Tuesday, June 19, 2012

REUNION - Short Fiction Story for Urban Adults

Dear Reader:
I wrote the story below titled REUNION as my entry for the Urban Stories Competition 2011. It is a story for Urban Adults. The stories were required to be set in an Urban backdrop in contemporary India.
Sadly, this story did not win a prize. I wonder why?
But that does not matter. This story still remains one of my favourites. 
So here it is for you to read...

Fiction Short Story

The woman gradually came into consciousness from her drunken stupor. Her head throbbed with pain, her eyes ached, her throat felt dry, her tongue tasted bitter – it was a terrible hangover.

Streaks of diffused sunlight filtered in through the curtains of the solitary window. The woman opened her eyes but everything looked blurred. Slowly things began to come into focus. She wondered where she was – the strange room, the unfamiliar bed, scary unknown surroundings – she felt a tremor of trepidation. 

She decided to get up, go to the window, open the curtains, look outside and try to see where she was. But the moment she tried to get up, the blanket covering her body fell off and the woman realized that she was naked, stark naked.

She felt a shiver up her spine, then suddenly she was overcome by a nauseating stomach-churning fear that made her throw up, vomiting copiously all over the place, the bed, her body, and she retched again and again till there was nothing left inside her, and then she collapsed on the bed and passed out.

When the woman came back into consciousness again, she felt a cold wet towel on her forehead. She opened her eyes. A fresh new blanket covered her body. Someone had tried to clean up, even wiped her body clean, but there were still traces of her vomit here and there, her skin felt sticky and the place reeked with a disgusting stench.

“Feeling okay?” a male voice said from behind.

She recognized the voice at once and suddenly felt goose bumps all over her naked body inside the blanket.

“My clothes? What happened to my clothes?” the woman asked the man.

“I took them off,” the man said, matter-of-factly.

“You took my clothes off? How dare you? You get out of here. What are you doing here?” asked the woman.

“This is my room and that is my bed you’re lying down on,” the man answered.

“Your room?”

“You don’t remember anything, do you?”

“What happened?”

“I flew in from Singapore and checked in last evening. Then I had a shower and went down to pub for a drink and I was shocked to see you there – you were horribly drunk, downing tequila shot after shot, and making out with that lecherous firangi.”

“Making out? Lecherous firangi?

“I beat the shit out of him and threw him out.”

“You beat him up? Are you crazy? He is our most important client – he has come all the way here from America to see our Pune centre.”

“Important client, my foot – that doesn’t give him the right to get you drunk, out of your senses, and then take advantage of you. The bugger was trying to take you up to his room and screw you.”

“Maybe I wanted to be taken advantage of. Maybe I wanted him to screw me.” 

“You filthy drunken whore. I saved you. You should be grateful to me. If your husband found out…”

“Suppose I say my husband knows…”

“Bloody hell? Offshoring and Outsourcing – what a laugh!”

“What do you mean…?”

“An IT Czar offshoring his own wife for getting outsourcing business. You dumped me for that unscrupulous pimp?”

“You mind your tongue and just get out of here. I don’t want to talk to you. Let me wash up and change. Where is my bag, my things? I have to catch the 11 o’clock flight to Delhi. Our client is coming with me on the flight. I’ll have to apologize to him for all that happened.”

“He’s gone. I made sure he left. You know what time it is? It is one o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Oh, My God. I’ve missed my flight. How could he go away just like that without me?”

“That horny bastard was looking for you. The bugger had even found his way here. He wanted to take you along with him to the airport to catch your flight.”

“He saw me here?”

“No chance. I didn’t let him enter the room. I told him to vamoose, to disappear, and warned him never to contact you again.”


“It’s not shit, it’s puke, your stinking vomit. I never knew you could be so disgusting. You puked all over your clothes. That is why I took them off and washed them. I have hung them in the bathroom – they must be dry by now. Don’t worry. I’ve checked you out of your room and had your things brought up – there’s your bag, near the closet. I checked out your bag, found your ticket, cancelled your 11 o’clock flight. I have now booked you on the evening flight to Delhi. Now go in and clean yourself up. I’ll go down and wait for you in the lobby. We’ll have a good lunch in the restaurant – you need to eat. And there’s some chilled Bloody Mary in the flask – drink it – it will cure your hangover.”

“Thanks,” the woman said.

The man walked out of the room, closed the door. The woman got up from the bed and ran naked into the bathroom.

Later, they both sat in the restaurant, enjoying a leisurely lunch in silence. The woman was feeling better now.

The man broke the silence, “I never expected to meet you here. I thought you were living in America after dumping me and marrying that wily bastard.”

“Please don’t start again. You tell me about yourself. You married?”

“No. Once bitten, twice shy.”

“And your work?”

“Well, I did this and that, and then took up a teaching assignment in Singapore. I’ve settled there now. I have come to Pune for a seminar and to deliver some lectures. And you? I have totally lost track of you, after that IT Czar lured you from me and took you away to the US of A.”

“We still have our main operations there, but we’ve expanded our business to India too – offshoring, outsourcing, ITES, all sorts of IT services – we’ve three centres here – at Gurgaon, Delhi and Pune – now-a-days I spend most of my time in Gurgaon.”

“And your husband?”

“He lives in the US – looks after the business out there.”

“Oh. Long distance marriage, eh? No wonder.”

“No wonder, what?”

“That you’re so sex starved – getting drunk and seducing firangis at your husband’s behest. Your guy can’t get it up, is it? No wonder you were so tight.”

“Tight? What are you saying?”

“I did it.”

“You did it?”

“Yes. I did it. Last night. With you. But you were so dead drunk, I doubt you even felt anything.”

“You bastard! You screwed me? I suspected as much when I was bathing, but I never imagined you would stoop so low and take advantage of me.”

“But you said you wanted to be taken advantage of.”

“I want to go,” the woman said sobbing, breaking down into tears.

“Cool down. Don’t make a spectacle of yourself again. I am sorry, but you were looking so attractive, so sexy, so desirable, that I remembered our days together and could not control myself,” the man said. He rose from his seat and spoke to the woman, “Come, I’ll take you to the washroom. You compose yourself. Then we’ll sit in the lounge and have some coffee.”

Later they sat in the poolside lounge and sipped hot coffee. It was winter; the late afternoon sun and slight breeze were quite comforting.

“I am sorry, very, very sorry,” the man said, “I shouldn’t have done it. I should have let you carry on with that firangi. Then all this would not have happened.”

“It’s okay. What’s done is done. At least it shows you still care for me.”

The man was taken aback by the woman’s words and he felt good.

“I always cared for you. I miss you terribly. We shouldn’t have divorced. We were too immature, too hot-headed; we could have patiently worked out our differences. Sometimes I think I am responsible for driving you into his arms,” the man said.

“No. It was my fault. I was too gullible and he was too smooth. He cleverly drove a wedge into our relationship, and I fell for it,” the woman said.

“I wish I could turn the clock back,” the man said.

“Me too.”

“We really had some good times together.”

“Yes. I can never forget those carefree days.”

“Let’s do one thing.”


“It’s four now, your flight is at eight, airport check-in at seven, we’ve got three hours to kill – let’s go to Camp and loaf around Main Street, Marzorin, Monafood, Budhani’s, Kayani, Manneys, Needlewoman, the Bhelpuri stall – let’s see if all our old haunts are still there. If you want we’ll do some window shopping in the new Malls, wherever you want – and then I’ll drop you off at the airport.”

“No. Let’s go up to your room and do it,” the woman said.

“Do it?”

“Yes, let’s do it.”

“Do what?”

“What you did to me last night.”


“Yes. Come. Let’s do it. This time, let’s do it like we used to do it.” 

“No social graces?”

“No social graces,” she smiled at their naughty private joke, “Yes, no social graces. Let’s go at each other like wild animals,” she tempted him with that tantalizing reckless look in her eyes.

He could feel the want churning inside him like fire.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s do it.”

They did it.

They went up to the room. Then, uninhibited, unrestrained, they let their carnal desires run amok with wild abandon and they did it.

They made love with wild passionate frenzy, demanding more and more of each other, resonating with peaks of sensual pleasure, till they were engulfed by the glow of ecstasy, the ultimate climax, and then they lay exhausted, their fires satiated, their limbs entangled, their bodies overcome by that unique soothing calm which is a consequence of fulfilled lovemaking.

Fiction Short Story
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.

Did you like reading this story? 
I am sure you will like all the 27 stories in my recently published book of short stories COCKTAIL
To order your COCKTAIL please click any of the links below:
If you prefer reading ebooks on Kindle or your ebook reader, please order Cocktail E-book by clicking the links below:

Foodie Book:  Appetite for a Stroll

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.

1 comment:

Jack said...

Its really sad that you did not won the Urban Stories Competition 2011, but I liked this story and it was fun reading it. Please keep writing like this.

And last and best... Best of luck for next competitions.. you will surly win, we reader support you.