Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve

THE NRI WITH A GUILTY CONSCIENCE

2012-01-29T13:19:00.000+05:30

THE NRI WITH A GUILTY CONSCIENCE

A Conversation

VIKRAM KARVE

A few days ago I met an NRI.

You know what NRI means, don’t you?

Of course you do – NRI means NON RESIDENT INDIAN.

Of course, there is a RESIDENT INDIAN friend of mine who jokingly says that NRI means NEVER TO RETURN TO INDIA.

On second thoughts, what my Resident Indian friend says has a ring of truth about it – none of my classmates who went abroad (mostly to the USA) for higher studies returned home to India. They all settled down in America. I think almost all of them are American Citizens now. So since they have relinquished Indian Citizenship and taken up citizenship of their chosen land (and now consciously and willingly pledge allegiance to their chosen country and not India) it may be apt to call them American Persons of Indian Origin (PIO) rather than NRI.

I met one such guy the other day. I was surprised that after enjoying the fruits of living abroad (in the land of opportunity and prosperity) for more than 30 years he still seemed to have a guilty conscience about leaving India (and “abandoning” his parents and loved ones – leaving them behind to fend for themselves).

I asked him a simple question: “Why don’t you come back?”

He gave me all sorts of excuses which were far from convincing (and in his heart I think even he knew it).

To cheer him up I told him the following:

1. No one forced you to go abroad (like the indentured labour sent by the British from India to other colonies when thousands of Indians were transported to various colonies of European powers to provide labour for the sugar plantations). You migrated to the USA by your own free will.

2. In fact, when we were studying engineering in the 1970s, it was you who was desperate to go to America for higher studies and were running from pillar to post to get admission to a good university in the USA and arranging finances (scholarship and loan) when you were getting a good job in India in campus placement or in case you wanted to study more you could have easily got admission to the best of IITs in India. On the other hand persons like me stayed back in India despite having an excellent opportunity to go abroad to America – you know that.

3. Obviously you felt that America is a better place than India to live in. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of migrating in the first place. If you wanted, you could have come back to India on completion of your studies. I am sure you would have got a good job here. But you continued staying there, relinquished Indian Citizenship and acquired American Citizenship.

4. Till now you have prospered in your adopted country and enjoyed the fruits of living in America. The main reason you left India and migrated for “greener” pastures abroad was to have a “better” life since you felt that you could achieve that “better” life by migrating abroad rather than staying back in India. You have achieved your life’s aim. So, in hindsight, what are you feeling guilty about?

5. There is no need to have a guilty conscience about leaving India (and your near and dear one’s) for a better life abroad. Forget about us. Stop feeling guilty and enjoy the “better life” out there (the very reason for which you migrated).

6. And if you truly love India so much, just pack your bags and come back forever. But remember one thing. Come back because you really love India and honestly want to come back to your motherland and not for some selfish reasons of your own (materialistic, economic, career ambition, “greener pastures”, etc)

My NRI friend smiled like a Cheshire Cat. I knew he was never going to come back.

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2012
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.

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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. 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 15 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.

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EATING OUT IN PUNE - MOUTHWATERING SHREYAS MEMORIES

2012-01-28T23:05:00.000+05:30

EATING OUT IN PUNE

MOUTHWATERING SHREYAS MEMORIES

VIKRAM KARVE

Two and a half years ago I wrote the foodie review (posted below) after a hearty meal at Shreyas Siddhi. I wish I could write this today. This afternoon we had a meal at Shreyas Siddhi and I was most disappointed to see that the standard of the food had really gone down. The food was quite tasteless and except for the Veg Pulao it was a pretty uninspiring, bland and lackluster meal. The Basundi was overly sweet and the fruit salad was ... well I better forget this most forgettable meal. Looks like they have become complacent and are taking their patrons for granted.

From now on, whenever I want to have a Maharashtrian Thali in Pune I am going to head to Durvankur on Tilak Road.

Of course I will tell you all about it. Till then here is a post from my foodie archives - mouthwatering memories of a delicious lunch I relished in Shreyas Siddhi a few years ago... for old times sake ...

On the 30^th of May 2010, a Sunday, we celebrated our 28th Wedding Anniversary, and celebrated it with a sumptuous family meal, as always, for the past few years, with a hearty delicious pure vegetarian Maharashtrian Thali at Shreyas Siddhi, the airconditioned swanky branch of the original Shreyas on Apte Road near Deccan Gymkhana in Pune.

If you are a true-blue Punekar, I am sure you know all about Shreyas and have savoured the delicious dining experience I am about to describe.

Nowadays, I prefer their branch called Shreyas Siddhi near Swar Gate on Satara Road not only due to its proximity to my home but mainly because of the excellent ambience which facilitates relaxed fulfilling family dining in cool comfort.

One of my notable marital achievements is that I have managed to transform my darling wife into an avid [or should I say voracious] foodie. Now this is quite a remarkable feat considering that she hardly ever ate anything or never even noticed what she was eating when we first met…in fact earlier she used to eat to survive, now saying that she lives to eat maybe “in extremis” but she certainly has developed a penchant for good food and relishes a tasty hearty meal.

Outside the restaurant, in the covered patio, hungry patrons wait patiently for their turn. Maybe they want to make you wait for your food and help build up an appetite and they believe in the adage that if you truly want to enjoy good food you must build up an appetite for it.

The moment you enter the cool confines of Shreyas Siddhi you are greeted by the glorious spectacle of devoted foodies enjoying their food with rapt attention and divine expressions of satiation.

You are guided to a table and you sit down. There is already a sparkling clean taat with vatis in front of you. There is no menu card and no need for you to waste your time and effort wondering what to order. The waiters will immediately start serving and filling up your plate. You go to Shreyas to eat their delectable and matchless thali, and if you so desire, you can have a sweet dish like Gulab Jam, Modak, Fruit Salad, Basundi, Aamras or Amrakhand to accompany.

The fare varies, and on our latest visit for lunch this Sunday, there was the inimitable ambrosial Aloo Chi Bhaji, excellent Matki Usal, Soothing Soul Kadhi, delicious Umti, zesty Batata Bhaji, Soft melt-in-the-mouth Surali Chya Wadya, Soft Chappaties, Puris, Veg Pulao, Rice with Waran and a liberal topping of pure ghee, Rich Masale Bhat, and the usual Koshimbir, Chutney, Papad, with cool refreshing taak (buttermilk) to wash down the meal.

My darling wife relished her mandatory steamed ukdi cha modak with pure ghee and my son polished off a lip smacking basundi - I tasted both - simply superb!

You can eat to your heart's content – “annapurna” as they say – as all the dishes, everything, is unlimited. And as a grand finale to the fulfilling meal they serve a very refreshing Vida (paan) to enhance the intoxicating sensation you will feel after relishing this magnificent meal.

Did I say “intoxication”?

Yes… intoxication…not the alcoholic kind, but non-alcoholic intoxication at its best. If you truly want to savor this delicious pure vegetarian cuisine, you must build up an appetite for it, and don’t make the mistake of ruining your experience by having a pre-meal appertif before you start off for the place. I think that’s true for all gourmet food, isn't it…?

I will not try and describe the delicious dishes. I cannot. Words fail me to recreate the pristine impeccable flavors, aromas, textures and tastes. It’s unmatched delectable top-quality authentic Puneri Maharashtrian cuisine at its best. It’s an “unlimited” meal and you can feast and satiate yourself to your heart’s content.

If you are in Pune, or the next time you visit Pune, have a delicious unforgettable meal at Shreyas. It is truly value for money authentic cuisine, a hundred and forty rupees for a thali (they give a discount for senior citizens too). Do have a meal at Shreyas. You will carry with you mouthwatering memories of the delightful feast for a long long time.

That was long ago. Any suggestions for a good vegetarian thali in Pune?

VIKRAM KARVE

GOOD FOOD GUIDE - MUMBAI and PUNE - My Favourite Food and where I Ate it - My "incomplete" "passé" Value For Money Trencherman's Good Food Guide

2012-01-28T22:24:00.000+05:30

MOUTHWATERING MUMBAI MEMORIES
My Favourite Food and where I Ate it
My "incomplete" "passé" Value For Money GOOD FOOD GUIDE
By
VIKRAM KARVE

A Trencherman's Good Food Guide

I love good food.

And I love walking around searching for good food. So I set off on my frequent ‘food walks’ searching for good food.

Let me share with you, dear fellow foodie, some of my favourite eateries.

Most of them are in South Mumbai, near Churchgate, where I lived for six of the best years of my life, a few (where mentioned) are in Pune which is my home town and where I stay now.

Read on.

It’s my very own Vikram Karve’s Value For Money Good Food Guide.

I’ve walked there and eaten there.

It’s a totally random compilation. I write as I remember and I may have missed out some of my favourites but I’ll add them on, in subsequent parts, as and when memory jogs me and also keep adding new places I discover during my food walks and trails. Also it's quite outdated as I enjoyed these food walks in the early years of this decade during my stay in Mumbai from where I relocated to Pune more than six years ago.

Dear Mumbaikar Fellow Foodie, do let me know if these delightful places still exist and whether the food they serve is still as lip smacking delicious as it was then.

And most importantly, Dear Friends, please comment and add your favourite eating joints to this list and also your experiences of the eateries mentioned - yes please update us on the latest eating places.

Vada Pav - CTO Vada Pav (Ashok Satam’s Stall) alongside the Central Telegraph Office (CTO) at Flora Fountain ( Hutatma Chowk). Or at Sahaydri at Churchgate. In Pune, I like the fare at the ubiquitous Joshi or Rohit or Siddhivinayak Vadewale but their vadas are not as crisp or zesty as Mumbai’s CTO vada.

Misal Pav – Vinay Health Home in Girgaum . Walk down Marine Drive, cross the road near Taraporewala Aquarium, take the lane between Kaivalyadhama Yoga Centre and Ladies Hostel ( it’s called Income Tax Lane), cross the railway overbridge, walk straight on Thakurdwar Road, cross Girgaum (JSS) Road, walk a bit and Vinay is to your right. In Pune try Ramnath on Tilak Road or Bedekar in Narayan Peth or Damodar in Bibwewadi or the place opposite Garware (MES) College called Katakir on Karve Road.

Kheema Pav – Stadium. Next to Churchgate Station. Kyani at Dhobi Talao. Good Luck near Deccan Gymkhana Pune.

Seekh Kebabs – Ayubs (Chotte Mian). Take the lane to the left of Rhythm House Music Store at Kalaghoda and let your nose guide you. Or else head for Bade Mian near Regal or Sarvi at Nagpada. Sadly there seems to be a dearth of authentic value-for-money kabab joints in Pune, unless you want to head for the high-falutin Barbeque Nation in Kalyani Nagar. I remember enjoying Seekh Kababs at a quaint old world eatery called Olympia on East Street located in an old style bungalow which seems to have disappeared and metamorphosed into a multistorey building.

Jeera Butter – Ideal Bakery. Kandewadi, Girgaum. And try the sugarcane juice at Rasvanti next door.

Chicken Stew ( Kerala Style), Malabar Paratha, Mutton Korma, Fish Curry and Appams – FountainPlaza. In the lane off Handloom House. Fort. [Brings back nostalgic memories of Ceylon Bake House in Ernakulam Kochi (Cochin)]

Chicken Biryani – Olympia, on Mumbai's Colaba Causeway, is my all time favorite. Also the Tandoori Chicken Biryani at Baghdadi and the the exquisite delicately flavoured one at Delhi Darbar and the zesty one at Stadium Churchgate and the inimitable "tikka biryani" at Noorani near Haji Ali. In Pune it’s Dorabjee and Sons restaurant on Dastur Meher road off Sarbatwala Chowk in Pune Camp or Goodluck in Deccan where the Kheema and Tawa dishes are very good too. I like the Biryani at Blue Nile near GPO and George on East Street (for its Tikka Biryani).

Mutton Biryani – Shalimar. Bhendi Bazaar. I like the Chicken Chilly and Raan - it’s exquisite, like Karim’s of Delhi. And I love the Tikka Biryani at Noorani. In Pune I am yet to relish a really good Mutton Biryani, though the one at Tiranga is okay though a bit too spicy for my linking.

Dabba Gosht – Delhi Darbar, Grant Road or Colaba, and Noorani Tardeo. In Pune try Sadanand at Baner.

Malvani Cuisine – Sachivalaya Gymkhana Canteen. Opposite Mantralaya. Nariman Point. Bombil Fry, Pomfret masala, Kombdi (Chicken) Vada and Lunch Thali.

Gomantak Cuisine - Sandeep Gomantak. Bazargate Street. Fort.

White Chicken, Dabba Gosht, Chicken Masala and Khaboosh Roti – Baghdadi . Near Regal. Off Colaba Causeway.

Nihari – Jaffer Bhai’s Delhi Darbar. Near Metro.

Nalli Nihari – Noor Mohammadi . Bhendi Bazaar.

Berry Pulao – Brittania . Ballard Estate.

Puri Bhaji – Pancham Puriwala. Bazargate street. Opposite CST Station (VT).

Kolhapuri Cuisine – I go to ‘Purepur Kolhapur’ at Peru Gate Sadashiv Peth in Pune for authentic Kolhapuri Pandhra Rassa, Tambda Rassa and Kheema vati. In Kolhapur it’s Opal.

Gulab Jamun – Kailash Parbat. 1^st Pasta Lane. Colaba Causeway.

Rasgulla – Bhaishankar Gaurishankar . CP Tank.

Khichdi – Khichdi Samrat. VP Road . CP Tank.

Vegetarian Thali – Bhagat Tarachand. Mumbadevi. Zaveri Bazar. I like the Bhagat Tarachand on Laxmi road in Pune too. And of course, Samrat, Churchgate,Rajdhani and Golden Star. In Pune it’s the authentic Shreyas on Apte Road and Satara Road, Panchami on Satara Road and Durvankur on Tilak Road. Not to forget my favorite Mayur on East Street and Deccan on Jangli Maharaj Roadand Sukanta at Deccan.

Navrattan Kurma – Vihar. JT Road . Shanker Jaikishan Chowk. Opp Samrat. Churchgate.

Veg Burger and Chicken Cafreal Croissant – Croissants. Churchgate. Or Burger King at the end of East Street in Pune.

Tea while browsing books – Cha-Bar. Oxford Bookstore. Churchgate.

Just a refreshing cup of Tea, Irani style – Stadium. Churchgate. Goodluck, Pune.

Ice Cream – Rustoms, Churchgate and Bachellor’s, Chowpatty (green chilli ice cream). In Pune Ganu Shinde and Kawre on Laxmi Road. Or Gujar Mastani House on Satara Road near City pride for the unique delicious thirst quenching Mastani.

Pav Bhaji – Lenin Pav Bhaji Stall. Khau Galli. New Marine Lines. Near SNDT.Sardar, Tardeo. Sukh Sagar , Opera House.

Jalebi – Pancharatna Jalebi House . Near Roxy. Opera House.

Milk Shakes, Juices and uniquely flavoured ice creams like Green Chilli Ice Cream – Bachellor’s. Opposite Chowpatty.

Stuffed Parathas – Samovar. JehangirArtGallery. Chaitanya, opp FergussonCollege, Pune

Grilled Meat, Sizzlers and Steaks – Churchill. Colaba Causeway. Sundance, Churchgate. Sassanian Boulangerie, near Metro. Alps, behind Taj, Kobe and Sizzlers - The Place on Moledina Road next to Manney’s in Pune.

Sea Food – Anant Ashram Khotachiwadi Girgaum.

And so many places around Fort – Mahesh, Apoorva, Trishna, Fountain Inn, Bharat, Ankur.

In Pune Srishti and Nisarg.

Non Veg Multi Cuisine – Jimmy Boy near Horniman Circle

Apple Pie and Ginger Biscuits – Yazdani Bakery. Cawasji Patel Street. Between PM Road and Veer Nariman Road. Fort.

Cakes – Sassanian Boulangerie. 1^stMarine Street. Near Metro.

Buns, Breads and Pastries – Gaylord Bake Shop. Churchgate.

Falooda – Badshah. Crawford Market. Shalimar, Bhendi Bazar and their branch in Pune East Street.

Curds – Parsi Dairy. Princess Street.

Sandwiches and Rolls– Marz-o-rin. Main Street. MG Road. Pune.

Chole Bhature – Monafood. Main Street. Pune. Darshan, Prabhat Road Pune.

Shrewsbury Biscuits , Cheese Papri and Choco-Walnut cake– Kayani Bakery. East Street . Pune.

Mutton Cutlet Curry, Kheema Pav, Biryani, Tawa Ghosht – Good Luck Pune

Veg Cutlet – Swagat Dadar TT Mumbai and Vaishali Fergusson College RoadPune

Macaroons – Pasteur Bakery Main Street MG Road Pune

Lamingtons, carrot cake, patties, samosas, cakes, soy milk – Spicer Bakery shop, Spicer College, Aundh Road and their outlet off Main Street in Camp

Veg Patties - Hindustan Bakery Pune

The mere thought of Shrewsbury biscuits and Lamingtons evokes in me a sensation I cannot describe. I am feeling nostalgic and am off to Pune - for Shrewsbury at Kayani, wafers at Budhani, Sev Barfi at Bhavnagri, Amba Barfi and Bakarwadi at Chitale, Mutton Biryani and Dhansak at Dorabjee, Misal at Ramnath, Kachori at Apsara, Sizzlers at The Place, Pandhra Rassa at Purepur Kolhapur, Batata Wada at Joshi Wade Wale, Mango Ice Cream at Ganu Shinde, Mastani at Sujata, Burgers at Burger King, Gujar and Kavare, Bhel at Saras Baug, Canal, Kalyan and Kalpana Bhel, and on the banks of Khadakvasla lake, Pithla Bhakri, Kanda Bhaji and tak on top of Sinhagarh Fort, Chinese at Kamling. [Oh, No, sadly Kamling has closed down so I’ll go across to the end of East Street to the East End Chinese takeaway next to Burger King. And Latif too has metamorphosed into a takeaway].

And guess what?

The moment I reach Pune, I’ll walk across the station and enjoy a refreshing Lassi at Shiv Kailas. And then walk down in the hot sun to Main Street. One thing I’ll miss is the non-veg samosas at erstwhile Naaz on the West End corner at the entrance to Main Street. The good old Naaz and Kamling are two places I really miss. Good Luck in Deccan and Blue Nile and George in Camp still go strong and their Biryani is as good as ever. But what’s happened to Sunrise, I wonder? The place is demolished; has the café been relocated? Of course there is Nisarg for Seafood, Mainland China for authentic Chinese, Soul to stir your culinary soul and many lovely places springing up all over Pune.

Now I am busy discovering [and rediscovering] interesting eating places in Pune.

When I lived near Aundh, I liked the multi-cuisine Polka Dots at Parihar Chowk for it’s Roasts and Shepherd’s Pie, Chicken Teriyaki, and Puddings, Season’s and Sarjaa for family dining, a few down-to-earth takeaways and Maharashtra Café near Bremen Chowk look promising, Diwadkar for Misal and vada pav, Spicers for Lamingtons and cakes et al, Babumoshai for roshogullas and lavang lata, Shiv Sagar for Pav Bhaji, and the usual Udipi fare, a place called Thomson in Navi Sangvi which serves non veg Kerala cuisine, Delhi Kitchen which I’m planning to try but did not venture into as it was deserted (crowded ambience and busy rapid turnover are the leitmotif of a good eatery), Diwadkars for Bhel, Vada Pav, Misal and Mann Dairy for a delicious lassi. The Wraps at Faaso's Hinjewadi are quite good and remind me of the Frankies I relished on Colaba Causeway and Churchgate in Mumbai.

I food walked in Aundh and was thoroughly disappointed. Of course, there are so many upscale posh places in KP and Kalyani Nagar, and swank all day multi-cuisine cafes like MoMo in the Marriot near the IT Park in Hinjewadi, but then here we are talking about those unique down-to-earth popular eateries which define the place and are frequented by the earthy hungry trencherman rather than the sophisticated connoisseur.

In Aundh I noticed that there are all the usual fast food pizza and burger joints, some high-falutin restaurants and a few nondescript commonplace characterless eateries serving run of the mill stuff; but sadly there are very few authentic value for money down-to-earth no nonsense Spartan eateries around here where I can relish genuine cuisine to my heart’s delight. But that was more than two years ago and things may have changed, hopefully for the better.

Now, far far away, in the back of beyond, amidst green hills, lakes and forests, I can only nostalgically reminisce about my "good old foodie days" and relish those sumptuous delicacies in my mind's eye; and once in a while head for Pune to satisfy my gastronomical cravings.

Dear fellow foodies, please do send in your comments and let us know of your foodie adventures and discoveries so I can keep updating.

Meanwhile I keep exploring Pune for good food and shall soon come out with my very own authentic food guide to eating out in Pune.

After all, the proof of the pudding is in the eating!

I eagerly await your comments and recommendations and details of all your favourite eating places and your favourite food and where you eat it and I will certainly explore those foodie joints and include them in my updated revised food guide.

Happy Foodwalking…!

Happy Eating…!

VIKRAM KARVE

EQUATIONS - My Favourite Short Stories Revisited Part 40

2012-01-28T21:47:00.000+05:30

My Favourite Short Stories Revisited Part 40

EQUATIONS

VIKRAM KARVE

From my Creative Writing Archives:

Here is a story from my recently published short fiction anthology COCKTAIL which comprises 27 short stories about relationships.

EQUATIONS is one of my earliest pieces of short fiction - a story written by me more than 15 years ago, way back in the 1990s. This story was highly appreciated then and I am sure you will like it now too...

If you like reading short fiction do order a copy of COCKTAIL online from Flipkart by clicking the link below:

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

EQUATIONS

VIKRAM KARVE

  The doorbell rings.

          I open the door.

          Oh my God – it’s Dilip... Suddenly, out of the blue. After so many years.

          I feel a tremor of trepidation.

Ten years' ago I would have been delighted to see Dilip at my door. But today I wish he hadn’t come.

Dilip is the only secret I have kept from my husband.

“What do you want...?” I ask rudely.

“A glass of water to start with,” Dilip says, with his patent smile.

He walks in casually and sits on the sofa.

I hurriedly close the front door, go inside the kitchen, take out a bottle of cold water form the fridge and as I pour the water into a glass I realize that my hands are shaking. Desperately trying to steady myself I walk slowly into the drawing room and keep the glass on the table.

“What’s wrong with you Nalini...?” Dilip asks, looking me directly in the eye.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” I shout, instantly regretting my rudeness. But it is true; I really wish he hadn’t come.

“I am sorry,” Dilip says. “I didn’t know you hate me so much.”

Dilip gets up from the sofa and stands facing me. I can see that he is flaming mad. But his fury is visible only in his eyes. His manner is relaxed and nonchalant. He walks to the table, picks up the glass, drinks the water and keeps the glass back on the table. “Thanks,” he says, and begins to head towards the front door.

He opens the door, pauses for a moment, and turning to me he says: “Nalini. You should have told your husband about us. Trust is the keel upon which a marriage is built. There is no place for secrets between husband and wife. Someday he will come to know. You can take my word for it.”

With those words, Dilip walks out and shuts the door. For a moment I am nonplussed; then comprehension dawns on me pretty fast. A strange tocsin sounds in my brain: ‘Blackmail’... Dilip is going to Blackmail me, take his revenge, and get even...

I open the door, rush out and intercept Dilip before he can get into the lift. I catch hold of his wrist and literally pull him inside the house. I shut the door and plead, “Please wait, Dilip. Don’t go. I’ll be back in a moment.” Then I go to the bathroom and wash my face, trying to regain my composure.

When I return to the drawing room, Dilip smiles at me and says, “Nalini, how could you even imagine that I would blackmail you...?”

          I remain silent, feeling ashamed of myself.

          Dilip had genuinely loved me... probably he even loves me today. I had loved him too, but as far as marriage is concerned one has to be rational.

          At that point of time Dilip, who was my classmate in college, was still searching for a job. He was not from a very well-to-do family and, frankly, I did not consider him marriage material. Like most middle-class girls I was seeking a husband with prospects of status and wealth, hoping for an opportunity to marry up the social scale.

          And yes, what a success my marriage has been.

         Today I have everything I want – two lovely children (a boy and a girl), a loving and doting husband, Sanjay, a luxurious house in a posh locality, and all the happiness and prosperity I could ever hope for.

         And now, Dilip has suddenly appeared from nowhere.

         I have to be very careful – one wrong move and everything I have built so meticulously will collapse like a pack of cards.

         I look at Dilip and smile. I wonder what he does for a living.

“I joined the Merchant Navy,” he says, as if reading my mind with the power of clairvoyance. “I’m the Captain of a ship now... I’ve just been promoted a Master.”

I am impressed. Dilip has certainly done well. A Master Mariner – Captain of a huge ship.

I try to imagine what life would have been like had I married him. The wife of a Merchant Navy Officer - Sailing around the world, on the high seas, to exotic destinations, so adventurous, so exciting... I wonder who he has married. Lucky girl...

“I am not yet married,” Dilip says, as if he is reading my mind. Clairvoyance again...this is too much...

“You still haven’t got married...? Why...? Why didn't you get married...?” I ask, trying not to sound too curious.

“Well, I couldn’t find a wife, that’s all... You know I am not much of a ladies’ man and now I am thirty two. There is hardly anyone I knew still left.” He pauses for a moment. “And now I am all alone in this world. Besides, I have spent my last few years at sea. How do you expect me to find a wife...?”

“Nothing is simpler,” I say. “You are still quite young and most eligible. Just put an ad in the newspapers. Or better still try one of these matrimonial sites on the internet.”

“That’s exactly what I have done,” Dilip says.

“Really...? Any response...?” I feel a sense of relief. Why...? I do not know.

“That’s why I have come to Pune. To see a girl,” Dilip says as he lights a cigarette.

I make a mental note to clean the ash-tray as soon as he leaves. Sanjay does not smoke. And he does not like visitors who do. It’s an antique ash-tray – more for ceremonial purposes than for use.

“It was sheer luck,” Dilip says. “Getting your address, I mean. I met Shalini at Delhi airport last evening. She told me you had shifted to Pune.”

He takes out an envelope from his shirt-pocket and puts it on the table. “The girl stays right here near your house in the Deccan Gymkhana area. There’s a photo and her letter inside. Take a look. Maybe you know her.”

I look impatiently at the wall-clock. It was almost eleven o’clock . And my daughter will return from nursery school at twelve noon . I don’t want anyone to see Dilip here.

“Listen Dilip,” I snap irritably. “Please go away. And don’t come back. I don’t want to get involved in your affairs.”

“Relax, Nalini. I just want your opinion,” Dilip says. He takes a deep drag of smoke and stubs his cigarette in the ash-tray.

Then he takes out a photo from the envelope and holds it in front of my eyes. The moment I see the face in the photo I feel stunned, as if I have been pole-axed. It is Lata - my best friend.

My mind goes into a tizzy. ‘Dilip and Lata’. My ex-lover and my best friend. A lethal combination. Too dangerous. Too close for my comfort. I don’t want Dilip anywhere near my life. If Sanjay ever comes to know about us – everything would be shattered. I have to stop this madness.

I take the photo from Dilip’s hand and make pretence of looking at it. I desperately rack my brain. What should I do, say to Dilip... how should I word it...? Finally, I say: “Dilip, don’t misunderstand me. If I were you, I would be careful. Drying a divorcee’s tears is one of the most dangerous pastimes known to man.”

“Pastime...? What nonsense...” Dilip erupts. “I going to marry her...”

“Don’t Dilip. Don’t marry Lata. You’ll regret it all your life. What do you know of her past...?”

“She’s written everything. Bared her life.” He takes out a letter from the envelope. “At least she’s not hiding things like you. She’s just an innocent divorcee.”

“Innocent Divorcee...? Well, she’s a divorcee for sure, but about the ‘innocent’ part of it…well, let’s not delve too much...” I say sarcastically. “You are naive, Dilip, a simpleton. Just forget about her and go back.

Dilip looks startled, but I can detect a trace of disappointment in his expression. I look again at Lata’s photo. She looks her ravishing best. I am sure Dilip has fallen for her – just looking at her photo. I can feel the venom rising in my throat. “She’ll mess up your life. Mesmerize you, use you and then discard you. That’s what she always does.”

I pause to let the words sink in. Then I look intently at him and say in my most convincing voice, “Trust me, Dilip. I want you to be happy. Don’t get desperate. You’ll get many good proposals. I’ll help you out.”

I hate myself for my mendacity, for speaking these lies, for the harm I am doing to my best friend. Poor Lata. She is such a good friend. I know the divorce was no fault of hers. And Dilip is ideal for her. And she for him. But then I have to look after my own interests first.

Dilip grins. Then he smiles like a Cheshire cat. He has seen through my lies. He says, “I am not such a fool, Nalini. I’ve understood everything. And I still love you. I’ll do anything for you.”

Dilip folds the letter and puts it in his pocket. “Give me her photo,” he says, and gently takes it from my hands, “I’ll return it to her tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow...?” I ask in panic.

Dilip takes out the letter from his pocket, unfolds it and reads, “Let’s meet at 10 o’clock in the morning at Vaishali. On the 25th of May. That’s tomorrow morning.”

He looks at me intently and says, “Come on, Nalini. I can’t ditch her just like that. Why are you worried...? I’ll take care.”

“Please finish off everything and go back today. Please... Please Dilip... go back today...for my sake...!” I plead with him.

“Okay,” Dilip says softly. “But decency demands that at least I meet her and apologize. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.” He takes out the letter and starts reading, “1st Prabhat Lane , House No...”

“There’s no need to meet her. Ring her up from here and cancel the appointment,” I say pointing to the telephone. “Better still... say you couldn’t make it to Pune. Give some excuse. Say you are speaking fromDelhi . Use your cell phone if you like. I’ve got her number.”

“No,” he says firmly. “It’s a delicate matter. I must see her personally.” He gets up and walks towards the door. “Don’t worry, Nalini. I’ll handle it. And you shall never see me again. I promise. I’ll leave forDelhi tonight.”

As soon as he leaves I decide to follow him discreetly. Just to make sure.

An ominous scary feeling of anxiety envelopes and overwhelms me. I am going crazy with fear. And suspicion. The stakes are too high. I can trust no one. Not even Dilip.

I heave a sigh of relief as I see Dilip turn into 1st Prabhat Lane . He takes out Lata’s letter and seems to be confirming her address.

Then he starts crossing the street and walks towards the entrance of Lata’s ground floor house. Suddenly Dilip stops in his tracks. He looks shocked and startled. I follow his gaze.

Oh my God... I can’t believe what I see...

          My husband Sanjay is standing in the open door of Lata’s house. Sanjay hastily closes the door and starts walking away towards the other end of the street, looking around furtively like someone with a guilty conscience.

          I cannot begin to describe the emotion I feel, but my next few moments are just vivid flashes in a void.

         The next thing I remember is that I am sitting with Dilip in Café Good Luck with a cup of strong refreshing tea in front of me. The hot tea is rejuvenating.

“You must go home now,” Dilip says, “It’s almost twelve. Your daughter will soon be home.”

“She’ll stay at my neighbor’s place,” I say. “Give me your cell phone.”

I ring up my neighbor and tell her to look after my daughter till I come home. Then, on a sudden impulse, I dial Sanjay’s number.

“I have told you not to disturb me in office,” my husband snaps. “I am extremely busy since morning in an important meeting.” Then contrite, he adds, “anything the matter...?”

“Nothing, just called up to say Hello,” I say, and disconnect.

“He’s lying,” I tell Dilip. “He told me that he was in his office all morning.”

Deep down, I feel terribly betrayed. How could Sanjay do this to me...? And my best friend Lata...? I have been such a good friend to her, helped her so much. I wonder how long they have been cheating me. How long it’s been going on. Right under my nose. I have been faithful to Sanjay. And how I dearly loved him too.

“Isn’t it terrible...?” Dilip asks.

“What...?”

“To love and not be loved in return...”

“Don’t say such things, Dilip. I beg of you. As it is I am feeling so demoralized.”

“Demoralized, demoralized...” he repeats. “I like your choice of words.” Then he gestures towards me and says, “There’s no point living a lie. When a relationship gets demoralized by distrust, it is better severed, terminated, than patched up.”

I gaze at him, stupefied. How could he say such hurting things...?

“When one is furtive and guilt-ridden, nothing is pleasurable,” Dilip continues. “And how long can you pretend...? And go on keeping secrets from each other...? Just to sustain the facade of conjugal conviviality for the outside world. For others’ sake.”

I am close to tears now. Why is Dilip hurting me like this when I am most vulnerable...? Has he any motive...? Comprehension slowly dawns on me. But no... Not Dilip... I know him so well.

“But that’s all rhetoric,” he says. “Easier said than done!” He pauses, smiles and says, “You know what you should do, Nalini...? Just go back to your house and continue your life as if nothing has happened.”

And that is exactly what I do. I bid Dilip good-bye and go straight home. I look at the dirty ash-tray and think of Dilip. Instinctively my hand moves to pick up the ash-tray and clean it, but I do not clean the ash-try – I just leave Dilip’s cigarette butt there.

Sanjay comes home late in the evening back from office as usual. “Why did you ring me up in the office...?” he asks.

“Oh, it was nothing important,” I reply. “I had gone shopping with Lata to Main Street and Camp in the morning. We spent the entire morning in the new Mall, shopping to our hearts’ content, and we were so famished that we decided to go to the club for lunch. Lata told me to ring you up and ask you if you wanted to have lunch with us at the club, that’s all. But then you were busy all morning in an important business meeting, weren’t you...?”

          For an instant Sanjay looks startled, momentarily frozen, but he recovers quickly.

          Then he sits on the sofa.

          He notices the dirty ash-tray, looks at the cigarette stub. He quickly picks up the ash-tray and, without a word, empties it into the dustbin.

Sanjay never asks me who the visitor was.

         He never will.

         He dare not.

         The equations in our marriage have now changed forever.

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.

Dear Reader - if you liked this story, I am sure you will love the stories in my book COCKTAIL - a collection of 27 stories about relationships.

Relationships are like cocktails. Every relationship is a unique labyrinthine melange of emotions, shaken and stirred, and, like each cocktail, has a distinctive flavour and taste. The twenty-seven stories in this collection explore fascinating aspects of modern day relationships: love, romance, sex, betrayal, marriage, parenting and even pet parenting. You will relish reading these riveting cocktails of intermingling emotions narrated in a temptingly engaging style, and once you start reading you will find this delicious “cocktail” unputdownable till the very end.

Do try out this delicious, heady and exciting COCKTAIL – to order your Cocktail just click any of the links below:

FLIPKART

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

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http://www.indiaplaza.in/cocktail-vikram-karve/books/9788191091847.htm

APK PUBLISHERS PUNE

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
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. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and creative non-fiction articles in magazines and journals for many years before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 15 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.

THE GIFT - My Favourite Short Stories Revisited Part 39

2012-01-27T19:57:00.000+05:30

My Favourite Short Stories Revisited Part 39

THE GIFT

VIKRAM KARVE

From my Creative Archives:

I wrote this story around fifteen years ago.

Maybe you will find it written in quite an old-fashioned style.

Do tell me if you like it.

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.

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.

Ten years. Ten long years.

She had married money.

And status.

I was heartbroken.

Yet I bore her no pique or rancour.

I never will.

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 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”... 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 pretend she didn’t recognize me.

The door opened.

Anjali looked ravishing.

She gave me her sparkling smile and 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 and 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...”

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

Then suddenly she held out her hand to me and said, “I am so happy to see you, Sanjiv. 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 couldn’t help feeling a pang of envy, and failure.

“You like my house...?” she asked. “Sit down. And don’t look so lost.”

I sat down on a sofa and kept the gift wrapped packet on the side-table.

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

I took out the wallet from my pocket and gave it to her. “Your husband’s purse. I saw your photograph in it.”

Anjali opened the purse and 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 started to get up.

“Please sit down, Anjali. Let’s talk,” I said looking at my watch, “It’s already six-thirty. Let’s wait for Mr. Joshi. Maybe he’ll offer me a drink. And 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 extremely busy man.”

She couldn’t have spelt it out more clearly.

I got the message loud and clear.

Anjali changed the topic and asked, “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.”

“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 didn’t 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 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 hr 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. A deafening silence. A grotesque silence.

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

I could not bear it any longer.

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

Suddenly I realized that I had forgotten to pick up the 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 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 this 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. “We raided one of those exclusive classy joints last night,” I stammered. “A posh call-girl racket……….”

I could not continue, so I said apologetically, “I’m sorry... I didn’t know...”

“I know... Oh yes I know...” Anjali said mockingly, “That impotent creep... trying to prove his virility to himself...”

With those few words, she had bared the secret of her marriage.

I looked at her.

Her manner was relaxed and nonchalant... 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’ll hush it up.”

I still don’t 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 something, I instinctively stepped back.

But Anjali suddenly turned and left the room.

I waited, as if pole-axed, frozen like a statue for a moment and after regaining my composure I decided to leave and started to move towards the door.

“Wait... ” I heard her scream.

I stopped in my tracks and turned around.

Anjali quickly walked towards me and thrust out her right hand.

She held a bundle of five hundred rupee notes. “So this is what you have come for, isn’t it...? A bribe to hush up the case, isn’t it...? Even from me...? You unscrupulous dog... I didn’t expect you to fall so low... here - take the money and get out. This is all I have at home. If you want more, you know where to find my husband, don’t you...?”

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

“Cheap...” Anjali spat out. There was contempt in her eyes. “Cheap riffraff... that’s what you always were, Sanjiv... Now you get out of my house you filthy blackmailer... and I don't want to see your face again...”

She threw the bundle of notes at me.

It 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...?”

Anjali paused and said sarcastically, “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 walked out of the house.

As I walked 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 paper gift wrapper torn.

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

But I did not look back at her.

I gathered the books and 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 said, “The children want to thank you for the lovely gift. They are so happy...”

She was holding the set of encyclopaedias in her hands.

I smiled and reached out to them.

They held my hands and 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

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

Did you like reading this story?
I am sure you will like 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

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 15 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
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

HUNGRY and LONELY in WAKAD - Time for some FEEL GOOD FOOD

2012-01-27T12:46:00.000+05:30

HUNGRY and LONELY in WAKAD - Time for some FEEL GOOD FOOD

Feel Good Food

ORANGE CHICKEN

VIKRAM KARVE

Feeling Low, in a blue mood?

That's how I am feeling right now. Hungry and Lonely in Wakad. I need to feel good. So I am going to do something to cheer me up and brighten my spirits. I am going to cook myself an Orange Chicken.

Let me tell you the recipe for this marvellous hot tangy chicken dish, innovative, passionate, something different, and breathtaking in its simplicity, which is guaranteed to warm your insides, zest up your palate, lift your spirits, pep you up and fill you with cheer.

Go to your neighbourhood supermarket or store, pick up a one kilogram packet of frozen jointed chicken pieces and a few cartons of fruit juices (we’ll use orange juice for this recipe, I’ll tell you a few recipes with other juices too, and I am sure you will innovate and discover new one’s of your own).

Okay, you’ll need a juicy lemon, a 100 gram packet of butter, a teaspoon of cornflour, a spoon of red chilli powder and a bit of salt and pepper, that’s all.

First thaw the chicken pieces, squeeze the lemon over it, add chilli powder, salt and pepper, mix well and let it marinate for an hour or two.

Heat the butter in a pan and fry on low heat till the chicken is nicely cooked and dry.

In case the chicken starts to stick while cooking add some lemon juice and dollops of butter from time to time.

But at the end the chicken must be golden brown and dry from outside and succulent and tender from inside – oh, yes, do taste and confirm while cooking!

Let the chicken cook for sometime.

Now let us make the orange sauce while the chicken is cooking.

In a saucer, make a paste of cornflour and a little orange juice.

Boil a large glass of orange juice on high heat and when it becomes about half the quantity, briskly stir in the cornflour paste, and keep stirring till it thickens, and pour the bubbling hot syrup over the hot cooked chicken.

If you want to indulge in some passionate foodie romance, ignite your foodie date, eat the tangy zesty orange flavoured chicken hot and fresh with your loved one, all cuddled up and romantic.

Remember, you must finish it off in one go, nice and hot.

The dish it loses its pepping-up effect if re-warmed.

(By the Way, the word "Dish" refers to the orange chicken).

Try this zesty dish whenever you are in the blue mood and see for yourself how you cheer up and feel good.

Happy Eating.

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.

Did you like this recipe?

I am sure you will like the 27 short stories from my recently published anthology of Short Fiction 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:
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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. 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 15 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

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DO YOU REMEMBER THE MOMENT WHEN YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH YOUR WIFE ?

2012-01-27T11:40:00.000+05:30

DO YOU REMEMBER THE MOMENT WHEN YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH YOUR WIFE ?

Short Fiction – A Love Story

VIKRAM KARVE

For those who have been lucky to have a love marriage, there is an important day to celebrate called wedding anniversary.

For me and my wife, surviving one of those quintessential arranged marriages, our wedding anniversary is just another day.

That is why, instead of romancing each other over candlelight dinner, my wife and I are browsing books at the bookstore.

Suddenly my wife says to me, “Arun, look...!”

“Where?” I ask.

“There, near the window – look at the woman in the red dress,” my wife says, pointing her hand.

I look at the woman in the red dress.

“Don’t you know who she is?” my wife asks excitedly.

“No,” I say.

“She is Nisha – the famous romantic author,” my wife says ardently.

“I’ve never heard of her,” I say nonchalantly.

“You come with me,” my wife says and I follow her towards the bestseller rack near the entrance, where she pulls out a paperback from the shelf and shows me the photo of the woman in the red dress on the back-cover.

“Yes, it is her,” I say, “let’s go home.”

“Come, Arun, let’s meet her and get her autograph on this book…” my wife says.

“No…” I interrupt, “she’s browsing…she won’t like to be disturbed…let’s go…” I say and I turn towards the exit.

“Please…”

“No…don’t give these authors too much importance…let’s go home…” I say irritably, motioning my wife with my eyes.

“You go. I’m going to get her autograph on this book,” my wife says, and she starts walking towards the woman in red who is still absorbed nose deep into browsing the book in her hand.

I turn and quietly walk into the philosophy section and browse books.

After a while my wife comes and says, “She wants to meet you…”

“Who?”

“Nisha – the author…”

“But I don’t want to…”

“Hi Arun, remember me?” says the woman in the red dress suddenly appearing in front of me.

I am struck dumb.

“Arun and me had a real good time together in college,” the woman in the red dress says to my wife, then looks at me and says, “You remember what all we did, don’t you, Arun?”

I avert my eyes and I wish the earth below me would split and swallow me up.

“Hey Arun darling, you’ve told her all about us, haven’t you?” the woman in the red dress says loudly, digging her fangs into me like a snake, and seeing the horror-struck expression on my face the woman turns and speaks to my wife, “I am really sorry, but I thought there was no place for secrets between husband and wife….”

“Of course Arun has told me everything about you Nisha. Everything, he has told me every single thing,” my wife says emphatically to the woman in the red dress looking her in the eye, and then turns to me and says, “shall we go home, Arun ?”

Mesmerized, awestruck, I look at my wife and for the first time in my life I feel a flood of love for her.

That is the moment I fall in love with my wife.

Dear Reader:

Do you remember the moment when you fell in love with your wife?

You do?

Then why don't you tell us about it.

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.

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