Showing posts with label engagement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label engagement. Show all posts

Monday, May 7, 2018

Girl “Seeing”


GIRL “SEEING”
A Story from My Mumbai Navy Days
By
VIKRAM KARVE

40 Years Ago (Circa 1978)
Mumbai (Then Called Bombay)

My ship returned to our Base Port Mumbai after a long sailing program – we had returned to Mumbai after nearly 3 months.

By the time we “secured” – it was almost lunchtime – and the Captain declared “make and mend” (half day) – to enable married officers and sailors to go home to their families.

Like all “in-living” officers – I had plenty of beer in the afternoon – followed by a hearty lunch – and I was in deep sleep in my cabin – when I was shaken out of my beer-induced stupor.

It was my course-mate “X” – my best friend. 

“Come on – Wake Up – we are going to see a “girl”…” he said.

“Let me sleep for some time…” I protested.

“It is already past 5 – we must reach her house by a decent time…”

“Where…?” I asked, sleepily.

“Dadar…”

“Why Dadar…?”

“The “girl” lives there…”

“What “girl” are you talking about…?”

“My “fiancée”…”

“What…? Fiancée…? Have you got engaged…?” I asked, surprised.

“Not yet. I want you to approve the “girl” – if you like her – we will have the “formal” engagement ceremony…” he said.

I noticed that my course-mate “X” was wearing uniform – so I said to him:

“Are you going in uniform to see the “girl”…?

“No. No. The moment I came to know that your ship has returned to harbour – I came straight to your ship from office. You go and get fresh and come to your senses – you still look all “Beered Out”…” he said.

When I returned after having a refreshing shower – I saw that “X” was all “dressed-up” in my clothes – he was wearing my favourite shirt with my best pair of trousers.

“I have seen people borrow shirts – but you have “bummed” my trousers too…” I said to “X”.

“What are best friends for…?” he said, “there is no time to go all the way to my cabin in Command Mess…”

My course-mate “X” liberally splashed on my perfume – and he said to me:

“I’ll go to the gangway and use the shore phone to tell my fiancée that we are reaching by 6/6:30…”

(Dear Reader: Please remember that this story happened 40 years ago – in 1978 – when there were no mobile phones. Those days – even landlines were considered a “luxury” – and – a common landline shore phone was rigged up on the gangway when the ship was in harbour…)

15 minutes later – at 5:30 PM to be precise – we were sitting in a taxi – heading for Dadar.

Normally – for travelling to Dadar – we would have taken a double-decker bus (Route No. 1) from Museum – or travelled by local train – from CST (then called VT) by the Central Railway or from Churchgate by the Western Railway.

But today – we were going to “see” a girl – and we wanted to look our best when we arrived at her place.

There was quite a bit of traffic – and by the time we reached the girl’s home – it was well past 6 – the time was around 6:15 PM.

Inside – I found a huge crowd – it seemed they were having a family function – or maybe – the neighbours had turned up to “see” the boy.

There were a number of girls – and – my friend generally introduced me to them – and I was confused as to which of the girls was his fiancée.

We sat down on the sofa – with all the girls giggling and looking at us.

Suddenly – a beautiful girl came into the room carrying a tray of snacks.

She served us the snacks.

There was the quintessential “Kande Pohe” and hot “Gulab Jamuns”.

Ah – so this girl was my friend’s fiancée.

I asked her the classic question:

“Did you make the Pohe and Gulab Jamun yourself…?”

“Yes…” she said, “please start eating – and do tell me if you like them…?”

I ate the Kande Pohe – they were okay.

Then – I put a piece of Gulab Jamun on my tongue – the Gulab Jamun was so soft and succulent that it just melted on my tongue.

Yes – the Gulab Jamuns tasted heavenly – they were the best Gulab Jamuns I had ever eaten.

So – I said to my friend’s fiancée:

“Your Gulab Jamuns are really good. In fact – these are the best Gulab Jamuns I have ever eaten in my life…”

My friend’s fiancée blushed – and said to me:

“Thank you – I am so happy you liked them – you must have some more Gulab Jamuns…”

“Of course…” I said, “I will have at least 10 more…”

Yes – I easily had 10 more Gulab Jamuns – maybe much more – the Gulab Jamuns were so delicious that I lost count of how many I had eaten.

Maybe – I had eaten all the Gulab Jamuns my friend’s fiancée had made.

There were so many people around – so many girls – my friend was talking to them – but my attentions were totally focused on the Gulab Jamuns – and the beautiful girl who was serving me the Gulab Jamuns – my friend’s fiancée.

I refused the cup of tea – saying that I wanted the “aftertaste” of these delicious Gulab Jamuns to linger on my tongue till I went to sleep so that I had sweet dreams.

My friend’s fiancée gave me a sweet smile on hearing these words of praise.

Soon – it was time to go.

We got up from the sofa.

We said “good bye” to everyone – and – I smiled a special “good bye” to my friend’s fiancée.

She too gave me a very loving smile.

As I walked towards the door – I felt my trouser pocket.

And – I suddenly realized that I had forgotten something.

I took out the bottle of exclusive “duty free” perfume from my pocket.

I looked at my friend’s fiancée lovingly.

I held out the bottle of perfume towards her and said: “This is for you…”

My friend’s fiancée looked at me in delightful surprise and exclaimed: “For me…? Thank you so much. I love perfumes. You are really nice – it was so thoughtful of you to get me such a nice gift…”

We said goodbye and walked down the staircase.

As we walked down – my friend “X” said to me: “Are you crazy or what…?”

“Crazy…? What did I do…?” I said.

“Why did you give that bottle of perfume to the girl’s mother…?” he said.

“Girl’s mother…?” I said, stunned.

“Yes. You gift my fiancée’s mother the most exclusive perfume – and for my fiancée – you have nothing. Tell me – what will my fiancée feel...?” my friend “X” said angrily to me. 

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © 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. 
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

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.
Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)
     
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
 

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Are You “Made-For-Each-Other”...?

STORY OF A “MADE FOR EACH OTHER” COUPLE
A Love Story
By
VIKRAM KARVE

Her name was Riya.

His name was Rohan.

They – Riya and Rohan – they were a “made-for-each-other” couple.

I am not saying this just because they won the “made-for-each-other couple contest”.

Yes – we had a “made-for-each-other” couple contest during the Annual Day Celebrations in our Residential Society – a cosmopolitan gated community.

All couples had to participate – and – Riya and Rohan had easily won the contest.

It was a simple contest.

First – all couples had to walk on the ramp – like a fashion show.

10 couples were selected from this round for the “Question-Answer” round.

These 10 couples were asked 10 questions each – the usual “guessing game” stuff about how well they knew each other – about likes/dislikes, events/dates, etc. – including one “intimate” question.

Riya and Rohan had won the “made-for-each-other couple contest” – and most deservingly so.

Yes – Riya and Rohan were easily the best-looking couple on the ramp.

And – Riya and Rohan were the only couple who had each answered all questions correctly.

After Riya and Rohan won the “made-for-each-other couple contest” – I began to observe them a bit more closely – and – I saw that – in real life too – Riya and Rohan were truly a “made-for-each-other” couple.

I have never seen a couple so devoted to each other and in perfect harmony with each other.

Riya and Rohan were perfectly compatible with each other – in all aspects – and – I felt jealous of them.

One evening – after my evening walk – I stopped by at my favorite café – for a cup my customary “post-walk” cup of tea.

I saw Riya and Rohan seated at a table.

They greeted me – and – they asked me to join them.

“Are you sure you want me to join you…?” I said, “I don’t want to be a “Kabab-Me-Haddi” and spoil your “lovey-dovey” quality time…”

“Oh, come on, Uncle…” Riya said, “We’ve been together for 10 years now…”

“You still look like honeymooners – so much in love with each other…” I said.

“Thank you, Uncle…” Riya said.

Their snacks arrived.

Rohan and Riya insisted that I eat with them.

As I saw Riya eating – I suddenly remembered that it was “Karva Chauth” – so – I said to Riya:

“Hey – today is “Karwa Chauth” – you are supposed to “fast” – isn’t it…?”

“Why…?” she asked me.

“Well – all married women fast from sunrise to moonrise for the safety, well-being, prosperity and longevity of their husbands – didn’t you know…?”

“Of course I know about “Karwa Chauth”…” Riya said.

“In fact – there is a “women-only” ceremony on our society rooftop terrace – all married women are attending – in fact – the function must have already started – didn’t you get the circular…?” I asked her.

“I saw the circular…” Riya said.

“Then why aren’t you attending the celebration – all married women are attending – even my wife was getting all decked-up to go there…” I said.

“I am not married …” Riya said, “the function is for “married women” – but – I am not married…”

I was dumbstruck.

Seeing the bewilderment on my face – Rohan said:

“Uncle – we – Riya and Me – we are not married – we are just living together…”

“Living together…? For 10 years…?” I asked.

“Yes…” Riya said.

“Haven’t you thought of taking your relationship to the next level…?”

“Next level…? What do you mean by “taking a relationship to the “next level”…”…?”

“By “next level” – I mean “marriage”. Haven’t you thought of getting married to each other – to convert your “live-in relationship” into a marriage…?”

“What’s the point…? We are very happy in our present relationship – it’s truly wonderful. And, Uncle – you tell me – the very fact that we won the “made-for-each-other couple contest” bears testimony to our “perfect” relationship” – isn’t it…?”

“Yes…” I said, “You two are the best “made for each other” couple I had ever seen – I have never ever seen a couple so perfectly in harmony with each other like you two – perfectly matched and totally devoted to each other.

“Yes, Uncle – we have a beautiful relationship – exquisite and full of joy. Our “live-in” arrangement is working so marvelously for 10 long years – so – why tinker with something that is working so well…? Why should we ruin our beautiful relationship by taking it to the “next level” – as you put it…? Why try to fix something that ain’t broke…?” 

VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

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.

Copyright © Vikram Karve (all rights reserved) 

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

This is a revised and updated version of my story THE “MADE FOR EACH OTHER” COUPLE written by me Vikram Karve on July 17, 2017 and posted online by me in my blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2017/07/the-made-for-each-other-couple.html

Friday, July 7, 2017

Why Did He “Dump Me”...? – Story of a Broken Engagement

WHY DID HE BREAK MY HEART...? 

WHY DID HE DUMP ME...?
Flash Fiction
A “Love” Story
By
VIKRAM KARVE

From my Creative Writing Archives:

I wrote this story – then titled “ME TOO” – more than 21 years ago – in the 1990’s – for a flash fiction competition.

Here is the story once more – revised, edited and updated – suitable for online reading as Blog Fiction – with a new title too.


WHY DID HE DUMP ME...? 

Story of a Broken Engagement by Vikram Karve

Part 1 – THE EMAIL

The moment I saw the email I did two things.

First – I took a print-out of the email.

Then – I kept the printout in my purse.

After that I deleted the email from my mailbox.

I called my travel agent and booked my ticket on the next flight to India.

The email contained a name and an address.

That’s all – just a name and an address.

I cannot begin to describe the emotion I felt as I looked at the name.

I had so many questions to ask him – unanswered questions that were haunting me for so many years.


Part 2 – WHY DID HE DUMP ME...?

It all started when my fiancé Anil suddenly broke off our engagement without any explanation.

“Why...?” I asked him totally shocked.

“I can’t tell you,” he said.

“You can’t dump me just like this. I have done nothing wrong,” I pleaded heartbroken.

“I’m sorry, Rita. I can’t marry you,” he said trying to look away from my eyes.

“What do you mean you can’t marry me...?” I shouted at him, holding his shoulders and shaking him.

He did not say anything. 

He just remained silent and averted his eyes.

“Is it someone else...? Tell me, is there someone else...? What do you mean you can’t marry me...? Actually you don’t want to marry me, isn’t it...?”

“Okay, you can think what you like. I don’t want to marry you... ”

“You have to give me an explanation. I am not going to accept being jilted like this. How can you suddenly dump me just like this?”

“You have to accept it. Don’t delve too much.”

“How dare you say ‘don’t delve too much’ – how dare you say such nonsense? You are a filthy unscrupulous cheat...” I screamed in anger, taking hold of his collar. 

“Cool down,” he said pushing me away. “So you are calling me a cheat, are you...? That’s really funny, when actually it is you who tried to cheat me. You are the one who is a cheat.”

“I…? I cheated you…? You are accusing me of cheating on you…?” I said dumbfounded and furious.

“You shouldn’t have tried to hide things from me,” he said as if he were accusing me.

“Hide what...?” I asked, getting livid.

“You never told me that you are an adopted child,” he said.

I was stunned.

“Adopted? I am an adopted child? What are you saying?”

“Yes. You are an adopted child. And you hid that fact from me,” he said firmly.

Shocked, I shouted at him loudly in anger, “What nonsense...! Don’t talk rubbish. I am not adopted…!”

“You are. Maybe you don't know. Maybe they did not tell you. But you are not their real daughter, you are an adopted daughter.”

“Who told you...?”

“We got some pre-matrimonial enquiries done.” 

“Matrimonial Enquiry…? You spied on me…?” I accused him – and I shouted at him, “you cheapie... you want to blackmail me… to humiliate me… with all these sick lies…?”

“Don’t worry. No one else knows. It’s a reliable and discreet investigation agency.” 

“It’s not true. It is not true. I am not adopted,” I said.

I felt shattered.

My mind went numb – feeling paralysed, cold, as if I had lost my senses.

“Why don’t you ask your parents…?” Anil said – and he walked away.

Anil dumped me – and he walked away from my life forever – leaving me heartbroken, desolate and shattered.

I never asked my parents – the only parents I knew – I never asked them.

They were the one’s who loved me – and gave me everything in life

I could not ask them – because I knew that it would terribly hurt them.

I did not have the heart to hurt my gentle parents who loved me so much – and had given me everything.

They did not say anything to me when my engagement was called off.

But I could see the sadness and a sense of guilt in their eyes – as they withered away – having lost the will to live.

I felt deeply anguished and helpless.

My parents loved me.

Maybe they were my foster parents – but they were the only parents I knew – and they meant everything to me.

We carried on our lives as if nothing had happened.

I lovingly cared and looked after them till their very end.

But deep down I felt terribly betrayed.

Years passed.

Time and life moved on.

I relocated abroad.

I immersed myself in my work.

They say time is the best healer.

But time did not heal this wound.

I tried to forget – but I could never forget.

One day I could bear it no longer. 

I decided to find out.

And now I had found out.

The investigation agency had done a good job – very confidential and discreet.

For the first time I knew the name of my actual father – my real father – my biological natural father.

And now I had to meet this man and ask him why he did it – why did he commit that cruel unforgivable act of abandoning me to the world.


Part 3 – SAPIENCE

I landed at Delhi airport in the very early hours of the morning.

It was cold – the morning chill at once refreshing and invigorating.

The driver drove fast.

It took me six hours by taxi to reach the magnificent bungalow near Landour in Mussoorie.

I checked the nameplate and briskly walked inside – eager to see my real father for the first time.

There was a small crowd gathered in the porch.

“What’s happening…?” I asked a man in the crowd.

“Bada Saheb is no more. He passed away this morning. He was a good man. He was always so kind and helpful to us...” he said with tears in his eyes.

I pushed my way through the crowd.

My father’s lifeless body was lying on a white sheet bedecked with flowers – ready for the last rites.

I looked at his serene face.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

Suddenly – I lost control of myself – and I cried inconsolably: 

“I have become an orphan. My father is dead... I have become an orphan…”

“Me too…” a familiar voice said softly behind me.

I turned around.

It was Anil – my ex fiancé. 

I stared into the eyes of my ex fiancé Anil.

Anil looked into my eyes with tenderness.

Slowly – comprehension began to dawn on me.

I looked at Anil. 


Anil looked at me. 

He gave me a warm “brotherly” look.

I cannot describe the emotion I felt at that moment.

We – Anil and Me – kept looking into each other’s eyes in silence.

It was a grotesque silence – deafening silence – illuminating silence – empathizing silence – compassionate silence – an enlightening silence. 

Silence. 

Sapience. 

Silent sapience.

VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

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

Copyright Notice
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.
Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)

Copyright © Vikram Karve (all rights reserved)