Are You Dependent on the Kindness of Strangers...?

I don’t know why – but – I remembered this story I had written almost 8 years ago in January 2012. 

Sadly – the protagonist of this story – Mrs. J – she passed away a few years ago. 

OLD AGE WOES
Do You Depend on the Kindness of Strangers...?
Musings of a Veteran 

By

VIKRAM KARVE 

Pune (Circa 2012) 

Sometime ago – during my early morning walk – I passed by Mrs. J’s house. 

I saw J – an 84 year old widow – struggling to walk in her garden. 

I wished J good morning – and I asked her how she was. 

She answered: 

“I depend on the kindness of strangers.”

For a moment – I was speechless. 

Then – slowly – I let her words sink in – and perambulate in my mind – “I depend on the kindness of strangers” – and – these words struck a chord. 

I was transported back in time – more than 38 years ago – to the year 1981 – if my memory serves me right – when I had seen the play called A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE which had a lasting impression on me. 

I witnessed a performance of the indigenous Indian Production of this 1948 Pulitzer Prize winning masterpiece by Tennessee Williams at the Kamani Auditorium in New Delhi directed by Alyque Padamsee with terrific performances by Dalip Tahil as Stanley Kowalski and Sabira Merchant as Blanche DuBois. 

I still remember the heart-rending scene – when – after being totally destroyed by Stanley, while being taken away to a mental asylum, a shattered Blanche holds onto the doctor’s hand and says: 

“Whoever you are – I have always depended on the kindness of strangers”.

Though the context in the play is different – I realized the universal all-encompassing truth encapsulated in those profound words – which were spontaneously uttered by the old lady J – who I am sure has not read or seen the play “A Streetcar Named Desire”.

As I observe in Pune – I realize that there are so many senior citizens living alone – so many old people who “depend on the kindness of strangers” – especially in the middle-class. 

In most cases – their children live abroad in the USA pursuing their American Dream – while their parents live a life of loneliness awaiting their deaths back home in India. 

Also – I notice that the longevity of women seems to be more then men – since there are far more senior citizen widows who heavily outnumber the widowers.

Before you blame the “ungrateful and selfish children” for “abandoning” their “hapless” parents – I think you must consider the fact that there are always two sides to a coin (or two “points of view” in every story).

MIDDLE CLASS DREAMS

Let me give you a bit of a background.

In the 1960’s and 1970’s – I lived in a “middle-class” locality in Pune – where parents had two dreams:

1. First – their son must get into an IIT and go abroad to USA to realize the American dream and achieve “success”.

2. Second – they must get their daughters married to a “successful” American NRI so that she too could go the USA to live a life of prosperity and happiness there.

Many such parents – like the old lady J – achieved their dreams.

And – they are paying the price today.

Even today – I see so many parents who are desperate to send their kids abroad for higher studies and to settle down there. 

In the earlier “pre-globalization pre-liberalization” days prior to 1991 – it was difficult to go to America unless you graduated from an IIT or topped from a premier University. 

Today – it is much easier to go abroad for studies or for work. 

Post liberalization – in the globalized world of today – if you are willing to spend your money – you can easily go for higher studies abroad – or you can go there via the “IT Route” – by first going abroad to work onsite – and then sidestepping into a job over there in America.

This is the main reason why there is a beeline for jobs in the IT/ITES industry – it is the easiest way to migrate overseas.

Then or now – the fact of the matter is that it is the parents themselves who encourage and monetarily facilitate their children to go abroad.

Parents inculcate ambitious values that create in the minds of their children the urge to migrate to America or some other prosperous country for a “better life”.

So who is to blame – the parents or the children?

I ask the old lady “J” : 

“Why don’t you go and live with your son or daughter in America...? Have they refused to take you there...? Are your children unwilling to have you live with them...?”

“No – not at all. Far from it...” the old lady says, “my children want me to live with them over there and keep calling me to relocate permanently to America and stay with them in the US. I have gone there so many times – but I don’t want to live there with them in America. I don’t like it over there.”

I am puzzled. 

It seems very strange. 

Why should the old lady prefer to live a difficult lonely life out here in India – full of hardship – when she can live a comfortable life of luxury in America with the best of facilities and healthcare – and in the company of her children and grandchildren...?

Why do so many senior citizens prefer to live alone in India and depend on “the kindness of strangers” – when they can enjoy the evening of their lives by migrating abroad to live with their NRI children and exulting in the love and care of their near and dear ones...?

Is it ego? 

Is it something else? 

Is there some other reason?

I don’t know. 

I don’t have the answer. 

Do you?

If you do have the answer – or wish to share your views on this subject, please comment and let us know.

And – you better start thinking – about the evening of your life – when you become 70 or 80. 

In Old Age – you have to decide from these 3 Choices:

1. Do you want to live with your children...?

2. Do you want to live alone...? 

3. Do you want to live in an old age home (retirement community) which has assisted living facilities and where you will be well cared for and looked after...?

Remember – if you choose the second or third choice above – you will be dependent on the kindness of strangers.

Think about it.

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 article is just “food for thought”, my musings, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt.

2. While planning your old age – please do your own due diligence. 

3. 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.

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.

 

Unfinished Stories – Mother and Daughter – Part 1

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you”

This quote by American Poet Maya Angelou is so true – at least in my case.

I have so many untold stories inside me – and – I want to tell them as quickly as possible – to alleviate the “agony” of bearing untold stories inside me.

Dear Reader:

The story I am going to tell you – it was perambulating inside me – for a long time – untold – and – I was quite hesitant to tell this story – but now – I must tell you this story – and mitigate the “agony” of carrying the burden of untold stories.

Most stories are born from “observation” and “feeling” – at least for me.

If I observe something – and – I feel about it – a story is born in my mind.

You observe so many things – but you write only about those things that stir your “feelings” – your emotions.

This story too was born many years ago – when I observed something – and the incident aroused feelings in me.

Of course – it was a simple incident – certainly not as melodramatic as the story.

But then – a writer uses his imagination to dramatize a simple observation – and convert a simple incident into fiction.

That is what fiction is all about – a dramatized version of real life.

I have been carrying this untold story inside me for a long time.

Now – it is time for me alleviate the “agony” of bearing this untold story inside me – by telling the world this story.

So – Dear Reader – let me write the story and post it on my blogs.

MOTHER AND DAUGHTER

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

“If you get married – I will kill myself…” the 15 year old daughter tells her 39 year old mother.

The daughter says this publicly – during her mother’s engagement ceremony.

“It’s just emotional blackmail…” someone says.

“It’s just a tantrum…” someone else says.

“She is bluffing…” another person says.

But – the girl isn’t bluffing.

She goes into the kitchen – picks up a knife – and she cuts her wrist.

Luckily – her mother has followed her into the kitchen.

She screams in horror – seeing the blood gushing out from her daughter’s wrist.

Everyone rushes to the kitchen and sees the ghastly sight.

They rush the daughter to hospital – and her life is saved.

As the daughter lies convalescing in the hospital bed – her mother asks her:

“Why did you do this…?”

The daughter says to her mother:

“I had told you very clearly that I don’t want you to get married – but still – you went ahead – the matrimonial ad – meeting men – and then – getting engaged . At every stage I warned you – but you refused to listen…”

The daughter’s grandmother (her mother’s mother) – she says to the young girl:

“Your mother is still young. It is better to have a man in the house…”

The young girl says to her grandmother:

“We don’t need a man in the house. We have got enough money. Papa has left us enough – and – Mamma has a good job….”

“It’s not only money…” the grandmother says, “Your family will be complete again. And you will get a father too…”

“No one can take the place of Papa – do you understand…?” the girl says angrily, “and we – Mamma and I – we are very happy as a family. We don’t need any outsider…”

“Try to be reasonable…” the grandmother says to the girl.

“You are the root cause of all this…” the girl says accusingly to her grandmother, “you are instigating her to get married…”

“Of course your mother has to get married – she is just 39 – tomorrow you will get married and go away…”

“I am not getting married tomorrow…”

“I mean – in a few years from now – you will get married and go away. Then – who will look after your mother in her old age…?”

“I will look after my mother…” the girl says, “I will finish my school, my college – get a good job – and – I will look after my Mamma for her entire life – I will not get married till she is alive…”

“You are talking nonsense…” the grandmother says.

“I am not talking nonsense…” the girl says, “I will look after my mother…”

Then – the girl looks at her mother and says:

“Mamma – I promise – I will look after you – I promise – I will not get married…”

“Okay – Okay – you take rest…” the mother says to her daughter.

“What “okay –okay”…?” the grandmother says to the mother, “the boy is very good – you will be very happy…”

“You please go away…” the girl tells her grandmother, “please leave us alone and go back to your home. We will look after ourselves…”

Then – the girl looks at her mother and says:

“Mamma – I am telling your very clearly – if you get married – I will commit suicide – and – next time – I will not fail- I will make sure that I die…”

The mother hugs her daughter and says: “Okay – I will not get married…”

The grandmother leaves for her home in the evening.

And – the woman – the mother of the girl – she gives up all thoughts of marriage. 

Story To Be Continued in Part 2...

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)

     

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

 

The Gregarious Officer

THE GREGARIOUS OFFICER

Story from My Navy Days

Short Fiction

By

VIKRAM KARVE

42 Years Ago – Circa 1970’s

“Uncle, Uncle – please come home…” the two girls said.

The two cute girls – sisters – one 9 years old – the other 7 – they were the two daughters of the gregarious Commander “D”.

In that desolate “Stone Frigate” Training Establishment – where we were undergoing our Specialization Course – as young Sub Lieutenants – more than 42 years ago – in the 1970’s – the affable Commander “D” was the most sociable officer – in whose home – we felt truly welcome.

The other 3 Commanders (and the few married Lieutenant Commanders) – they were quite standoffish – and they kept their distance from trainee officers like us.

So – after the mandatory “social call” – we never visited their homes in view of their rather unsociable attitude towards us.

But – Commander “D” was different.

He was most welcoming and hospitable – and very generous in offering food and drink whenever we young bachelors visited his home.

He kept an open home – and – every evening there would invariably be some bachelor officers enjoying his food, drink and generous hospitality.

I visited Commander “D” quite often – at least once a week – or even more.

He had two cute daughters – 7 and 9 – and they had a special liking for me.

They had nicknamed me “Shrikhand Uncle” – and – whenever they saw me – they would say to me:

“Uncle, Uncle – please come home…”

Let me tell you why the two small girls had named me “Shrikhand Uncle”.

Actually – I felt quite guilty “sponging” on Commander “D” – enjoying his food and drink so often.

So – one evening – I took a bottle of Rum with me.

Commander “D” was furious with me and admonished me:

“In my home – you will have my booze and food – do you understand…?”

His wife said to me:

“And – don’t you dare get food packed from the Mess into my kitchen. Here – in my home – you will eat whatever I cook…”

I did not know how to return his hospitality since Commander “D” refused invitations to come to the Wardroom Mess.

One Sunday – we had gone to the nearby town (Jamnagar) – and – as was our routine – we watched the afternoon movie show – and – we were enjoying Kachori and Rasgullas at our favourite Sweet Shop.

As usual – I bought my weekly quota of 1 Kilogram of Shrikhand (which I kept in the Wardroom Dining Hall Fridge to have with my Lunch every afternoon in the Mess).

I suddenly got an idea.

I bought 1 Kilo of Shrikhand for Commander “D” too.

If he objected – we would tell him the Shrikhand was for his daughters.

In the evening – I walked towards to the bungalow of Commander “D”.

His two daughters were playing in the park.

When they saw me – they came running to me – and said excitedly:

“Uncle, Uncle – please come home…”

“I have brought something for you…” I said, “And – I gave them the packet of Shrikhand…”

Surprisingly – the small girls hadn’t tasted Shrikhand before.

The moment we reached Commander D’s home – the girls made their mother open the Shrikhand packet and started tasting the Shrikhand.

The small girls loved the Shrikhand – and they came and told me how much they had liked the Shrikhand.  

Then – we followed the usual routine.

I played “Ludo” and “Snakes and Ladders” with the two small girls.

After some time – around 7:30 PM – the mother called the girls for dinner.

I went out on the lawn to join Commander “D” – who was already drinking Rum.

He poured me a drink – and we started drinking in earnest.

The girls came out after their dinner – they wished us Good Night – and they ran inside to their bedroom to sleep.

Commander D’s wife got us plenty of “Small Eats” to enjoy with our drinks – and she sat with us with a soft drink.

We talked – thoroughly enjoying our drinks, the “small eats” and the lively conversation.

Normally – there would be many officers – but tonight – surprisingly – I was their only guest.

Yes – every evening there would be someone or the other – enjoying Commander D’s hospitality.

Commander “D” and his bachelor officer “guests” would drink till late at night and have dinner after midnight.

That night – we drank till well after midnight – we had dinner at around 1 AM – and – by the time I returned to my cabin in the Wardroom Mess – it was almost 2 AM – in the wee hours of the morning.

As I told you – someone or the other “bounced” Commander “D” every evening – so – it was a “party” every evening in Commander D’s bungalow.

Commander D’s two small daughters would play in the children’s park – near the Wardroom – and whenever they saw a bachelor officer – they would say:

“Uncle, Uncle – please come home…”

I made it a point to get “Shrikhand” for them from town every Sunday – and since the two small girls had nicknamed me “Shrikhand Uncle” – the moment the saw me – they would say:

“Shrikhand Uncle, Shrikhand Uncle – please come home…”

For 6 months – we – the entire course – we enjoyed the generous hospitality of the magnanimous and gregarious Commander “D” – drinking copious quantities of his Rum – and – relishing the delicious food cooked by Commander D’s benevolent wife.

And – one day – our course was over – and we joined our respective ships – at Mumbai and Vizag.

I was lucky to get a Mumbai Based Ship – which enabled me to enjoy the delights of “Maximum City” whenever my ship was in harbor.

3 Years Later

I was lucky – after 2 years on a frontline frigate – I was appointed on a frontline destroyer – also based at Mumbai.

So – I had spent 3 years in Mumbai.

One evening I was strolling on Marine Drive.

I was delighted to see Commander D’s two daughters sitting on the parapet by the sea.

I waved out to them.

They recognized me.

“Hello “Shrikhand Uncle” – so nice to see you here…” the girls said.

They looked slightly grown up – 3 years had passed since I had met them last – then – they were 7 and 9 – now – they would be 10 and 12 – but they still looked very cute.

“What are you doing here on Marine Drive…?” I asked them.

“We live over there…” they said – pointing to a building across Marine Drive.

(Those days – many Naval Officers lived in houses in “South Bombay” (So Bo) – in posh localities of Mumbai – like Marine Drive, Churchgate, Backbay Reclamation, Colaba, Cuffe Parade, Apollo Bunder, Malabar Hill etc.

Earlier – even the Naval Officers’ Western Command Mess was located off Marine Drive in a building called “Vasant Sagar” on “A” Road Churchgate – and – Sailors’ Home was in Cooperage…)

I looked at Commander D’s two pretty daughters and said to them:

“When did you come to Mumbai…?”

“We came last week…” they said.

I expected them to say “Uncle, Uncle – please come home…” as they used to say 3 years ago whenever they saw a bachelor Naval Officer.

But – since they didn’t say it – I said to them:

“Come – take me to your home – I want to meet your Daddy and Mummy…”

The girls looked at me with an odd expression on their faces.

They remained silent.

So – I said to them:

“Oh – I don’t have “Shrikhand” with me – but I promise to get “Shrikhand” next time…”

The elder girl – 12 – she looked at me and said:

“Uncle – please don’t come home. If you come home – Daddy will start drinking – and – we don’t want him to drink…”

On hearing this – I was nonplussed – I didn’t know what to say.

On seeing the expression on my face – Commander D’s elder daughter said to me:

“You know how much Daddy used to drink. They have told him to stop drinking – but – he doesn’t listen. We are trying our best to stop his drinking – but – someone or the other comes home – and he drinks with them. Just yesterday – he got badly drunk. If you come home – he will drink with you all night. So – uncle – please don’t come home…”

I felt terrible.

Tears welled in my eyes.

“Please don’t cry, Uncle…” the elder girl said – with tears in her eyes – and her younger sister had tears in her eyes too.

The small girls I knew – they had suddenly grown up.

I said “goodbye” to Commander D’s daughters – and – I walked back to my ship.

I felt very sad for the two small girls.

3 Years ago – whenever they saw me – they would say to me:

“Uncle, Uncle – please come home…”

But today – when they saw me – they said to me:

“Uncle, Uncle – please don’t come home…” 

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)