THE GIFT – A Love Story

THE GIFT 

Fiction Short Story 

By

VIKRAM KARVE

From my Creative Writing Archives:

I wrote this story around 25 years ago – in the early 1990’s. 

It is a story written in a leisurely manner – and in a quite an old-fashioned style. 

Do tell me if you like it.

THE GIFT –  short story by Vikram Karve

I do not know how the idea entered my brain in the first place – but once conceived – it haunted me with such urgency that a strange force took charge of me – impelling me to act.

I tucked the packet under my arm and walked towards my destination – looking around furtively – like someone with a guilty conscience.

It all started when I saw her photograph.

The moment I saw her photograph – I knew that I had to see her.

A man’s first love fills an enduring place in his heart.

10 years. 

Ten long years.

She had married money.

And status.

I was heartbroken.

Yet – I bore her no pique – and in my heart – there was no rancour.

I never will have any ill will or bitterness towards her.

How can I...?

I had truly loved her. 

I still love her. 

I will always love her – always – till my dying day.

I was desperately eager to impress her.

To give her a gift would be too obvious.

I did not know how much she had told her husband about me – about us...

Her children should be the same age as mine.

Maybe slightly older.

They say that the best route to a married woman’s heart is through her children.

I looked at the packet under my arm.

A gift.

Yes – the “Gift” – it was the deluxe set of children’s encyclopaedias I had promised my son – and my daughter – year after year – for the last three years – and did not buy – because it was too expensive.

And now I was going to present the same “expensive” encyclopaedias as a Gift to Anjali’s children – just to impress her.

As I rang the doorbell – I felt a tremor of anticipation.

Suddenly – I realized – that I did not know whether Anjali would be happy to see me – or would she pretend that she did not recognize me.

The door opened.

Anjali looked ravishing.

She gave me her sparkling smile – and she welcomed me with genuine happiness: “Sanjiv – after so many years – what a delightful surprise – how did you manage to find me...?”

We looked at each other.

Anjali had fully blossomed.

She looked stunning.

She looked so exquisite – so dazzling – that I cannot begin to describe the intense emotion I felt as I looked intently into her radiating eyes – totally mesmerized by her beauty.

“Stop staring at me,” Anjali said – her large expressive eyes dancing mischievously.

“You look so beautiful. And so young...” I said.

“But you look old. Even your beard has becoming grey...” Anjali paused – probably regretting what she had said.

Then – Anjali suddenly held out her hand to me – and said, “I am so happy to see you, Sanjiv. Please come inside.”

Her house was extravagant. 

Wealth and opulence showed everywhere.

Anjali carried herself majestically with regal poise – her demeanour slick and confident. 

No wonder – to “belong” had always been the driving force of her life. 

Money, status, social prestige, success – she had got everything she wanted. 

I could not help feeling a pang of envy – and a sense of failure.

“You like my house...?” she asked.

“Yes – it is a very beautiful house...” I said.

“Sit down. And you don’t look so lost...” she said.

I sat down on a sofa.

I kept the gift wrapped packet on the side-table.

Anjali sat down opposite me. 

“How did you know I live here...? We shifted to Mumbai only a month ago...” Anjali said.

I took out the wallet from my pocket.

I gave the wallet to Anjali – and I said to her: “Your husband’s purse. I saw your photograph in it...”

Anjali opened the purse.

She started to check the contents.

“You don’t trust cops, do you...?” I smiled.

Anjali blushed. 

She kept the wallet on the table. 

She looked at me with frank admiration in her eyes. “IPS...? That’s fantastic. I never thought you would do so well! What are you...? Superintendent...? Deputy Commissioner...?”

Now it was my turn to blush. 

“No,” I said sheepishly. “I am only a sub-inspector.”

“Oh...” she said – trying to hide her disappointment.

But – I had read the language of her eyes.

The nuance wasn’t lost on me.

Suddenly – she had changed.

“Is Mr. Joshi at home?” I asked.

“He is still at the office...” Anjali said.

“Oh...? I thought he would be home...” I said.

“I’ll make you some tea,” she said – and she started to get up.

“Please sit down, Anjali. Let’s talk,” I said looking at my watch, “It’s already 6:30. Let’s wait for Mr. Joshi. Maybe he will offer me a drink. And maybe he will ask me to wait for dinner.”

“My husband comes home very late,” Anjali said. “After all, he is the Managing Director. There is so much work. And conferences. Important business meetings. He is the top boss – a very successful and an extremely busy man.”

She couldn’t have spelt it out more clearly.

I got the message loud and clear.

Anjali changed the topic – and she asked me, “Where did you find the purse...?”

“It was deposited in the lost-and-found section last evening,” I lied.

“It’s strange,” Anjali said, “He didn’t mention anything to me.”

“He may not have noticed,” I said, tongue-in-cheek, “After all Mr. Joshi is a very busy man to notice such minor things like a missing purse.”

“Yes,” she said, giving a distant look.

Anjali opened the purse once more and examined his credit cards and driving license.

At first – she appeared confused.

Then – she gave me a cold hard look. 

But – she did not say anything.

There was a long period of silence. 

Grotesque silence.

Anjali kept staring at me – looking directly into my eyes.

A distant look – almost dismissive.

I began to feel uneasy.

Suddenly I remembered the gift wrapped packet I had brought – and I exclaimed enthusiastically: “Anjali – where are your children...? I have got a Gift for them. Just a small present for your kids...” 

From the look on her face – I immediately sensed that I had said something terribly wrong.

I saw tears well up in her eyes.

All of a sudden – Anjali looked small, weak and vulnerable.

I felt a sense of deep regret – as comprehension dawned on me. 

Poor thing – she had no kids.

And – I had rubbed salt in her wounds.

I looked at her helplessly – pleading innocence – but it was of no use.

Some day Anjali might understand my actions – but at that moment – it was hopeless to try and explain.

The hurt was deep – and I had to let it go in silence.

We just sat there in silence – not knowing what to say to each other. 

A deafening silence. 

A grotesque silence.

It is strange – that how moments for which you have rehearsed – end up with a different script.

I could not bear it any longer.

I quickly got up – and I started walking swiftly towards the door.

Suddenly – I realized that I had forgotten to pick up the gift wrapped packet – the “Gift”.

But I did not turn back.

Why...?

I do not know.

“Don’t go, Sanjiv. I want to talk to you,” Anjali spoke coldly.

I stopped in my tracks.

I could hear Anjali’s footsteps behind me.

I turned around to face her.

She seemed a bit composed.  

“You lied to me, Sanjiv,” Anjali said. “I want to know where you found my husband’s wallet.”

I did not know what to say. 

I tried to avoid her eyes.

“Tell me,” Anjali pleaded, “Please tell me where you found this purse...”

When in doubt – I speak the truth.

So – I said to Anjali: “We raided one of those exclusive classy joints last night – a posh call-girl racket...”

I could not continue – so I said apologetically, “I am very sorry – I did not know...”

“I know – Oh yes – I know – you found my husband’s wallet in a whore joint...” Anjali said mockingly.

Then – she shouted: “I hate him – that impotent creep – trying to prove his virility to himself...” 

With those few words – Anjali had bared the secret of her marriage.

I looked at her.

Her manner was relaxed and nonchalant – but her fury was visible only in her eyes.

I was nonplussed.

Suddenly – I blurted out, “Don’t worry Anjali. I have dropped the charges. I will hush up the matter.”

I still do not know why I uttered those words – but on hearing them – there was a visible metamorphosis in Anjali.

Suddenly – she became flaming mad.

She looked so distraught and angry – that I felt very frightened.

Terrified that she would go berserk and attack me, slap me, or beat me up – I instinctively stepped back.

But – Anjali suddenly turned and left the room.

I stood still – frozen like a statue – for a moment.

Then – after regaining my composure – I decided to leave – and I started to move towards the door.

“Wait... ” I heard her scream.

I stopped in my tracks.

I turned around. 

Anjali quickly walked towards me.

She thrust out her right hand.

In her hand there was a big bundle of 500 Rupee notes.

“So this is what you have come for, isn’t it...? You want a bribe to hush up the case...? Even from me...? You unscrupulous bastard – I did not expect you to fall so low. Here – take the money and get out. This is all I have at home. If you want more money – you know where to find my husband – don’t you...?”  

“No – Anjali – No...” I recoiled, “Please don’t...”

“Cheap...” Anjali spat out – there was contempt in her eyes as she shouted at me: “Cheap riffraff – that’s what you always were, Sanjiv. Now you get out of my house – you filthy blackmailer – and I do not want to see your face again...”

Anjali threw the bundle of notes at me.

The bundle hit my chest and fell on the ground – the money scattering near my feet.

“I love you, Anjali,” I said – trying to sound sincere.

“Love,” she exclaimed – her radiating eyes burning with anger, “So you have come to see how your barren old flame is flourishing – isn’t it...?”

“No – No...” I said.

Anjali paused – then she said sarcastically to me: “So you are pleased – aren’t you...? You must be so happy to see my "success"...?”

Her vicious and sarcastic suggestion – that I might be happy at her misfortune – hurt me more than anything else.

I turned around – and I walked out of the house.

As I started walking towards the gate – something hit me on my back.

I winced in pain.

The three volumes of the expensive Children’s Encyclopaedias were scattered on the ground – their silver gift wrapping paper was torn.

I knew that Anjali had thrown the books at me.

I knew that was standing in the door – looking at me.

But – I did not look at her.

I bent down – I gathered the books – and I walked away into the darkness.

As I gradually came into consciousness from my drunken stupor – I realized that I was at home in my bed.

Though sunlight filtered in through the open windows – everything looked blurred.

Slowly – things began to come into focus.

My daughter was sitting beside me on the bed.

She touched my arm with tenderness.

There were tears in her eyes.

My son stood aloof on the other side of the bed.

There was fear in his eyes.

My wife looked at me with loving pity – and she said, “The children want to thank you for the lovely gift. They are so happy...”

My wife was holding the set of encyclopaedias in her hands.

I smiled.

I reached out to my children – my daughter and my son.

They held my hands – and they smiled back.

I looked at the pure unadulterated joy in their eyes.

For the first time in my life – I experienced a deep genuine true love for my wife and children.

A love which I had never felt before.

         

Tears of joy welled up in my eyes.

I had discovered love.

Yes – I had discovered the true meaning of love.

I had discovered the gift of love.

VIKRAM KARVE

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Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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.

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© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

 

This is a revised version of my Story THE GIFT which I wrote 25 years ago in 1990 and earlier posted online on my creative blog first in 2006 at url: http://creative.sulekha.com/the-gift-by-vikram-karve_32154_blog  and many times later including at urls: http://creative.sulekha.com/the-gift-of-love_81467_blog  and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2014/10/diwali-gift-gift-of-love.html  etc