Sunday, February 20, 2011


Fiction Short Story  
From my Creative Writing Archives:
One of my earliest fiction short stories ... written sometime in the 1990s ...
Every evening at precisely 6 PM Shalini Joshi would leave her bank, sit in her car, drive out of the parking lot, turn left on Tilak Road, and drive towards her house in Deccan Gymkhana.    
Today she turned right and drove in the opposite direction.
Now that was surprising. For Shalini Joshi was a stickler for routine. And that was the reason for her success. 
At thirty-five, Shalini Joshi was a thoroughly successful woman. She was the branch manager with independent charge of a prestigious branch of a leading bank, her promotion was due any moment and there was no stopping her from reaching the top.
Her husband, Sudhir, was a top notch doctor with an excellent practice.
Everything had worked as per her plan. 
Today Shalini had everything she wanted – a palatial flat in the posh locality of Aundh, a farm-house in the outskirts of Pune, two lovely children (a boy and a girl), an ideal husband, a doting mother-in-law and all the status and prosperity she could ever hope for.
Even her Sundays were planned – a family outing to their farm-house followed by an evening at the club rubbing shoulders with the crème de la crème of society. 
And she meticulously planned her annual vacation – a sojourn at a hill station or a beach resort or globetrotting to some exotic location.
Shalini's life was a marvelous success – from the outside.  
Shalini parked her car on East Street and walked quickly to the apartment block, looking around furtively like someone with a guilty conscience.
She re-checked the address and rang the doorbell.
Ajay opened the door.
Shalini felt a tremor of trepidation.
She wondered if she was doing the right thing.  
“I normally don’t see anyone at my residence,” Ajay said beckoning her to sit down. 
He closed the door, turned towards her, looked directly into her eyes, and said, “But I can always make an exception in your case.”  
“I want this visit kept absolutely confidential,” Shalini said anxiously, beads of perspiration showing on her forehead, “and please Ajay, whatever we discuss, please don’t tell anyone.”  
“Of course, it’s strictly between you and me,” Ajay said. “I’ll make us some coffee. Then we can talk.”  
Shalini followed him into the kitchen, observing with admiration its neatness and organization. 
This was the home of a self-sufficient man. He hardly needed a wife.  
After they had settled down on the sofa, coffee cups in hand, Ajay said, “What is the matter Shalini...? Just get it off your chest.”  
“I want to divorce my husband,” Shalini said. 
She was surprised that her words had no effect on Ajay. 
His manner remained relaxed and nonchalant.  
He smiled and said, “I guessed so...”  
“You guessed...? How...? I’ve not told anyone. Not even my husband.”  
“That’s what people come to me for. It’s my job.” Ajay paused. 
“Tell me, Shalini. What’s the exact problem...? Is Sudhir having an affair or something...?”  
“Don’t be silly,” shouted Shalini getting visibly angry. “How can you say such a ridiculous thing...?”  
“Calm down,” Ajay said. “Then what’s the reason for you wanting to divorce your husband...? There have to be some grounds.”  
“I can’t stand it any longer – living this life of pretence, fake and hypocrisy. Just to maintain a facade of conjugal conviviality. I feel suffocated. I just want to break free...!” 
Shalini wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked small, weak and vulnerable ... her composure totally shattered.  
Ajay was ashamed to find that, inwardly, he was glad to hear of her misfortune.
He wondered ... did he really love her that much...?  
Ajay checked his train of thoughts and said, “Shalini, listen to me carefully. I’m a lawyer. Yes, I do take up divorce cases. But I am the last resort. You need to see a marriage counselor first. I know a lady. Someone you can talk to, who can empathise with you.”       
“No, Ajay, I want to talk to you first,” Shalini pleaded. 
“Okay,” Ajay said. Tell me everything.”  
She talked.
He listened.
Ajay was easy to talk to and soon Shalini began experiencing a sense of release and a strange feeling of elation. In these moods there was so much to say ... her words simply came tumbling out.  
When she had finished, Ajay said, “Your problem is that you don’t have any problems. And having no problems is a big problem...!”  
“If you’re not going to take me seriously, I’m going. I came for your advice. And help. Not to hear sarcastic comments...” Shalini said bitterly. 
“Yes, i is indeed high time you go,” Ajay said gesturing towards the wall clock. “It’s almost 8 o’clock. Your husband may be wondering what you are up to...”  
“He comes home after ten. His consulting hours are till 9.30 and then he visits his patients in hospital.” Shalini paused and said, “I’ll ring up my mother-in-law and tell her to put the children to sleep. She may be worried. I’m always home by 6.30.” 
Shalini made the phone call from her cell phone and told her mother-in-law that she was held up in an important meeting and would be home in half an hour.   
At that very moment, when Shalini was making the phone call, Dr. Sudhir Joshi was cruising down East Street after attending an emergency call at the other end of town.
His clinic was near Deccan Gymkhana and it was a long drive.
Dr. Joshi normally never left his clinic during consulting hours but then this had been a genuine emergency, an important patient and, not to forget, a nice fat fee. It had been worth it.
But now there would be a lot of patients waiting for him at the clinic. He would have to work late tonight.
Shalini would never mind his working late. She never did. It was the money, material comforts, standard of living that mattered.
Suddenly he saw a familiar yellow car – a rare colour – bright yellow – just like Shalini’s car.
He could not believe his eyes. Was it Shalini’s car...? It couldn’t be... Not here... and certainly not at this time.  
He stopped his car behind the bright yellow car and looked at the number plate. His fears were confirmed. Yes it was her car, no doubt about it, it was Shalini’s car.
Dr. Sudhir Joshi was wondering what his wife’s car was doing parked below an apartment block on East Street at 8 o’clock at night when he suddenly saw Shalini come hurriedly out of the gate, get into her car and drive away.
It was at this defining moment that Dr. Sudhir Joshi decided to pay a bit more attention to his wife Shalini. 
Fiction Short Story  

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2011
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.

VIKRAM KARVE educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU, The Lawrence School Lovedale, and Bishop's School Pune, is an Electronics and Communications Engineer by profession, a Human Resource Manager and Trainer by occupation, a Teacher by vocation, a Creative Writer by inclination and a Foodie by passion. 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. His delicious foodie blogs have been compiled in a book "Appetite for a Stroll". A collection of his short stories about relationships titled COCKTAIL is being published soon and Vikram is currently busy writing his first novel and with teaching and training assignments. Vikram lives in Pune with his family and his muse – his pet Doberman girl Sherry, with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.

Vikram Karve Creative Writing Blog :
Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve:

Professional Profile of Vikram Karve:
Foodie Book:

© vikram karve., all rights reserved. 

No comments: