Friday, September 30, 2011

MY FAVOURITE SHORT STORIES PART 50 - LOVE and ROMANCE


Love and  Romance
Fiction Short Story
By
VIKRAM KARVE

From my Creative Writing Archives - One my earliest amateurish attempts at creative writing, a story I wrote more than fifteen years ago sometime in the 1990s. 

It is a longish story - written at a time when there was no internet, no blogs, no facebook, no twitter, no ebooks, no ezines, no online reading, but when you had to read magazines and books on paper for short fiction and when people had the time and patience to read. 

So relax, take your time, and read this old style romance - I am sure you will like it. 


Vandana dragged me to the New Year’s Eve party at our Club. “I’d feel good,” she said. I’d been wallowing in my grief too long and it was high time I forgot the tragic events of my past and got on with my life. Besides, she couldn't go alone. Would I be good enough to escort her? 

The moment we entered, Vandana was whisked away to the dance-floor by one of those young desperate bachelors, who are present in every such party. I didn’t mind it at all. In fact, I felt relieved for I was in no mood to dance. I still hadn’t forgotten the day when fate had cruelly snatched away my beloved Rajashree from my life. 

I picked up a glass of whisky from the bar and took up a strong tactical position with my back to the wall from where I could watch the entrance, the dance-floor and all the happenings at the ball in a discreet manner without being observed. 

I saw her almost at once. Her snow-white dress, unusual and eye-catching in the sea of sober blacks and grays, skin-tight, hip-hugging. She was only about ten feet away, but had her back to me, and I did no more than register a general approval. 

Then she turned, and I saw her face. And the impact was so overwhelming that I heard myself gasp! 

She turned further, and looked at me; her gaze focusing directly at me. And for just that fraction of a second I thought that it was all a bad dream, for there was my very own Rajashree herself, right in front of me! The same big dancing eyes, set in the same way, in the same rather small face. The same high cheekbones. The same habit of lifting the chin with the head slightly thrown back. 

It was only for a fraction of a second, of course. Then I began to see the difference. She was slightly taller than Rajashree. The big eyes had no gray in them. Not even a hint of the greenish gray. They were pure brown. And her complexion. The texture or her hair. Wavy. Almost identical. But just that slight difference. 

I was staring at her brazenly, with undisguised directness, maybe, even too rudely. 

At first she realized that I was looking at her. Then, she accepted the fact of being looked at. And finally, she began to look at me in return. Then she smiled at the frank admiration in my eyes. 

I must have been so engrossed marveling at the object of my attention that I hadn’t sensed Vandana come by my side silently and curiously observing the goings on with interest. 

Embarrassed, I tried to change my focus, and look elsewhere.

“Dance over?” I asked. 

“That Pongo! He thought he was on a parade ground! Stepped on my toes. I walked out.” Vandana paused, and asked, “What were you up to?” 

“Nothing. Just having a drink.” 

“Vivek,” Vandana said.” You’ve got this delightful habit.” 

“What habit?” 

“You look at a woman in an insistent suggestive sort of way which is worth a hundred compliments.” 

“No,” I protested, blushing terribly. 

“Come on, Vivek,” Vandana said taking my arm. “I’ve even seen you looking at me like that. Eyeing me blatantly, yearningly, almost hungrily. So many times. Giving me those canny looks when you thought I wasn’t noticing.” 

I felt ashamed. Of having eyed Vandana. Of having eyed that woman in the snow-white dress. So openly. Staring. Brazenly. As if in a trance. She was still standing there. 

“Why don’t you ask her for a dance?” Vandana said. 

“Who?” I asked, trying to sound innocent. 

“You know who!” Vandana said. “Her! The object of your attention, or rather the object of your affection. The woman in white!” 

“No,” I said. 

“Why not?” Vandana persisted. 

“I’m very sentimental, Vandana. I cry easily,” I said, paused for a moment, and then said, “If she refuses me, I’ll be shattered.”

“But why should she refuse you, Vivek? It’s New Year’s Eve. And she has come here to dance.” Vandana asked. 

“I don’t know. I’m scared. I don’t have the guts to go and ask her.” 

“I think you’re really cute, Vivek. And handsome. Let’s us dance. Forget her. Think of me instead!” 

But I couldn’t forget her. The woman in white. And Rajashree. My late wife. The striking similarity. I cannot begin to describe my emotion as I danced with Vandana, with the woman in white mesmerizing me in my mind’s eye. But as we danced, I must have pulled Vandana close, my mind elsewhere. For when the lights went out to ring in the New Year, I found Vandana tightly embracing me. And kissing me passionately. I kissed her back. For who can resist a full-blooded embrace of a passionate woman in the prime of her life. 

On New Year’s day, I got up early in the morning, put on my track suit for my customary jog down to Sims Park. The air was so pure that I could easily discern that familiar fruity whiff of perfume even at a distance. It was her! The woman of my dreams! Sporting Rajashree’s favourite perfume. The woman in white! Now wearing jeans, jacket and black leather gloves. Walking briskly down the slope in the direction of Coonoor.

I discreetly followed her. All the way down to the railway station. The morning passenger train to Ooty was already standing on the platform. She sat right in front, facing forward in the first car. I sat diagonally opposite, but way behind, in order to get a good view but remain undetected. 

She got down at Lovedale, the station just before Ooty. And as she walked across the platform I noticed several things which had not struck me the New Year’s Eve party. The resemblance to Rajashree was still startling. But she was younger than I had thought – may be 25, at the most 27 – whereas Rajashree had been 33. One year ago. When the cruel hand of fate snatched her away from me. And now this woman who had come into my life so suddenly, was also walking away. 

I felt an instant urge to jump off the train and rush towards her, but I restrained myself. And suddenly the train started moving towards Ooty. 

When I returned home to Coonoor in the evening, I found Vandana waiting for me. She seemed livid. 

“Happy New Year!” I said. 

“I thought you wished me quite eloquently at the stroke of midnight!” Vandana said full of sarcasm. “Have you gone crazy? Gallivanting around whole day like a zombie. In your track suit?” 

I flushed in embarrassment. 

“It’s good she didn’t notice you,” Vandana said. “You almost jeopardized our mission.”

“Our mission?” I said incredulously. 

“I’ll explain,” Vandana said. 

“Have you put me under surveillance?” I asked angrily.

“You better pull up your socks, Vivek Mathur,” Vandana said patronizingly. “You didn’t even notice me sitting right behind you in the train.” 

I was stunned speechless. Vandana had followed me in the train all the way to Ooty and I hadn’t even noticed. 

“And many mercies,” she added as an after thought, “For not getting down at Lovedale and making an ass yourself.” 

“She looks like Rajashree – my late wife,” I said sheepishly. 

“I know. That’s why we’ve chosen you for the assignment,” Vandana said matter-of-factly. 

“Assignment?” I asked dumbfounded. 

“It’s time to return where you really belong, Vivek. Into the wilderness of mirrors,” Vandana said, softly taking my hand. “One year is too long a time to be in mourning.” 

My profession is a solitary one, whose sine qua non is the power of anonymity. And that’s what we were chcking out on the 6th of January at five in the evening as I stood on MG Road in Bangalore watching her entering Gangaram’s – a three storeyed bookshop – one of my favorite bookstores. 

It was the crucial test of anonymity. If I passed, I got the assignment. Suppose she recognized me, it was curtains as far as this career was concerned. And then I would have no choice but to return to my boring teaching job. 

I entered, walked briskly up the steps, and stepped into the bookstore. There she was. Browsing. I went across and picked up a book. She looked up. Our eyes met. I felt a tremor of trepidation. 

For a moment I was anxious, lest she recognize me. But she nonchalantly put the book she was holding, back on the shelf. And casually walked away. No trace of recognition! I felt relieved. Or did I? 

Maybe my anxiety had, in reality, been hope. Hope that somehow she would recognize me and my assignment would be revoked by circumstance. 

I followed her into the stationery and greeting cards section on the third floor. 

“I want a Valentine’s Day Card.” I heard her ask, “something very special. Exclusive. Custom-made.” 

“Yes, madam,” the sales girl said, “I’ll take you to the manager.” 

A windfall! What luck! A custom-made Valentine’s Day Card. I knew I had the case all wrapped up. 

The case? The mission. The assignment. 

Oh yes! Let me tell you all about it. Plainly but precisely. The way a good soldier recalls a battle. Not to win. Not to lose. Just the facts – the simple truth. 

It started as a simple inquiry – a pre-matrimonial investigation. That’s what Vandana had told me. Rita Rao. The girl in white. Who looks like Rajashree. She was clean. They gave her a clean chit. So, our client went to her father with a marriage proposal. Rita Rao’s father was delighted. Both were only children – I mean the only child of their respective parents. Scions of flourishing business families. An ideal marriage. Made business-sense too. 

But Rita Rao refuses. Says she won’t go in for an arranged marriage with our client Jayant. That’s his name. She’ll marry the man she loves. 

“Who?” asks her father. 

“I don’t know,” she tells her father. There are at least two, maybe three prospective candidates she has in mind. But she can’t decide. She needs time. 

“Okay,” says her doting father Mr. Rao, “You decide by Valentine’s Day. Or else I’ll announce your engagement to Mr. Jayant on the 15th of February.” Rita Rao agrees. Unbelievable, but true. Those are the ways of the rich! 

Our client Mr. Jayant is furious with Vandana. “You told me she’s clean. I want you to find out everything about her. I want his name. The man she intends marrying. Fast. At any cost. Don’t worry about expenses.” 

“You’ll get the name, Mr. Jayant. By Valentine’s Day – the 14th of February,” Vandana assures our client. 

So I shave off my beard and begin shadowing and tailing Rita Rao. 

“I knew she won’t recognize you,” Vandana said, as we ordered a late evening ‘tiffin’ in our favorite restaurant on MG Road. “You know the amount of dough Jayant is going to pay for this assignment, isn’t it? It is enough to last a lifetime.”  

“And then?” I ventured. 

“And then we go off to Seychelles for a holiday. The two of us – just you and me. The cool breeze, the pristine blue waters, the silver beaches and just the both of us,” she smiled, with a far-away look in her eyes. 

“I didn’t mean us,” I said softly. “Suppose we tell our client the name of Rita Rao’s ‘Valentine’, what will he do? I don’t understand why is he paying so much money just to know a name?” 

“Don’t delve too deeply!” Vandana’s voice trailed off, as I noticed Rita Rao entering the restaurant. A man got up and walked toward her. The sight of Rita Rao clearly gave him great joy, for he was beaming with pleasure. So was I. 

“It’s not him,” Vandana said. 

“Why not?” 

“Can’t you see? They love each other, but they are not in love with each other!” 

“Like us?” 

“No, Vivek. There’s slight difference. You love me. But I am in love with you.”    

I took Vandana’s hand, slipping my five fingers in between hers. “I’ll try,” I said. And try I did, as we cuddled very close that evening watching a romantic movie sitting in the corner seats of the movie theatre. 

For the next few days we did everything possible: surveillance, bugging, but there was no clue. 

Except one. Just one small one! 

On the 31st of January, Rita Rao collected her custom-made Valentine’s Day Card and headed straight back to her bungalow on her Tea Estate near Ooty. And then she holed up there incommunicado. 

Finally, on the 12th of February, Vandana’s ‘Greetings Telegram’ arrived. (Those days, when this happened, there was no e-mail, no internet, no e-cards, and no cell-phones for SMS – only greeting cards and telegrams). The handwriting on the telegram was barely legible, “Happy Birthday. See you on 14th of February at the Flower Show. Love. Valentine.” 

I smiled to myself. Vandana had signed as ‘Valentine’ – her codeword for this mission. I realized how much Vandana loved me. I’d made her wait long enough. Now I’d seal it. On Valentine’s Day. 

At last it was Valentine’s Day. The fourteenth of February. The Ooty Flower Show at the Botanical Gardens. Celebrating the festival of lovers. The mating season of birds. The magnificent display of roses. Vandana beside me. 

I had waited for this moment and now that the moment had come I did not know what to do with it! 

I put my hand inside my overcoat and nervously gripped the diamond necklace wrapped around a bouquet of a dozen red roses. And while taking it out I mumbled, “Vandana, thanks for the birthday greetings telegram.” 

“What telegram?” Vandana asked, with genuine surprise in her eyes. 

I froze. My mind went blank. I stood flummoxed, holding the necklace in my hand, frozen, not knowing what to do. 

Someone was tapping my back. I turned around. And stood dumbstruck, shell-shocked, mesmerized by what I saw in front of me. It was Rita Rao. Holding out the beautifully engraved Valentine Card in her hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she seemed to be saying with her dancing eyes. 

Instinctively, I gave her the diamond necklace wrapped around the bouquet of red roses and I could see the glow of love in her eyes. 

Then, I turned towards Vandana. She quickly plucked out a yellow rose and gave it to me. There were tears in her eyes as she said, “Take my car. The tickets are in the dashboard. Coimbatore to Mumbai and Mumbai to Seychelles!” and she held out the keys, looked at both of us and said, “Hey, lovebirds. Happy Valentine’s Day! 

The officer at Mumbai Airport opened the passport, saw the photo inside, and then had a good look at Rita. Thumbing through the pages of Rajashree’s well-worn passport, he asked, “Rajashree Mathur?” 

“Yes,” Rita answered boldly. He stamped our passports, gave them back to us and said, “Have a nice holiday Mr. and Mrs. Mathur. Seychelles is wonderful place.”




VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2011
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
© vikram karve., all rights reserved. 

COCKTAIL ebook
If you prefer reading ebooks on Kindle or your ebook reader, please order Cocktail E-book by clicking the links below:
AMAZON
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005MGERZ6
SMASHWORDS
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/87925


Foodie Book:  Appetite for a Stroll

http://www.flipkart.com/appetite-stroll-vikram-karve/8190690094-gw23f9mr2o

About Vikram Karve

A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and is currently working on his novel and a book of vignettes and short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories, creative non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories and self help in magazines and published a large number of professional research papers in journals and edited in-house journals for many years, before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 14 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram lives in Pune India with his family and muse - his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.

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

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.


TEACHING STORIES Part 2 - Beauty

TEACHING STORIES PART 2
Beauty By
VIKRAM KARVE



Teaching stories have a special quality. If read in a certain kind of way they produce spiritual growth. There are three ways to read teaching stories:-

•      Read the story once. Then move on to another. This manner of reading will give you entertainment; maybe produce a laugh, like a joke. 

•      Read the story twice. Reflect on it. Apply it to your life. That will give you a taste of theology. 

•      Read the story again, after you have reflected on it. Carry the story around in your mind all day and allow its fragrance, its melody to haunt you. Create a silence within you and let the story reveal to you its inner depth and meaning. Let it speak to your heart, not to your brain. This will give you a feel for the mystical and you will develop the art of tasting and feeling the inner meaning of such stories to the point that they transform you. 


Here is a Mulla Nasrudin Teaching Story BEAUTY - Read it, Reflect, See it happening around you, apply it to your own life and transform yourself:

BEAUTY - A Mulla Nasrudin Story


Nasrudin bought an old haunted house [a “Bhoot Bangla”] at a desolate place in a nearby hill-station.

From time to time he would suddenly pack his bags, leave the city, and go away to his house in the hill station, disappearing for days, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months. And just as suddenly as he used to disappear, he used to unpredictably return back to the city, suddenly, without any warning or notice. 

When asked the reason for his erratic and whimsical behavior, Nasrudin explained: 

“I have kept a caretaker woman up there in the hills to look after my house. She is the ugliest woman - horrible, repulsive, hideous, nauseating. Just one look at her and one feels like vomiting. 

When I go to live there, at first she looks horrible. But slowly, slowly, after a few lonely days, she is not so horrible. Then after some more desolate forlorn days, she doesn’t seem that undesirable. And as more and more time passes in lonesome seclusion, a day comes when I start seeing some beauty in her. 

The day I start seeing beauty in that horrid woman I escape from the hill-station, because that means enough is enough – I have lived away from the real world for too long - now even this horrible revolting woman has started looking beautiful!  I may even fall in love with this ghastly ugly repugnant woman - that's dangerous. 

So I pack up my things and rush back to the city.”


Think about it, reflect - isn't it time you logged off your social networking site, switched off your laptop, stopped surfing on your mobile phone and returned to the real world from the virtual world - to true space from cyberspace.



Did you like reading this story?
I am sure you will like the 27 stories in COCKTAIL
To order your COCKTAIL please click the link below:

http://www.flipkart.com/cocktail-vikram-karve-short-stories-book-8191091844?affid=nme



If you prefer reading ebooks on Kindle or your ebook reader, please order Cocktail E-book by clicking the links below:
AMAZON
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005MGERZ6
SMASHWORDS
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/87925



Happy Reading
VIKRAM KARVE

TEACHING STORIES Part 1 - Punishment and Reward

TEACHING STORIES - PART 1
By
VIKRAM KARVE


Teaching stories may relate events that are funny, foolish, bemusing, sometimes even apparently stupid, but they usually have deeper meanings.

A good teaching story has several levels of meaning and interpretation and offers us opportunities to think in new ways. At first you may just have a good laugh but as you reflect on the story, the significance becomes more and more profound.

A teaching story veils its knowledge and as you ruminate, the walls of its outer meanings crumble away and the beauty of the previously invisible inner wisdom is revealed, and you begin to identify yourself in the story, and to acknowledge that you too could be as foolish or as lacking in discernment as the characters in these classic tales.

An example of the concept of teaching stories is embodied in the “wisdom” tales of the inimitable Mulla Nasrudin narrated by Sufis to illustrate finer aspects of human behaviour which are relevant to both our personal and professional lives.

You can reflect, introspect or take them with a pinch of salt – the choice is yours! After reading this you may ask me: “You relate stories, but you do not tell us how to understand them” – to which I will reply:” How would you like it if the shopkeeper from whom you bought a banana peeled it, ate the deliciously nourishing fruit before your eyes, leaving you only the skin?”

One of the great bonuses in learning through humour is that even as you have a good time and doubt that you have learned anything, the lessons penetrate subtly, permeate within and stay with you, to come alive when the need arises.

If you are a serious type, devoid of a sense of humour, please skip this and move on to more profound and sombre reading. 



This is fun. Enjoy yourself, dear reader, and try to identify yourself in the apocryphal stories.

PUNISHMENT AND REWARD - A Mulla Nasrudin Teaching Story

Rushing to work on his motorcycle Nasrudin jumped a red light.  He was promptly stopped by a Traffic Policeman, who asked Nasrudin to pay Rs.100. 

“What for? Why should I pay Rs.100?”  Nasrudin asked. 

“It’s a fine.  For breaking the traffic rules.  You jumped the red light,” said the cop. 

“Okay,” Nasrudin said, “You owe me five hundred rupees.  Give me Rs.500.” 

“What nonsense?” shouted the infuriated cop. “Why should I pay you Rs.500?” 

“For the six times I correctly crossed the green lights, you owe me Rs.600.  From that you deduct your fine of Rs.100.  That means you owe me Rs.500,” said a nonchalant Nasrudin.  “If you punish me for doing the wrong thing, you must reward me for doing the right thing.”



Did you like reading this story?
I am sure you will like the 27 stories in COCKTAIL
To order your COCKTAIL please click the link below:

http://www.flipkart.com/cocktail-vikram-karve-short-stories-book-8191091844?affid=nme


Happy Reading
VIKRAM KARVE

Thursday, September 29, 2011

CREATIVE WRITING


WHY I WRITE
The Thrill and Enjoyment of Creative Writing
By
VIKRAM KARVE

There is a saying: happiness is a journey, happiness is not a destination.

Yes, happiness is the manner in which you travel the journey of life.

It is the same with creative writing. The process of creative writing is more enjoyable than the completion. It is the creative journey, the manner of travelling, which is more thrilling and rewarding than the material reward of success after publication of your creative work.

Earlier I wrote fiction short stories. I enjoyed the whole process of writing a short story – thinking of the idea, the theme, the plot, the characters, the setting, the writing of the story. During this creative process the story belonged to me.

Once the story was completed and published, it was all over. Now the story belonged to everyone. It is like pregnancy – once a baby is conceived she is nurtured inside the mother and after the baby is born she belongs to everyone.

When you are in the process of creative writing you will transcend into the world of thought and reflection and your mind will always be filled with interesting thoughts and this will always keep you happy. Yes, it is true, the happiest people are those who think the most interesting thoughts.

The man who does not write is imprisioned in his immediate world in respect to time and space. His life falls into a set routine, limited to contact and conversation with his family, workplace colleagues, a few friends and acquaintances, and he sees only what happens in the world around him. But the moment he starts writing he immediately enters a different world.

I am writing a fiction novel now and let me tell you that I am thoroughly enjoying the wonderful process, the creative journey. First thing in the morning, the moment I wake up, I think of the story, the plot, the scenes, the characters of my novel, I transcend to a world of my own and throughout the day fascinating thoughts perambulate in my mind. This is truly a stimulating experience which keeps me happy and cheerful throughout the day until the last moments before I drop off into sleep at night .

I am sure that my novel will be good because I have put my heart into my writing and the way it is shaping up I am confident that my novel will be a success, but that is not my only goal or the primary aim of why I am writing every day. I want to enjoy the sheer thrill of the creative writing “journey” more than the “destination” of publication of the novel.

I will end with a quote on happiness from William Lyon Phelps:

The happiest people are those who think the most interesting thoughts. Those who decide to use leisure as a means of mental development, who love good music, good books, good pictures, good company, good conversation, are the happiest people in the world. And they are not only happy in themselves, they are the cause of happiness in others.”



VIKRAM KARVE 

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2011
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.


Did you like this story?
This is a story from my recently published anthology of Short Fiction COCKTAIL and I am sure you will like all the 27 stories in COCKTAIL

To order your COCKTAIL please click any of the links below:http://www.flipkart.com/cocktail-vikram-karve-short-stories-book-8191091844?affid=nme
http://www.indiaplaza.in/cocktail-vikram-karve/books/9788191091847.htm
http://www.apkpublishers.com/books/short-stories/cocktail-by-vikram-karve.html

COCKTAIL ebook
If you prefer reading ebooks on Kindle or your ebook reader, please order Cocktail E-book by clicking the links below:
AMAZON
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005MGERZ6
SMASHWORDS
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/87925

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

About Vikram Karve

A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and is currently working on his novel and a book of vignettes and short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories, creative non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories and self help in magazines and published a large number of professional research papers in journals and edited in-house journals for many years, before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 14 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram lives in Pune India with his family and muse - his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.

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


© vikram karve., all rights reserved.