Unfinished Story

UNFINISHED STORY

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This story happened many years ago during my Naval Dockyard Mumbai days.

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“UNFINISHED STORY”

Story from My Naval Dockyard Days

By

VIKRAM KARVE

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PART 1

LEAVE

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During my Navy Days – whenever I applied for leave – especially casual leave – sometimes – my boss would ask me the reason why I wanted leave – but – I did not have to mention the same on the leave application form.

The leave application form asked for various details like number of days of leave required, type of leave, address and phone number during leave period etc – but there was no requirement to mention the reason for leave.

In contrast – civilian employees had to mention the reason for leave on their leave application form – at least in the Naval Dockyard – where this story happened many years ago.

There was one more difference between uniformed navy personnel and civilian employees as far as leave was concerned.

In the Navy (and maybe in Army and Air Force too) – remaining absent without leave was an offence – you were treated as AWOL (Absent Without Official Leave) or “marked run” in Navy parlance – and if you didn’t report for duty after a telegram was sent to your home address – you could be arrested and punished severely.

In the case of civilian employees – things were quite lenient – and such absences from duty without sanctioned leave were generally regularised by “ex-post-facto” approvals – sometimes – “benevolent” seniors even regularised long absences by granting “leave without pay” in case all the accumulated leave was exhausted.

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PART 2

THE LEAVE APPLICATION

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The moment I saw the reason for leave on the leave application form – I burst out into laughter.

In fact – three of my key supervisors had mentioned the same reason.

My deputy had forwarded the leave applications with the remark “Not Recommended”.

“What’s the problem…?” I asked him.

“Sir – there is an important meeting on that day – for which all supervisors are required – especially these three…” my deputy said.

“Ask these three guys to see me at 12:30 – when they come for lunch break – before I go for lunch…” I said to my deputy – and – I kept the three leave applications in my drawer.

“Sir – are you going to give them leave…? I didn’t understand the reason they have mentioned…” my deputy asked me.

“Didn’t you ask them…?” I said to my deputy.

“I did, Sir – I asked them what was so important on that day – I told them to postpone their leave in view of the important meeting – but they said that I wouldn’t understand but you would – Sir – I don’t think you should give them leave on that day…” my deputy said.

“Let’s see – I’ll talk to them – and the reason they have mentioned – I will explain it to your later – in fact – you also be present at 12:30 when they come – so – you can hear it from them…” I said to my deputy.

“Aye Aye, Sir…” my deputy said to me – he saluted – and he left my office.

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PART 3

FLASHBACK

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Dear Reader – in order to give you a bit of background – let me tell you about an incident that happened in the very first week of my taking up my appointment as the manager of a premier department in the Dockyard.

I noticed that a civilian officer was missing from the morning meeting.

When I enquired about his absence – my deputy said that he was on “sick leave”.

“What…? Sick Leave…? He seemed to be quite okay yesterday. What’s wrong with him…?” I asked my deputy.

“Sir – he called up a few minutes ago saying that he had high fever – must be flu or something…” my deputy said.

“Let’s hope he gets well soon…” I said to everyone.

For uniformed personnel – you had to report sick to the sickbay or clinic or hospital – and hade to be declared SIQ (Sick in Quarters) or get admitted to hospital – if you were absent from duty due to sickness,

In the case of civilian employees – a telephonic intimation was enough. On reporting for duty – they had to submit a doctor’s certificate with brief details of their sickness and certifying that they were sick were not fit to perform their duty on those days. The “sick leave” was approved ex-post-facto.

I looked at the wall clock in my office – it was 9:30 AM

“I have to visit the Store Depot at Ghatkopar…” I said – then – I looked at the Stores Officer and asked him, “have you tied up everything…? Are we getting transport…?”

“Sir – they will be waiting for us at 11:30 AM – Sir – there is no transport available – they have given an NA (Non-Availability) Certificate – so – we will have to go by local…”

“Okay – I’ll quickly change into civvies – and we will walk down to VT and catch a local…” I said to the Stores Officer.

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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 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. All stories in this blog are 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.

3. E&OE

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.

 

Do you do things at the “Eleventh Hour”...?

MUSINGS OF A VETERAN

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“ELEVENTH HOUR”

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“Eleventh Hour”

Musings of a Veteran

By

VIKRAM KARVE

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“ELEVENTH HOUR”

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Dear Reader – you must have heard the idiom – “at the eleventh hour” – which means – “at the last possible moment”.

When you do something at the eleventh hour – you do it just in time – at the last possible moment – at the last minute – at the latest possible time.

Do you know the genesis of the term “eleventh hour” …?

How did this expression originate…?

Well – here is one explanation.

104 years ago – at 11 AM on 11 November 1918 – The First World War (WW1) ended – with the cessation of hostilities on the Western Front of WW1 – which took effect at eleven o’clock in the morning – the “eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month” of 1918 – in accordance with the armistice that ended fighting on land, sea and air in First World War (WW1) between the Allies and their opponent Germany.

On 11 November 2018 – the Armistice was signed at around by 5:00 AM early in the morning but it would not come into force until 11:00 AM on that day (11 AM on 11 November 2018)

The ceasefire would come into effect at 11:00 AM.

The saying “at the eleventh hour” refers to the passing of the eleventh hour – or 11:00 AM – when – just before the ceasefire at 11:00 AM – the opposing armies tried to make “last minute” gains by fighting till the “eleventh hour”.

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KILLED IN ACTION (KIA) AT THE “ELEVENTH HOUR”

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The last soldier killed in WW1 died in the last minute before the Armistice – at the “eleventh hour”.

On the morning of the 11^th of November 1918 – as the clocks were about to strike 11 – Sergeant Henry Gunther of the US Army made his mark in history by being killed at 10.59 – in the last minute before the ceasefire – at the “eleventh hour” – so to speak.

With bayonet fixed – he made a “heroic” charge against a German Machine Gun Nest and was shot in a short burst of automatic fire and killed instantly.

General John Pershing, Commander of the American Expeditionary Forces, ordered that Gunther be named the last American to die on the battlefield. Sergeant Henry Gunther was posthumously awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.

Five years later – in 1923 – Gunther’s remains were returned to the United States after being exhumed from a military cemetery in France and buried at his hometown Baltimore with full military honours.

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So – Dear Reader – when you hear the words “eleventh hour” – or – you do something “at the eleventh hour” – now you know how the expression “eleventh hour” originated.

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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 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. All stories in this blog are 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.

3. E&OE

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.

 

Short Fiction – 21 Days

SHORT FICTION

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21 DAYS

Story from My Curzon Road Apartments Days

By

VIKRAM KARVE

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This story happened 40 years ago in 1982

So – Dear Reader – please transport yourself 40 years back in time to the early 1980’s – when many of the things you take for granted today – like mobile phones, internet, social media, online banking/shopping etc. – these things did not exist.

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Curzon Road Apartments, New Delhi

Circa 1982

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It was exactly 7 PM in the evening.

As per my daily routine – I was about to pour my first drink of “Rum Pani” (Rum and Water).

The doorbell rang.

I put the Rum bottle on the table – wondering who the visitor was – feeling irritated at the timing of the visitor who had interrupted the start of my evening drinking session.

I walked to the door – and opened it.

It was Nisha – my wife’s best friend – and our next-door neighbor too.

She smiled at me.

I smiled back.

“My wife has gone to Pune to her mother’s place…” I said to her.

“I know – I have come to meet you…” Nisha said to me.

“Me…?” I said, surprised.

“Yes – can you please take me to Bengali Market – it’s getting dark – and I am scared to walk all the way…” she said, with a beseeching look in her eyes.

“Okay…” I said to her.

I went inside – got my bike keys and helmet – and soon – we were on our way to Bengali Market on my Yezdi motorcycle – with Nisha sitting on the pillion seat – holding me tight.

After she had bought what she wanted – Nisha smiled at me.

“Let’s eat some Gol Gappa and Chaat…” she said to me.

“Gol Gappa and Chaat…? Now…? It’s almost 8 o’clock…” I said, looking at my watch.

“So what…? It will be sacrilege to come to Bengali Market and not eat Gol Gappa – you guys call it Pani Puri – isn’t it…? Don’t you want to eat the best Pani Puri in the world…?” she said, with an imploring look.

So – we – Nisha and I – we ate some zesty Gol Gappa and lip-smacking Chaat – and then – we ate some delicious sweets – hot juicy syrupy Gulab Jamun too.

Nisha was a foodie – and – so was I – and – I really enjoyed the evening with her in Bengali Market.

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Next evening – when I came back from work – I saw Nisha standing outside my door – all dressed up – wearing red lipstick and blush on her cheeks – looking “Tip Top”.

She seemed happy to see me.

“Come on – hurry up and change – we are going for a movie – it’s already 5:45 and the movie starts at 6:30 – and I don’t want to be late…” Nisha said to me.

I was nonplussed.

“Which movie…? Where…?” I asked her.

“An Officer and a Gentleman – at Plaza – I got the tickets in the morning when I gone to CP for some work…” she said to me, “you wanted to see the movie – didn’t you…?”

“Yes – Yes – but in such a hurry…?” I was saying – when she interrupted me.

“Stop arguing and get ready quickly – there will be lots of evening traffic now – we’ll take half-an-hour to reach…” she said to me – in an assertive tone.

We enjoyed the movie.

Then – we relished Pizza at Nirulas – the best Pizza in Delhi.

Nisha knew I loved Pizza – so – she took me to Nirulas after the movie.

Then – I took her on my bike to India Gate – where we picked up sticks of Choco Bar Ice Cream – and then – we walked on the beautiful lawns enjoying the Ice Cream and talking to each other.

By the time we returned to our homes in Curzon Road Apartments – it was almost midnight.

“I really enjoyed the evening…” I said to her.

“Yes – such a nice movie – and delicious pizza too – and – yummy Choco Bar…” she said to me.

“Thank you for getting the movie tickets…” I said to her.

“It’s okay – I enjoyed watching the movie with you – we’ll go for some more movies…” she said.

“Yes…” I said, “I had enjoyed watching the movie with her too…”

“Do you like plays – theatre…?” she asked me.

“Of course – in Pune and Mumbai – I loved watching plays – but there doesn’t seem to be much of a theatre scene over here – except those experimental plays which I don’t like…” I said to her.

“I’ll check if there is some good play at Kamani sometime soon…” she said.

“Okay…” I said to her.

We wished each other “Good Night” and went to our respective flats.

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Next evening – the moment I came home from work – once again – like the previous evening – I saw Nisha waiting for me.

“You are in luck – I checked up and found that A Streetcar Named Desire” is being staged at Kamani this evening…” she said to me, with a happy smile.

“Oh – that’s a lovely play…” I said, “I saw it in NCPA last year…”

“Want to see it once again…?” she asked me.

“I don’t mind…” I said to her.

“So – let’s go…” she said, “you get ready fast – and I’ll get ready too…”

“You’ve got tickets…?” I asked her, in amazement.

“Complimentary “VIP” Passes await us…” Nisha said with a smug expression, “and an invitation for dinner with the cast after the play…”

“Wow…” I said to her, “you are really resourceful…”

She smiled at me.

“Wear something formal – we’ll be sitting in the first row – and the dinner will be a classy affair…” she said, “the play starts at 7 – so – we must leave latest by 6:30 – maybe a bit earlier…”

I wore a lounge suit – Nisha wore a Saree – having seen her in casual dresses till now – I marveled at how resplendent she looked in a Saree.

We left Curzon Road Apartments at 6:30 PM on my motorcycle – Kamani Auditorium was nearby on Copernicus Road – we reached at 6:40 AM – well in time for the play.

It was a splendid evening – the play – and the highfalutin dinner – with the beautiful Nisha as my companion.

Someone complimented us – “you are such a handsome couple” – and we smiled to ourselves.

It was a most memorable evening – we had a marvelous time together – and – when I thanked Nisha before wishing her “good night” – she said to me: “Come on – don’t say “Thank You” – there is no “Thank You” between friends…”

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Next evening – when I returned from work – I wondered what surprise Nisha had in store for me – so – I was surprised when I didn’t see her waiting for me – and a bit disappointed too.

I decided to see what she was doing – but I saw that her door was locked from outside – she had gone out somewhere.

I made a cup of tea for myself – showered – and was wondering if I should go for a walk – when the doorbell rang.

It was Nisha.

“Sorry – I’m late…” she said – as if it was her duty to welcome me when I returned from work.

“It’s okay…” I said to her.

“I was getting some documents ready – it took a long time…” she said.

“Oh – come inside – would you like a cup of tea…?” I asked her.

“No. No. I’ve to go for some work – the office closes at 6:30 – I have to submit these documents there – can you give me a lift…” she asked me.

“Of course…” I said to her, “where do we have to go…?”

“Not very far – the office is near CP…” she said.

“Let’s go…” I said to her, “I’ll be ready in 5 minutes…”

I took her on my bike to the office – it was a law firm.

While she went inside – I sat in the waiting room.

Nisha came out smiling at around 6:15 PM.

“Thank you – the job is done…” Nisha said to me.

“Shall we go home…?” I asked her – as we walked out of the office.

 “What’s the point going home and getting bored…? Let’s loaf around CP…” she said to me.

And so – we loafed around CP – such a pleasant walk – followed by delicious Butter Chicken and Naan at the famous Dhaba on the outer circle.

“Take me for a spin on your bike…” Nisha said to me – after dinner – and we drove around the city – she told me where to go – and I drove on those roads – she asked me to stop at a place in Old Delhi – we had “pan” at her favourite pan shop – and by the time we returned to our homes in Curzon Road Apartments it was almost midnight.

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Nisha was a delightful girl – fun-loving, bubbly and vivacious – so full of life – and – I really enjoyed her company.

For me – the next few days passed in a haze of delight – every evening we went out somewhere exciting – movies, shopping, eating out – or just loafing or driving around – and on the weekends – she took me to an Expo exhibition at Pragati Maidan – the Rail Museum – and – believe it or not – she even took me to see the Zoo.

I had a lovely time with Nisha – easily the most enjoyable days of my life.

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And then – my wife returned – back from her mother’s place.

She had been away for 3 weeks – exactly 21 days.

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Nisha was there to welcome my wife when I brought her from the airport in the evening.

“This evening – I am taking you to the club…” Nisha said to my wife.

“That will be great…” I exclaimed – with gusto.

My wife didn’t seem very enthusiastic – she wanted to relax at home.

But – Nisha convinced her.

“Come on – be a sport – you are my best friend – I missed you so much – I was eagerly waiting for you to come back – we must celebrate your arrival…” Nisha said to my wife.

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In the evening – we sat on the lovely green lawns of the club.

The waiter arrived to take our orders for drinks.

“Fresh Lime Soda…” Nisha said.

“I’ll have a Fresh Lime Soda too…” my wife said.

“Me too – I’ll have the same – Fresh Lime Soda…” I said to the waiter.

The waiter raised his eyebrow and looked at me curiously.

“Are you sure, Sir…? Won’t you be having your usual large peg of Rum…?” the waiter asked me.

“No – I’ll have Fresh Lime Soda…” I said to the waiter.

After the waiter had gone to fetch our orders – my wife looked closely at me.

“Having a soft drink today…? I hope you are feeling okay…” she said – with a disbelieving look.

“Yes – Yes – I am absolutely fine…” I said to my wife.

I noticed that Nisha was smiling at me like a Cheshire Cat.

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My wife got up from her chair.

“You two talk…” my wife said, “I’ll go to the STD Booth and make a call to my father and tell him that I have reached safely…”

My wife walked away towards the STD Booth.

Nisha looked at me.

She gave me a warm smile.

“I am so happy to see that you are having a soft drink…” Nisha said.

“I don’t know why – but – I don’t feel like drinking rum…” I said to her.

“That’s great – my experiment has worked…!” she said.

“Experiment…?” I asked her, curious.

“Your wife told me that you drank rum every evening and she was fed up with your excessive drinking – she was extremely worried about your addiction to alcohol…” Nisha said, “so – I decided to do something about it…”

“You decided to do something about my drinking…?” I said, flabbergasted.

“Yes – your wife is my best friend – she told me that her biggest worry was your drinking habit – and it was the main source of unhappiness in her marriage – so – I decided to help her out…” Nisha said.

I looked at her, confused.

Nisha continued speaking.

“I read somewhere that it takes 21 days to break a habit – so – I decided to try it on you – and – I succeeded – I made sure that you didn’t drink for 21 days – and now – after 21 days of abstinence from alcohol – it seems you have overcome your alcohol addiction…” Nisha said to me.

“Is it so easy – just 21 days to break a habit…?” I asked her, curious.

“That’s the first step…” she said, “once you ensure his abstinence from addiction – curing an addict is the easiest thing in the world. To reduce his craving for his addiction – all you have to do is find something that will interest him more than the thing he is addicted to. For example – you seemed to take more interest in me than in alcohol…”

“Interest in you…?” I exclaimed, taken aback.

“I mean – you found spending time with me more interesting than sitting at home and drinking alcohol…” she said.

“That’s true – I really enjoyed your company…” I said to Nisha.

“I know – I became a substitute for alcohol in your life – and now – you have overcome your alcohol addiction…” she said, with a proud smile.

“Thank you so much, Nisha…” I said to her.

“You are most welcome…” she said, “I did it for my best friend – and I am so happy that I succeeded in breaking your habit of drinking every day…”

“You said it takes 21 days to break a habit…?” I said to Nisha.

“Yes – and I have proved it too…” she said, confidently.

“Maybe – it takes 21 days to form a new habit too…” I said to her.

“What do you mean…?” Nisha asked me.

“Now – after 21 days of abstinence from alcohol – I may be de-addicted from alcohol – but – I have got addicted to you…” I said to Nisha, looking lovingly into her eyes.

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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 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. All stories in this blog are 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.

3. E&OE

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.

 

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My Muse Manisha – an unfinished story

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Short Fiction

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MY MUSE

Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

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There is a saying:

“The best kind of friendship is one where two people love the same books”

We – Manisha and Me – we loved the same books – so – we became the best of friends.

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Let me tell you how we met.

After I retired from the Navy and settled down in Pune – I joined a library.

After retirement – most of my Veterans Friends took up golf – or other pastimes – so they joined various clubs and groups – but – I loved books – and I intended to spend my time reading (and writing) – so – I took membership of the best library in Pune.

I met Manisha on my very first day in the library – a Sunday.

While browsing books in the literature section of the library – I heard a feminine voice call out to me softly.

I looked up from the book in my hands.

It was a pretty girl – maybe around 20.

“Are you Mr. Vikram…?” the girl asked me.

“Yes…” I said to her.

“My name is Manisha – I like your stories…” she said.

“Thank you. Manisha…” I said to her, “do you follow my blog…?”

“Of course, I follow your blog – I have even subscribed to it – in fact – I recognized you from your blog profile picture…” she said to me.

I felt good – it feels good to be recognized – especially after retirement – when you are a non-entity.

“Do you like my stories…?” I asked her – wanting to hear some praise to boost my ego.

“Of course – I like your stories – you write so well…” she said to me.

I felt good – so – I smiled at Manisha.

“Thank you…” I said to her.

“I like your first story the best – “Rendezvous at Sunrise” – and – I like your romantic stories – but – your latest story – I didn’t like it very much – I think you are trying to experiment – but I feel you should stick to your original natural style of writing…” she said, candidly.

For a moment – I was taken aback.

Seeing the expression on my face – she seemed contrite.

“Oh – I am sorry…” she began to apologize – when I interrupted her.

“No. No – don’t feel sorry – in fact – I appreciate you for your honest feedback – but you must tell me exactly where I am going wrong – so that I can improve my writing…” I said to her.

I could see a bit of hesitancy on her face – so – I decided to ease her reluctance.

“I really want your feedback – please tell me exactly what you didn’t like about my writing style in my latest story – I will appreciate it very much…” I said to her.

“Okay – let’s go to the internet terminal – I will show you…” she said.

We walked across to the internet room in the library – we sat in front of the monitor – I opened my blog – and – she discussed my latest story in a most free and frank manner.

“Look at the ending of this story – it is so abrupt – it leaves the reader unsatisfied and confused…” she said.

I wanted to tell her about Hemingway – his Iceberg Theory – but it she seemed to read my mind.

She looked at me and spoke.

“Don’t try to imitate famous authors – just write in your own unique style – like most of your earlier stories – let me show you…” she said – and – she scrolled down my blog and opened my first story – “Rendezvous with Sunrise” – and – she compared it with my latest story – then she showed me some my earlier stories – and I clearly understood her point of view.

I was amazed that she had read my stories so carefully and this filled me with a sense of happiness and pride.

“Thank you so much…” I said to Manisha, “you are the first person who has given me such a thorough critique of my writing – I will certainly consider all the points you have told me when I write – but you must keep giving me feedback…”

“Of course…” she said to me, “you write a story during the week and post it by Saturday – I will read it immediately – and we will discuss your story on Sunday – when we meet here at the library…”

I loved her enthusiasm and zest – she was a really passionate reader – and most importantly – she liked my writing.

I smiled at her.

“Yes – that’s a great idea – I will look forward to discussing my stories with you every Sunday…” I said to her.

I marvelled at her acumen and faculty – she looked so young – but she had profound insight into the finer aspects of creative writing and literature.

Her voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Shall we go back and see some short story books…?” she said to me.

We went back to the literary section of the library.

We browsed a few short fiction anthologies together – we showed each other our favorite stories – and – we realized that our literary tastes were similar.

As I had said earlier:

“The best kind of friendship is one where two people love the same books”.

Well – our literary tastes matched – metaphorically – “we loved the same “books” – and – I could sense that it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between Manisha and Me.

______

Time passed fast.

After browsing in the literary section – we went to the magazine section – and I showed her some literary journals which featured contemporary creative writing and short fiction.

After some time – Manisha looked at me.

“I am feeling hungry – let’s go across to Vaishali for a snack…” Manisha said to me.

“Okay…” I said – I was feeling hungry too.

We crossed the road – luckily a table was vacant in the normally crowded restaurant.

Manisha ordered a Masala Dosa – I ordered an Onion Uttapam – and we talked.

“You really know a lot about literature…” I said to Manisha.

“I am a student of literature…” she said.

“You are so lucky…” I said to her.

“Why…?” she asked me.

“I wish I could have studied literature instead of science and engineering…” I said, “but in our time – we weren’t given a choice…”

“But you write so well – and you know so much about literature…” she said.

“I always loved reading – so though I did different work – reading and writing were always my interests – my hobbies…” I said to her.

“The best writers are engineers, doctors – most haven’t formally studied literature…” she said.

And – we talked and talked – then went back to the library – and browsed and selected books – till closing time – 6 PM

“Do you come to the library often…?” I asked Manisha.

“On my college days – I come whenever I get time – but – I come to the library every Sunday…” she said.

“I will also come every Sunday…” I said, “I live quite far away – so – I will write throughout the week – and – I will come to the library every Sunday…”

“That’s great – let’s meet over here next Sunday – I’ll be here at 11 AM – when the library opens…” she said – and then – she smiled a sweet goodbye – and – she walked away.

______

Next Sunday – I was sitting on the bench outside the library at 10:45 AM – waiting for the library to open – and – of course – eagerly waiting for Manisha to arrive.

I wanted to know her views on the story I had written that week and posted on my blog on Saturday.

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Story to be continued…

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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 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. All stories in this blog are 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.

3. E&OE

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