Wednesday, August 27, 2014

NAVY “GYAN” – SEASICKNESS – PREVENTION AND CURE

HUMOUR IN UNIFORM

NAVY “GYAN”

SEASICKNESS  –  PREVENTION AND CURE
A Spoof
By
VIKRAM KARVE

As a young Sub Lieutenant, in the latter half of the 1970’s, the first month of my “sea time” was sheer bliss, as our ship was berthed alongside in harbour at Bombay (now called Mumbai) for a “maintenance period”.

Every evening, we would imbibe a generous amount of the best Scotch Whisky in the ship’s wardroom and then go ashore to enjoy the delights the “maximum city” Bombay had to offer.

Suddenly, the fun time was all over, and we were off to sea.

It was monsoon time, the sea was rough, and as we headed out to sea, our ship, a frigate, started rolling and pitching quite furiously.

Individuals started getting sea-sick.

The doctor had hit the bunk in the sickbay in anticipation, in harbour itself, the moment special sea duty men closed up.

At Both Watches, I told the Master Chief: “This is my first sailing on this ship. In case I get sea-sick, you take charge.”

My Master Chief Petty Officer (MCPO), a grizzled old sea-dog, who was arguably the senior-most sailor in our branch, and certainly the senior-most sailor on board our ship, said matter-of-factly: “Sir, you will not get sea-sick.”

“How do you know I will not get sea-sick? You have never seen me sailing. You don’t know anything about me,” I said to him.

“Sir, we know everything about you. The wardroom steward tells us that you drink almost half a bottle of whisky every evening. And, Sir, at last week’s party at Sailors’ Home, you drank all of us under the table – you drank almost a full bottle of rum and then walked back all the way to the ship as if nothing had happened,” he said with genuine admiration in his voice.

“But what has drinking got to do with seasickness?” I asked.

“I don’t know the theory, Sir, but in my long service I have observed that heavy drinkers never get seasick,” he said.

As we sailed, and the sea got rougher, I observed that what the old sea-dog had said was true.

Ours was a non-airconditioned ship in which the Officers’ Cabin Flat reeked of the awfully nauseating smell of FFO (Furnace Fuel Oil), which made the nausea even worse, and most of the officers were terribly sea-sick.

There was a stench all over the ship as officers and sailors were retching and vomiting due to seasickness.

Only a few officers remained unaffected.

I was one of the lucky ones who did not get sea-sick.

I realized that the Master Chief was right.

The officers who did not get sea-sick were all heavy drinkers.

A few days later the Fleet Commander embarked on board our ship.

He was a towering figure, over six feet tall, with an impressive beard and an imposing personality.

I was surprised to see this grand Admiral getting sea-sick.

In fact, there was a bucket kept for him on the bridge.

You guessed right – the Admiral was a non-drinker, a strict teetotaller.

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

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

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

Copyright © Vikram Karve (all rights reserved)
 

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

THE GIRL WHO DUMPED ME aka A HAIR RAISING ROMANCE

THE GIRL WHO DUMPED ME
A HAIR-RAISING ROMANCE
Short Fiction - A Love story
By
VIKRAM KARVE 

From My Creative Writing Archives:
 
A Romance  which will bring a gentle smile on your lips.
 
I wrote this love story 8 years ago, in the year 2006, after a visit to a Mall in Aundh in Pune. 

Why did I write this story? 

You read it and tell me why I wrote this story – and do tell me if you liked it

A HAIR-RAISING ROMANCE – Romantic Love Story by VIKRAM KARVE

Thunderbolt – Love at First Sight

I fell in love with her hair. 

Long, beautiful, copious, lustrous, her lush jet-black hair cascading majestically, adorning her fair and lovely body, almost down to her knees.

“Ooooooooh,” I sighed longingly, as I looked at her through the powerful binoculars, admiring her magnificent hair, feasting my eyes on her nubile body, thirstily drinking her in passionately, from head to toe, as she walked flamboyantly on Marine Drive.

I focussed, zoomed in on her face.

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

I could not take my eyes off her. I had never seen anyone so beautiful, so virginal, and so vulnerable.

“Uffffff,” I pined insatiably, my eyes locked onto her, imbibing, relishing, yearning, craving, totally mesmerized, when suddenly I was rudely shaken out my glorious reverie by vigorous hands roughly trying to grab the binoculars from my eyes and Bobby’s voice shouting excitedly in my ear, “Hey, let me see! Let me see!”

“She is too good, yaar!” Bobby exclaimed, “and just look at her hair – it’s so lovely!”

“Hey, you shameless voyeurs – don’t ogle so blatantly – if they find out you’ll be up the gum-tree!”  Aditya laughed as he entered.

“She’s really amazing, yaar! Just look,” Bobby said handing the binoculars to Aditya.

“Which one?” Aditya asked, panning the horizon.

“The tall, fair beauty with the lovely long hair,” Bobby said, pointing in her direction.

“Wow! She’s really gorgeous; just look the way she’s tossing her beautiful hair,” Aditya crooned with appreciation. Then he paused for a moment, hesitating, uncertain, and said, “I think I have seen her somewhere.”

“Where?” Bobby and I asked.

“Churchgate. I think she’s in our Churchgate branch,” Aditya said tentatively.

“What? She works in your bank?” I exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes, I think so. I will find out tomorrow – wangle some work at the Churchgate branch. She’s certainly worth a try,” Aditya said mischievously.

“Hey, you, hands off – she’s strictly mine!” I warned.

“It’s that serious, is it?” Aditya ribbed.

“It’s the thunderbolt – Love at first sight!” Bobby laughed, “You should have seen the way he was lapping her up!”

“Then we’ll have to do something, isn’t it? An intro, maybe a date! Let’s see,” Aditya promised.


Our First Romantic Date

Heads turned as we entered the restaurant. 

I felt the natural pride of possession that any man feels when he has the company of a woman that other men desire.

We sat down and talked. 

I found that she was easy to talk to. 

I experienced a strange feeling of elation. 

In these moods, there was so much to say – the words simply came tumbling out.

I told her everything about myself. 

She was a good listener. 

Time flew. 

I soon realized that she was looking at me with undisguised affection. 

There was a conspiratorial look in her expressive eyes; at once inviting and taunting, and she radiated an extraordinary magnetic allure that had me awestruck.

She knew that it was her gorgeous hair that was her piece de resistance, the quintessence of her persona, the key facet of her loveliness, her attractiveness, her exquisite beauty, her captivating aura; and she used it with enthralling effect.

She would let her silky fragrant hair fall on her face. 

Then in a most fascinating manner she would tantalizingly toss her hair back with a titivating flick of her hand, arching her eyebrows most sexily as she seductively preened her slender neck. 

I sat in front of her, mesmerized. 

I could not take my eyes off her. 

I had never seen anyone so beautiful, so irresistible, so appealing.

I was madly in love with her – her teasing eyes, her nubile body, her captivating persona, but most importantly, her gorgeous hair!


Proposal

I was so confident she would say “Yes” that I had a diamond engagement ring ready in my pocket when I proposed to her, as we held hands, sitting by the sea on Marine Drive, viewing a romantic sunset.

She said “No”.

“Why?” I asked, devastated.

“Your hair,” she said, “look at your hair – you’re already graying!”

“No,” I said firmly, “I am sure I don’t have any white hair!”

“Yes, you do,” she said, “go home and have a look in the mirror.”

And as she said this, maybe to drive home her point, she sensuously caressed her beautiful lush black hair with her lovely hands.

That night I didn’t look at myself in the mirror.

I cried, wept in my pillow, dismayed, wounded, shattered by the rejection. 

Next morning I carefully examined my hair in the mirror and found just one infinitesimal strand of gray, barely visible, which her discerning eyes had noticed, a mere hint of gray, which had spelt my doom.

She has dumped me because of my hair – just one strand of gray hair.


Love at Second Sight

Ten years later, I ran into her in a shopping mall at Aundh in Pune. 

She looked chic.

She smiled at me and I was struck by the thunderbolt once more.

As I looked at her I felt that recognizable mingling of ineffable yearning and intense desire and I realized that even after all these years I was still desperately in love with her.

Her beauty had enhanced with age.

And yes, it was still her exquisite gorgeous hair that was her crowning glory. 

Even after so many years her magnificent lush hair cascaded luxuriously down her sumptuous body, almost to her knees, and it was still as jet-black, lustrous and alluring as before.

And my own hair had turned almost totally gray. 

In fact my hair was mostly white, with a few black strands.

“You look lovely,” I said.

“Thanks. But you have …”

“I have prematurely grayed,” I said, completing the sentence.

She caressed her beautiful dark black hair, tossed it.

“Coffee?” I suggested.

“Okay. Let’s finish our shopping first and then we’ll meet in the coffee shop at the entrance.”

She was waiting for me in the coffee shop.

“Sorry,” I said, “Cappuccino?”

“I have already ordered for both of us. Cappuccino and Black Forest Pastry – like we used to have in Mumbai,” she said.

“How come you’re in Pune?” I asked.

“Changed my job. And you?”

“Been here for eight years now. I have a place in Aundh.”

“Aundh? That’s great – I too live there – just settling in. Maybe you can give me a lift.”

We dumped our shopping bags in the rear seat and as I drove with her sitting beside me I could not resist admiring her enchanting hair.

“Hey, I’ll get off here,” she suddenly said.

“Here?” I said slowing down the car and steering left towards the footpath.

“That’s where I stay,” she said pointing to a posh building.

She got out of the car, closed the front door, opened the rear door, picked up her shopping bag, gave me a smile and wave of thanks, turned around and walked away, her luxurious hair cascading around her shapely figure like a silky waterfall.


Epiphany

“What is this?” my wife shouted from the kitchen.

“What?” I asked.

“I sent you to buy coffee, tea, spices…and look what you have brought?” she said angrily.

“What?” I said.

“Hair Dye…a pack of Black Hair Colour…gel…brush...a complete hair colouring kit. Did I ask you to buy a hair colouring kit? What is wrong with you? All these years you never used hair-dye and suddenly you are thinking of colouring your hair?” she asked.

I rushed to the kitchen and saw my amused wife take out the contents of the shopping bag one by one.

“Oh My God!” I exclaimed, “She picked up the wrong bag.”

“She?” my wife asked arching her eyebrow.  

So I told my darling wife the whole story – right from the beginning – from start to finish. 

And then, my wife and me, we had a good laugh.

“You must return her bag,” my wife said mischievously. 

“She lives in Aundh. I have seen the apartment block. It will be easy to find her place. Lets go,” I said.

“You want me to come?” my wife asked, a bit surprised.

“Of course I want you to come. Dont you want to see the girl who dumped me?” I said.

My wife looked at me and said: “Oh yes. I am dying to see your beautiful girlfriend with the magnificent lush “jet-black” hair. But you be careful – we dont want a rekindling of a hair-raising romance, do we?”

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

Disclaimer:
This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the 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.

Copyright © Vikram Karve (all rights reserved)

COMPARISON AND COMPETITION – The Road to Unhappiness

COMPARISON AND COMPETITION
The Road to Unhappiness
Musings
By
VIKRAM KARVE

Are you comfortable with yourself?

Are you happy and content as you are – physically (your body, your looks) etc – materially (money, possessions, career, “success”, “achievements” etc)?

Have you stopped striving for “more” (of anything)?

Are you living the life you always wanted to live?

If this is so, then you do not need to read this article, because you are happy.

True happiness lies being comfortable with yourself – in being content with what you have and who you are.

You have reached a blissful state where you have stopped “comparing” and “competing”.

Comparison and Competition are two evils which are detrimental to happiness.

I have learnt that if you want to be happy and content you must live a non-comparative and non-competitive life.

Now, the converse is also true.

If you want to feel unhappy and frustrated all you have to do is to live a comparative and competitive life.

It’s that simple – you can take my word for it.

Tell me – what is the best way to feel miserable?

“Compare” – yes, compare yourself with someone who you feel is “better off” as compared to you.

This comparison will create a sense of inferiority complex in you, and, in turn, this will arouse envy which will urge you to “compete” with that person.

Comparison leads to competition – and this spiral can go on and on endlessly – yes, “comparison” and “competition” are inextricably intertwined.

I don’t understand why people keep comparing with others.

Some even compare their own children with others’ children.

When I was in the Navy, I observed some careerist officers indulging in ruthless competition due to this comparison virus.

Even Navy Wives were afflicted by the comparison virus.

One navy wife was unhappy because her neighbour’s husband acquired a car (those days most naval officers had scooters/motorcycles and could not afford to buy a car).

Another navy wife was unhappy because her friend’s husband was doing extremely well in his navy career and was deputed abroad for a prestigious course.

Many “laid back” officers were spurred into overweening unbridled careerism by their wives who had become competitive and ambitious after being infected by the comparison virus.

Comparison can also make you try to become someone else (the person with whom you are comparing).

You see someone with 6 pack abs, and you want to have 6 pack abs (though you are quite fit and healthy).

I have seen so many persons, men and women, who get obsessed with their external appearance due to comparison with others.

Comparison happens at work, at home, in society, in families, in daily life among friends and peers – people are comparing everything, animate and inanimate, their jobs, their salaries, their spouses, their children, their homes, their cars, their possessions, even their pets.

You compare, and you want to be like the other person – you may even want to be in the other person’s shoes.

You compare, and you want something belonging to that person.

You compare, and you stop being happy as you are.

You compare, and you are not content with whatever you have got.

Once you are infected by the virus of “comparison” you will not be comfortable with yourself – you will not be happy with yourself as you are – and you will try to be someone else.

Do you want to be yourself?

Or do you want to be someone else?


Here is a fable that illustrates the dangers of trying to be someone else.

THE STORY OF THE EXOTIC GOAT
A Fable
Narrated By 
VIKRAM KARVE

Once there lived a Goat – an ordinary looking goat - who lived wild and free in the mountains.

One day while grazing in the forest, the goat saw a Giraffe, and the goat said to himself:

“I wish my neck was as long as the giraffe.”

Lo and Behold!

The goat’s neck suddenly became as long as the giraffe’s.

Delighted, that he could now see far and wide, the goat saw an Eagle flying high in the sky.

“I wish I had wings like that eagle,” wished the goat.

And instantaneously, wings appeared on the goat’s body.

Thrilled, the goat flapped its newly acquired wings, when he suddenly he spotted a Tortoise.

The goat admired the beautiful hard shell of the tortoise, and said to himself:

“I wish I had a strong hard invincible body like the shell of the tortoise.” 

Instantly his wish was granted – the goat’s back turned into the shell of a tortoise.

The goat felt ecstatic and impregnable, till he suddenly saw a sleek Cheetah speeding across the horizon running at high speed.

“I wish I had legs like the Cheetah,” the goat wished.

And miracle of miracles, the goat’s legs immediately became like the Cheetah.

Now the goat was truly overjoyed, on cloud nine, till he saw the enchanting sight of a beautiful Peacock with majestic feathers dancing magnificently.

“I wish I had gorgeous feathers like the peacock,” the goat wished.

And in a jiffy the goat’s wish was granted, and the goat now had dazzling copious plume of colourful feathers.

Adorned with the neck of a giraffe, the wings of an eagle, the shell of a tortoise, the legs of a Cheetah and the feathers of a peacock, the Goat felt jubilant, supreme, regal, on top of the world, and strutted around grandiosely in majestic pride.

A Hunter passing by suddenly saw this unique stunning creature. 

He looked at the marvelous creature and he could not believe his eyes.

The hunter stared in fascination and gawked enthralled at the sight before him. 

Was this an animal, or was this a bird, or was this a reptile?

What a fantastic creature!

The hunter was totally mesmerized at this bizarre, exotic and fascinating creature which he had never seen before.

After looking spellbound at the fantastic “Goat” for some time, the hunter recovered his wits and decided to capture this exotic priceless gem.

So the hunter cast his net, caught the exotic “Goat”.

Then he sold this amazing “never-seen-before” unique “one-of-its-kind” exclusive creature at an astronomical price to the zoo.

Large crowds gathered at the zoo, and everyone gaped in awe at this astonishingly exotic creature, fascinated by the awesome sight.

The exotic “Goat” spent the rest of his life in captivity locked up in a cage, weeping and crying.

He was filled with agony when he saw some ordinary looking goats wandering freely and eating grass outside the cage.

He looked wistfully at the ordinary goats, his erstwhile fellow brethren. 

These ordinary looking goats were wandering about freely and unnoticed in the zoo gardens while the exotic beautiful goat was locked up in a cage.

The exotic goat wished he too were free to roam around like the ordinary goats.

The exotic goat wondered why the ordinary goats did not recognize him. 

Depressed at having lost his freedom, the exotic goat spent the rest of his life in captivity filled with sadness and remorse.


MORAL OF THE STORY: 

Be Yourself. 

Be Comfortable with Yourself. 

Be Happy as you are. 

Do not compare with others.

Do not compete with others. 

Do not try to be someone else.

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

Disclaimer:
1. These are my personal views. Please do your own due diligence while selecting a philosophy of life.
2. All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the stories are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright Notice:
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.

Copyright © Vikram Karve (all rights reserved)