The Wedding Gift

THE WEDDING GIFT

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

New Delhi

Circa 1982  

(NB: This Story happened 36 years ago in 1982. At that time – there were no mobile phones, no internet, no email – nothing. Even landline phones were not given to junior officers like me – and – even in the office – we shared a phone kept in the centre of the office – so there was no privacy at all. So – in the absence of the communication facilities we have today – those days – the best way to communicate with friends was to meet and talk to each other)

Part 1

My “girlfriend” was getting married – to someone else.

It was expected.

We – my “girlfriend” Nisha and Me – we knew that our “worlds” were different – and – it was impractical for us to get married to each other – so – we did not have any unrealistic expectations from our friendship.

So – we kept our friendship at the “platonic” level.

Yes – we are happy as we were – just pure friends – and we did not want to take our relationship to the “next level”.

But – Nisha and Me – we were good friends.

We met every Saturday morning – in the Library – on Curzon Road (now known as Kasturba Gandhi Marg).

We browsed book in the library for a few hours – and then – after our browsing was over – we would go out for lunch to some place in Connaught Place (CP) which was nearby.

One Saturday morning – the moment she saw me – Nisha said excitedly:

“I am getting married…”

“When…?” I asked.

“My wedding is on the 3^rd of next month…” she said.

“So fast…?”

“Yes – everything happened very fast – the “Boy” and his parents came over on Wednesday – and the marriage was fixed…”

“You met the “Boy” only once…?”

“Yes. You know how it is in our society. The elders decide everything…”

“Yes…” I said.

“At least one thing is good – I won’t have to live in a joint family in his town. My “would-be-husband” has managed to get transferred to Delhi – so we will live in Delhi…” she said.

“That’s good…” I said.

I wondered whether Nisha would continue her friendship with me after her marriage – it all depended on how “broadminded” her husband was.

We met again the next Saturday – and Nisha gave me her wedding invitation card.

“I am sorry – but I won’t be able to attend your wedding…” I said to Nisha.

“Why…? You have to come. The wedding is here in Delhi…” she said.

“I have to go outstation on duty for a training course. I have to leave on the 1^st – just 2 days before your wedding…” I said.

“Do you have to go…?” she asked – her disappointment was visible on her face.

“You know how it is in the Navy – I tried my best – but I have to go. But – it’s only for 3 months – I’ll meet you here in the library on the first Saturday after I come back…” I said.

“Yes – I will be back from my honeymoon by then – and hopefully well-settled…” she said.

“Honeymoon – already planned…?”

“Just a week in the hills – he has to join duty on the 10^th here in Delhi…” Nisha said.

“Okay…” I said.

We browsed in the library for some time – and then – we had lunch at Gaylord in CP – followed by a movie at Regal.

In the evening – as I said “good bye” to Nisha – I somehow got the feeling that it was the end of our beautiful friendship.  

Part 2

I wondered what would be an ideal “wedding gift” for Nisha.

Should I give her a good “Book”…?

No – it was too trivial as a wedding gift.

A piece of jewelry…?

I really did not know her taste – I had absolutely no idea what she liked.

It is funny – you can be so close to a person – yet know nothing about her.

I walked around CP – window shopping.

Suddenly – I passed a Television (TV) showroom – with the latest brands of Colour TV Sets in the showcase.

Colour TV was a novelty – a new arrival in the market. 

(Dear Reader: Remember – this story happened in 1982 – the year in which Colour Television was introduced in India – thanks to the 9^th Asian Games which were to be held in Delhi – and live telecast in colour…)

I looked at the Colour TV Sets – and – on the spur of the moment – I made my decision – I would give Nisha a Colour TV set as a Wedding Gift – a rather expensive wedding gift – but something Nisha would always remember me by – whenever she switched on the TV.

I would have to adjust my budget a bit – but it was okay – for Nisha was a close friend.

I went inside the showroom.

There were 3 brands of Colour TV.

After seeing a demonstration – I liked two of them.

I stood undecided – wondering which one to buy.

The owner of the shop was observing me – and he understood my predicament.

He walked towards me and said to me:

“Sir – I will do one thing – I will send both the Colour TV Sets to your house – you watch both of them for 3-4 days – then – you can keep the one you like – and you can return the other one…”

“Are you sure…?” I asked.

“Of course, Sir – we want our customers to be fully satisfied…” he said.

He gave me a diary and asked me to write down my name and address.

He looked at the address and smiled:

“Sir – you are a “Fauji”…?”

“Yes – I am in the Navy…” I said.

That evening – both the Colour TV Sets were positioned in my house.

Three days later – I called up the TV Store and told the owner that I had made my choice.

“Okay, Sir – I will send someone in the evening…” he said.

“Actually – I want the Colour TV Set to be gift wrapped and delivered at a wedding – is it possible…?” I said.

“Of course, Sir – I will come personally after the shop closes – you can offer me a drink also…” he said.

The shopkeeper arrived at 9 PM along with an assistant.

Since I was drinking Whiskey-Soda – I offered him a drink.

“Sir – I will have Rum – I like “Military” Rum…” he said.

I poured him a large peg of Rum.

I showed him the Colour TV which I had liked.

Then – I showed him Nisha’s Wedding Invitation Card.

I told him that I wouldn’t be able to attend the wedding as I would be away on duty.

“Sir – you don’t worry – I will personally see to it that the TV is delivered on time – the venue of the wedding reception is very near my shop…” he said.

“Are you sure…?” I asked him.

“Sir – you be rest assured – I will go myself and give the wedding gift on your behalf to the newly-married couple. We will get the TV nicely gift-wrapped. You just write the message you want written on the gift-card…” he said, pulling out a diary from his pocket.

I wrote the message.

He noted down the date/time of the wedding reception and address of the venue from the wedding card.

Then – the shopkeeper took out a permanent marker pen – and he said to me:

“Sir – you put your initials on the rear cover of the TV Set you have chosen…”

We turned the TV around.

He gave me the red permanent marker pen – and he pointed a place at the bottom left corner of the rear cover – and he said to me:

“Sir – you can put your initials here…”

I put my initials in red colour at the place he indicated.

“Thank you, Sir…” the shopkeeper said, “this is just to make sure that there is no mix-up. And later – when you visit the newly-married couple – you can check that we have delivered the same TV Set…”

The shopkeeper told his assistant to pack up both the TV Sets and put them in the Van parked below.

Then – he had two quick pegs of Rum – “down-the-hatch” – and he left in quite a “happy” mood.

Part 3

Three months later – the moment I returned to New Delhi – on the very first Saturday – I went to the Library.

I was delighted to see Nisha there.

She looked lovely.

“Marriage seems to have suited you, Nisha – you are looking really beautiful – and – there is a glow on your cheeks…” I complimented her.

“Stop teasing me…” she said, “you better finish your browsing quickly – we are going home for lunch today…”

“Home…?”

“Curzon Road Apartments – walking distance from here – we’ve got a tiny one room flat…”

“That’s great – I would love to meet your husband…”

“He has gone outstation on tour – but he will be back next week – you can meet him then…”

“Let’s have lunch at Gaylord…”

“No. No. Today – I am going to cook you lunch. And – I want you to see my home…” she said.

Two hours later – I sat in Nisha’s small one room flat in Curzon Road Apartments.

I noticed that there was no TV in the flat.

“Don’t you have a TV…?” I asked Nisha.

“No. We don’t have a TV…” she said, “but we are planning to buy one soon…”

“But I thought you would have a TV…” I said.

“Come on – we are newly married – we need to save some money – don’t we…?” she said.

“But surely – someone would have given you a TV as a wedding gift…” I said.

“TV…? As a wedding gift…? Are you crazy…?” she said.

“Why…?”

“You do one thing…” she said, “You still haven’t given me my wedding gift. Why don’t you present me a good colour TV…?”

I was dumbstruck.

After lunch – I went straight to the TV Showroom.

The owner recognized me.

“Did you deliver the TV to the Wedding Reception as I had told you…?” I asked him.

“Of course, Sir…” he said.

“Well – there seems to be some mistake – I hope you didn’t deliver the TV to the wrong place…? I said.

“No mistake, Sir. I personally delivered the gift wrapped TV to the address you gave me…”

“I just visited the newly married couple’s house – the TV is not there…”

“Sir, they may have given it to someone else…”

“Why should they give a wedding gift to someone else…? The wife told me that they did not receive any TV as a wedding gift…”

“Sir – please believe me – I personally handed over the TV to the lady who was collecting the wedding gifts…”

“A lady…?”

“Yes, Sir – there was a big rush on the stage – so they asked us to give the wedding gifts to a lady on the side of the stage who was collecting all the gifts…”

“Well – something seems to be wrong – I will try to find out – I only hope someone didn’t steal the TV…” I said.

“I don’t think so, Sir – that lady was very meticulously guarding the wedding gifts…” the shopkeeper said.

I felt disappointed – but - there was nothing I could do now.

Maybe – when I met Nisha next – I would have to tell her to find out where the TV had vanished.

Part 4

Next morning – my boss asked to meet a Mr. “X” regarding some official matter:

“Mr. “X” is not free right now – but he said that you can meet him at his home on your way back from work – take his address from my PA…”

In the evening – after work – I went to the address.

I looked at the name-plate on the door.

Yes – I was at the right address – Mr. “X” lived here.

I pressed the doorbell.

A young lady opened the door.

I introduced myself – I told her that I had come to meet Mr. “X”.

“Please come in. I am Mrs. “X” – my husband should be back from office anytime now…” Mrs. “X” said to me.

Mrs. “X” welcomed me into her home.

She asked me to sit down on the sofa – and she said to me:

“I’ll just finish off some work in the kitchen. You can watch TV if you want – till my husband comes home…”

Those days – there was only one TV channel – “Doordarshan” – and TV’s did not have a remote – so she walked towards the TV and switched it on.

I looked at the TV Set.

The TV seemed familiar.

Was it the same TV set which I had given to Nisha as a Wedding Gift…?

It was the same brand – the same model.

Of course – many people would have the same model – but – my “inner voice” told me that it was the same TV set which I had bought from the shop in CP and given as a gift to Nisha on her wedding day.

So – I decided to make sure.

I looked at Mrs. “X” and asked her:  

“Your TV looks really good. May I have a look at it…?”

“Sure…” she said.

I walked to the TV and I switched it off.

Then – I unplugged the TV wire from the socket.

Mrs. “X” was looking at me curiously – so – I said to her:

“I am looking at some “technical” things…”

I turned the TV around.

I looked at the bottom left corner of the rear cover.

The marking was there.

Yes – I could see my initials – in red – they had faded a bit – but the marking was clearly visible.

So – this was the same TV set which we had given to Nisha as a wedding gift.

I replaced the TV to its original position – plugged it in – and switched it on.

Then – I asked Mrs. “X”: 

“I hope I am not being too inquisitive – but – can you please tell me where you bought this TV…?”

“It came in my dowry…” she said.

“Dowry…?” I asked, surprised.

“Well – I know – no one uses the word “dowry” nowadays – but – my parents gave me this TV as a “wedding gift” – so – I guess it is “dowry” – isn’t it…” she said.

“Oh – so your parents gave you this TV as a wedding gift…?” I remarked.

“Yes…” she said.

“Tell me – by any chance – do you know anyone by the name “Nisha”…?” I asked her.

“Of course – my sister-in-law – her name is “Nisha”…” she said.

“Your “sister-in-law”…?”

“Yes – my brother’s wife – her name is “Nisha”. My brother and Nisha – they got married almost at the same time as us – just a few days before we got married…” Mrs. “X” said.

“What is your brother’s name…?” I asked her.

“Arun – my brother’s name is Arun. By any chance – did your “Nisha” get married to a man called “Arun”…” Mrs. “X” asked me.

I remembered the name on Nisha’s wedding card.

Yes – the groom’s name was “Arun”.

So – Nisha had got married to this woman’s brother Arun.

Comprehension began to dawn on me.

My “wedding gift” had been transferred.

I smiled to myself.

“Anything the matter…?” Mrs. “X” asked me.

“No. No. I was just thinking – it is such a small world – isn’t it…? Yes – it is the same “Nisha” that I was talking about – she is married to your brother Arun…” I said.

Then – Mrs. “X” looked at me – and she said to me:

“I am just curious. How do you know my sister-in-law “Nisha”…?”

“We were friends…” I said.

“Oh. But – we didn’t see you at the wedding – didn’t Nisha invite you…” she said.

“Of course, she invited me to her wedding. But – I had gone outstation – on duty…” I said.

“Oh…” she said.

Suddenly – the doorbell rang.

Mr. “X” had arrived home.

After we had finished our official “shop talk” – I said to Mr. “X”:

“You have a good TV. I really liked this model…”

“Yes. This TV is a wedding gift from my “in-laws” – my wife’s parents…” he said.

“Dowry…?” I said, jokingly.

“Ha – Ha – “Dowry”…!” Mr. “X” said – and he broke into a laugh. 

Part 5 – Epilogue

The mystery was solved.

The TV which I had given as a “wedding gift” to Nisha – had been collected by her mother-in-law – who had given the same TV to her own daughter as “dowry”.

And – Nisha was clueless…!!!

Also – Nisha thinks that I never gave her a wedding gift.

Should I have told Nisha the truth…?

I did not.

Because I thought that wouldn’t be prudent to do so at that point of time – since it could cause misunderstandings and spoil relationships.

So – I kept the secret in my heart for all these years.

And now – 36 years later – I am writing this story – and posting it on my blog.

I hope Nisha reads the story – and has a laugh – at the shrewdness of her mother-in-law – who so cleverly transformed her daughter-in-law’s “wedding gift” into her daughter’s “dowry”. 

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)

     

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

 

HOW TO RECYCLE GIFTS - A Hilarious Story

DO YOU RECYCLE GIFTS

By

VIKRAM KARVE

I have with me a number of shirt pieces and trouser pieces (pant pieces) which have been gifted to me as presents from time to time.

Since I buy readymade shirts and trousers I wondered what to do with these pieces of top quality cloth.

So I found a simple solution – whenever there was an occasion I gifted these pieces away as presents.

Do you know what happened once?

One such shirt piece went through an entire “gifting circle” and landed back to me as a present. 

Once, a Television Set which was presented as a wedding gift by the bride’s family to the husband was re-gifted by him at his sister’s wedding and found its way into the drawing room of his brother-in-law.

A purse gifted by me to a friend found its way back to me after quite a circuitous “gifting cycle”.

Whenever I see presents and gifts travelling “merry go round” being “recycled” in such hilarious “gifting cycles” I recall this classic story by the master storyteller Anton Chekhov – A WORK OF ART.

This story A WORK OF ART is freely available on the internet for you to read.

I am giving the url link below and also posting the story from the link for your convenience:

http://classiclit.about.com/library/bl-etexts/achekhov/bl-achek-workart.htm

A Work of Art

by Anton Chekhov

(1860-1904)

Sasha Smirnov, the only son of his mother, holding under his arm, something wrapped up in No. 223 of the Financial News, assumed a sentimental expression, and went into Dr. Koshelkov’s consulting room.

“Ah, dear lad!” was how the doctor greeted him. “Well! how are we feeling? What good news have you for me?”

Sasha blinked, laid his hand on his heart and said in an agitated voice: “Mamma sends her greetings to you, Ivan Nikolaevitch, and told me to thank you.… I am the only son of my mother and you have saved my life…you have brought me through a dangerous illness and…we do not know how to thank you.”

“Nonsense, lad!” said the doctor, highly delighted. “I only did what anyone else would have done in my place.”

“I am the only son of my mother…we are poor people and cannot of course repay you, and.… we are quite ashamed, doctor, although, however, mamma and I…the only son of my mother, earnestly beg you to accept in token of our gratitude…this object, which…An object of great value, an antique bronze.… A rare work of art.”

“You shouldn’t!” said the doctor, frowning. “What’s this for!”

“No, please do not refuse,” Sasha went on muttering as he unpacked the parcel. “You will wound mamma and me by refusing.… It’s a fine thing…an antique bronze.… It was left us by my deceased father and we have kept it as a precious souvenir. My father used to buy antique bronzes and sell them to connoisseurs…Mamma and I keep on the business now.…”

Sasha undid the object and put it solemnly on the table. It was a not very tall candelabra of old bronze and artistic workmanship. It consisted of a group: on the pedestal stood two female figures in the costume of Eve and in attitudes for the description of which I have neither the courage nor the fitting temperament. The figures were smiling coquettishly and altogether looked as though, had it not been for the necessity of supporting the candlestick, they would have skipped off the pedestal and have indulged in an orgy such as is improper for the reader even to imagine.

Looking at the present, the doctor slowly scratched behind his ear, cleared his throat and blew his nose irresolutely.

“Yes, it certainly is a fine thing,” he muttered, “but…how shall I express it?…it’s…h’m…it’s not quite for family reading. It’s not simply décolleté but beyond anything, dash it all.…”

“How do you mean?”

“The serpent-tempter himself could not have invented anything worse.… Why, to put such a phantasmagoria on the table would be defiling the whole flat.”

“What a strange way of looking at art, doctor!” said Sasha, offended. “Why, it is an artistic thing, look at it! There is so much beauty and elegance that it fills one’s soul with a feeling of reverence and brings a lump into one’s throat! When one sees anything so beautiful one forgets everything earthly.… Only look, how much movement, what an atmosphere, what expression!”

“I understand all that very well, my dear boy,” the doctor interposed, “but you know I am a family man, my children run in here, ladies come in.”

“Of course if you look at it from the point of view of the crowd,” said Sasha, “then this exquisitely artistic work may appear in a certain light.… But, doctor, rise superior to the crowd, especially as you will wound mamma and me by refusing it. I am the only son of my mother, you have saved my life.… We are giving you the thing most precious to us and…and I only regret that I have not the pair to present to you.…”

“Thank you, my dear fellow, I am very grateful…Give my respects to your mother but really consider, my children run in here, ladies come.… However, let it remain! I see there’s no arguing with you.”

“And there is nothing to argue about,” said Sasha, relieved. “Put the candlestick here, by this vase. What a pity we have not the pair to it! It is a pity! Well, good-bye, doctor.”

After Sasha’s departure the doctor looked for a long time at the candelabra, scratched behind his ear and meditated.

“It’s a superb thing, there’s no denying it,” he thought, “and it would be a pity to throw it away.… But it’s impossible for me to keep it.… H’m!…Here’s a problem! To whom can I make a present of it, or to what charity can I give it?”

After long meditation he thought of his good friend, the lawyer Uhov, to whom he was indebted for the management of legal business.

“Excellent,” the doctor decided, “it would be awkward for him as a friend to take money from me, and it will be very suitable for me to present him with this. I will take him the devilish thing! Luckily he is a bachelor and easy-going.”

Without further procrastination the doctor put on his hat and coat, took the candelabra and went off to Uhov’s.

“How are you, friend!” he said, finding the lawyer at home. “I’ve come to see you…to thank you for your efforts.… You won’t take money so you must at least accept this thing here.… See, my dear fellow.… The thing is magnificent!”

On seeing the bronze the lawyer was moved to indescribable delight.

“What a specimen!” he chuckled. “Ah, deuce take it, to think of them imagining such a thing, the devils! Exquisite! Ravishing! Where did you get hold of such a delightful thing?”

After pouring out his ecstasies the lawyer looked timidly towards the door and said: “Only you must carry off your present, my boy.… I can’t take it.…”

“Why?” cried the doctor, disconcerted.

“Why…because my mother is here at times, my clients…besides I should be ashamed for my servants to see it.”

“Nonsense! Nonsense! Don’t you dare to refuse!” said the doctor, gesticulating. “It’s piggish of you! It’s a work of art!… What movement…what expression! I won’t even talk of it! You will offend me!”

“If one could plaster it over or stick on fig-leaves…”

But the doctor gesticulated more violently than before, and dashing out of the flat went home, glad that he had succeeded in getting the present off his hands.

When he had gone away the lawyer examined the candelabra, fingered it all over, and then, like the doctor, racked his brains over the question what to do with the present.

“It’s a fine thing,” he mused, “and it would be a pity to throw it away and improper to keep it. The very best thing would be to make a present of it to someone.… I know what! I’ll take it this evening to Shashkin, the comedian. The rascal is fond of such things, and by the way it is his benefit tonight.”

No sooner said than done. In the evening the candelabra, carefully wrapped up, was duly carried to Shashkin’s. The whole evening the comic actor’s dressing-room was besieged by men coming to admire the present; dressing-room was filled with the hum of enthusiasm and laughter like the neighing of horses. If one of the actresses approached the door and asked: “May I come in?” the comedian’s husky voice was heard at once: “No, no, my dear, I am not dressed!”

After the performance the comedian shrugged his shoulders, flung up his hands and said: “Well what am I to do with the horrid thing? Why, I live in a private flat! Actresses come and see me! It’s not a photograph that you can put in a drawer!”

“You had better sell it, sir,” the hairdresser who was disrobing the actor advised him. “There’s an old woman living about here who buys antique bronzes. Go and enquire for Madame Smirnov…everyone knows her.”

The actor followed his advice.… Two days later the doctor was sitting in his consulting-room, and with his finger to his brow was meditating on the acids of the bile. All at once the door opened and Sasha Smirnov flew into the room. He was smiling, beaming, and his whole figure was radiant with happiness. In his hands he held something wrapped up in newspaper.

“Doctor!” he began breathlessly, “imagine my delight! Happily for you we have succeeded in picking up the pair to your candelabra! Mamma is so happy.… I am the only son of my mother, you saved my life.…”

And Sasha, all of a tremor with gratitude, set the candelabra before the doctor. The doctor opened his mouth, tried to say something, but said nothing: he could not speak.

Is there a moral in this story?

Sometimes things boomerang and what goes around may again come around.

The “gift” (the antique piece candelabra) is a metaphor.

But this effect of things going in circles and coming back to haunt you is especially evident in what you say (communications, spreading rumours, speaking ill of others etc) and what you do (if you do good, then the good will return back to you, maybe via a different route and similarly evil will reap evil).

As is the case with most stories of Anton Chekhov, notice how this story is breathtaking in its simplicity yet so powerful in delivering the message in a most witty manner.

If you want to learn the craft of creative writing, especially the genre of short fiction, the first thing you must do is to read the short stories of Anton Chekhov, see how he succinctly distils real-life experiences and closely observe his storytelling style which makes every story engrossing, unique and meaningful, with the message subtly put across to the reader  .

Do read short stories. And in the literary genre of short fiction, Anton Chekhov is inimitable and unsurpassed.

Happy Reading.

VIKRAM KARVE

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 this story?

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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, IIT (BHU) 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 Karve has taught at a University as a Professor for 15 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram Karve lives in Pune India with his family and muse - his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.

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© vikram karve., all rights reserved.