The Queer Couple

This story happened around 37 years ago – in the early 1980’s…

THE QUEER COUPLE

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE 

PART 1

The Kalka Mail arrived at Old Delhi Railway Station at 8:30 PM.

I hired an autorickshaw – and by the time I reached Curzon Road Apartments – it was almost 9:30 PM.

I ordered Butter Chicken and Naan from Banjara Restaurant (to be delivered home) – and then – I went up to my tiny one room flat on the 7^th Floor.

(Yes – it was a small one room flat – a kitchenette at the entrance – just one all-in-one room with a rather smallish double-bed – a small balcony – and a bathroom)

I opened my flat – went inside – switched on the geyser – and changed into my lungi.

I switched on the TV – poured a drink of Rum-Pani (Rum and Water) – and I waited for my food to arrive.

The doorbell rang.

My food had arrived.

The Butter Chicken was piping hot and the Naan were soft and fresh.

I dunked a piece of Naan in the Butter Chicken Gravy – put it on my tongue – and closed my eyes.

It was delicious.

I was savouring the lovely taste of the spicy Butter Chicken with the soft Naan – when suddenly – the doorbell rang – breaking my delicious trance.

I wondered who it was – it was almost 10 o’clock at night.

I got up – I walked to the door – and – I looked through the keyhole.

It was a man – a stranger.

“Who is this…?” I asked, in a loud voice.

“Your new neighbour…” the voice on the other side of the door said.

I opened the door.

It was a young man – fair and handsome.

“Yes…?” I said to him.

“I am your new neighbour…” he said – and he told me his name.

I introduced myself – and I said to him: “I have just come back from Calcutta…”

(Those days – in the early 1980’s – Kolkata was called Calcutta)

“I know…” he said, “you are in the Navy. You had gone to drop your wife for her delivery…”

“Yes…” I said, “but how do you know all this…?”  

“We found out from the other neighbours…” he said, “we just moved in last week – we – my wife and I – we are newly married…”

“Oh. That’s good…” I said – wondering why he was visiting me so late at night.

“I want to ask you a small favour…” he said.

“Favour…?” I said, curious.

“Can I sleep with you tonight…?” he asked.

“What…?” I said – taken aback.

“I mean – your wife is not here – you are all alone…” he said.

I was scandalized when I heard his words. 

Was he propositioning me…?

Just imagine – it was appalling – this disgusting pussy boy – ringing a stranger’s doorbell – and making indecent proposals.

And – he was newly married…!!!

It was unbelievable.

He was meeting me for the first time – he knew that there was just one smallish double-bed in these flats – and – he was making this brazen overture: “Your wife is not here – you are all alone – can I sleep with you tonight…?” 

Bloody Nonsense...!!!

It was outrageous.

Who the hell did he think I was…? A Bloody “Queer...?”

I decided to make it clear to him than and there. 

“Now you listen to me…” I said to him in a firm voice, “it seems you have got the wrong impression. I may be in the Navy – but I am not a bloody bum-bandit – and nor am I a frigging peg-boy – do you understand…? Now – you just get out of here…”

“Please…” he pleaded, “it is cold outside…”

“So – you go and sleep with your wife…” I said.

“She is sleeping with Sweetie…” he said.

“What…?” I said – confused.

“Sweetie is in bed with my wife…” he said.

It was a bizarre situation.

They were newly married.

Wife was in bed with Sweetie – pussy bumping – in flagrante delicto.

And – husband was trying to get into bed with me.

Astounding depravity – as “queer” as it can get.

Well – Dear Reader – I am a simple straightforward married man – a “puritan” in thoughts and deeds.

There was no question of getting entangled with such perverted degenerates.

It could be dangerous – very dangerous – and most immoral.

I looked sternly at the “fair and handsome” man in front of me.

“Please…” he pleaded with me, in a beseeching voice, “you are all alone…”

“You bloody filthy faggot – you want me to sleep with you in lieu of my wife…?” I shouted at him, “You just get out of here – and don’t ring my bell again…”

And – I angrily slammed the door in his face.

Later – as I lay in bed – my imagination ran wild – as – in my mind’s eye – I fantasized – trying to “visualise” erotic scenes of passionate sapphic lovemaking – being performed on the other side of the wall – in the neighbouring flat.

And so – I drifted into a pleasurable sleep.

PART 2

Next morning – I woke up at 6 AM.

I got ready for my morning jog.

I opened the door slowly.

I was dreading to see my pansy neighbour sitting outside.

But – he wasn’t there – and – I didn’t see him in the corridor either. 

He must have gone into his own house at night – to join Sweetie and his wife.

Maybe – they were enjoying a “threesome” inside – AC/DC – a “ménage à trois”.

Soon – I was jogging on India Gate Lawns.

After my jog – I stopped at my favourite place – to do some exercises.

I heard a feminine voice call out my name.

I turned in the direction of the voice.

As she walked towards me – first – I admired her lovely figure – and then – when she came close and stood in front of me – I focussed on her face. 

She was an exquisite beauty – nubile – fair complexion – her sharp features accentuated by the rays of the morning sun – her nose slightly turned up, so slender and translucent, as though accustomed to smelling nothing but perfumes.

I looked at her – mesmerized – I had never seen a woman who was so beautiful, so virginal, so alluring.

“Good Morning…” she said, shaking me out of my trance.

“Good Morning…” I said.

“I am your new neighbour…” she said.

“Oh…” I said.

“You haven’t recognised me – but – I have seen you swimming in the club…” she said.

“Yes – I was a regular swimmer – before I got married…” I said.

“We all admired your butterfly stroke…” she said, “in fact – we had a crush on you – so we found out everything about you…”.

“Oh – really…? I said.

“Yes – I was in college then – I got married just last month…” she said.

“Oh…” I said, “I am sorry about your husband. I spoke quite rudely to him – and I didn’t let him inside. He must have been shivering outside in the cold all night…”

“It’s okay…” she said, “he is inside now – in a warm bed…”

As her words sunk in – my imagination was aroused.

So now – he was in bed with Sweetie….!!!

At night – she and Sweetie…!!!

And now – he and Sweetie…!!!

It was astounding – this was truly a “broadminded” swinging couple…!!!

“So – your husband is in bed with Sweetie…?” I asked her.

“No. No. My husband is very scared of Sweetie…” she said, “so I brought Sweetie along with me…”

“Oh…” I said – and looked around – trying to locate Sweetie – curious how she looked.

“She must be playing behind the bushes…” my lovely neighbour said.

Sweetie – “playing” behind the bushes – “ménage à moi”…? 

My train of thoughts was going berserk again.

Suddenly – my beautiful neighbour called out: “Sweetie – come…”

And – a black Doberman dog came running out of the bushes towards my lovely neighbour.

I do not have words to express the emotion I felt – surprise – shock – disappointment – or – laughing inside at myself…!!!

“So – Sweetie is a Dog…?” I asked my gorgeous neighbour.

“Yes. What did you think…?” she asked – with a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

“Nothing. Nothing…” I said.

“We’ve had Sweetie for many years – she is our pet dog. Now – after I got married a few days ago – Sweetie lives with my parents. My parents had to rush abroad to the US last evening since my uncle had a sudden heart attack and died. So – they left Sweetie with me. And – my husband is terrified of dogs…” she said.

“She looks quite ferocious…” I said – looking at Sweetie – the Doberman dog.

“Once she gets to know you – she is very friendly and affectionate…” my lovely neighbour said.

“Then – why is your husband so scared of her…?” I asked.

“He told me that he was attacked and severely bitten by a dog when he was a young boy – and so – after that traumatic incident – he is terrified of dogs…” she said. 

“Oh…” I said, “anyway – till your parents come back – your husband can stay in my flat it he wants…”

“Thank you…” she said – giving me a sweet smile.

But that didn’t happen.

Surprisingly – the doberman Sweetie took a liking to me – and – I started liking her too.

So – Sweetie would spend the nights with me in my flat – while my newly married neighbours enjoyed their richly deserved conjugal delights in their “matrimonial” bed.

And – in the mornings – Me – Sweetie the doberman dog – and the lovely lady (my beautiful neighbour) – the three of us – we would all go jogging on India Gate Lawns – and sometimes – in the evenings too – to jog, exercise and play.

One morning – as I was sitting in my office – my father-in-law called from Calcutta – a “Trunk Call”.

All was well – the delivery date was approaching – my wife wanted to speak to me – that’s all.

(Remember – Dear Reader – in the early 1980’s – there were no mobile phones – no internet – no emails – only landline telephones – and – junior officers like me did not get residential phones – so – we had to speak on the office phone – and – since a “trunk call” was quite expensive – we wrote letters to each other)

“What’s happening…?” my wife asked me over the phone.

“All is well…” I said.

“Yes. I heard so…” my wife said, “you have been seen frolicking around India Gate Lawns…”

“How did you come to know…? Who told you…? Is it that bitchy friend of yours who lives on the 6^th floor…?” I asked.

“Is it true or not…? Just tell me that…” my wife said.

“It’s a dog – our new neighbour’s dog – Sweetie…” I said.

“I am not talking about the dog – I am talking about the lovely “owner” of the dog – the lady with the dog. You be careful. I will be “watching” from here…” my wife said menacingly – and she put down the phone. 

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)  

Unfinished Version of this Story posted in my blogs earlier at urls: https://karvediat.blogspot.com/2019/12/unfinished-story-queer-couple.html  and https://karve.wordpress.com/2019/12/14/unfinished-story-2/

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Are You a “Married Bachelor” – “Married” Yet “Single”

My “darling” wife has gone to her mother’s place for a few days. 

So – I am “Married Yet Single” – at least for the next few days. 

This “Married Bachelor” Status reminded me of this story from my Navy Days... 

MARRIED “BACHELOR” 

Unforgettable Story from My New Delhi Navy Days

A Fictional Spoof

By

VIKRAM KARVE 

In Marathi – the word माहेर means mother’s place 

One of the favourite dialogues of my “Better Half” (wife) is: 

“I want to go my mother’s place (माहेरी)...” 

And – whenever she says this – I let her go to her mother’s place (माहेरी) to enjoy माहेरवास 

So – in our more than 36 years of married life – there have been many occasions when I am Married Yet “Single”...

Here is a story from the early days of our marriage – this story happened more than 36 years ago – in 1982 – when I enjoyed “Married Bachelor” Status for a few days – as my “Better Half” decided to go to her mother’s place (माहेरी)...

MARRIED YET “SINGLE”

In a love marriage – a wife misses her husband when he is away.

In an arranged marriage – a wife misses her parents (especially her mother).

Ours is an arranged marriage.

My wife would have preferred if her husband had lived in her parents’ home as a “Ghar Jamai” – this would have enabled my wife to forever be with her doting mother.

However – I happened to be in the Navy – and my wife had to come along with me to faraway places wherever I was posted.

Living with a “terrible” person like me – and that too – so far away from her doting mother – made my wife feel extremely “homesick” – especially in the early years of our marriage.

I once asked my wife: 

“Tell me – in your opinion – do I have any good qualities...?”

My wife thought about it for a long time.

After thinking thoroughly – my wife said to me: 

“You have the ability to live with yourself...”

“What do you exactly mean...?” I asked her.

“You can independently manage on your own – you are not dependent on me – in fact – you are quite happy living alone – I don’t have to worry about you when I leave you alone and go away – that’s what I meant when I said “you have the ability to live with yourself”…” my wife said to me.

During our “durable” marriage – which we are “enduring” for more than 36 years – my wife has made full use of this sterling quality of mine (my ability to live alone).

Since my wife had no qualms about leaving me all alone to fend for myself  – from time to time – whenever she felt “homesick” – my wife would leave me all alone – and make frequent trips to her “mother’s place” (माहेरी).

Even as I write this – my wife has gone to her mother’s place for a few days – and I am “relishing” my glorious solitude as a “Married Bachelor”. 

We got married more than 36 years ago – in May 1982 – and – as a newly married couple – we lived in Curzon Road Apartments in New Delhi – as I was posted in the “Northern Naval Command”.

Within a few weeks of our marriage – my wife suddenly felt “homesick” and she began pining for her mother. 

So – I put her on the first available flight to Srinagar – where her “Fauji” father was then posted. 

My wife felt “homesick” – so – I immediately sent her to her mother’s place (माहेरी) to enjoy माहेरवास 

Of course – I purchased a one-way ticket – because I was not sure when my wife would like to come back to me – or whether she would come back at all.

To my surprise – she returned after a week.

Then – after a few months – she felt “homesick” again.

So – I booked her on the Rajdhani Express to Howrah – as her father had meanwhile got posted to Calcutta (now called Kolkata).

At 4 o’clock in the evening – I stood on the platform on New Delhi Railway Station – with “tears” in my eyes and a “lump” in my throat – saying “good bye” to my wife.

A Navy friend of mine – an ex-shipmate – was also standing with me – while I was “seeing off” my wife.

He had come to book a “military quota” seat at the Movement Control Office (MCO) – on the Frontier Mail to Bombay (now called Mumbai) – where he was going on Ty Duty – on some future date. 

Having finished his work at the MCO – while walking back – he spotted me – so he came along to meet me.

Since my wife and I had come to the railway station by auto-rickshaw – my friend said that he would drop me back home on his motorcycle.

“Your husband is really feeling very sad that you are going away...” my Navy friend said to my wife. 

My wife laughed and said to my friend:

“Sad…? The moment my train leaves – my husband will head to a foodie joint to get some “small eats” – and then – he will go home – he will open a bottle of Rum – and “top up” to the hilt…” 

And that is exactly what happened.

After the Rajdhani Express departed – I told my friend to drive via Gole Market – where I picked up some “small eats” – Seekh Kababs, Boti Kababs, Fish Fry and Tandoori Chicken.

Seeing the huge amount of food I was buying – my friend said to me: 

“You are buying Kababs, Chicken and Fish by the kilo – will you be able to eat all this…?”

“Firstly – I am feeling sad that my wife has gone away – and for me – good food with a hearty drink is the best cure for depression. And – secondly – you are going to give me company while I “wallow” in my misery…” I said to my friend.

Around 3 hours later – after polishing off a bottle of Rum – we were sitting in my flat in Curzon Road Apartments – feeling “nice” – having imbibed a substantial amount of our favourite “Hercules” XXX Rum – and having partaken of copious amounts of “small eats”.

Since I was officially supposed to be feeling “sad” – to add to the “gloomy” atmosphere – I had put on a cassette of some sad Mohd Rafi songs on my music system – and the ‘potent’ combination of Intoxicating Alcohol, Satiating Food and Soothing Music had put us in a blissfully melancholic mood.

Suddenly – my friend said to me: 

“Hey – I have to go now – my wife will be waiting for me for dinner…”

“Dinner…? After eating all these ‘small eats’…” I said – pointing to remains of the Kababs, Fish and Chicken.

“No – I haven’t told my wife that I would be coming home late – so she may get worried…” he said.

At this stage – let me digress – and take you back 36 years in time – to 1982.

Those days – there were no mobile phones – and we did not have landline phones either – since – in the Navy – only senior officers were given landline phones at home.

Most Navy wives did not worry too much if their husbands were “delayed”.

On most evenings – after our jog on India Gate Lawns – we sometimes took a small “detour” to Kota House Officers Mess for a “replenishment halt”.

The “replenishment” session ended when the bar closed at 11 o’clock – and we would go home “swinging” happily at around 11:30 at night.

It was only if we did not turn up home by midnight – that our wives got worried – and neighbours were sent to search for us – in case we collapsed intoxicated – and were sprawled “inebriated” on the lawns of India Gate or on the footpath enroute from the Kota House Mess to Curzon Road Apartments – or in case we had passed out “dead drunk” in the Kota House Mess itself.

End of digression – let’s get back to our story now.

As I told you – my friend suddenly said that he wanted to go home because he hadn’t told his wife that he would be coming home late – and he thought that his wife may get worried.

I looked at the wall clock – it was only 8:30 PM.

I was quite surprised by my friend’s comment that his wife would get “worried”…

“It’s not even 9 o’clock...” I said, “your wife will start worrying if you don’t reach home by midnight – we still have 3 hours more…”

“No – No – I must go…” he insisted.

“Okay – okay – but at least have one more drink – “one for the road” – as they say…” I said.

Since we had already polished off one bottle of Rum – I opened a new bottle of Rum – and I poured him an extra-large peg of Rum – a true “Patiala Peg”.

Then – I said to my friend: 

“Down the Hatch”.

That was my mistake.

My friend picked up the glass – he shouted: “down the hatch” 

And then – with flourish – he gulped down the entire extra-large peg of Rum in one go.

That was his mistake.

Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

His eyes became defocused. 

Then – he started swaying as he tried to get up.

I realized that he was drunk – totally intoxicated. 

And – it had happened quite suddenly. 

Or maybe – I had not realized it earlier – since I was in “high spirits” too.

But one thing was sure – his drinking capacity was much less than mine. 

Had I known this fact – I would not have goaded him to drink so much Rum.

There was no way I was going to send him home in this “inebriated” condition.

So – I said to him: 

“Why don’t you lie down for some time and take some rest…”

“Lie down…? Why…? No. No. I am going home…” he slurred loudly – and he picked up his helmet.

“Wait – I cannot allow you to ride your motorcycle in this condition…” I said.

“Why…?” he asked.

“I think you are quite drunk…” I said.

“I am not drunk…” he said.

“Okay – Okay – I will come with you…” I said.

My friend was so drunk – that he could not mount his motorcycle.

I tried to put him on the rear seat – so that I could drive him home – but the way his body was swaying wildly in his drunkenness – I was sure he would fall off the motorcycle and hurt himself. 

So – I decided to walk him home.

He lived nearby – in “Sangli Mess” – which were dilapidated barracks converted into temporary accommodation.

I lifted his arm – and – I put his arm around my shoulders. 

Then – I helped my drunken friend stagger along – as we slowly headed towards his house.

I knocked on the door.

My friend’s wife opened the door.

She was shocked to see her husband in this pitiable drunken state – totally inebriated with alcohol.

I deposited my friend on the sofa.

“What happened…? Why are you drunk…?” my friend’s wife angrily asked my friend (her husband).

My friend pointed towards me – and he said to his wife:

“His wife has gone away – so we were drowning our sorrows…”

My friend’s wife looked at her intoxicated husband curiously. 

Then – she said to her husband: 

“Your friend’s wife has gone away. 

Your wife has not gone away. 

His wife has gone away. 

It is okay if he feels sad. 

It is fine if he “drowns his sorrows”. 

But – why are you feeling so sad because “his wife” has gone away...? 

Tell me – why are you “drowning your sorrows” for “his wife”...?” 

I doubt whether my friend heard his wife’s scolding – because he had passed out dead-drunk on the sofa.

Then – my friend’s wife looked at me – and – she gave me a lovely smile – an inviting smile. 

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, 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. This story is a work of fiction. 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 story was first written by me Vikram Karve more than 3 years ago on 09 April 2015 and posted online earlier in my Academic and Creative Writing Journal Blog at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/04/humor-in-uniform-married-yet-single.html  and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/07/married-yet-single.html  and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/12/are-you-married-yet-single.html  and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2017/03/humor-in-marriage-married-yet-single.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2017/09/married-yet-single-story-from-my-navy.html  and http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2018/01/marrriage-humor-married-yet-single.html etc