Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: June 2017

Friday, June 30, 2017

Story of a “Chapati”

STORY OF A “CHAPATI”

Food Fiction

VIKRAM KARVE

I am a “Chapati”.

If you live in India – I am sure you have seen (and eaten) a “Chapati”.

A “Chapati” is an unleavened flatbread made of whole wheat flour (Atta), salt and water.

Dear Reader:

To help you understand better – I took a “Selfie” – along with a few of my fellow “Chapati” friends.

I am posting my “Selfie” picture below for you to see.

CHAPATI

Now – Dear Reader – you must be wondering how a “Chapati” can tell a story – but – here I am – telling you my story – so you better believe me – and read my story.

I came into existence just a few hours ago when a young woman made me on a “Tawa” (she made me along with 3 other “Chapatis” – she made a total of 4 “Chapatis”)

The young woman who made me – she is the “daughter-in-law” of the house.

Three persons live here – the young “daughter-in-law” – her husband – and her husband’s widowed mother – the “mother-in-law” of the young woman who made the “Chapati”.

In the afternoon – at 12 Noon – for lunch – the “daughter-in-law” made 4 Fresh Hot “Chapatis” (including me).

The young woman made 2 “Chapatis” for her “mother-in-law” – and – 2 “Chapatis” for herself.

But – the “mother-in-law” ate only one “Chapati” – so – three “Chapatis” were eaten up – and – one “Chapati” – Me – I remained “un-eaten” – in the casserole.

One hour later – at around one o’clock in the afternoon – the “Darling Daughter” of the “mother-in-law” arrived unexpectedly.

(Yes – you guessed right – the woman who landed up suddenly – she was the daughter-in-law’s husband’s sister – the mother-in-law’s daughter).

The “Darling Daughter” said she was a bit hungry – of course – since she was “dieting” – she wanted just a “small bite”.

The dutiful “Daughter-in-Law” put some Vegetable Curry in a plate – and – she took out the remaining “Chapati” – Me – from the casserole.

“Why are you giving my daughter a stale “Chapati”…?” the “mother-in-law” shouted at the “daughter-in-law”.

“This is not a stale “Chapati” – I made it only one hour ago…” the “daughter-in-law” said to her “mother-in-law”.

“You don’t argue with me – you just make a fresh “Chapati” for my daughter – do you understand…?” the “mother-in-law” scolded the “daughter-in-law”.

So – the obedient “daughter-in-law” dutifully made a fresh “Chapati” for the “Darling Daughter” of her “mother-in-law”.

And – I remained “un-eaten” in the casserole.

In the evening – the “daughter-in-law” was wondering what to make for dinner – when her husband called up saying that he would be having dinner with a client and coming home late at night.

The “mother-in-law” had gone out “shopping” with her “Darling Daughter – and – she must had plenty of “snacks” – so – when the “mother-in-law” returned in the evening – she said that she was not hungry and would like to have fruits and milk at night.

The obedient “daughter-in-law” chopped some fruit and gave them to her “mother-in-law” along with a glass of milk.

Then – the “daughter-in-law” decided to eat a fresh “Chapati” for her own dinner – so – she started preparations to make a fresh hot “Chapati” for herself.

“What are you doing…?” the “mother-in-law” asked the “daughter-in-law”.

“I am making a “Chapati” for myself…” the “daughter-in-law” said.

“Why are you wasting Atta making a fresh “Chapati”…? There is one “Chapati” left over from the afternoon – isn’t it…?” the “mother-in-law” asked the “daughter-in-law”.

“But – that is a stale “Chapati”…” the “daughter-in-law” said.

“What nonsense…? A “Chapati” remains fresh for 24 hours – and that “Chapati” was made in the afternoon – only 9 hours ago. So – you will eat that “Chapati”. Do you understand…?” the “mother-in-law” said to the “daughter-in-law”.

So – the meek “daughter-in-law” took me out the casserole – and she put me on her plate.

Then – looking at me – the “daughter-in-law” said to herself:

“Wonder of wonders – the same “Chapati” – it becomes “stale” only one hour after it is made – and then – it becomes “fresh” once again – 9 hours later…”

And then – the “daughter-in-law” ate me up.

VIKRAM KARVE

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Disclaimer:

1. This story is a fictional spoof, satire, 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.

How to acquire a house in Deccan Gymkhana

DECCAN GYMKHANA

If you are an honest Defence Officer – once you retire – you cannot afford to buy a house in Deccan Gymkhana – the most posh, premier and high-brow neighbourhood of Pune.

That is why most Military Veterans live in the “Military Veteran Ghettos” in the outskirts of Pune – or in other distant suburbs – where most Defence Officers settle down after retirement.

If you are an honest Defence Officer – the only way you can stay in Deccan Gymkhana after retirement – is – if you are lucky enough to have inherited a bungalow (or house) in Deccan Gymkhana – from your forefathers/ancestors.

That is why – whenever I visit the area of Deccan Gymkhana – I walk around – “wistfully” looking at the houses in Deccan Gymkhana – wondering – “only if” – I could have managed to acquire a house in Deccan Gymkhana.

Last evening – I walked past a house in Deccan Gymkhana.

The house was locked.

The house was locked because the owner of the house (an old lady) had gone abroad to live with her son – who migrated to the US many years ago – and settled down in America permanently.

As a newly married bride – this old lady had one big ambition – she wanted to live in Deccan Gymkhana.

I recalled how she had nagged her late husband to buy a house in Deccan Gymkhana – in order to achieve her ambition.

I smiled at the irony of the situation.

The woman’s nagging had driven her husband crazy – and – he finally succumbed to her ambitions and he bought a house in Deccan Gymkhana which was beyond his means.

Because of this – he had to slog hard – working overtime – doing many things to earn money – to pay off his housing loans.

And – all this physical overwork and related mental stress probably caused his untimely death.

But – his children migrated abroad.

The woman’s ambition for living in Deccan Gymkhana had driven her husband crazy (and maybe even driven him to his untimely death).

And now – instead of living in Deccan Gymkhana – the woman had locked up the house in Deccan Gymkhana – and she gone abroad to live with her children.

What an irony of fate.

You kill yourself to get something.

And – when you get it – you can’t even enjoy it...!!!

Maybe all this was in the back of my mind when I wrote a story more than 4 years ago titled “A HOUSE IN DECCAN GYMKHANA”.

This fiction story is about a status-conscious wife who wants to live in the high-brow posh locality in Pune called Deccan Gymkhana.

So – let me delve into my Creative Writing Archives and pull out this story for you to read.

Do tell me if you like the story...

A HOUSE IN DECCAN GYMKHANA

Fiction Short Story

VIKRAM KARVE

A HOUSE IN DECCAN GYMKHANA – a story by Vikram Karve

“My wife wants a house in Deccan Gymkhana...” Shekhar said.

“Are you crazy?” I said.

“Why?”

“No one sells a house in Deccan Gymkhana. There are no houses for sale in Deccan Gymkhana.”

“There is one.”

“How do you know?”

“My wife found out.”

“And what is the cost?”

He told me the exorbitant price of the house in Deccan Gymkhana.

The sky-high price of the house was much more than what I had expected.

“Tell me Shekhar – from where are you going to get the money to pay for this house in Deccan Gymkhana?” I asked Shekhar.

“I will take a loan,” he said.

“A loan? Who is going to give you such a big loan? And even if they do give you a loan – can you afford it? The bloody EMI will be more than the salary we earn here.”

“I know all that. That’s why I am quitting this job.”

“Are you mad to quit such a good government job? Where will you get such a safe, secure, stress-free, comfortable job with so many perks and benefits?”

“But I won’t be able to buy the house in Deccan Gymkhana.”

“Why are you so obsessed about buying a house in Deccan Gymkhana? What’s wrong with this place?”

“My wife says that this place is too “middle-class” – she wants to live in a posh locality.”

“But your wife has lived her full childhood over here – in fact, she has lived her entire life right here in the heart of this very peth.”

“Yes. That’s why she is fed up of this place – and she does not want to spend the rest of her life living a lowbrow existence over here. She wants a high-class standard of living.”

“Oh – your wife suddenly thinks this place is ‘lowbrow’...? I did not know that your wife has become so snobbish and snooty,” I said.

“Please don’t make sarcastic comments,” Shekhar said, “if you can’t help me – I will manage on my own.”

“Oh – so you think you can buy a house in Deccan Gymkhana on your own? And how do you intend to do that?”

Shekhar showed me the job offer letter.

“Are you crazy? This is a war ravaged country,” I said.

“That’s why they are paying so much. Look at the figure,” Shekhar said.

Yes – the salary was indeed substantial – very substantial – and with this kind of money – Shekhar could easily afford the EMI for the house in Deccan Gymkhana.

“Hey, all this is fine – but you are newly married. This is a 3 year contract. And you won’t be able to take your wife over there to that war-torn country. I hope your wife is ready to stay all alone. Is she ready for a long distance marriage so early in your married life?”

“Of course my wife is ready to make sacrifices. She is the one who found out about this job. In fact she told me that I should even work overtime and encash the one month’s leave and LTA which I am entitled every year and that I should come back straight after 3 years. Then we will have so much money that we will able to live comfortably for the rest of our lives. Here – just look at the pay, the incentives, the allowances, the bonus, the perks…” he said, pointing to the job offer letter.

Shekhar was right.

The pay packet was indeed very generous – in fact, I had not seen such an attractive compensation package before.

With this kind of money – Shekhar could easily afford the house in Deccan Gymkhana.

And after just 3 years Shekhar would be able to pay off his loan – and he would still have so much money to spare – that he could just live off the interest.

But then – money earns more money – and I was sure that with so much money – and with an astute wife egging him on – he would go places and become a very rich and prosperous man.

Maybe Shekhar would start a business – maybe …

But one thing was sure – this job was going to change his life – not only would he have a house in Deccan Gymkhana – but Shekhar would certainly become a wealthy man.

“Hey, what are you thinking…?” Shekhar said, interrupting my train of thoughts.

“Nothing,” I said.

“So?”

“Your wife is right. You must take this job.”

“And buy the house in Deccan Gymkhana.”

“Of course – that goes without saying,” I said.

And so – my friend Shekhar took up the lucrative foreign assignment and went abroad to the war ravaged country.

But before he left – Shekhar shifted his wife into their plush newly-purchased house in the posh locality of Deccan Gymkhana.

Shekhar’s wife was overjoyed.

She personally got the interiors done to her liking in a very classy manner.

Every time I met her – she seemed happier and happier.

She truly flourished.

She had realized her dreams of living in a house in Deccan Gymkhana – and the glow of joy showed on her.

Shekhar would ring up me up from abroad – once in a while.

He was happy – because his wife was happy.

I knew that Shekhar was living a tough and dangerous life.

From time to time – I saw news reports on TV about incidents of violence in the desolate strife-torn land where Shekhar was working.

I was worried about his safety.

But whenever we spoke on phone – Shekhar always seemed to be full of cheer.

Maybe – the very thought that he had made his wife so happy – made Shekhar happy too.

One day – my worst fears came true.

Shekhar was killed in crossfire during a skirmish – when rebels attacked the project where he was working.

I thought his wife would be devastated.

But – surprisingly – she coped with this enormous tragedy with remarkable courage and composure.

At least – financially – she was not that badly off.

Shekhar’s company had insured their employees heavily.

So Shekhar’s wife received a huge amount of insurance money.

With this money – Shekhar’s wife could pay off the remaining home loan.

Even after paying off the home loan – a very substantial amount of money was still left with her.

Shekhar’s wife invested this huge amount of money in a monthly income scheme which would ensure her a decent income for her entire life.

A few months later – I married Shekhar’s widow – and I moved in with her.

Yes – as her husband – I relocated myself into her posh house in Deccan Gymkhana.

I now live in a beautiful house in the high-class locality of Deccan Gymkhana.

This the story of how I got a house in Deccan Gymkhana...

VIKRAM KARVE

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:

This story was written be me Vikram Karve in Jan 2013 and first Posted by me Vikram Karve on February 28, 2013, at 2/28/2013 02:10:00 PM in my creative writing blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2013/02/a-house-in-deccan-gymkhana-blog-fiction.html and re-posted online by me many times including at urls: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2014/01/how-to-live-in-deccan-gymkhana-pune.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/03/do-you-want-house-in-deccan-gymkhana.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/07/a-house-in-deccan-gymkhana-story.html

Thursday, June 29, 2017

Memories of My Navy Life – My “Literary” Boss

Humor in Uniform

The Navy has a diverse variety of individuals – with personalities and characters across the spectrum – and – so – I came across many unforgettable characters during my long career in the Navy.

One such unique characters was my “literary” boss.

MY “LITERARY” BOSS

Unforgettable Memories of My Wonderful Navy Life

A Spoof

VIKRAM KARVE

When I was in the Navy – I once had a “literary” boss.

You may be surprised – since you may think that “faujis” have their brains in their boots.

But – I came across plenty of accomplished creative persons in the Navy – writers, artists, cartoonists, singers, musicians, dramatists, actors, painters, photographers etc

And – I have seen many such talented persons in the Army and Air Force too.

After our customary Monday morning meeting – I said to my Boss:

“Sir – I hope you haven’t forgotten about the “open mic” session on Friday evening...”

I was referring to the “open mic” session at the Kala Ghoda Arts and Literary Festival which was going on nearby at Rampart Row

My Boss looked at me and said:

“Of course – I will be there to read my poetry – and – I am keen to hear poems of all the poets too...”

“I have already sent our names, Sir – we will get 10 minutes each. The venue is the David Sassoon Library Gardens – it is opposite the Jehangir Art Gallery. The event starts at 6 PM in the evening...” I said.

“You take me there – pick me up from my office on Friday evening – I will bring my “civvies” along – and – we will walk down there...” he said.

On Friday morning – my Boss called me to his office.

“Do me a favour – can you read my poems this evening at the Poetry Reading Session...?” he said to me.

Before I could speak – my Boss handed me a diary – and he said:

“I have flagged three of my best poems – but you can choose a few more – if there is time.”

“What’s wrong, Sir – why aren’t you coming yourself...? Don’t you want to read your own poems...?” I asked.

“Of course I want to be there and read my poems – and – I want to hear all the poets too. But something important has come up – so – I cannot come to the Kala Ghoda Festival this evening...” he said.

“Sir – what can be more important than this poetry session – especially for a poet like you...?” I asked.

“Some bloody delegation has come – and – there is a cocktail party for them...” he said.

“I know, Sir – the circular came on Wednesday – but I am skipping the cocktail party...” I said.

“You can skip it – but – I cannot skip it. After all – I am a bloody Admiral – and – my absence will be conspicuous. In fact – I did try to wriggle out – but COS said that CinC wants all Flag Officers to attend...” the Rear Admiral said, looking quite disappointed.

Next morning he called me to his office – and – he wanted to know all about the Poetry Reading Session.

I told him everything – what an enriching literary experience it had been – and – I told him how much his poems had been appreciated.

“Sir – I wish you were there – literary people had come from all over – and – there was such excellent work being read – and – Sir – so many Poets wanted to meet you and discuss your poems...” I said.

“I wish I had been there...” he said, disappointment writ on his face.

“How was the cocktail party...?” I asked, trying to cheer him up.

“It was like all monotonous official cocktail parties – bloody waste of time – the same boring shop talk – and do you know – all the while – I was thinking of you enjoying in the Kala Ghoda Festival...” he said.

“Never mind, Sir – maybe next year…” I said.

“Who knows where I will be next year...? If they don’t promote me – I may even retire this year and go to my hometown. I am really regretting that I missed this “once in a lifetime” chance...” he said, with disappointment.

He looked quite dejected – so – I did not say anything.

Then he looked at me and said:

“You are lucky – you can still do whatever you want to do – in your leisure – but – ever since I became a senior officer – I have lost control of how to spend my time.”

As I walked back to my office – I wondered about the irony of the situation.

Though he was the Boss – he did not have any control on how to spend his time.

And – though I was not a “Big Boss” – I had control on my time to a much larger extent.

And it was this loss of control on his time that was making the Boss unhappy.

MORAL OF THE STORY

This rather trivial incident taught me one thing:

IF YOU WANT TO BE HAPPY – YOU MUST TAKE CONTROL OF THE WAY YOU SPEND YOUR TIME

Once you have taken control of your time – you are free to spend your time in doing those things that make you happy.

So – the “Moral of the Story” is simple:

“The ultimate test of true freedom is when you have complete control of your time...”

It is true – isn’t it...?

THE ULTIMATE TEST OF TRUE FREEDOM IS WHEN YOU HAVE COMPLETE CONTROL OF YOUR TIME

So – Gaining Control over your Time is the First Step towards Freedom and Happiness.

VIKRAM KARVE

Disclaimer:

1. This story is a fictional spoof, satire, 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.

Copyright Notice:

This Story was written by me Vikram Karve around 4 years ago on 18 October 2013 and First Posted Online by me Vikram Karve in my Academic and Creative Writing Journal Blog at10/18/2013 11:39:00 PM at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2013/10/how-to-be-happy-first-step-to-happiness.html and revised and reposted on 08 July 2015 at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/07/humor-in-uniform-time-freedom-happiness.html and later at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/09/literateur-in-uniform.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/06/humor-in-uniform-my-literary-boss.html