mother would not have been so indiscreet and would have kept our conversation to herself.
But then — anything is possible.
I couldn’t take any chances. Dying with curiosity I desperately felt like tearing open the envelope and reading the letter. I had to get to the bottom of this mystery.
It was simple. I would open the letter in the privacy of my house. Steam-open the envelope very carefully so no one would even discern. Then I would read it and accordingly decide the further course of action.
I wondered why Manisha had sent this letter so indiscreetly to the office address with her name and address written so blatantly. Was it on purpose? She could have spoken privately to Gokhale — or even e-mailed him. Why this bold as brass missive? Was it on purpose? She wanted me to know…No. No. It was too bizarre!
I had an impulse to call up Manisha then and there and get it over with once and for all, but I stopped myself.
I had to know first what she had written in that letter before I could do anything.
The suspense was killing. I felt restless and uneasy. When I feel tense I go for a long walk. That’s what I did. I went for a long walk around my entire office, each department, making pretence of MBWA [Management By Walking Around]. When I returned to my office it was four, still an hour to go. The next hour was the longest hour of my life.
The moment it was five, I rushed out of my office. The moment I opened the door I ran bang into the receptionist. “Mr. Joshi, Sir. That letter for Mr. Gokhale — you want me to give it to his PA…?”
“No. No. I’ll give to him personally,” I said feeling the envelope in my coat pocket.
She gave me a curious questioning look so I hastily said, “Don’t worry, I’ve locked it carefully in my drawer,” and hurriedly walked away.
I rushed home to my apartment.
I put some water in a pot to boil and then carefully held the envelope over it.
I had to steam it open very meticulously and delicately — no tell tale signs.
Soon I had Manisha letter in my hands.
_________
Dear Avinash… she began.
Oh … great… Dear Avinashindeed…!!!
Already on first name terms — Thank God for small mercies it wasn’t Darling Avinash, Sweetie-Pie — or something even more mushy…!
_________
Dear Avinash,
The suddenness with which you popped the question left me so dumbfounded that I am still recovering from the shock. Shock? Maybe that’s the wrong word, but the swiftness of your proposal, out of the blue, on our very first date — well I am a simple girl and it really left me dazed.
You called once. I didn’t answer. You did not call again. I really appreciate that. That was very gentlemanly of you.
You sent me an e-mail. Explaining your feelings. Apologizing for what you did at the spur of the moment. Said sorry for having hurt my feelings. Please don’t say sorry. You haven’t hurt my feelings at all. Maybe outwardly I didn’t show it, but in fact, inside, I felt so good, so happy, that a suave man like you found a simple ordinary looking girl like me so attractive.
Avinash, please try to understand. I also feel the same way about you. I can’t exactly describe the emotions I experienced when we were together. Is it love? I don’t know. It’s the first time it’s happened to me that I’ve felt so attracted to someone. I really feel like being with you, forever, spending the rest of our lives together. Thanks for proposing to me, Avinash — I accept.
What I want to say now I don’t want to say over the phone, or e-mail, so I am writing this letter. I am writing this because I believe that there is no place for secrets between husband and wife. Please read it carefully and destroy it. For my sake. Please. Read what I have written, think about it carefully, and I’ll wait for your reply.
You know Vijay, don’t you? Vijay Joshi. Of course you do. He works with you in Delhi. You are his boss.
In fact, I came to Sanjiv and Swati’s party in Pune just to see what Vijay’s boss looked like. Of course, I’d also come to help out Swati, but I was more interested to know how Vijay is doing in his new job in Delhi and maybe say something good about him. But the thunderbolt struck and we ended saying sweet nothings to each other. I hope Swati didn’t notice, as she seemed the busy hostess most of the time, and I haven’t told her, or anyone, about our hush-hush dinner-date the next evening in that lovely romantic garden restaurant.
Now, let’s talk about Vijay. Vijay and me were neighbors ever since I remember. Our families are very very close, deeply bonded to each other. Vijay and I are the dearest of dearest childhood friends, inseparable buddies who grew up together. Vijay has always been my most intimate confidant. I have always told him everything. Except about you — about us. It’s the first time I have hidden something from Vijay. And I’m feeling so guilty about it.
Avinash, I really love Vijay. But not in that way. Vijay is my friend, yes; buddy, yes; even soul mate, yes; but I just can’t imagine Vijay as my lover. Like I can visualize you!
Now brace your heart, Avinash!
I am engaged to Vijay. And our wedding date has been fixed on the 30th of May. Everyone knows about it.
This was fixed long back by both our families. My marriage to Vijay — a foregone conclusion and implicit happy culmination of our friendship. I too was happy. Till I met you. Now it is different.
What do we do, Avinash?
I just can’t bear to tell Vijay myself. To him it will be a terrible betrayal, a stab in his back. I can’t break his heart. He will be devastated.
I don’t have the guts to tell my parents; or his, either. They will be shattered, the hurt very painful and relationships will be strained forever.
So what do we do, Avinash?
I have an idea. It may sound bizarre, but let’s give it a try. Why not make Vijay fall in love with someone else?
Avinash, why don’t you introduce Vijay to some nice girl out there? Someone smart and chic, like Swati. I think he likes girls like that — I’ve seen him stealing canny glances at Swati when he thought I wasn’t looking. Right now he is lonely, vulnerable, and I am sure you there are many lovely, mod, savvy, attractive women out there in Delhi who are also lonely and vulnerable. You’ve just got to match them and hope for the best.
Avinash, try to understand. I want Vijay to call off our engagement. I want him to “break” my heart. It will be better that way, isn’t it? For me, for you, and for all of us.
Avinash. Am I asking too much of you? You like the idea, or is it too weird? Or can you think of anything better?
I am waiting for your reply. Please send me e-mails only. Don’t ring up or write — we have to very careful of hidden ears and curious eyes.
And remember to destroy this letter right now.
Yours lovingly,
Manisha.
__________
I read the letter once again, slowly, carefully, word by word, till the last line:
“And remember to destroy this letter right now…”
___________
It was unbelievable — this bolt from the blue from Manisha.
I laughed to myself.
I thought I was smart, but it was Manisha who was playing the double game.
I put the letter on the table, closed my eyes, and tried to think clearly.
It was crazy — a classy snob like Avinash Gokhale falling for a pedestrian Plain Jane like Manisha Patwardhan…!
Yes, Love is blind — Love is truly blind! Or, is it…?
Instinctively I picked up my cell-phone and called Manisha.
“Hi, Vijay,” Manisha said, “what’s up…?”
“Just thought of you, so I called you to say Hi…” I said.
“How’s life out there…?” she asked me.
“Good. I like Delhi. You’ll like it too — when you come here…” I said to Manisha.
“Come there…?” she said.
“You’re going to come here and stay with me in Delhi after we get married, aren’t you…?” I said to her.
“Of course…” Manisha said smoothly — so smoothly, so slickly, so effortlessly, so glibly, without even the slightest demur or trace of dither, that, for a moment I was struck dumb.
“Hey, Vijay, what happened…?” Manisha asked.
“Nothing,” I answered, “everything okay out there…?”
“Oh, yes, I’d gone to your place this morning — everyone is fine…” she said.
“Your parents…?” I asked her.
“My Mum and Dad are fine. Everyone is okay — just waiting for you to come. When are you coming to Pune…?” Manisha asked me.
“I don’t know. There’s lots of work….” I said.
“Come on, Vijay. Don’t tell me you can’t come for a day or two, at least on a weekend. I’m sure there’s not that much work that the heavens will fall if you are not there…” she said.
“It’s not that — my boss here is a funny guy…” I said.
“Funny Guy…?” Manisha said, with a bit of curiosity in her voice.
“A painful killjoy called Avinash Gokhale…” I said, and listened carefully, but I couldn’t even detect even the slightest gasp or tremor in her voice as Manisha continued talking smoothly and glibly as ever, “Never mind, Vijay, you just work hard,” and then she effortlessly changed the subject to the latest happenings in Pune and started off with mushy ‘sweet nothings’ about how much she missed me.
Listening to her, for a moment, I thought the letter in front of me was a forgery, but then I knew Manisha’s handwriting too well.
I was too flabbergasted to continue the conversation so I quickly said bye and kept the cell-phone on the table.
I never imagined Manisha could be so secretive, so mendacious.
It was strange — how close one can be to a person and yet know nothing about her.
And Avinash Gokhale? I worked with him every day, spent hours together, yet knew nothing about him, except that he was brilliant workaholic and a recluse — a most boring and private person who always kept to himself, never mixed around, never socialized or attended parties, a pain in the neck who everyone avoided and the only thing he ever talked was about work.
Made for each other — two secretive loners — Manisha Patwardhan and Avinash Gokhale.
But why was I so bothered? Good Luck to them! My problem was being solved. I had to just quietly wait and watch, do nothing, till my boss found some nice smart chic girl for me. Can anyone be luckier? Life was going to be exciting!
I carefully put Manisha’s letter back into the envelope and resealed it meticulously with a glue-stick. No one could have suspected that it had been steamed open. Now all I had to do was to quietly put it in the mail folder of Avinash Gokhale before he reached office on Monday morning.
Suddenly, I was jolted out of my thoughts by the ring-tone of my cell-phone.
“Hello!” I said.
“Is that Mr. Joshi?” a sweet mellifluous feminine voice said.
“Yes. Vijay Joshi here,” I said.
“I’m Vibha speaking.”
“Vibha?” I asked surprised. I didn’t know any Vibha.
“Oh I’m sorry Mr. Joshi, we haven’t met. I’m Vibha Gokhale. Avinash Gokhale’s wife.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry Mrs. Gokhale. I didn’t know Mr. Gokhale had a wife,” I mumbled.
“Well, Well, Mr. Joshi! Of course your Mr. Gokhale is a much married man and has a Mrs. Gokhale and you are speaking to her right now,” she said playfully, and added, “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“No. No. Ma’am. It’s not that. I didn’t know he was married. He’s never told me anything about you.”
“Really? That’s curious,” she said, “Because he’s told me everything about you.”
“What? He’s told you everything about me?” I blurted in surprise.
“Oh, yes Mr. Joshi,” she said mischievously, “I know all about you. And what I don’t know, you can tell me yourself when we meet.”
“Meet?”
“At the airport.”
“Airport?” I asked, totally baffled.
“Yes, Mr. Joshi, Delhi Airport, I’m just about to board the direct flight from Singapore,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Singapore?”
“Yes, Singapore. I live and work here. You don’t know? Of course you don’t — he hasn’t even told you he’s married. Well, I was on my way toLondon for a conference, and, on the spur of the moment, thought I’ll stopover at Delhi and spend the weekend with Avinash.”
“How sad?” I stammered, “Gokhale Sir is on tour to Chennai till Monday.”
“Chennai? You’re totally clueless aren’t you — don’t even know where your boss is?”
I was at a loss for words, confused.
“He’s already left Chennai this morning. And right now your boss Avinash is in Pune.”
“Pune?” I exclaimed incredulously.
“Yes, Pune. I wanted him to finish off his work in Chennai and come back fast to Delhi today itself, so we could meet up, but he told me he was already in Pune as something very important and urgent suddenly came up and he wouldn’t be able to make it. So he asked me get in touch with you. He’ll be coming back to Delhi on Wednesday now.”
“Wednesday? Urgent work in Pune?” I uttered like a zombie.
“Don’t tell me he hasn’t told you!” she exclaimed in amazement.
Overwhelmed by the maze of confusion, my mind went numb, and I was struck dumb.
“Mr. Joshi, Mr. Joshi. Are you there? Please Mr. Joshi,” Vibha Gokhale said rapidly with hint of impatience, “I have to board now. It’s a six hour flight. Just find out the arrival details and make sure you are there on time. You don’t want your boss’s wife to be left high and dry, do you?”
“I’ll be there Ma’am,” I said, “but how will I recognize you?”
“Don’t worry. Just be there at the arrival lounge. I’ll recognize and find you,” she said and abruptly switched off.
I keep my cell-phone on the table beside the two letters [my unposted letter to Manisha and her shocking letter to my boss Avinash], close my eyes, and try to analyse the mystifying happenings of this most eventful day of my life.
First Manisha’s letter asking Avinash to set me up with some chic girl in Delhi so that I call off the marriage, and, instead of her, become the villain of the piece, take the rap from family and friends and look like a dirty jilting philandering rascal in everyone’s eyes, while Manisha looks the poor victimized wronged all-suffering sanctimonious goody-goody, besides saving her a guilt conscience.
And at the opportune moment our gallant knight in armour Mr. Avinash Gokhale rushes in to rescue the devastated inconsolable innocent damsel in distress and magnanimously proposes to marry her.
Only, this Mr. Avinash Gokhale is a dirtier rat one up on her. He’s married, and is obviously hiding this from Manisha, at least till now. And he’s not told his wife about Manisha either, or has he?
And what’s this sudden urgent work in Pune which no one in the office has a clue about? Devious cheat, making a jackass of everyone while romancing in Pune at company expense!
Suddenly I feel a premonition — that at this very moment they are together — at some secluded place, having a romantic dinner, or maybe…
I stop my train of thoughts and ring up Manisha. “Out of coverage area,” says the recorded voice. My worst fears are confirmed. Scheming scoundrels — both of them! And why the hell did Avinash give his wife my number, without even bothering to tell me?
In a flash, comprehension dawns on me. Avinash is setting me up with his own wife Vibha! In connivance with his wily lady-love Manisha. It’s truly disgusting! How low can anyone get?
“Okay friends,” I say to Avinash and Manisha in my mind’s eye, “you want to play a double game? I’m game. Let’s play!”
I reach the airport well in time and take up a strong tactical position where I can clearly observe the passengers coming out of the arrival gate without being easily seen myself.
I recognize her at once without ever having seen her. Stunningly attractive, a real beauty, smashing, sophisticated, elegant; truly chic — my type of woman — optimally designed, precisely engineered and finished to perfection. She looks so extraordinarily exquisite, so tantalizing, so sensuous, so temptingly inviting, that I cannot take my eyes off her. Suddenly she looks in my direction and realizes that I am feasting my eyes on her. At first she gives me stern look, then seeing the frank admiration in my eyes, she melts, her lovely, dark, expressive eyes begin to dance and she gives me a smile so captivating that I experience a delightful twinge in my heart.
“Excuse me,” someone is tapping my shoulder form behind. Exasperatingly I turn around, glare at the podgy pedestrian suburban unpretentious looking homely woman who has disturbed me and snap angrily, “Yes. What is it?”
“Mr. Vijay Joshi?” she says grinning like a Cheshire cat, “I am Vibha Gokhale. I told you I’ll recognize you, didn’t I?”
My Dear Reader, I have no words to describe my feelings at that moment. I’ll only say this. Deflated. Yes, deflated! I’d never felt so deflated before — or since!
Vibha Gokhale peeps past me at the object of my attention, arches her eyebrows, and says naughtily, “Aha, Mr. Vijay Joshi. So you thought that sexy dish over there is me, is it?”
I swivel round, then back, all confused, and stammer, “No, actually…”
“It’s okay. You’re not the first one to wonder how a handsome hulk like Avinash Gokhale married a Plain Jane like me,” she says, adjusting the hair pin in her bun.
“No, No…” I stammer in acute embarrassment.
“IIT,” she says.
“IIT?” I ask, confused.
“Avinash wooed me when we were classmates at IIT.”
I say nothing; try to conjure up a contrived smile of polite geniality.
“You know how ‘dry’ it used to be out there in IIT, isn’t it? The mirage! The mirage!,” she says as if it is some secret joke, “When you are starved, and thirsty, even a Plain Jane like me looks as if she is a Cleopatra…” she laughs with such frank innocence that I instantly take a liking to her.
Now I break out into a genuine friendly smile, amused in my mind’s eye about Avinash Gokhale’s penchant for Plain Janes.
“Hey, what are you thinking?” Vibha says, “Come, let’s collect my baggage and go home.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I say, remembering she is my boss’s wife.
“Hey, don’t ‘Ma’am’ me!” she commands, “My name is Vibha. And I’ll call you Vijay.”
Soon we sit in my car and I ask her, “Where to?”
“Where to? What do you mean ‘Where to’? We’re going to your place, of course! I’m staying with you, isn’t it?” she says with childlike naiveté.
Probably seeing my shocked expression on my face, she says, “You don’t want to take me home? I thought it would be okay with you if I stayed over! Or should I stay here, at the airport, or in some hotel? I don’t want to go all the way to Avinash’s empty flat in NOIDA…”
“No, No. Of course you’re most welcome to stay with me,” I say, “Only thing is that I’m a bachelor.”
“I know,” she says matter-of-factly.
“I stay alone…” I stammer.
“Come on, shy boy, drive on. I won’t eat you up,” she says vivaciously, and I begin driving towards my house nearby in Vasant Vihar.
We reach my apartment and I open the door. I look at the wall clock — it’s almost three in the morning. She looks around my small one room studio apartment (an erstwhile decked up Barsati) and says, “A comfy, cozy bachelor’s den — I like it!”
“If you want to sleep you can sleep on the bed…”
“Hey, I’m dying for a cup of coffee, then I’ll bathe, and then we’ll see — we’ve got the full day ahead of us,” she says, walking towards the kitchenette.
“No, No, please…”
“Come on, Vijay, trust me. I make a decent cup of coffee, and I too live all alone like a bachelor girl in Singapore. Just tell me where the things are.”
Together we make coffee.
We sit down and talk. She is easy to talk to and my words come tumbling out. I tell her everything about myself, well, almost everything!
“Any love life?” she asks with a naughty conspiratorial look in her laughing eyes, at once inviting and taunting.
“No,” I say, “And you?”
“I told you — Avinash, Avinash, Avinash! Thst’s all. And a long distance marriage, pining for him, hoping that absence makes our hearts go fonder!”
I remain silent, not knowing what to say.
“Vijay, I like you,” she suddenly says with undisguised affection in her eyes.
“Like me?” I say nonplussed.
“Yes. After a long time I’ve met someone with whom I can be myself.”
“Me too,” I say, and I genuinely mean it. I feel a soft tenderness for her, a warm feeling of elation, but I quickly check my thoughts and hastily say, “You’ll like to have a nice hot shower, won’t you?” for I believe that thoughts can transmit themselves if they are strong enough.
“I’ll love to,” she says, and I show her the bathroom.
She comes out, freshly bathed, wearing a slim nightie that is so revealing that she might as well have worn nothing, but she conveys such innocence that it is obvious that she has no inkling of this. She looks so pure, so pristine, so desirable, and I realize that she’s not that plain looking at all, in fact, she is quite appealing, sensuous in a natural sort of way.
By instinct, and almost against my will, my eyes linger, travel all over her body. The transformation in her is amazing. Now she looks so wonderful, so feminine, so tender, so alluring, and so new — a woman in full bloom.
“I’ve become a little plump sitting on my haunches all day,” she says candidly, without a trace of coyness, throwing away the towel wrapped around her head, letting her luxuriant hair fall on her shoulders. She looks so tantalizing that I feel a moment of alarm. Maybe we are unthinkingly beginning something dangerous…so I blurt out, “I’ll have a shower too,” and rush towards the bathroom.
I have a soothing hot shower, and when I come out of the bathroom in my dressing gown, I see Vibha reading Manisha’s ludicrous “love letter” to Avinash Gokhale.
Oh, my God! I curse myself. What a careless fool I have been to let those letters lie on the table.
As she reads, I stare at her, dumbstruck, not knowing what to do.
Suddenly she turns and looks at me in incredulous despair.
“I can’t believe this,” Vibha moans, “It’s horrible,” she sobs, “Everything’s collapsed like a pack of cards,” she cries, “I invested my life in two things — my marriage and my career –and look what I’ve got in return? My marriage is a sham and my job — the two things I banked on, both have jilted me, and all I am left with is myself.”
“Your career? Your job? What happened?”
“It’s terrible,” she says, “I’m going through a very bad patch. Last week I was demoted, my junior promoted over my head,” she pauses, wipes her nose, “And I this so-called conference at the Head Office in London — it’s all a masquerade. I have a feeling they are going to fire me, give me termination letter, have an exit interview, settle my dues and tell me to go home.”
I listen silently, say nothing.
“I’m feeling so down,” she weeps. “I thought I’ll stop over, talk things over with Avinash, find some solace in his arms, plan our future, and see what happens! He does this!” she sobs holding out the letter.
“Maybe you can talk to him, patch up…”
“Patch up…?” she scorns mockingly, “A relationship in which the seeds of distrust have been sown — such a relationship, I think it is better to sever it, break it, terminate it permanently, than try to patch it up, isn’t it?”
I move my hands, wanting to take her into my arms, console her, but hesitate, not knowing what to do.
“I’ll never forgive him for this, for betraying me so terribly when I needed him the most,” she screams, and then suddenly her flaming red eyes look at me with such furious distress that I think she has gone raving mad.
“Please calm down…” I say to her.
“Why didn’t you tell me…?” she asks hoarsely, waving the letter.
I see tears trickling down her cheeks.
She covers her face with her hands, wildly shakes her head, disheveling her hair.
I want to comfort her.
I touch her shoulder.
She flashes her eyes at me through the tangled strands of her hair, and suddenly the blazing fury in her eyes collapses into incredulous despair.
“I loved him so much…! Why did he do this to me…? Why did he do this…?” she sobs hysterically, wildly clutching my arms, totally breaking down, her knees giving way.
I grab her, hold her tight, and she slumps forward into my arms.
Then she looks up into my eyes, yearning, thirsty, ravishing.
And suddenly, naturally, instinctively, it happens.
The most spontaneous, natural, beautiful and passionate experience of my life.
Spur of the moment, unplanned, unforeseen frenzied love.
Like a volcano.
It’s wonderful, lovely, exquisite.
I feel good, cherished.
But what about her…? Vibha…?
Is it spontaneous love…?
An explosion of fiery pent up passion…?
Or is it an act of frenzy, rage, expiation…?
__________
I gradually come into consciousness, my eyes heavy, my body overwhelmed by the pleasurable sensation of lethargy in the aftermath of passion.
Everything looks blurred and slowly Vibha’s face comes into focus.
“Vibha. I’m so sorry…” I begin to say.
She gently puts her hand on my mouth and says, “It was lovely.”
Then she lovingly ruffles my hair with her fingers.
I close my eyes, snuggle up to her, and let her ruffle my hair.
The emotion that comes to me is compassion for what we have done; never before have I felt such tenderness.
It’s almost noon by the time we are ready.
We have still got most of the weekend ahead of us.
“What shall we do…?” I ask Vibha, “Movie, shopping, sightseeing…whatever you want…”
“Let’s disappear…” Vibha says roguishly.
“Disappear…?” I say, surprised.
“Yes, Vijay, let’s just disappear, vanish into thin air, where no one will find us…” she says.
“Where…?” I ask her.
“Anywhere, far away from this suffocating life,” she says, “Come Vijay, let’s head for the hills, breathe some new pure fresh air, cleanse the cobwebs, the demons from our minds.”
“Your flight…? London…?” I ask her.
“I’ll cancel it…” she says.
Vibha calls up, cancels her flight to London.
Then Vibha gives me her cell-phone, and she says to me, “Switch it off and lock up this leash somewhere. Your mobile too. We don’t want to be tracked down, do we…?”
“But…?” I ask her.
“To hell with world — let them stew in suspense…” Vibha says.
___________
I put the mobile phones in a drawer.
“What about these?” I point to the two letters lying on the table — My unposted letter to Manisha, in the envelope, and Manisha’s pathetic love letter to Avinash, tear-stained, crumpled.
Vibha opens my unposted letter to Manisha, reads it and just tears it up, shreds it to pieces.
“What…?” I shout, taken aback.
“This flotsam and jetsam; memories of betrayal — better get rid of it,” she says, shredding the other letter too. “No point carrying useless painful baggage of the past.”
“Come,” she says taking my hand, “Let’s get away from all this. Be free. We both need to breathe some fresh air.”
And so we disappear.
At sunset we sit together, all by ourselves on the precipice, relishing the breathtaking spectacle of the delightful dance of the panoply of colours on the awesome vista in front of us as the soothing orange sun plays hide-and-seek behind the snow capped peaks of the Himalayas, and then disappearing below the horizon and lighting up sky with vanishing crimson rays, streaks slowly dissolving in the enveloping grayness of twilight.
I feel wonderful, my spirits uplifted, my head in the clouds after savoring this inspiring soul-elevating feast for the eyes, I turn towards Vibha, cup her face in my hands and drown myself deep into her eyes.
I can sense her finger-tips caressing the nape of my neck.
The debris of the past has disappeared and a fresh new life is about to begin.
I know that I have discovered my true love, my enduring love.
This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright Notice:
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.
The moment she saw us – tears welled up in her eyes.
There is nothing more shameful for a young bride than to see her husband helplessly drunk – staggering disgracefully – in another woman’s arms.
I was the other woman – holding the young bride’s husband in my arms.
I felt sorry for the young bride.
It is true – to be married to a drunkard is the crown of all misery.
I lay the drunk man on the sofa – I took off his shoes – and – I put a pillow under his head.
The drunk man’s wife – she did not move – but she remained frozen with a look of anxious trepidation on her face.
The man who was dead drunk – Arun – he lay in stupor – oblivious to the world.
It was only as I began to leave – that his wife – Sadhana – she rushed into my arms and broke down.
________
“He will be okay…” I hugged her warmly – and I comforted her.
“I want to die…I want to die…Why is this happening to me…?” she began screaming hysterically.
_________
I sat her down.
I gave her a glass of cold water from the fridge.
And – I said to her:
“Sadhana – you just go to sleep now.
Arun will be absolutely well in the morning.
You don’t say anything to him – just ignore him – let him go to office.
Then I will come here – and we will talk.”
_________
Sadhana looked at me with sad eyes.
“You will come…?” she pleaded.
“Yes – I will come in the morning and everything will be okay…” I calmed her.
I drove home late at night.
I lay alone in my lonely bed – commiserating – unable to sleep – wondering what to do.
I knew I had to do something – because – I loved Arun dearly.
________
Hey – Dear Reader – don’t get me wrong.
It’s not what you’re thinking.
Tell me – can’t a woman love a man without ever having made love to him…?
Can’t a woman love a man without falling in love with him…?
Of course she can – you can take my word for it – like I loved Arun.
Maybe – it was our mutual chemistry.
I don’t know what to call our relationship – but we certainly shared fantastic vibes – and we did love each other – Platonic – Ethereal – Buddy-Love – call it what you like.
________
Arun was my colleague.
It is very natural to develop feelings of fondness for someone who you are in close proximity with for more than 10 hours every day.
And – Arun was much more than my “work spouse” – he was my “soul mate”.
Arun was my classmate from our student days in the USA.
I was not only his constant companion at work and socially – but also his closest confidante.
In such cases it is a thin line between friendship and having an affair – but we never crossed that line.
There were no secrets between us – except the time – when he suddenly went to his hometown in the interiors of the mofussil – and he dutifully got married to the girl his parents had chosen for him.
_________
I remember the moment when Arun rang me up in the office – and he told me the news of his marriage without much ado.
He peremptorily commanded me to get his flat ready – and to come to the Mumbai Central Railway Station to receive him and his newly wedded wife.
I liked Arun’s wife Sadhana too.
Arun’s wife Sadhana was a plump, graceful girl with a very pretty face and a sincere friendly smile which radiated a charming innocence.
She readily accepted me as a friend with honesty and openness.
She generously understood my relationship with Arun – without a trace of suspicion, envy or rancour.
_________
I could not bear to see the poor innocent girl suffer like this.
Tomorrow I would talk to her – I would counsel her.
And – I would talk to Arun too.
I had to find a solution – try to make them more compatible – so that they could be happy – and have a fun marriage.
________
But first – Dear Reader – let me tell you how it all started.
Arun loved his drink.
In fact – he loved his drink a bit too much.
I think he had an innate propensity for alcohol.
I noticed this – and I told him once or twice.
But then – I let it go.
Well – it was early days – and maybe – he was just enjoying himself.
And – I too didn’t quite mind sharing a spot of cheer in his affable company.
Maybe his parents knew this – Arun’s penchant for the bottle – his love for alcohol.
And maybe – they thought that marriage was the panacea.
_________
And when they saw Sadhana – they must have said to themselves:
“She is a very good girl – from a cultured family – with excellent upbringing.
She will surely improve Arun with her love.
And – he will mend his ways after marriage.
She’ll take care of him and bring him around…”
_________
It is true.
Many people do seem to think the marriage is the easiest solution to many ills – like alcoholism – and everything will be happy ever after.
For Sadhana’s parents – Sadhana’s marriage to Arun was a “social triumph”.
She was an ordinary looking small town girl studying in college.
And – it was almost a miracle – a stroke of good fortune – that the elders of the best known and prestigious family in the town – had come all the way their modest house – to meet the girl’s parents – to ask for their daughter Sadhana’s hand in marriage for their son Arun – a well-educated foreign-returned top management executive.
It was a grand wedding.
But – I once read a saying that – sometimes:
“a grand wedding results in a disastrous marriage”
________
At first – Arun too was quite happy at his newly acquired simple naïve “provincial” wife – who he thought would be unquestioningly obedient – and acquiesce to his every whim and fancy.
Sadhana turned out exactly as he expected.
She was a nurturing, caring, loving wife who did exactly what he wanted.
She pampered him to glory.
She unquestioningly submitted to all his demands – except one – she did not allow even a drop of alcohol in their house.
In this aspect of “no alcohol in the house” rule – she did not yield.
On her first day she cleaned out his well stocked bar – by simply throwing all the bottles of expensive booze down the garbage chute.
Arun tried to reason with her – he explained the ways of cosmopolitan culture – but Sadhana stuck to her guns, defiant.
And – when all of us at the office suddenly landed up for impromptu dinner at his house – presenting Arun a bottle of his favourite Single Malt – Sadhana promptly drained the precious whisky down the sink saying:
“This “Daru” (booze) is evil stuff…”
_________
And then – Sadhana served us a delicious “spur-of-the-moment” meal.
This was the last straw…!!!
I noticed Arun seethe in silence.
He felt totally humiliated in front of his colleagues – his juniors – his friends – and me.
But – he did not say anything.
He reacted the next day – by going to the club bar after work – for a few drinks – before going home.
Yes – from that day onwards – Arun started drinking with vengeance.
Arun started drinking at the club bar – on his way home from work – every night.
At first – I would give him company.
But soon – I stopped accompanying him – as his drinking grew from bad to worse – and his behaviour would often become nasty after a few drinks.
And now – this had happened.
I got a call at midnight from the club secretary – desperately saying – that my colleague and friend Arun – he had passed out stone drunk in the bar – and would I please take him away – as they had to close up the bar for the night.
And so – I took the drunk Arun home – as I described in the beginning of the story.
________
Next morning – I left the office around 10:30 AM – telling Arun that I was not feeling well.
I went straight to his house.
Sadhana was waiting for me.
“Shall we have tea…?” she asked.
“No. Let’s go to the club…” I hustled her out of the house – and I bundled her into my car – overruling her protests.
“We can be more discreet there…” I said hinting at the servants – but I had other plans.
It was early – the club was empty.
I chose a lonely inconspicuous table.
I ordered a “Pina Colada” Cocktail for myself and a Soft Drink for Sadhana.
“You’ve got to help him…” I said to Sadhana.
I came straightaway to the point – not giving her a chance to start her sob story.
“Help him…? Of course I want to help him. But how…?” she asked me.
“You adapt a bit – and he too will change and get better…” I said to her.
“Adapt…? What should I do…?” she asked me.
“You give him company…” I said.
“What…?” she asked me, surprised.
“Be his friend. Spend your evenings with him…” I said to her.
“But he goes to the club every evening…” she said.
“Go to the club with him – sit with him – meet his friends – chat – talk to him – and make friends with him. Arun will feel good. In fact – I would suggest that you join him for a drink once in a while and have a little fun…” I said to Sadhana.
“What…?” Sadhana said flabbergasted, “You want me to drink liquor…? In my home – I have not even seen a drop of alcohol…”
“Relax, Sadhana – don’t be so dogmatic…” I took her hands in mine and calmed her down, “You are in a different society now. There is no harm in having a small – or some wine – now-a-days everyone does – even I do.”
“No. No…” she said.
“Here, sip this…” I said giving her my glass of the lip-smacking sweet creamy “Pina Colada”.
“No. No. I can’t have this bitter strong stuff…” she protested.
“Try it, just once…” I insisted – I almost forced her – and she took a tiny sip.
_________
She seemed quite comfortable.
So – I said to her:
“It’s sweet and delicious isn’t it…?
Now – if you have a little bit for Arun’s sake – he will start enjoying your company.
Arun needs companionship.
Tell me Sadhana – isn’t it better he has a drink with you – than with his hard drinking friends…?
Isn’t it better that he rather spends his time in your company than with his good-for-nothing friends – who are out to ruin him…?
Or worse – isn’t it better he has a drink with you – than getting drunk all alone – like he did yesterday…?”
_______
Sadhana gave me a hesitant look – but she did not say anything.
I could sense her desperation deep within her – that would make her try out anything – any remedy – any cure.
_______
I looked into her eyes and said to her:
“The trick is to wean him away from hard drinking to social drinking.
That’s what will happen once he starts enjoying your company.
I am telling you again.
Be his friend.
Spend your evenings with him.
Go to the club, sit with him, have a drink.
Arun will feel good.
He will start liking you.
Now – drinking is his priority.
Soon – you will be his priority.”
________
Sadhana gave me a confused look.
“I don’t know…” Sadhana faltered.
She seemed hesitant.
_______
I had to remove her confusion – her hesitancy.
So – I said to her:
“Trust me.
Try it.
It will make life easier for both of you.
Stop trying to control him.
It will never work.
I know Arun well.
If you nag him you will drive him away from you.
Confrontations, threats, arguments – with these – he will only get worse.
Come on, Sadhana – for Arun’s sake – for your sake – give it a try.
I am sure he will respond positively.”
________
Sadhana looked anxiously at me.
She looked nervous – unsure – yet desperate.
_________
I stood up – I walked to her – I gave her a loving hug.
Then – I said to her:
“You two are newly married.
I want you to be able to laugh, relax, have fun and enjoy life to its fullest…!!!”
________
She hugged me in return.
“Promise me you’ll give it a try…” I said.
“I will try my best…” she promised.
________
It worked.
Arun sobered down.
And though he did enjoy his drinks – I never saw him drunk again.
The metamorphosis in Sadhana was truly fascinating.
The way she had transformed herself from a conservative “Small Town Girl” from the heart of the mofussil into a “chic crème-de-la-crème socialite” was remarkable, almost unbelievable.
I would often see her sipping exotic colourful cocktails –rubbing shoulders with the cream of society.
There was a time when Arun was ashamed of showing off his wife to “society”.
Now – his heart swelled with pride and admiration – as everyone noticed and praised Sadhana.
Indeed – Arun and Sadhana were the toast of society.
The crowning glory was when they were crowned the “Made for Each Other Couple” at the New Year’s Eve Ball at the club.
________
Their marriage started rocking.
In fact their marriage rocked so much – that soon – comprehension dawned on me – that there cannot be three persons in a marriage.
So – I gracefully withdrew from their lives.
I changed my job – relocated – and yes – believe it or not – I got married to a nice young man – and commenced a blissful married life of my own.
Of course – Arun and Sadhana attended my marriage – and at my wedding reception – Sadhana seemed to be in a vivaciously celebratory mood – swinging brightly and dancing wildly – downing glass after glass of bubbly Champagne.
My new husband and I honeymooned on a luxury cruise liner – sailing to exotic locales – a wedding gift from Arun and Sadhana.
________
At first – Arun, Sadhana and Me – we kept in touch
But – with the passage of time – as I settled comfortably in the cocoon of wedded bliss – the communication became less and less.
And – when my Husband and Me – we relocated abroad to the US – I lost touch altogether with Arun and Sadhana.
________
It was three years before I visited Mumbai again.
And – the first thing I did after depositing my baggage in the hotel – was to head towards Arun’s flat on Marine Drive.
It was early in the morning – and I wanted to catch him home before he left for work.
Arun and Sadhana were not at home.
“Saheb and Memsaheb have gone to the Ashram…” the servants said.
“Ashram…?” I said surprised – and I asked them whether they could give me Arun’s mobile number.
They gave me Arun’s mobile number.
________
So – I rang up Arun on his cell phone – and I said to him:
“Hey, Arun – what are you you and your wife doing in an Ashram…?
Have you given up the material world and taken up the spiritual path…?”
_________
“No. No. It’s not that. This is not really the type of Ashram you are thinking – it’s a “Nature Cure Clinic”…” Arun said.
“Nature Cure Clinic…?” I asked.
“Not exactly…” Arun said, “You can say it’s a “de-addiction centre” – a sort of “rehab”…”
“Rehab…? You promised me Arun – you promised me that you would cut down your drinking – for her sake – poor thing – I hate you Arun…”
“Stop it…!!!” Arun interrupted angrily, “It is not me. I have given up drinking. It is my wife Sadhana – she has become an alcoholic.’
“What…?” I said, stunned.
“Yes. My wife Sadhana has become an alcoholic. Thanks to you and your stupid advice – she has hit the bottle. So now – will you please keep your advice to yourself and leave us alone…?” Arun said angrily and disconnected.
I cannot begin to describe the emotion I felt at that moment – when I realized how my good natured advice had terribly boomeranged.
But one thing is sure – I have never felt so terribly guilty in my life – till this very day.
This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright Notice:
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.
Article also posted below for your convenience to read:
MAHARSHI KARVE His Life Story in His Own Words LOOKING BACK By DK KARVE (1936)
The Autobiography of Bharat Ratna Dhondo Keshav Karve
(Book Review by Vikram Waman Karve)
Tomorrow 18 April 2015 is the 157th Birth Anniversary of Bharat Ratna Maharshi Dhondo Keshav Karve (18.04.1858 – 09.11.1962).
I felt that, on this occasion, it would be apt to tell you about his life and work as written by him in his autobiography titled LOOKING BACK published in 1936.
Dear Reader, you must be wondering why I am reviewing an autobiography written in 1936.
Well, sometime back, for six years of my life, I stayed in a magnificent building called Empress Court on
Maharshi Karve Road at Churchgate in Mumbai.
I share the same surname ( Karve ) as the author.
Also, I happen to be the great grandson of Maharshi Dhondo Keshav Karve.
But, beyond that, compared to him I am a nobody – not even a pygmy.
Maharshi Karve clearly knew his goal, persisted ceaselessly throughout his life with missionary zeal and transformed the destiny of the Indian Woman.
The first university for women in India, SNDT University, and educational institutions for women under the aegis of the
Hingne Stree Shiksan Samstha Poona, later renamed Maharshi Karve Stree Shikshan Samstha (MKSSS) Pune, covering the entire spectrum ranging from pre-primary schools to post-graduate, engineering, vocational and professional colleges bear eloquent testimony to his indomitable spirit, untiring perseverance and determined efforts.
In his preface, Frederick J Gould, renowned rationalist and lecturer on Ethics, writes that “the narrative is a parable of his career” – a most apt description of the autobiography. The author tells his life-story in a simple straightforward manner, with remarkable candour and humility; resulting in a narrative which is friendly, interesting and readable.
Autobiographies are sometimes voluminous tomes, but this a small book, 200 pages, and a very easy comfortable enjoyable read that makes it almost unputdownable.
Dr. Dhondo Keshav Karve writes a crisp, flowing narrative of his life, interspersed with his views and anecdotes, in simple, straightforward style which facilitates the reader to visualize through the author’s eyes the places, period, people and events pertaining to his life and times and the trials and tribulations he faced and struggled to conquer.
Dr. Dhondo Keshav Karve was born on 18th of April 1858. In the first few chapters he writes about Murud, his native place in Konkan, Maharashtra, his ancestry and his early life– the description is so vivid that you can clearly “see” through the author’s eye.
His struggle to appear in the public service examination (walking 110 miles in torrential rain and difficult terrain to Satara) and his shattering disappointment at not being allowed to appear for the examination (because “he looked too young”) make poignant reading.
“Many undreamt of things have happened in my life and given a different turn to my career” he writes, and then goes on to describe his high school and, later, college education at The Wilson College Bombay (Mumbai) narrating various incidents that convinced him of the role of destiny and serendipity in shaping his life and career as a teacher and then Professor of Mathematics.
He married at the age of fourteen but began his marital life at the age of twenty!
This was the custom of those days.
Let’s read the author’s own words on his domestic life:
“… I was married at the age of fourteen and my wife was then eight. Her family lived very near to ours and we knew each other very well and had often played together. However after marriage we had to forget our old relation as playmates and to behave as strangers, often looking toward each other but never standing together to exchange words … We had to communicate with each other through my sister … My marital life began under the parental roof at Murud when I was twenty …”
Their domestic bliss was short lived as his wife died after a few years leaving behind a son.
“Thus ended the first part of my domestic life”… he concludes in crisp witty style.
An incident highlighting the plight of a widow left an indelible impression on him and germinated in him the idea of widow remarriage.
He married Godubai, who was widowed when she was only eight years old, was a sister of his friend Mr. Joshi, and now twenty three was studying at Pandita Ramabai’s Sharada Sadan as its first widow student.
Let’s read in the author’s own words how he asked for her hand in marriage to her father – “I told him…..I had made up my mind to marry a widow. He sat silent for a minute and then hinted that there was no need to go in search of such a bride”.
He describes in detail the ostracism he faced from some orthodox quarters and systematically enunciates his life work – his organization of the Widow Marriage Association, Hindu Widows Home, Mahila Vidyalaya, Nishkama Karma Math, and other institutions, culminating in the birth of the first Indian Women’s University (SNDT University).
The trials and tribulations he faced in his life-work of emancipation of education of women (widows in particular) and how he overcame them by his persistent steadfast endeavours and indomitable spirit makes illuminating reading and underlines the fact that Dr. DK Karve was no arm-chair social reformer but a person devoted to achieve his dreams on the ground in reality.
These chapters form the meat of the book and make compelling reading.
His dedication and meticulousness is evident in the appendices where he has given date-wise details of his engagements and subscriptions down to the paisa for his educational institutions from various places he visited around the world to propagate their cause.
He then describes his world tour, at the ripe age of 71, to meet eminent educationists to propagate the cause of the Women’s University, his later domestic life and ends with a few of his views and ideas for posterity.
At the end of the book, concluding his autobiography, he writes:
“Here ends the story of my life. I hope this simple story will serve some useful purpose”.
Maharshi Dhondo Keshav Karve wrote this book in 1936.
He lived on till the 9th of November 1962, achieving so much more on the way, and was conferred the honorary degree of Doctor of Letters ( D.Litt.) by the famous and prestigious Banaras Hindu University (BHU) Varanasi in 1942, followed by University of Poona [Pune] in 1951, SNDT Women’s University in 1955, and the LL.D. by Bombay [Mumbai] University in 1957.
Maharshi Dhondo Keshav Karve received the Padma Vibhushan in 1955 and the India’s highest honour the “Bharat Ratna” in 1958, a fitting tribute on his centenary at the glorious age of 100.
It is an engrossing and illuminating autobiography, written in simple witty readable storytelling style, and it clearly brings out the mammoth contribution of Maharshi Karve and the trials and tribulations he faced.
Epilogue
I was born in September 1956, and I have fleeting memories of my great grandfather Maharshi Karve, when I was a small boy, during our visits, till 1962, to Hingne Stree Shikshan Samstha (now called Maharshi Karve Stree Shikshan Samstha).
My mother tells me that I featured in a Films Division Documentary on him during his centenary celebrations in 1958.
Here is a picture of me with my great grandfather Maharshi Karve taken in the year 1958.
Vikram Waman Karve with Maharshi Karve (1958)
It is from some old timers, a few relatives and mainly from books that I learn of his pioneering work in transforming the destiny of the Indian Woman and I thought I should share this.
I have written this book review with the hope that some of us, particularly the students and alumni of SNDT University, Cummins College of Engineering for Women, SOFT, Karve Institute of Social Sciences and other educational institutions who owe their very genesis and existence to Maharshi Karve, are motivated to read about his stellar pioneering work and draw inspiration from his autobiography.
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.
PET DOG PARENTING versus OWNERSHIP Tips on Care of Companion Dogs By VIKRAM KARVE
Disclaimer: 1. These are my personal views based on my own experience. They may or may not be applicable in your circumstances. You may please do your own due diligence before adopting a dog. 2. There are two ways of looking after babies and children. Most parents look after their children themselves. Some parents “outsource” parenting duties to “nannies”. It is similar with dogs – you can either look after your own dog personally or you can “outsource” dog care to a “nanny” who looks after your dog. This article is meant for pet parents who intend to personally look after their dogs.
ARE YOU READY TO BE A PET DOG PARENT ?
Before you adopt a dog, or any other pet, you must ask yourself:
Do you want to be a ‘pet parent’ or ‘pet owner’ ?
There is huge difference between the two.
Ask yourself:
1. Are you going to look after your dog like your own child?
Or
2. Are you going to “outsource” this “task” of looking after your dog to someone else?
Of course, even in the case of human children, there are two types of parents:
1. Parents who do genuine parenting and look after their children personally.
2. Parents who “outsource” their core parenting duties to someone else, like a “nanny”, or to “surrogate parents” like grandparents or relatives, or send their children away to boarding schools to be looked after by strangers.
It is the same with pet dog parenting – those who parent their pet dogs like in the first category above are “pet parents” and those who emulate the second category are akin to “dog owners”.
As far as our pet dog Sherry is concerned, we are in the first category – we are pet dog parents.
Parenting Sherry has been an enjoyable but challenging experience.
I will not call it “sacrifices”, but we certainly have made many compromises in order to be good pet parents – be it in our careers or in our social lives or in travel, recreation and leisure.
Today, Sherry is a “senior citizen” – and like any senior citizen she has her share of her ailments.
Sadly, she is blind, and she has diabetes.
Looking after a blind diabetic dog is a demanding task and places restrictions on the pet parents.
For example, it has become difficult for both of us, my wife and me, to go out together.
Since Sherry has diabetes, someone has to be at home to ensure she gets her correct food diet and medicines (insulin) at the proper time, and has her regular walks under leash, since she cannot see and cannot be left free.
Since Sherry is blind, she cannot be left alone at home for long, as she has developed separation anxiety due to her blindness; nor can we take her out with us like we did earlier since she gets confused and anxious in unfamiliar surroundings, and also there is a risk of injury, which can be dangerous in view of her diabetes.
Last weekend, there was a social function, and my wife attended alone, and I stayed at home to look after Sherry.
This weekend, we have a Navy Foundation Get-together, and I will be going alone, while my wife looks after Sherry at home.
The bottom-line is, that, like all “pet parents”, we will have to accept these restrictions since we decided to adopt a dog many years ago.
That is why, in the beginning, I said that before you adopt a dog, or any other pet, you must ask yourself: “Do you want to be a ‘pet parent’ or do you want to be just a ‘pet owner’?”
It is easy to adopt a dog, but it is a challenging long term commitment to be a genuine ‘pet parent’ and look after your companion dog for its entire lifetime.
Over the past few months I had written a few articles on DOG CARE and posted them on my blogs.
I thought it would be a good idea to abridge and consolidate all these articles in one blog post for convenience of dog lovers.
3 QUESTIONS YOU MUST ASK YOURSELF BEFORE YOU GET A COMPANION DOG
1. WHO IS GOING TO BE THE PET PARENT?
Are you thinking of getting a pet dog?
Wait.
Before you get that pet dog into your life, answer this question:
“Who is going to look after the dog?”
The person who is going to look after the dog must be clearly identified.
He or she must be ready to take on the responsibility and lifelong commitment required to look after a dog.
Let us assume that you are the person who is going to look after your dog (of course, your spouse, your children may share this responsibility, but if you are the person who is getting the dog into your home, you must be clear that looking after your dog is your primarily your responsibility).
You will have to allocate around 3 hours of you time to your dog every day – for feeding the dog at the stipulated time, for regular outdoor exercising and long walks, at least twice a day, morning and evening, for playing, training, grooming and bathing your dog.
Can your existing lifestyle cater to the demands of dog parenting?
Are you willing to change and curtail your lifestyle for the sake of your dog?
Are you willing to make “sacrifices” in your career and social life for the sake of your dog?
Are you willing to forego travel, vacations and holidays for the sake of your dog?
Dogs like routine, and once you establish the routine, you will have to follow that routine.
And, in order to follow your dog’s routine, you may have to forego many activities and events, and adjust your lifestyle and career commitments.
Remember, whoever is going to look after the dog will have to make “sacrifices” and should be prepared for it.
That is why, before you get a dog, you must have the answer to the question:“Who is going to look after the dog?” and that person must be clear about what this onerous dog-parenting responsibility entails.
2. ARE YOU PREPARED FOR A LONG TERM COMMITMENT TO LOOK AFTER YOUR DOG FOR ITS ENTIRE LIFETIME?
You must think carefully before adopting a dog, because you are making a commitment to that dog for its lifetime.
Looking after a dog is similar to raising a child.
But there is one big difference.
Your children will grow up and one day they will become independent and then they will leave you and go away to live their own lives, to pursue their own careers.
But your dog will remain a child forever, dependent on you for its entire life.
Yes, unlike your human children, your pet dog will remain dependent on you for its entire life and will never go away.
Getting a dog is a long-term commitment because most dogs live for about 10 years.
When you bring a dog into your family, that dog is yours for life.
They say that one dog year is equal to seven human years.
So, a 10 year old dog is equal to a 70 year old human being.
Thus, you will have to look after your dog for its entire lifecycle – as a small baby puppy, as a naughty youngster, in its middle age, and you will have to take care of your dog in its old age.
The normal lifespan of a dog is around 10 to 12 years.
In the normal course, your dog will die in your lifetime.
This is one more big difference between human children and pet dogs – unless you are an old person, in your 70’s or 80’s, barring accidents, in the normal course, your dog will die in your lifetime, whereas your human children are expected to outlive you.
Thus, when you get a companion dog, you must be mentally prepared for this sad eventuality, in addition to the long-term commitment to lifelong care for your dog.
When you bring a dog into your family, that dog is yours for life.
Your dog’s life depends on you.
So, before you get your dog, keep in mind that you are responsible for the dog’s entire lifetime of 10-12 years and your dog will need your extra care when the dog gets old and is not so healthy, right until its death.
A dog’s illness and death can be a very emotionally draining experience and you may not be able to cope up with it.
Before you get a dog, you must be clear that you will have to look after your dog for its entire lifecycle and you must be mentally and emotionally prepared for the fact that your dog will die in your lifetime so that you will be able to cope up with the grief at the loss of your pet dog.
So the second question you must ask yourself before you get a dog is:
Are you prepared to make a long term pet parenting commitment to look after your dog for its entire lifetime of 10-12 years?
3. DO YOU HAVE THE RESOURCES TO LOOK AFTER A DOG ?
Are your present living conditions conducive for the entry of a dog into your life and home?
Is your house suitable for a dog?
Do you have a bungalow with enough space in the compound for the dog to play?
If you have a flat in a high rise residential apartment building, you should think twice before you get a dog.
Your dog will feel “cooped up” in the flat, especially when you leave it alone inside.
You will have to frequently take your dog down for its ablutions.
Also, many high rise residential societies are not dog friendly and discourage pets.
Keeping a dog also entails expenses on food and health care.
Medical expenses can be quite heavy, especially in the dog’s old age.
It required emotional and physical resources on your part too.
Can you afford veterinary care and food for your dog?
Do you have the financial, physical and emotional resources to look after your dog for its entire lifetime?
So the third question you must ask yourself before you get a dog is:
“Do you have the resources to look after a dog?”
THREE QUESTIONS YOU MUST ASK YOURSELF BEFORE YOU GET A COMPANION DOG
So, before you bring a dog into your life, you must ask yourself these 3 questions:
1. Who is going to look after the dog?
2. Are you prepared to make a long term commitment to look after your dog for its entire lifetime of 10-12 years?
3. Do you have the resources to look after a dog?
Once the answers are clear, go ahead and adopt a dog.
Pet parenting a dog is a joyful and fulfilling experience.
You will never find a more loyal and devoted friend than a dog who loves you unconditionally.
ADOPTING A DOG 4 TYPES OF DOG CARE and HUMAN-CANINE RELATIONSHIPS
There are 4 ways of “adopting” a dog.
In each case the degree of human-canine relationship varies quite a large extent.
Most importantly, in each case, the degree of attachment to the dog varies greatly.
Let me illustrate this point by giving you some examples.
FIRST DEGREE of DOG CARE
When I was in Mumbai, every morning at 6 AM, I would start from my home opposite the Oval near Churchgate, walk down to Marine Drive via CCI, and then go for a brisk walk cum jog to Chowpatty.
Then I would turn back, and walk down to “land’s end” at Nariman Point at the southern end of Marine Drive to do some light exercises.
I noticed that every day a woman would come there in a car.
The moment she got out of the car, a large number of stray dogs would come running to greet her.
She would then sit on the parapet by the sea and feed the dogs biscuits which she had carried with her.
The lady would sit for half an hour, “talking” to the dogs, while the dogs frolicked around her, and after that the lady would leave in her car.
This was her routine every morning.
I will call this the “first degree” of dog care (or human-dog relationship).
SECOND DEGREE of DOG CARE
In the 1970’s, when we were undergoing training near Jamnagar, a female dog gave birth to a litter of 5 pups in the garage of our bachelors’ accommodation.
After a few days, the mother and puppies wandered away, but one puppy remained and could be seen in hanging around the corridor.
We bachelors “adopted” the small puppy.
We fed the dog every day, and soon it started following us around.
We called a vet from town and got the dog inoculated.
In jest, we had named the dog after our hard taskmaster training officer.
The dog started responding to the name.
The dog used to come with us on our jogs, hang around while we played a game, and sit with us in the evenings when we had a drink.
But we never allowed the dog inside our cabins – the dog used to sleep outside in the corridor where we had made a place for him with a blanket and water and food bowls.
When we proceeded to sea for our competency training, we “handed over” the dog to our junior batch, and when we came back a few months later for our second phase of training, the dog was very much there.
We left for sea a few months later and I am sure the dog was looked after by the bachelor officers who came to live in the block after us.
This is the “second degree” of dog care.
THIRD DEGREE of DOG CARE
We saw that in the first and second degrees of human-dog relationships, the dog is not allowed inside the house.
The dog lives outside, either on the street and or in your compound, and you give it minimal care.
I have seen many persons keep rescued dogs below their buildings, either on the street or in the building compound, and they feed the dogs and keep water for them, and, in some cases, ensure vaccinations and minimal veterinary care too.
In the third and fourth degree of dog care, the dog lives in your house.
Let me give you an example of the “third degree” of dog care.
I had a friend in the army who had a dog.
He had entrusted “dog care” to his batman (also called sahayak).
The sahayak was the de-facto master of the dog.
Yes, the sahayak would look after all requirements of the dog – food, water, grooming, walks, exercise etc.
The officer and his family would play with the dog whenever they got time.
But in the same manner as some parents delegate their parenting duties to a “nanny”, the officer had delegated dog care to his sahayak.
Even when the officer and his family went to their hometown on leave or on a vacation, the dog would stay behind with the sahayak.
Like the army, many other organizations like the police or some civil services provide you with attendants who can look after your dog.
If you can afford it, you can hire servants to look after your dog.
In this “third degree” of dog care, your dog is like a child looked after by a “nanny” where you delegate pet-parenting to someone else.
FOURTH DEGREE of DOG CARE
This is the highest form of dog care where the owner treats the dog like his own child.
You look after your dog personally.
You treat your dog as a member of your family, just like your human children, and you do everything possible for your dog like you do for your human children.
You are ready to make sacrifices in your career and personal life for the sake of your dog.
You forgo travel, vacations and holidays, and you cheerfully curtail your social life and make lifestyle changes for the sake of your dog.
You are deeply attached to your dog because you love your dog very much.
This highest “fourth degree” of dog care is very demanding and you should be prepared for a long term lifelong commitment of full time parenting.
Remember, your human children will grow up and go away but your dog will remain a perpetual child.
Your dog will be with you forever for his entire life till his death.
You will have to care for your dog through his entire lifecycle of 10-15 years, including caring for your dog in his old age and you will have to undergo the agony of seeing your dog die before your eyes.
You will have to bear your dog’s medical expenses, which can be quite substantial since veterinary care is costly.
Most importantly, you will get emotionally attached to your dog and your dog will become a very important part of your life.
Are you ready for this highest “fourth degree” of human-canine relationship?
Do you have the time, commitment, temperament and resources to look after your dog?
This highest form of dog care is very demanding – you can take my word for it.
This is genuine pet parenting.
SHOULD YOU ADOPT A DOG?
If you want to adopt a dog, especially a rescued dog, by all means do so.
But please be very clear about the type of dog care you will be able to provide to your dog.
The worst thing you can do is to get your dog used to the “fourth degree” of dog care where the dog gets deeply attached to you and becomes totally dependent on you, and then you “abandon” the dog because you realize that you cannot bear the commitment and responsibilities of looking after your dog or you are reluctant to make sacrifices in your career and lifestyle for the sake of your dog.
So, think properly before you adopt a dog – make sure you do not land up in a situation where you adopt a dog in haste and make the dog suffer later.
LOOKING AFTER YOUR PET DOG IN HER OLD AGE AND ILLNESS
On 05 May 2014, more than four months ago, when my pet dog Sherry was in a critical condition, dangerously ill with a life-threatening illness, in the veterinary hospital, we had two choices:
1. Put her to sleep (Euthanasia)
2. Try our best to save her life and put in all our efforts to nurse her out of her severe illness
We chose the second option.
We decided to look after Sherry in her old age and give her our loving care in her illness, to the best of our ability
Sherry was diagnosed with diabetes and then developed pyometra.
The last one month has passed in a daze – twice a day visits to the veterinary clinic for Sherry’s treatment, her diet, her medicines, her twice a day injections of insulin, sitting with Sherry, feeding her, talking to her and comforting her.
All of us, my wife, my son, daughter-in-law, and daughter, even my old mother and mother-in-law, and, most importantly, the veterinary doctors, we are all contributing, trying our best to save Sherry.
My wife is putting in tremendous efforts caring for Sherry, getting up early in the morning to make food for Sherry, give her the insulin shot, and then in the evenings too, after returning from work.
I try to be with Sherry 24/7 and comfort her, take her for her walks – in her illness, Sherry always wants my company.
On 02 June 2014, the veterinary surgeon had planned to operate Sherry for pyometra, but she was in such poor shape that she was unfit for the operation.
Since the risk of the operation was great, and she had open pyometra, it was decided not to operate but let her be as it is.
Sherry is bravely pulling along, but it seems the diabetes is affecting her eyesight and her vision is getting impaired, and she is showing symptoms of blindness, especially at night.
For us, Sherry is not a dog – she is a member of our family – and we will try and do everything possible for her like we would do for our own children, for Sherry is just like a human daughter to us.
Let us see how things go along.
Sherry is old now, and ill too, with diabetes and pyometra, and losing her vision.
We will look after Sherry to the best of our ability, give her good loving care, and hope for the best.
For more than 8 long years, Sherry has given us her unconditional love and devoted loyalty.
Now, it is time for us to give her the same love and loyalty in return.
For those who are thinking of adopting a dog, I would like to say one thing:
Before you adopt a dog, ask yourself whether you are fully prepared to look after the dog in its old age and take care of your dog in case it falls ill.
So, before you get your dog, keep in mind that you are responsible for the dog’s entire lifetime of 10-12 years and your dog will need your extra care when the dog gets old and is not so healthy, right until your dog’s death.
A dog’s illness can be a very emotionally draining experience and you may not be able to cope up with it.
Before you get a dog, you must be clear that you will have to look after your dog for its entire lifecycle and you must be mentally and emotionally prepared for the fact that your dog will die in your lifetime so that you will be able to cope up with the grief at the loss of your pet dog.
Till Sherry came into my life, I did not know that a human could get so deeply emotionally attached to an animal.
I never imagined that I would start loving my pet dog Sherry so dearly.
And I never expected that Sherry would love me so devotedly and become an inseparable part of my life.
For over 8 years, Sherry had been a tough healthy high-spirited dog.
And suddenly, Sherry fell ill, very ill, and as she lay in a critical condition on the examination table in the veterinary clinic, a frail skeleton, almost a lifeless shadow of her former self, the veterinary doctors painted quite a dismal picture – her blood reports were haywire, she had severe pancreatitis, her abnormal sugar levels indicated she had diabetes, so she could not be operated upon for her severe pyometra – things looked bad, very bad – it seemed that her chances of survival were quite bleak.
They gave us two choices:
1. Put her to sleep (Euthanasia or “mercy killing”)
2. Try our best to save her life and put in all our efforts and resources to nurse her out of her severe illness
While the first choice was being contemplated, I looked at Sherry.
Sherry looked at me.
I cannot forget the poignant loving look in her eyes.
I could read through the language of her eyes that Sherry wanted to live – the yearning look in her eyes indicated that she wanted to be with us.
We too wanted Sherry to be with us for as long as possible.
So we chose the second option, to try our best to save her life and nurse her back to health, and the next few days passed in a daze – daily visits to the veterinary clinic for Sherry’s treatment, her strict diet, her medicines, her twice a day injections of insulin, constantly sitting with Sherry, feeding her, talking to her and comforting her.
It was on one of these days, late at night, while comforting Sherry who seemed to be in agony, sitting with her and cuddling her, I switched on the TV, and what I saw was incredible – a fantastic coincidence.
The scene in the movie on TV was a mirror image of what I was doing at that moment.
Here, Sherry had put her head on my lap and I was lovingly caressing her neck.
And on the screen, there was an old man and a dog sitting in exactly the same manner, and the man was lovingly fondling the dog exactly as I was fondling Sherry.
Was it sheer coincidence, a quirk of serendipity – or was it an enigmatic message for me?
The scene on the TV screen before me was the episode of “Candy and his Dog” from the movie “Of Mice and Men”.
OF MICE AND MEN
One of the most poignant books I have read is “Of Mice and Men” – a novella written by John Steinbeck, winner of the Nobel Prize.
OF MICE AND MEN was published in 1937 and it was John Steinbeck’s first successful book that brought him fame as an author.
The novel “Of Mice and Men” has been enacted as a play on stage and also has been made into a movie (which I was watching that evening on TV).
The setting of the story is a ranch in California during the Great Depression.
The narrative describes the volatile life on the ranch and the precarious relationships between human beings on the ranch – friendships and tensions between the migrant ranch workers (farmhands) themselves and also between the farmhands and the owners.
One of the book’s major themes, and its most poignant sub plot, revolve around Candy and his dog.
CANDY AND HIS DOG
It is said that a dog is a man’s best friend.
This statement aptly describes the relationship between Candy and his dog.
Candy has had his dog since he was a pup.
It is his only friend and companion.
Candy has been alongside his dog for all of the dog’s life and has had a close relationship with his dog.
Candy remembers the time when he first got the dog.
He always proudly tells everyone that his dog was the best sheepdog.
Unfortunately, Candy’s dog, once a tough healthy impressive sheep herder, has now become blind, toothless, rheumatic, weak, and is in frail health due to old age.
A dominant ranch worker says to the ranch boss, and to the other ranch-hands present, that Candy’s dog is so old that he can hardly walk, the dog has no teeth, the dog is blind and deaf, the dog cannot chew, so Candy feeds him milk, and he asks the ranch boss to tell Candy to shoot his old dog.
All of them tell Candy that his dog is of no good to Candy, and the dog isn’t any good to itself too, since the animal is in misery due its old age infirmities – so why doesn’t Candy shoot the dog and relieve the dog of his suffering?
The ranch boss says that the dog is no good and remarks sarcastically: “…I wish someone would shoot me if I got old and (became) a cripple…”
All the ranch workers suggest that it would be best to shoot Candy’s old dog.
After hearing everyone, the ranch boss decides that since the sick old dog is a useless burden, it would be best to end its suffering by shooting it dead.
Candy is unable to “let go” and tries his best to hold on to his old blind, deaf and disabled dog for as long as possible.
Candy reminisces and tells everyone about the dog.
He describes the time when he first got the dog and mentions that it was the best sheepdog he has ever seen.
Candy harks back to the time when both he and the dog were useful and of great value to the ranch – he was the best ranch handyman and his dog was the best sheepherder.
Now Candy is crippled, as he has lost a hand in an accident, and he has become too old for vigorous work on the farm.
And Candy’s dog is in a similar situation – blind, deaf, disabled and too old to be of any use.
Candy has had his dog since he was a pup.
His dog is his only friend and companion on the ranch, especially after Candy is crippled after losing his hand the accident.
Candy pleads with everyone not to shoot the dog and begs to save the dog’s life: “…I am so used to him…I had him for so long…I had him since he was a pup…I herded sheep with him…You wouldn’t imagine if you look at him now, but he was the best sheep dog I have ever seen…”
But no one listens to his pleas, and the dominant worker called Carlson takes Candy’s dog outside to be shot and buried.
Candy’s dog is “put to sleep” and Candy is heartbroken when he hears the gunshot.
UTILITY VALUE – FATE OF THE “USELESS” WHO HAVE OUTLIVED THEIR USEFULNESS
The “mercy killing” of Candy’s Dog symbolizes the helplessness of valueless persons.
The dog is a metaphor for Candy himself – old and crippled and not of much use to anyone.
Maybe, for Candy, the fear he feels for his dog’s death is parallel to his own fear that when he has fulfilled his purpose and he is no long effectual, when he has outlived his utility, he too will be disposed of as readily as his dog.
The story of Candy’s dog serves as a harsh reminder of the fate that awaits anyone who outlives his usefulness.
To summarize, in the novel “Of Mice and Men” John Steinbeck has portrayed a poignant situation – the hapless ageing ranch worker Candy realizes that both he and his dog have “outlived their utility” when he helplessly watches the cruel way in which his beloved dog is treated.
Candy’s dog was once a great sheepherder.
But now the dog has become blind, deaf and disabled due to old age.
The dog can no longer herd sheep.
Candy’s dog has lost its usefulness – the dog no longer has “utility value”.
So, since the dog has become “useless” – the dog is shot dead.
Candy finds himself in the same position as the dog.
Candy realizes that just like his dog has lost its “utility value”, Candy himself has lost his “utility value.
Candy is anxious, and he is worried about his own future, and he speculates whether he would be fired from his job – if they could get rid of a “useless” dog, what prevents them from getting rid of a “useless” worker?
ME AND MY DOG
There was a time when I was the sole breadwinner for my family.
I provided for my family and I was “useful” to them.
I worked as a Naval Officer and I was “useful” to the Navy.
Today, after my retirement, as far as the Navy is concerned, I am a retired “veteran”, and I am not “useful” to the Navy anymore.
Also, now, after my retirement, I am no longer the “breadwinner”, and my wife and children are financially independent.
So, as far as my family is concerned, in the “material sense”, I am “useless”.
As I told you earlier, I have a dog called Sherry.
Once upon a time, Sherry was a great guard dog (and for me, a loving companion).
Unfortunately, Sherry has been ill for the past few months.
Today, Sherry is a blind diabetic dog – she has diabetes and has lost her vision due to her diabetes.
Like Candy’s Dog, Sherry too has lost her “utility value”.
So, aren’t we in the same situation as “Candy and his Dog” so poignantly described in John Steinbeck’s masterpiece novel “Of Mice and Men”?
I am “useless” thanks to my retirement.
Sherry is “useless” owing to her illness.
Me and my Dog – both of us have lost our “utility value” and have become “useless”.
I had brought out above in Part 2 of this series on DOG CARE (DOG CARE – Part 2 – ADOPTING A DOG) that if you get a dog into your home, there are two basic types of “Pet Parenting”.
BASIC TWO TYPES OF PET DOG PARENTING:
1. You can personally look after your dog
2. You can “outsource” dog care to someone else
(This is akin to human parenting where either the mother looks after her own child or the mother “outsources” childcare to a “nanny”)
PERSONAL PET PARENTING – DIABETIC DOG CARE
We, my wife and me, belong to the first category of pet parents and we look after our pet dog Sherry personally.
That is why we have had to change our lifestyle when our pet dog Sherry got diabetes.
From morning to night, our lives now revolve around Sherry.
Our lifestyle and our routine are now governed by Sherry’s routine of her strict diet and timely insulin injections twice a day.
(We never imagined that we would have to administer injections and that too for Sherry)
We have to make sure we feed Sherry the prescribed diet in a timely manner.
We have to be careful Sherry does not injure herself and keep an eye on her in case she becomes sluggish due to blood sugar levels.
One of us, either my wife or me, have to remain at home during her food and insulin time, twice a day, in the morning and in the evening.
This can affect social life – for example, if there is a social event in the evening, only one of us will be able to attend.
To make matters worse, our pet dog Sherry became blind (this happens to most diabetic dogs).
Looking after a blind diabetic dog is now an even greater responsibility.
We are working on helping Sherry acclimatize to her loss of vision and the results are encouraging.
I think we have been able to keep Sherry in good cheer despite her tragedy and trauma of sudden blindness.
I will write about it in Part 6 of this series on “Dog Care”.
DON’T ADOPT A DOG UNLESS YOU ARE PREPARED TO LOOK AFTER YOUR DOG FOR HIS ENTIRE LIFETIME
It sounds romantic to adopt a dog, especially a rescued dog.
But it is an onerous responsibility to look after the dog, especially when your dog becomes old and ailing with infirmities.
Once you adopt a dog, you will have to look after the dog for his entire lifetime.
If you want to adopt a dog, especially a rescued dog, by all means do so.
But please be very clear about the long term commitment, the resources required (time and costs) and responsibilities of looking after your dog and make sure you are ready for the career sacrifices and lifestyle changes you may have to make for the sake of your dog.
The worst thing you can do is to adopt a dog and then “abandon” the dog because you realize that you cannot look after your dog.
It is most cruel to abandon a dog which has become deeply attached to you and is totally dependent on you.
Unfortunately, nowadays, especially in urban cities, we see that many people are abandoning their dogs once they realize the onerous nature of pet parenting duties and are not willing to change their lifestyle, bear the responsibilities and costs, or make sacrifices for the sake of their dogs.
So, think properly before you adopt a dog – make sure you don’t land up in a situation where you adopt a dog in haste and make the dog suffer later by neglecting or abandoning your pet dog.
Diabetes is a major reason for loss of vision in dogs – dogs with diabetes develop cataracts which may result in blindness.
Whatever the reason, losing vision and becoming blind is traumatic for the dog and distressing for the owner (pet parent).
A vet once told me that a dog got so traumatized and depressed after becoming blind that the dog had to be put to sleep.
Unlike human beings dogs cannot speak and nor can you explain things to them like you can do to human beings.
Dogs get confused and disoriented when they suddenly become blind.
Pet parents become distressed and anxious when their dogs become blind.
A pet dog’s blindness will necessitate lifestyle changes in both the pet parents and the dog.
As a pet parent, you have to overcome your own personal grief, and you will have to help your dog cope with blindness.
Here are a few things dog owners (pet parents) can do to help their dogs mitigate the effects of blindness and with cope up with the tragic situation of losing vision.
COMFORT YOUR BLIND DOG
You must constantly comfort your blind dog.
Try to always be at your dog’s side, touch your dog, and talk to your dog in a loving reassuring voice.
You must “talk” to your dog much more.
Speak to your blind dog in your normal, cheery voice.
Your voice will be very soothing for your blind dog.
In fact, in the initial stages of your dog’s blindness, lovingly caressing and cheerfully talking to your dog will relieve your dog of the distress, agony and sense of isolation due to sudden loss of vision.
Talking to your dog will provide comfort and lessen the dog’s sense of isolation.
Your voice and your touch will assure your dog of your companionship.
The most important factor in how well a dog copes with blindness is the love and reassurance you give your dog, as a pet parent.
You must remember that despite becoming blind, your dog can continue to be a loving companion – in fact, the bonding between you and your dog will become stronger.
HELP YOUR BLIND DOG RE-ORIENT TO THE ENVIRONMENT
Sudden onset blindness can be much harder for both the dog and pet parent, than a gradual loss of vision.
A dog with sudden onset blindness is plunged into darkness without warning will become disoriented due to which the dog will experience trauma and anxiety.
As a loving pet parent, you must help your dog overcome this disorientation caused by sudden blindness.
One mitigating factor is that dogs do not rely on their sense of vision to the same extent as do humans.
Your dog depends on other senses like hearing and smell
Of all your dog’s senses, eyesight is third in order of importance after hearing and smell.
You can help your blind dog re-orient by facilitating your dog in using these senses of smell and hearing, along with the sense of touch.
It is best to start re-orienting your dog in a known environment – like your home.
Then, gradually extend to other familiar environments, like your dog’s regular walking routes and play area in your compound.
Be patient when you guide your dog in his familiar surroundings.
Let the dog sniff around, recognize familiar smells – and if you are outside – let the dog “mark” familiar spots.
Help your dog “map-out” his surroundings in his mind, both inside your house and outside.
To help your blind dog negotiate his way around, teach your dog “key words” such as “1-2” for climbing stairs, “walkie-walkie” for the dog to follow you, “stop” for your dog to stop whenever there is some obstruction/hazard etc etc.
You will see that within a few days, your blind dog will re-discover and map-out your house and his familiar surroundings.
You must facilitate your blind dog to overcome the disorientation caused by sudden blindness and re-orient himself by allowing your dog plenty of opportunity to explore and sniff around.
Soon, your blind dog will start enjoying going out on walks with you as before.
However, you should be very careful to ensure that your dog does not injure himself, so keep an eagle eye and a tight leash.
As time passes, you will notice that your blind dog’s sense of smell, touch and hearing will become more sensitive and, to a certain extent, this will compensate for the loss of vision.
TAKE PRECAUTIONS TO AVOID INJURIES TO YOUR BLIND DOG
You must take precautions, both indoors and outdoors, to ensure that your bind dog does not injure himself due to his lack of vision.
Remember, a blind dog cannot see things like before – the blind dog can only smell, hear and sense things.
Inside your home, remove all potential hazards, like tables with sharp edges and other obstructions, by rearranging your furniture in order to make your home safe to move around for your blind dog (you must do this quickly, before you start re-orienting your dog to your house).
A blind dog may have a tendency to walk close to the walls in order to avoid obstacles in the middle of the room so ensure you close cupboard doors, slide in all drawers and keep areas near the wall clear of objects so your dog does not bump into them.
Outside, you must keep your dog on a tight leash and be very alert to ensure your dog does not injure himself by stepping onto sharp objects or banging his head or nose into walls or things.
Preventing injuries is particularly important for blind dogs who have diabetes, since curing of injuries is difficult in diabetic dogs.
Do not scare your blind dog by suddenly touching him or by moving objects (like his food bowl) towards him.
Talk to your dog before you extend your hand.
Tap your dog’s food bowl and call out “Food” or “Mum Mum” to your dog and let your blind dog slowly sniff and approach so that he does not injure nose by banging it against the bowl.
Avoid taking your dog to unfamiliar places where the dog will get disoriented and is likely to injure himself.
As I said before, preventing injuries is particularly important for blind dogs who have diabetes, since curing of injuries is difficult in diabetic dogs.
MAKE LIFESTYLE CHANGES TO CARE FOR YOUR BLIND DOG
You will have to keep the “morale” of your blind dog in high spirits at all times in order to prevent your dog sinking into despondency and depression due to his blindness.
For achieving this, you will have to make changes in your lifestyle.
When your dog becomes blind, you will notice that the dog’s personality may change and your dog may become more affectionate as he becomes totally dependent on you.
A blind dog’s constant need for love and companionship may create “separation anxiety” in your dog.
Your blind dog will always want you in close proximity and will hate to be left alone.
Your blind dog may howl in a heart rending manner if he senses you are going out and leaving him alone.
This means, that if you have a blind dog, you or someone from your family will always have to be at home.
You will not be able to go out together.
You will not be able to leave your blind dog at a boarding kennel and go outstation on vacations.
Even if you have to go out on work, someone will have to be at home to look after the dog.
Many people are ready to look after a healthy dog.
But it is difficult to look after a blind dog.
This is particularly so if your dog is diabetic in addition to being blind, since you have to give him the prescribed diet and medicines at the proper times.
So, you will have to give maximum companionship to your blind dog, both indoors and outdoors.
Talk to your blind dog in a cheerful manner, play with him, take him out for walks, and establish your dog’s routines.
In order to help your blind dog adjust better, it is good to take your dog for a walk on the same route where the smells, sounds and feel of the ground are familiar.
Walk slowly and let your blind dog sniff around and help him become comfortable and re-assured.
You will not be able to take your blind dog with you on visits to other places, to avoid disorientation and injury.
In a nutshell, in order to keep your blind dog in good cheer and high morale, you will have to give him constant companionship and spend more time with your dog.
This will entail lifestyle changes involving curtailment of your social life, and may necessitate compromises in your work life too.
BLIND DOG CARE
Looking after a blind dog is a challenging and stressful task.
Words cannot describe the agony a pet parent feels when he sees his beloved dog suddenly become blind and helpless.
Most loving pet parents get terribly distressed when their dog becomes blind and loses his vision.
Remember that your pet dog can sense your emotions, so it is best that you maintain a calm, upbeat, positive and cheerful attitude and do not transmit negative vibes to your blind dog.
You must help your blind dog adjust to vision loss as quickly as possible, and restore your dog’s confidence and keep him in high morale.
Here are some words of sage advice to pet parents whose dogs have become blind:
“What I say to people is, look, your dog couldn’t read, write or drive a car, anyway. He’s already got four other senses that are better than yours. As long as you take good care of him, he’ll be okay.”
~ Nick Whelan, Canine Ophthalmologist, Ontario Veterinary College
When your dog becomes blind, you must lovingly help your dog adapt his lifestyle to compensate for his blindness.
You must bond closely with your dog and develop the dog’s self-confidence so that your dog remains cheerful despite his tragic loss of vision.
When people get dogs they never imagine that their dog can become blind, or develop some other serious disease or disability.
Let me post a poem (I discovered on the internet) in which a blind dog speaks to its “parents”:
I cannot see you Mommy, when you cuddle me so near. And yet I know you love me, it’s in the words I hear.
I cannot see you Daddy, when you hold me by your side But still I know you love me when you tell me so with pride.
I cannot see to run and play out in the sun so bright For here inside my tiny head it’s always dark as night.
I cannot see the treats you give when I am extra good But I can wag my tail in “Thanks” just like a good dog should.
“She cannot see. The dog is no good” is what some folks might say “She can’t be trained, she will never learn, She must be put away.”
But not you, Mom and Daddy, You know that it is alright Because I love you just as much as any dog with sight.
You took me in, you gave me love and we will never part Because I am blind with just my eyes, I see you in my heart.
~ Sherrill Wardrip
BLIND DOG PARENTING
If you are a genuine dog lover, pet parenting may turn out to be more difficult than parenting your human children.
Your human children will grow up, leave the “nest” and fly away to their careers and to pursue their own lives.
But your dog will be dependent on you for his entire life – you will have to bring him up in his childhood, look after your dog in his old age, and, you will have to endure the pain of your dog dying before your eyes, for dogs only live for around 10 years.
Adopting a dog is a challenging long term commitment – you are committing yourself to look after the dog for the dog’s entire lifetime of about 10 years and care for the dog in its illness and old age.
Remember – it is easy to get a dog, but it is difficult to look after the dog for its entire lifetime.
And, by a twist of misfortune, if your dog becomes blind, let me summarize the essence of Blind Dog Parenting, and recap the 4 points I told you on how to look after a blind dog:
1. Comfort your blind dog
2. Help your blind dog re-orient to the environment
3. Take precautions to avoid injuries to your blind dog
4. Make lifestyle changes to care for your blind dog
(This Series on PET DOG PARENTING to be continued…)
Dear Dog Lover:
Remember: It is easy to adopt a dog, but it is a challenging long term commitment to be a genuine ‘pet parent’ and look after your companion dog for its entire lifetime.
Do comment and tell us about your Dog Care and Pet Parenting Experiences and Views.
Disclaimer: 1. These are my personal views based on my own experience. These pet parenting tips may or may not be applicable in your circumstances. You may please do your own due diligence before adopting a dog and develop your own ways of looking after your pet dog. 2. All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright Notice: No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.
REVOLUTION IN PUBLISHING – THE ASCENDANCY OF DIGITAL SPACE
MY TAKEAWAY FROM PUNE INTERNATIONAL LITERARY FESTIVAL (PILF)
By
VIKRAM KARVE
THE ASCENDANCY OF DIGITAL SPACE
Last week I had the good fortune to participate in a few interesting sessions of the Pune International Literary Festival (PILF) held at MIT Kothrud Pune from 20 to 22 September 2013.
For me, one important “takeaway” from PILF was that nowadays: “More people Read on Digital Screens than Paper”.
In the days to come, this trend will increase exponentially and we may soon reach a stage where the “Digital Space” overshadows the traditional print medium, as far as all forms of writing and reading is concerned, including creative writing and literary reading.
This predominance of the digital space is going to cause a total paradigm shift in the publishing industry.
At various sessions during the Pune International Literary Festival, most publishers and editors were talking about the decreasing financial viability of publishing on paper as compared to the electronic medium.
Many publishers were saying that the future of publishing creative writing, especially literary fiction, lies in the “Digital Space”.
Why is this happening?
The main reason is “Technology”.
Technology has provided the hardware gadgets and software applications to optimally exploit those gadgets.
But most importantly, technology has liberated writers from the clutches of editors and publishers.
CREATIVE WRITING – Why Does a Writer Write?
Why do you write?
If you are a writer, you will realize that writers write for two reasons:
1. Some write because they want to earn money (commercial writing)
2. Others get the urge to write because they want to say something (creative writing)
In your case, which is the primary reason why you write?
There was a time when writers could earn enough money to make a living.
That is why writers could afford the luxury of full-time writing (and not doing a job).
But was difficult to establish yourself as a “published author” since you were at the mercy of editors and publishers.
And only if you could establish yourself as a published author could you earn enough money from your writing to make it a full-time vocation.
It was a Catch-22 situation.
If an editor did not print your writing in a magazine or a publisher did not publish your book you were doomed to failure as a writer, as these were the only ways you could make your writing reach the reader.
Either you had to be a celebrity, or have the right “contacts” in the publishing industry, or get that “lucky break”, or keep peddling your writing doggedly despite getting rejection slip after rejection slip.
Publishers evaluated writing purely from the business point of view.
Your writing had to be “sellable”.
That is why “commercial fiction” is most sought after by editors and publishers.
The combination all these factors is the reason why many “wannabe” budding writers who tried their hand at writing, faced rejection, got frustrated, fell by the wayside, and since they could not financially sustain themselves, they had to take up other professions.
THE ADVENT OF BLOGGING
Everything changed with the advent of the internet, proliferation of information technology and innovations like blogging in the “digital space”.
Now, “publishing” is no longer the monopoly of a handful of publishers and the stranglehold of editors is over.
Anyone who wishes to write can instantly “publish” their writing on blogs and showcase their literary work to the world.
I feel that blogging is the biggest “blessing” for those who wish to write, especially creative writers.
Yes, apart from social media, blogging is the most significant innovation of information technology.
Now, with widespread proliferation of the internet, every person has the opportunity to write.
All you have to do is to set up your blog (which is simple and free of cost on a number of popular blogging platforms like blogger, wordpress, typepad etc).
Then, you upload and publish your writings on your blog.
And, instantly, your writing is available throughout the world for people to read.
You feel a sense of “instant gratification”.
And you experience a sense of creative freedom since you have full control on what you want to write on your blog (without any external “editorial intervention”).
By removing the opaque barrier of editor/publisher between the writer and reader, blogging has enabled the reader to connect directly with the writer and facilitated mutual interaction between the two.
Blogging has proved to be a big boon to writers (who write because they want to “say something”).
If you are a writer, blogging is the best medium to satisfy your creative urge and demonstrate your literary skills to the world
Blogging is also of great benefit to readers as it has made so much material available for them to read free of cost.
Apart from blogs, there are many websites which contain a deluge of reading material in the digital space.
Many people have stopped reading printed paper and do all their reading from screens.
Technology has also progressed fast by leaps and bounds.
First you had ebook readers, and then you read on screens of PCs, Laptops and Tablets.
Now you have Smartphones.
Nowadays, people spend more time reading books on Smartphones than they do on tablets, ebook readers, PCs and laptops.
New sophisticated “eReader” applications for reading books on electronic screens are being developed in a big way to offer a superior reading experience on handheld electronic devices, especially mobile smartphones and “phablets”.
Handheld digital screens are edging out paper books
With increasing trend of reading on handheld digital screens (especially smartphones), paper books are being edged out of the market.
The shutting down of many bookstores (including the iconic Manney’s in Pune) and downsizing of bookshop chains (which restrict their stock to recent commercial fiction) bears testimony to the increasing ascendancy of the digital space vis-à-vis the traditional print medium.
During a discussion at the PILF, someone said that even the popular “secondhand” bookstores were winding up as more and more literary works were digitized and were freely available online on the internet.
WAY AHEAD
What does this all mean for budding creative writers?
If you are a new writer then it is better to forget about “publishing” your writing in the print medium.
You will be better off if you start blogging your writing in the digital space.
At the recent Pune International Literary Festival (PILF) I met a columnist who used to write columns on topical issues for print newspapers.
He told me that owing to financial considerations, newspapers were becoming thinner, both smaller in size and with lesser number of pages.
Also more pages had to given to commercial features which financially sustain the newspaper like advertisements and sponsored features (“paid news”).
The result was that there was less space for content of columnists and writers.
So the columnist was repeatedly told to keep reducing the length of his article and make it shorter and shorter, till the word count became so less that it was not possible for him to properly express what he had to say.
Finally, things reached a stage where the e-version of the newspaper (in digital space) would carry his full article and the print version would be abridged to fit into the miniscule space available.
So now, the columnist has started blogging where he can write in an unrestricted and unrestrained manner.
Let me tell you about another friend who is a voracious reader.
He travels extensively all over the world as a part of his work and he spends a lot of his time waiting at airports, in hotels or in commuting to and fro to airports.
Earlier he used to carry a book to pass time during these long waits.
Now he carried his Smartphone – he can multitask, he can network, and also read a wide variety of things via the web since internet connectivity has become so easy and accessible.
He regularly reads my blog wherever he is in the world, and he can access literature and information from websites and also read a variety of blogs and writings of his interest.
WHY YOU MUST BLOG
Suppose you observe something which stirs emotion within you and you experience an urge to express your inner feelings and say something, tell others, so you write about it – say, a short story.
In the “good old” pre-internet days, you would send your piece of creative writing, your story, to a magazine for publication.
And then, the agonizing wait would begin.
Some decent editors would acknowledge your contribution, and then let you know of acceptance or otherwise.
Others would not even have the courtesy of acknowledging receipt of your story.
Sometimes, there would be so much delay by the time your story was published that you yourself would have lost interest or the story would have lost its topicality.
It was similar with a manuscript of your book, if you were a new budding author.
Everything depended on the whims and fancies of the all-powerful editors and publishers.
Most unsolicited manuscripts were consigned to the slush-pile and forgotten.
Hapless authors who wanted their writings to see the light of day had no choice but spend time and effort to make the rounds of editorial offices, swallow their self respect and be ready to be pushed around.
Not anymore.
The advent of blogging has changed everything.
Now, the moment you finish writing your story, you can upload it on your blog, and, hey presto, your story will ne instantaneously available worldwide for all to read.
Readers will connect with you, just like my friend can read my blog posts on his Smartphone, wherever he is in the world, the moment I post them on my blog.
It looks like: BLOGS ARE IN and BOOKS ARE OUT
Or to put it more aptly:
DIGITAL SCREENS ARE IN and PAPER BOOKS ARE OUT
Is the end of traditional publishing industry imminent?
Maybe not the “end” but the decline of print medium has certainly started as more and more people start reading on convenient handheld digital screens rather than lug around cumbersome paper books.
There is a revolution brewing in publishing.
The ascendancy of digital space is an undeniable reality.
All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. 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.
A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer and blogger. Educated at IIT Delhi, IIT (BHU) Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and is currently working on his novel and a book of vignettes and an anthology of short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and creative non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories and self help in magazines and published a large number of professional and academic research papers in journals and edited in-house journals and magazines for many years, before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for 15 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing and blogging. Vikram Karve lives in Pune India with his family and muse – his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.
A few days ago, at a social gathering, I met a young man who works as an investment banker.
I had heard that investment banking is a lucrative profession.
In my usual loud voice I asked him how much salary he got.
He looked at me aghast as if I had committed sacrilege.
Everyone around us looked at me in disbelief as if I had committed a greatfaux pas.
To whet my curiosity, I repeated the “indiscretion” by asking whoever I met his or her salary.
I was surprised to see that today’s youngsters are very secretive and unwilling to disclose how much they earn.
I observed this secretive nature, and reluctance to disclose salaries and compensation packages, across professions – ranging from nerdy IT “Techies” to Street Smart MBAs of all hues.
I just do not understand this “cloak-and-dagger” obsession with pay secrecy.
In the 1970’s, after getting our B. Tech degrees in Engineering, all of us in our class took up a variety of jobs, in the government and in the industry, in public and private sectors, in MNCs and PSUs.
Whenever we met we discussed our new jobs – and we freely discussed our pay, our salaries and what perks we got in our respective jobs. There was nothing to hide.
In those glorious “pre-liberalization” days of “socialism” it was considered ethical to be equitable and that is why salaries were comparable whether you worked in the private sector or public sector.
Yes, though the private sector paid more, there was no excessively disproportionate disparity in pay for the same type of work and level of posts between one place and another.
How things have radically changed with the advent of liberalisation and globalisation!
Today the concept of “equal pay for equal work” seems to have been forgotten and we see an obscene imbalance in compensation packages.
Those days, in the 1970’s, Salary Structures were simple – you got a basic pay, dearness allowance, some well-defined perks and, in some cases, publicly declared incentives and bonuses.
Everything was transparent and, to the best of my knowledge, such Machiavellian concepts like “Cost To Company” (CTC), ESOPs, and other “secret” allowances and “hush-hush” incentives and bonuses did not exist.
I feel that “pay secrecy” is a concept which is alien to conventional Indian ethos.
It looks like this “secretive” Human Resource Management Philosophy (comprising elements like “confidential salaries”) has become prevalent in India after 1991, post-liberalization, with the entry of foreign companies who have brought along with them their own distinct organizational cultures.
Can somebody please tell me what is the need for you to keep your pay secret or for your employer to keep confidential the salaries of employees?
Even today, as far as government jobs are concerned, pay, salaries and allowances are public knowledge. There is total transparency in pay scales, increments, and all payments made to employees in government and public sector jobs. I think that there is pay transparency in some large industries and traditional Indian organizations of the “old mould” as well.
Then why have this obsession with pay secrecy in some firms, especially in companies with foreign organizational cultures like MNCs and IT Companies?
It is said that an Ethical Human Resource (HR) Management System must have three attributes:
1. It must be FAIR
2. It must be JUST
3. It must be TRANSPARENT
The concept of pay secrecy violates all these three tenets.
Let me give you an example.
I have a friend whose son migrated abroad to the USA many years ago for his studies and continued to live and work in America.
He was “posted” to India by his company (an MNC).
Though the boy is of Indian origin, since he is based in America, he is considered to be an Expatriate (expat).
I was told that because he is an “expat” he gets a much higher salary and attractive compensation package for doing the same job as compared to his Indian counterparts.
In fact, he also joked that had he remained in India like his brother, or come back toIndia after his studies abroad, and joined the same firm, he would have been paid much less for doing the same job.
(Whereas in India, foreign expats are paid more than Indians, the reverse may be true in America for Indian “expats” who probably are paid much less than their local counterparts)
Is this fair?
A fair system will ensure equitable compensation and will provide equal pay for equal work.
What is the justification for paying different salaries to employees of the same company for doing the same work?
Is this discrimination based on nationality just and moral?
In such a scenario you may have a ridiculous situation where a junior gets more salary than his senior just because they belong to different countries.
Is this absurdity not akin to racial discrimination?
I feel that openness is always better than secrecy, particularly in HR Management Systems which must be Transparent.
It has been my personal experience that a Transparent and Honest HR Policy nurtures a sense of Trust and Loyalty in employees.
Secrecy breeds distrust and creates an negative atmosphere of intrigue and suspicion in the workplace.
Such unhealthy and undesirable vibes create a sense of insecurity and disloyalty which in turn cause a feeling of stress in employees.
If there is workplace stress, people may not enjoy working in such an insalubrious environment and this is not conducive to friendly and open interpersonal relationships as well.
I feel that Pay Systems must be ethical and non-discriminatory.
A candid, sincere, fair and transparent HR Management System will inspire a sense of justice and harmony by ensuring equitable, fair and transparent compensation mechanisms for all employees.
Do you agree? What are your views on pay secrecy? Should salary be kept confidential? What are the pros and cons? Why has pay secrecy become the norm in most organizations?
Please comment. I eagerly look forward to your views.
A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer and blogger. Educated at IIT Delhi, IIT (BHU) Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and is currently working on his novel and a book of vignettes and an anthology of short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and creative non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories and self help in magazines and published a large number of professional and academic research papers in journals and edited in-house journals and magazines for many years, before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for 15 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing and blogging. Vikram Karve lives in Pune India with his family and muse – his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.
(Not to be confused with Prosophobia – the fear of progress)
By
VIKRAM KARVE
I have coined a new term – “PRAISOPHOBIA”
Praisophobia is the Fear of Praise.
Praisophobia is the fear that if you praise someone then the person’s behaviour may change for the worse (or if you praise some thing then something adverse may happen).
Let me give you an example.
Twenty years ago, if you asked my wife what was the worst thing she did not like about me, she would unhesitatingly say that she hated my drinking habit.
Yes, I must confess that I indeed loved to drink.
I had my first drink after I joined the Navy in the 1970’s and I started enjoying drinking alcohol in earnest on my first ship where the wardroom bar was well stocked with the choicest varieties of alcoholic beverages – wines, spirits, liquors, liqueurs, beers – you name it and the drink was available. And drinking was quite affordable since the booze was duty free.
I sampled and tasted everything and after experiencing all varieties and types of alcoholic drinks I discovered that I liked two brands: a Blended Scotch Whisky called Chivas Regal (which I drank on board) and an Indian Dark Rum called Hercules XXX Rum (which I drank ashore).
(We did not get duty-free liquor ashore and after developing a taste for Scotch Whisky I found the Indian Whiskies of those days quite rough, whereas Indian Dark Rum was probably the best in the world – the brands Hercules, Sea Pirate and Old Monk were good)
Hey, I am digressing, so let me get to the point.
As I told you, my wife hated my drinking.
In contrast, I loved drinking so much that I used to eagerly wait for sunset so that I could pour my first peg of the day.
(As a rule I avoided drinking in daytime since I did not enjoy it)
I drank quite regularly, almost every day, and I am sure my wife was very worried that I may become an alcoholic.
I am sure she prayed that I should stop drinking alcohol.
Probably, my drinking was the biggest problem in her life.
Then, all of a sudden, one day I stopped drinking – yes, I quit drinking alcohol forever.
This happened more than 10 years ago and since then I have remained a teetotaller.
I thought that my wife would be very happy that I had stopped drinking.
I thought that my wife would be filled with joy that her prayers had been answered and that her alcohol loving husband had turned a new leaf and was living a life of temperance and sobriety.
In fact, I thought that she would be full of praise for me.
However, since the day I quit drinking, my wife has never praised me even once for having the resolve and willpower to free myself from the clutches of alcohol which I loved so dearly.
I thought that for an alcohol lover like me to have given up drinking was a commendable act deserving of the highest praise, especially from my wife who was most affected by my drinking habit.
Yet, my wife has never uttered a word of praise for my good deed, either in private or in public.
The reason – PRAISOPHOBIA.
My wife is afraid that if she praises me I may start drinking again.
So Dear Reader, the moral of the story is this:
If you do a praiseworthy deed and someone does not praise you, do not think that those persons are unappreciative – maybe they suffer from Praisophobia
Think about it. Do you suffer from Praisophobia? Or do you know someone who is praisophobic?
PS:
The opposite of PRAISOPHOBIA is PRAISOMANIA
I am sure you have seen many such praisomaniac types – people who keep praising even when it is not justified.
A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer and blogger. Educated at IIT Delhi, IIT (BHU) Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and is currently working on his novel and a book of vignettes and an anthology of short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and creative non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories and self help in magazines and published a large number of professional and academic research papers in journals and edited in-house journals and magazines for many years, before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for 15 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing and blogging. Vikram Karve lives in Pune India with his family and muse – his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.
A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Navy Officer turned full time writer and blogger. Educated at IIT Delhi, IIT (BHU) Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and is currently working on his novel and a book of vignettes and short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a large number of fiction short stories, creative non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories and self help in magazines and published a large number of professional research papers in journals and edited in-house journals and magazines for many years, before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for 15 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing and blogging. Vikram Karve lives in Pune India with his family and muse - his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.
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Vikram Karve 