Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: July 2013

MARRIAGE IS NOT A THREESOME
Short Fiction
A Love Story in Two Scenes
By
VIKRAM KARVE

Dramatis Personae

Aditya: 30, a bright young upwardly mobile executive.

Anjali: 27, Aditya’s wife, also a high flier executive, working in a different firm.

Nisha: 26, Anjali’s classmate and friend, just arrived in town, looking for a new job.

SCENE I – THEN

THREE MONTHS AGO

OFFICE HOURS

Aditya calls up his wife Anjali on her cell phone.

ADITYA: Hey, Anjali, let’s drive down to Lakeview Gardens for dinner tonight.

ANJALI: Wow…the weather is lovely…it will be really amazing driving out there…let’s go to our favourite place…

ADITYA: Cupid’s Cove…?

ANJALI: Yeah…Cupid’s Cove…I love the ambience there… Okay, I’ll tell Nisha…

ADITYA: Nisha…? Why Nisha…? Why take her…? I thought just the two of us…a romantic evening together…Let’s not have kabab mein haddi…!

ANJALI: Please Aditya … try to understand … poor Nisha ... she is all alone … this place is so new to her … poor girl … she is so lonely and all at sea … Nisha has no friends except us … please let’s take her … please let Nisha come with us - for my sake

And so the threesome, all three of them:

the husband Aditya

the wife Anjali

and her friend “kabab mein haddi” Nisha

all three drive down to Cupid’s Cove in Lakeview Gardens for an enjoyable dinner…

SCENE II – NOW

TODAY

OFFICE HOURS

Nisha calls up Aditya on his cell phone.

NISHA: Hey, Aditya, let’s drive down to Lakeview Gardens for dinner tonight.

ADITYA: Oh yeah…great idea…it is perfect weather for a lovely drive…it’ll be really amazing out there…let’s go to our favourite place…

NISHA: We’ll go to that lovely place…Cupid’s Cove…I love it out there…the atmosphere is so marvellous…

ADITYA: Okay…I’ll tell Anjali…

NISHA: Come on Aditya - why have that kabab mein haddi Anjali - let’s go - just the two of us. Let us have a romantic evening together…

ADITYA: What shall I tell Anjali?

NISHA: Tell her the usual excuses you tell her every time - working late - meetings…

ADITYA: Okay…I’ll ring her up…and I’ll pick you up at seven…the same place…

NISHA: I’ll be waiting for you…

And so the two of them, Aditya and Nisha, yes Aditya and his wife Anjali’s friend Nisha drive down to Cupid’s Cove in Lakeview Gardens for a romantic dinner.

The twosome goes for dinner without the new “kabab mein haddi” Anjali , the innocent, oblivious and unsuspecting wife.

Now the wife Anjali has become the “kabab mein haddi” for lovers Aditya and Nisha.

Anjali stays at home wondering why her darling hubby Aditya and her best friend Nisha both work so late so often nowadays ...

MORAL OF THE STORY

Marriage is a twosome.

Marriage is not a threesome.

There is no place for a third person in a marriage, so take care to spot a “cuckoo” and make sure a third person does not destroy your marriage relationship.

In this story, the good-natured unsuspecting wife Anjali does not see the warning signs of the cuckoo.

At first she persuades her reluctant husband Aditya to help out her lonely forlorn friend Nisha though her husband Aditya is reluctant.

Then the wife Anjali is so trusting that even later she remains oblivious when Nisha cuckolds her and surreptitiously usurps her place in her husband’s heart.

Anjali remains innocent and clueless even as her friend Nisha “steals” the affections of Anjali’s husband.

The roles have been reversed - the earlier “haddi has now become the “kabab” and the erstwhile “kabab” is now treated like a “haddi” ... !!!

It is amazing, isn't it?

How the “haddi” in the “Kabab” gets interchanged...!

Or is it that the kabab itself has changed?

Well, one thing is quite clear - it is quite dicey to let a third person in your marriage.

Marriage is not a threesome.

If you let a third person into your marriage and make it a threesome, it is possible that your marriage may become a twosome again, with you ejected out of it, like it happened in this story.

So remember:

A marriage is strictly a twosome between you and your spouse and it is best kept that way.

Friends are your friends, they have their place in social life; colleagues are your colleagues, they have their place in your office life - but your spouse is your spouse, who has the unique place in your personal life. So once you are married, it is best to keep friends and colleagues at a distance, especially it they are attractive persons of the opposite gender, unless you want to risk an extra marital affair.

Did you like the story?

This can this happen in real life too? It is like a Cuckoo taking over the nest?

Have you seen such stories happening around you, especially at your workplace? Well, I think I have heard a few “stealing affection” stories in my time!

Do share your stories and views, comment and let us know.

Have a Happy Wednesday.

VIKRAM KARVE

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

Disclaimer:

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.

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.

Did you like this story?

I am sure you will like the 27 short stories from my recently published anthology of Short Fiction COCKTAIL
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About Vikram Karve

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.

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LOVEDALE

Short Fiction - A Love Story

VIKRAM KARVE

From my Creative Writing Archives:

I wrote this story sometime in the early 1990s, more than 20 years ago, and it still remains one of my all time favourite stories.

The story is set in the Nilgiris.

On the blue “toy-train” of the Nilgiri Blue Mountain Railway .

Lovedale is a story of Changing Relationships.

Yes, there is a place called Lovedale with a cute little Railway Station which is the highest Railway Station in South India, and maybe in India.

I have lived in Lovedale for six years in the 1960s and wonder whether Lovedale is still the same quaint little place as it was back then.

As I told you this is a longish story was written be by me long ago, 20 years ago, in old fashioned style, and, dear reader, I am sure you will enjoy reading this story and reflect on it too.

Read on and tell me if you liked the story. I look forward to your comments and feedback.

LOVEDALE - a love story

Lovedale.

A quaint little station on the Nilgiri Mountain Railway that runs from Mettupalayam in the plains up the Blue Mountains on a breathtaking journey to beautiful Ooty, the Queen of Hill Stations.

On Lovedale railway station there is just one small platform – and on it, towards its southern end, there is a solitary bench.

If you sit on this bench you will see in front of you, beyond the railway track, an undulating valley, covered with eucalyptus trees, and in the distance the silhouette of a huge structure, which looks like a castle, with an impressive clock-tower.

In this mighty building is located a famous boarding school – one of the best schools in India. Many such ‘elite’ schools are known more for snob value than academic achievements, but this one is different – it is a prestigious public school famous for its rich heritage and tradition of excellence.

Lovedale, in 1970.

That is all there is in Lovedale – this famous public school, a small tea-estate called Lovedale (from which this place got its name), a tiny post office and, of course, the lonely railway platform with its solitary bench.

It’s a cold damp depressing winter morning, and since the school is closed for winter, the platform is deserted except for two people – yes, just two persons – a woman and a small girl, shivering in the morning mist, sitting on the solitary bench.

It’s almost 9 o’clock – time for the morning “toy-train” from the plains carrying tourists via Coonoor to Ooty, the “Queen” of hill-stations, just three kilometres ahead - the end of the line.

But this morning the train is late, probably because of the dense fog and the drizzle on the mountain-slopes, and it will be empty – for there are hardly any tourists in this cold and damp winter season.

“I’m dying to meet mummy. And this stupid train – it’s always late,” the girl says.

The girl is dressed in her school uniform – gray blazer, thick gray woollen skirt, navy-blue stockings, freshly polished black shoes, her hair tied smartly in two small plaits with black ribbons.

The woman, 55 – maybe 60, dressed in a white sari with a thick white shawl draped over her shoulder and a white scarf around her head covering her ears, looks lovingly at the girl, softly takes the girl’s hand in her own, and says, “It will come. The train will come. Look at the weather. The driver can hardly see in this mist. And it must be raining down there in Ketti valley.”

“I hate this place. It’s so cold and lonely. Everyone has gone home for the winter holidays and we have nowhere to go. Why do we have to spend our holidays here every time?”

“You know we can’t stay with her in the hostel.”

“But her training is over now. And she’s become an executive – that’s what she wrote.”

“Yes. Yes. She is an executive now. After two years of tough training. Very creditable; after all that has happened,” the old woman says.

“She has to take us to Mumbai with her now. We can’t stay here any longer. No more excuses now.”

“Even I don’t want to stay here. It’s cold and I am old. Let your mummy come. This time we’ll tell her to take us all to Mumbai.”

“And we’ll all stay together – like we did before God took Daddy away.”

“Yes. Mummy will go to work. You will go to school. And I will look after the house and all of you. Just like before.”

“Only Daddy won’t be there. Why did God take Daddy away?” the girl says, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Don’t think those sad things. We cannot change what has happened. You must be brave – like your mummy,” says the old lady putting her hand softly around the girl.

The old lady closes her eyes in sadness. There is no greater pain than to remember happier times when in distress.

Meanwhile the toy-train is meandering its way laboriously round the steep u-curve, desperately pushed by a hissing steam engine, as it leaves Wellington station on its way to Ketti.

A man and a woman sit facing each other in the tiny first class compartment.

There is no one else in the compartment.

“You must tell her today,” the man says.

“Yes,” the woman replies softly.

“You should have told her before.”

“Told her before...? How...? When...?”

“You could have written, called her up. I told you so many times.”

“How can I be so cruel...?”

“Cruel...? What’s so cruel about it...?”

“I don’t know how she will react. She loved her father very much.”

“Now she will have to love me. I am her new father now.”

“Yes, I know,” the woman says, tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t know how to tell her; how she’ll take it. I think we should wait for some time. Baby is very sensitive.”

“Baby! Why do you still call her Baby...? She is a grown up girl now. You must call her by her real name. Damayanti – what a nice name – and you call her Baby...!”

“It’s her pet name. Deepak always liked to call her Baby.”

“Well I don’t like it...! It’s childish, ridiculous...!” the man says firmly, “Anyway, all that we can sort out later. But you tell her about us today. Tell both of them.”

“You want me to tell both of them right now...? My mother-in-law also...? What will she feel...? She will be shocked...!”

“She’ll understand.”

“Poor thing. She will be all alone.”

“Stop saying ‘poor thing... poor thing’. She’ll be okay. She’s got her work to keep her busy.”

“She’s old and weak. I don’t think she’ll be able to do that matron’s job much longer.”

“Let her work till she can. At least it will keep her occupied. Then we’ll see.”

“Can’t we take her with us...?”

“You know it’s not possible.”

“It’s so sad. She was so good to me. Where will she go...? We can’t abandon her just like that...!”

“Abandon...? Nobody is abandoning her. Don’t worry. If she doesn’t want to stay on here, I’ll arrange something – I know an excellent place near Lonavala. She will be very comfortable there – it’s an ideal place for senior citizens like her.”

“You want to me to put her in an Old-Age Home...?”

“Call it what you want but actually it’s quite a luxurious place. She’ll be happy there. I’ve already spoken to them. Let her continue here till she can. Then we’ll shift her there.”

“I can’t be that cruel and heartless to my mother-in-law. She was so loving and good to me, treated me like her own daughter, and looked after Baby, when we were devastated. And now we discard her when she needs us most,” the woman says, and starts sobbing.

“Come on Kavita. Don’t get sentimental,. You have to face the harsh reality. You know we can’t take your mother-in-law with us. And by the way, she is your ex-mother-in-law now."

"How can you say that...?"

"Come on, Kavita, don't get too sentimental...you must begin a new life now...there is no point carrying the baggage of your past...” the man realizes he has said something wrong and instantly apologizes, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“You did mean it...! That’s why you said it...! I hate you, you are so cruel, mean and selfish,” the woman says, turns away from the man and looks out of the window.

They travel in silence, an uneasy disquieting silence.

Suddenly it is dark, as the train enters a tunnel, and as it emerges on the other side, the woman can see the vast lush green Ketti Valley with its undulating mountains in the distance.

“Listen Kavita, I think I’ll also get down with you at Lovedale. I’ll tell them. Explain everything. And get over with it once and for all,” the man says.

“No! No! I don’t even want them to see you. The sudden shock may upset them. I have to do this carefully. Please don’t get down at Lovedale. Go straight to Ooty. I’ll tell them everything and we’ll do as we decided.”

“I was only trying to help you, Kavita. Make things easier for everyone. I want to meet Damayanti. Tell her about us. I’m sure she’ll love me and understand everything.”

“No, please. Let me do this. I don’t want her to see you before I tell her. She’s a very sensitive girl. I don’t know how she’ll react. I’ll have to do it very gently.”

“Okay,” the man says. “Make sure you wind up everything at the school. We have to leave for Mumbai tomorrow. There is so much to be done. We’ve hardly got any time left.”

The steam engine pushing the train huffs and puffs up the slope round the bend under the bridge. “Lovedale station is coming,” the woman says. She gets up and takes out her bag from the shelf.

“Sure you don’t want me to come with you to the school...?” asks the man.

“No. Not now. You go ahead to Ooty. I’ll ring you up,” says the woman.

“Okay. But tell them everything. We can’t wait any longer.”

“Just leave everything to me. Don’t make it more difficult.”

They sit in silence, looking out of different windows, waiting for Lovedale railway station to come.

On the solitary bench on the platform at Lovedale station the girl and her grandmother wait patiently for the train which will bring their deliverance.

“I hate it over here in boarding school. I hate the cold scary dormitories. At night I miss mummy tucking me in. And every night I count DLFMTC...”

“DLFMTC... ?”

“Days Left For Mummy To Come...! Others count DLTGH – Days Left To Go Home...”

“Next time you too …”

“No. No. I am not going to stay here in boarding school. I don’t know why we came here to this horrible place. I hate boarding school. I miss mummy so much. We could have stayed on in Mumbai with her.”

“Now we will be all staying in Mumbai. Your mummy’s training is over. She can hire a house now. Or get a loan. We will try to buy a good house. I’ve saved some money too.”

The lone station-master of the forlorn Lovedale Railway Station strikes the bell outside his office.

The occupants of the solitary bench look towards their left.

There is no one else on the platform.

And suddenly the train emerges from under the bridge – pushed by the hissing steam engine.

Only one person gets down from the train – a beautiful woman, around 30.

The girl runs into her arms.

The old woman walks towards her with a welcoming smile.

The man, sitting in the train, looks furtively, cautious not to be seen.

A whistle; and the train starts and moves out of Lovedale station towards Fern Hill tunnel on its way to Ooty – the end of the line.

That evening the small girl and her granny sit near the fireplace with the girl’s mother eating dinner and the woman tells them everything.

At noon the next day, four people wait at Lovedale station for the train which comes from Ooty and goes down to the plains – the girl, her mother, her grandmother and the man.

The girl presses close to her grandmother and looks at her new ‘father’ with trepidation. He gives her a smile of forced geniality.

The old woman holds the girl tight to her body and looks at the man with distaste.

The young woman looks with awe, mixed with hope, at her new husband.

They all stand in silence. No one speaks. Time stands still. And suddenly the train enters.

“I don’t want to go,” the girl cries, clinging to her grandmother.

“Don’t you want to stay with your mummy...? You hate boarding school don’t you...? ” the man says extending his hand.

The girl recoils and says, “No. No. I like it here. I don’t want to come. I like boarding school. I want to stay here.”

“Come Baby, we have to go,” her mother says as tears well up in her eyes.

“What about granny...? How will she stay here all alone...? No mummy - you also stay here. We all will stay here. Let this man go to Mumbai,” the girl pleads.

“Damayanti - I am your new father,” the man says firmly to the girl.

And then the man turns to the young woman and he commands, “Kavita. Come. The train is going to leave.”

“Go Baby. Be a good girl. I will be okay,” says the old woman releasing the girl.

As her mother gently holds her arm and guides her towards the train, for the first time in her life the girl feels that her mother’s hand is like the clasp of an iron gate... like manacles.

“I will come and meet you in Mumbai. I promise...” the grandmother says fighting back her tears.

But the girl feels scared – something inside tells her she that may never see her grandmother again.

As the train heads towards the plains, the old woman begins to walk her longest mile – her loneliest mile – into emptiness, a void.

Poor old Lovedale Railway Station.

It wants to cry.

It tries to cry.

But it cannot even a shed a tear.

For it is not human.

So it suffers its sorrow in inanimate helplessness, powerless, hapless, a silent spectator, and a mute witness.

Yes, Lovedale helplessly watches love being torn apart.

“ Love being torn apart at Lovedale ” - a pity, isn't it...?

Yes, a pity... a real pity...!

VIKRAM KARVE

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

Disclaimer:

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.

Did you like this story?

COCKTAIL ebook

Twitter: @vikramkarve

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

MARRIAGE IS NOT A THREESOME

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

LOVEDALE - A Love Story