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Short Fiction
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MY MUSE
Story By VIKRAM KARVE
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Short Fiction
Unfinished Romance
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My Muse – Story by Vikram Karve
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Pune – circa 2006
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PROLOGUE
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There is a saying:
“The best kind of friendship
is one where two people love the same books”
We – Manisha and I – we loved
the same books – so – we became the best of friends.
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Let me tell you how we met.
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I love reading books.
For me – reading is one of the
greatest joys.
When you read – you transcend
your immediate surroundings – and you are transported into a world of thought
and reflection.
In contrast – a person who does
not read is imprisoned in his immediate world.
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One positive aspect of my life in
the Navy is that I got plenty of opportunity to read good books and literature.
The Navy had well-stocked
libraries and reading books and journals was encouraged.
For me – a library was an
essential part of my life.
That is why – after I retired
from the Navy and settled down in Pune – one of the first things I did was to
join a Library.
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In contrast – most of my Veterans
Friends took up golf – or other such pastimes – so they joined various clubs
and groups – after retirement.
But – as I told you – I loved
books – and I intended to spend my time reading (and writing) – so – I took
membership of the best library in Pune.
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PART 1
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MANISHA
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I met Manisha on my very first
day in the library.
While browsing books in the
literature section of the library – I heard a feminine voice call out to me
softly.
I looked up from the book in my hands.
She was a pretty girl – maybe
around 20.
“Are you Mr. Vikram…?” the girl
asked me.
“Yes…” I said to her.
“My name is Manisha – I like your
stories…” she said.
“Thank you. Manisha…” I said to
her, “do you follow my blog…?”
“Of course, I follow your blog –
I have even subscribed to it – in fact – I recognized you from your blog
profile picture…” she said to me.
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On hearing her words – I felt
good.
It feels good to be recognized –
especially after retirement – when you are a “non-entity…”
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I looked at Manisha.
“Do you like my stories…?” I
asked her – wanting to hear some praise to boost my ego.
“Of course – I like your stories
– you write so well…” she said to me.
I felt elated on hearing her
words – so – I smiled at Manisha.
“Thank you…” I said to her.
“I like your first story the best
– “Rendezvous at Sunrise” – and – I like your romantic stories – but – your
latest story – I did not like the story very much – I think you are trying to
experiment – but I feel you should stick to your original natural style of
writing…” she said, candidly.
For a moment – I was taken aback.
Seeing the expression on my face
– she seemed contrite.
“Oh – I am sorry…” she began to
apologize – when I interrupted her.
“No. No – don’t feel sorry – in
fact – I appreciate you for your honest feedback – but you must tell me exactly
where I am going wrong – so that I can improve my writing…” I said to her.
I could see a bit of hesitancy on
her face – so – I decided to ease her reluctance.
“I really want your feedback –
please tell me exactly what you didn’t like about my writing style in my latest
story – I will appreciate it very much…” I said to her.
“Okay – let’s go to the internet
terminal – I will show you…” she said.
We walked across to the internet
room in the library – we sat in front of the monitor – I opened my blog – and –
she discussed my latest story in a most free and frank manner.
“Look at the ending of this story
– it is so abrupt – it leaves the reader unsatisfied and confused…” she said.
I wanted to tell her about
Hemingway – his Iceberg Theory – but it she seemed to read my mind.
She looked at me and spoke in an
earnest voice.
“Don’t try to imitate famous
authors – just write in your own unique style – like most of your earlier
stories – let me show you…” she said – and – she scrolled down my blog and
opened my first story – “Rendezvous with Sunrise” – and – she compared it with
my latest story – then she showed me some my earlier stories – and I clearly
understood her point of view.
I was amazed that she had read my
stories so carefully – and – this filled me with a sense of happiness and
pride.
“Thank you so much…” I said to
Manisha, “you are the first person who has given me such a thorough critique of
my writing – I will certainly consider all the points
you have told me when I write – but you must keep giving me feedback…”
“Of course…” she said to me, “you write a story during
the week and post it by Saturday – I will read it immediately – and we will
discuss your story on Sunday – when we meet here at the library…”
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I loved her enthusiasm and zest – she was a really
passionate reader – and most importantly – she liked my writing.
In fact – it was first time someone had taken such keen
interest in my writing – and – I felt good.
I smiled at her.
“Yes – that’s a great idea – I will look forward to
discussing my stories with you…” I said to her.
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I marvelled at her acumen and faculty – she looked so
young – but she had profound insight into the finer aspects of creative writing
and literature.
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Her voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Shall we go back and see some short story books…?” she
said to me.
We went back to the literary section
of the library.
We browsed a few short fiction
anthologies together – we showed each other our favorite stories – and – we realized
that our literary tastes were similar.
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As I had said earlier:
“The best kind of friendship is
one where two people love the same books”
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Well – our literary tastes
matched – metaphorically – “we loved the same “books” – and – I could sense
that it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between Manisha and Me.
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Time passed fast.
After browsing in the literary
section – we went to the magazine section – and I showed her some literary
journals which featured contemporary creative writing and short fiction.
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After some time – Manisha looked
at me.
“I am feeling hungry – let’s go across
to Vaishali for a snack…” Manisha said to me.
“Okay…” I said – I was feeling
hungry too.
We crossed the road – luckily a
table was vacant in the normally crowded restaurant.
Manisha ordered a Masala Dosa – I
ordered an Onion Uttapam – and we talked.
“You really know a lot about
literature…” I said to Manisha.
“I am a student of literature…”
she said.
“You are so lucky…” I said to
her.
“Lucky…? Why…?” she asked me.
“I wish I could have studied
literature instead of spending the best years of my life time studying science,
engineering, technology which were so painful…” I said wistfully, “but in our
time – we weren’t given a choice…”
“But you write so well – and you
know so much about literature…” she said.
“I always loved reading – so – though
I did different work – reading and writing were always my interests – my
hobbies…” I said to her.
“The best writers are engineers,
doctors – most haven’t formally studied literature…” she said,
matter-of-factly.
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And – we talked and talked – about
literature – about books – and then – we went back to the library – and browsed
and selected books – till closing time – 6 PM – in the evening.
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“Do you come to the library
often…?” I asked Manisha – as we stood outside the library.
“On my college days – I come
whenever I get time – but – I make it a point to come to the library every
Sunday…” she said.
“I will also come every Sunday…”
I said to her, “I live quite far away – so – I will write throughout the week –
and – I will come to the library every Sunday…”
“That’s great – let’s meet over
here next Sunday – I’ll be here at 11 AM – when the library opens…” she said to
me.
“I’ll post my new story by
Saturday…” I said to her.
“Yes – I will read it – and – we
will discuss your story over here on Sunday morning…” she said to me, “11 AM –
next Sunday – I’ll be here…”
And then – she smiled a sweet
goodbye – and – she walked away.
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Next Sunday – I was sitting on
the bench outside the library at 10:45 AM – waiting for the library to open –
and – of course – eagerly waiting for Manisha to arrive.
I wanted to know her views on the
story I had written that week and posted on my blog on Saturday.
Manisha arrived at 11 AM
She was all excited about my
story.
“I read your story three times –
it is so engrossing…” she said, “you write really well…”
“And…?” I said – waiting for her
critical feedback.
“The ending is too abrupt…” she
said.
“But – that’s my style…” I said
to her.
“Then – you must try and change
your style. You write your stories for readers – don’t you…? Most readers like
happy endings – or – at least – they like smooth endings – well – at least I
do…” she said to me.
“Thank you for your feedback – I
will try to improve my endings – now – let’s go inside and see the endings of
some good short stories – maybe I can learn something…” I said to her.
“Yes. Yes. Let’s do that – it
will be so exciting…” she said.
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ONE WEEK LATER – NEXT SUNDAY
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MANISHA’S MOTHER (NISHA)
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I wanted to know her views on my latest story – especially on the ending
of the story – a “happy ending” as suggested by her.
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A woman came and stood at the
entrance of the library.
I noticed that the woman was
looking curiously at me.
I looked at the woman who was
looking at me.
She looked chic.
Blue Jeans, bright red top
(pullover/tucked-in T-Shirt), fair creamy (flawless) complexion, jet black hair
neatly tied in a bun – and – dark Ray-Ban sunglasses of the latest style.
She was a good-looking woman with
smart feminine features – elegant – fashionable – chic – graceful –
well-groomed.
When the woman saw me looking at
her – she smiled – and she walked towards me.
“Are you Mr. Vikram…?” the woman
asked me.
“Yes…” I said to her.
“Manisha won’t be coming today…” she
said.
“Oh…” I said, “I hope she is
well…”
“Manisha is fit and fine…” the
woman said.
“Oh…” I said – wondering who this
woman was – when the woman suddenly spoke.
“I am Manisha’s mother…” the
woman said, “I have told her not to come here…”
“You have told her not to come
here…?” I said – confused.
“Yes – I don’t want my daughter
Manisha to have any relationship with you…” the woman said – in a firm voice.
“Relationship…? With me…?” I said
– taken aback.
“I don’t want my daughter getting
romantically involved with you…” the woman said.
“Romantically Involved…? Are you
insinuating that I am having a love affair with Manisha…?” I asked the woman – in
an angry voice.
“You certainly seem to be getting
close to her…” she said to me.
“What nonsense…!!! I am double
her age…” I said, emphatically.
“You are not double her age – you
are three times her age – Manisha is just 20 and you must be more than 60…” the
woman said mockingly.
“How does that matter…? Can’t we
be friends…?” I said, assertively.
“Friends…? You should be friends
with her grandmother – even I am too young for you…” the woman said,
sardonically.
“Please stop talking nonsense…” I
said, angrily.
“It is not nonsense – Manisha is
20 – I am 42 – and – my mother is in her early 60’s – around your age…” the
woman said, wryly.
I decided to make things clear to
her – so – I spoke to her in a firm matter-of-fact tone of voice.
“I don’t see what’s your
problem…? Let me make it clear – Manisha and I – ours is just a clean
friendship – we meet just once a week – on Sundays – here in the library – we
discuss books and literature and writing – sometimes – we have a Dosa and
Coffee in the café opposite the library – and then – we say goodbye – and go home…”
I said to the woman, Manisha’s mother.
“What about the book fair – the
literary festival…?” Manisha’s mother said.
“Those are literary events…” I
was saying – when Manisha’s mother interrupted me.
“You have got too involved with
my daughter…” Manisha’s mother said.
“What…? Involved…? Me…? With
Manisha…? Not at all…” I protested.
“Well – she is certainly
emotionally involved with you – she is under your influence – you have spoilt
her – she should have friends of her age – but she only likes you – isn’t that
abnormal for a young college girl…?” Manisha’s mother said to me.
“I don’t know what you are trying
to say…” I said, confused.
Manisha’s mother gave me a hard
look and spoke in a firm tone.
“I want you want you to stop your
relationship with Manisha…” she said, in an imperative tone of voice, as if she
was commanding me to obey.
I felt outraged at the way
Manisha’s mother was talking to me – so I spoke angrily.
“Please talk to me properly – I
am a respectable Navy Veteran – your daughter and me – we are just pure friends
– don’t you dare make such insinuations – as if we are having some sort of
immoral relationship or affair…” I said, indignantly.
“Though you don’t realize it –
you two are indeed having an affair…” she was saying – when I interrupted her
rudely.
“Please stop it…!!! How can you
even say such dirty things…?” I said to her, with disgust.
“I didn’t say you are having a
physical affair – but – you are certainly having an emotional affair – you are
in an emotional relationship with her – think about it….” she said, giving me a
meaningful look.
I looked at her – trying to
comprehend her words – when I heard her voice.
“I want this to stop – I don’t
want you to see her again – I want Manisha to be her age – to hang around with
friends of her age – not with old fogeys like you – so – I have told her not to
meet you – Manisha won’t be coming to the library on Sundays…” Manisha’s mother
said.
“Oh…” I said, feeling
disappointed.
“Please don’t try to contact my
daughter – otherwise…” she said – in a rather threatening tone.
I was angry – very angry – with
this rude and insolent woman.
I wanted to tell her off – to
rebuke her for her impertinence and intemperate words – but – I controlled
myself – and – I turned and started walking towards the library entrance.
“You better find some friends of
your age…” the impertinent woman said to me – as a parting shot – as I entered
the library.
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ONE WEEK LATER
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PART 3
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MANISHA’S GRANDMOTHER (SWATI)
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One week later – on Sunday – I reached
the library just before the opening time of 11 AM – hoping against hope that Manisha
would be there.
But – there was no one outside
the library.
I hadn’t been able to write a
story that week – writer’s block – maybe – because I was upset because of the
previous Sunday’s unpleasant encounter with Manisha’s mother – but more so – at
the prospect of not being able to meet Manisha ever again.
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The moment the library opened – I
went inside – and – as per my habit – first – I walked into the reading room.
On the magazine rack in the
reading room – I was delighted to see the latest issue of Granta – my favorite
literary magazine.
I picked up the magazine – sat
down on a chair and started reading.
I was engrossed reading a story
in the magazine when I heard a feminine voice call out my name.
“Mr. Vikram…?” the feminine voice
said.
I looked up from the magazine.
The feminine voice belonged to a nice-looking
lady.
She looked refined and graceful and
carried herself with an air of confidence and poise. She was a blend of classic
elegance and modern finesse and exuded an aura of charm. She must have been an
exceptional beauty in her younger days – and – even now – she looked alluring –
and she had a unique captivating charisma.
She smiled at me – I smiled back.
I was attracted to her – and – I instinctively
gave her my inimitable look of genuine admiration that is worth a thousand
compliments.
She blushed a bit – and spoke
softly.
“May I sit down – I want to talk
to you…” she said.
“Of course – please sit down…” I
said – getting up from my chair as a courtesy.
We sat down next to each other – she
looked directly into my eyes and spoke in a friendly tone.
“I am Manisha’s grandmother…” she
said to me.
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Story to be continued…
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VIKRAM KARVE
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