Are You a Married Bachelor ?

ARE YOU A “MARRIED” BACHELOR ?

My “darling” wife has gone to her mother’s place for the weekend.

So – I am “Married Yet Single” – at least for the weekend.

This “Married Bachelor” Status reminded me of this story from my Navy Days...

“BACHELOR BOY” 

Story of The “Much Married” Bachelor

A Spoof

By

VIKRAM KARVE

If you go to a Defence Officers Mess (or Navy Wardroom) you will find two types of “single” officers:

1. Unmarried Bachelors

2. Married Bachelors

Again – “Married Bachelors” are of two types:

1. “Permanent” Married Bachelors – “in living” officers who are married but are staying away from their wives for some reason like wife’s career, children’s education, marital discord etc – and reside as “single” officers in the Mess.

2. “Temporary” Married Bachelors – married officers who temporarily dine in the Mess because their wives have gone on a vacation or for confinement/delivery of a baby or some ‘back-home-type’ family occasion/commitment.

But – I once met a third type of “married bachelor”.

Yes – the story I am going to tell you is about a rather curious married bachelor I met long back in the Navy.

Let us call him “X”.

This anecdote happened more than 36 years ago – when I was a carefree unmarried bachelor – and I lived in a wonderful officers’ mess with some delightful messmates – most of whom were also “unmarried bachelors” like me.

Now “X” was quite senior to us – and “X” was very much married.

Though “X” was married – he spent every evening with us unmarried bachelors in the officers’ mess.

“X” would arrive in the mess punctually at 7 o’clock in the evening.

He would play billiards with us – then come to the bar and drink with us till closing time – late into the night.

After enjoying the entire evening with us at the officers’ mess – “X” would go home to his wife – almost at midnight.

This was his routine every evening.

We felt sad for his wife.

We felt pity for her – because of the terrible shoddy manner in which her “misogynist” husband “X” treated her.

“X” took his docile wife for granted.

He went out every night to have a good time with the “boys” – while his hapless wife had to spend her lonely evenings at home.

Every evening his devoted wife would dutifully wait for her husband “X” to come back around midnight to have dinner.

This routine went on for months.

Then – suddenly – without any warning – one evening – our friend “X” did not turn up at officers’ mess.

We thought he was probably unwell.

But when he did not come to officers’ mess for three successive evenings – we decided to go to his house and see if things were okay.

When we reached his home – we were taken aback to see “X” sitting all alone in the darkness.

In his hand “X” was nursing a drink – which he did not seem to be enjoying.

“X” seemed to be in a state of melancholy.

We were puzzled by his strange behaviour and we asked “X” what the matter with him was.

We asked him why he had not come to the officers’ mess in the evenings as usual for the past three days.

“X” simply said that his wife had gone to her mother’s place for a few days and he was feeling lonely and miserable.

It was evident that “X” was badly missing his wife.

“If you are feeling lonely and miserable because your wife has gone away – that is all the more reason you should come to the officers’ mess,” we said.

We asked “X” to come with us to the mess and cheer up.

We told him that since he was feeling lonely – spending some time in our company enjoying a few drinks would surely raise his spirits- and this would help him forget his loneliness and cheer him up.

Surprisingly, “X” refused to come to the officers’ mess with us.

“X” sullenly told us that he was not in the mood – and that he wanted to be left alone.

So – we left him alone – to ‘mope and grope’, ‘moan and groan’ and wallow in his loneliness.

For many days – “X” did not come to the officers’ mess.

Then – suddenly – one evening – we found “X” entering the mess promptly at 7 o’clock in the evening.

There was a spring in his step and “X” seemed to be full of good cheer.

“My wife has come back,” he said happily.

“X” looked delighted and was full of good cheer – it was evident that he was very happy that his wife had returned back to him.

And then – like earlier days – “X” thoroughly enjoyed the evening with us in the officers mess – and he staggered back home happily drunk at midnight.

For “X” – it was back to the good old days.

Every evening – the happily married bachelor “X” would arrive at the officers’ mess punctually at 7 PM – and spend his time with us unmarried bachelors – enjoying himself thoroughly till midnight – and then – swaying in high spirits – he would go back home to his beloved wife.

Strange but true – the moment his wife returned – “X” was back to his old “married bachelor” ways – and every evening – punctually at 7 PM – he was seen in the evening at the mess – enjoying himself thoroughly till midnight.

We were puzzled by his strange behaviour.

When his wife was present – “X” seemed to be bored of his married life – so he left his wife behind at home – and he went out to the officers’ mess to enjoy a good time with the “boys”.

But when his wife went away – “X” was filled with misery and despair – and he spent his time brooding alone at home in lonely melancholy – longing for his wife to come back.

And the moment his wife returned back to him – “X” was back to his old ways – leaving his wife all alone at home – while he went off to enjoy his evening at the club with us bachelor boys. 

MARRIAGE IS A MYSTERY

At that time – I never understood this amusing paradox of his marital relationship.

When his wife was away – he stayed at home.

And – when his wife was at home – he spend his evenings outside – leaving his wife all alone at home.

But – when I got married – and – over the years – as I became “much married” – I slowly began to fathom such inexplicable mysteries in marriage relationships.

That is why – even after almost 34 years of married life – I still feel that marriage is a mystery – and every marital relationship is unique in its own way.

So on these weekend evenings – when my wife is gone away to her mother’s place for a few days – you will find me sitting at home all alone – gloomy – feeling “sad” – missing my wife – ‘moping and groping’ – in lonely melancholy – yearning for my darling wife.

And – the moment my wife comes back – I will be so filled with happiness – that – I will immediately wear my walking shoes – and – with a smile on my lips – and a spring in my step – I will step out for an enjoyable walk all by myself – leaving my darling wife all alone to ‘hold the fort’ at home. 

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 
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Disclaimer:

1. This story is a 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. 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.

 

This is a revised updated version of my story written by me Vikram Karve in the year 2010 and earlier posted online by me in my Academic and Creative Writing Journal Blog on Tuesday, August 13, 2013 - Posted by Vikram Karve at 8/13/2013 11:51:00 AM at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2013/08/the-misogynist-husband-and-mystery-of.html and re-posted at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/03/humor-in-uniform-bachelor-boy-story-of.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/07/the-much-married-bachelor.html 

Blog Fiction Story No. 14 - LOVE ENTRAPMENT

Blog Fiction Story No. 14

LOVE ENTRAPMENT

THE LOVE TRAP
Short Fiction - An Intriguing Romance
By
VIKRAM KARVE

From my Creative Writing Archives:
I wrote this piece of short fiction around 3 years ago, in the year 2010.
I remember that I wrote this love story in one sitting. 
Do tell me if you like it.

I look at myself in the full-length mirror.

I like what I see.

Yes. I am beautiful. Very beautiful. I am very, very beautiful indeed! No doubt about it. I always was a great beauty. 

They say that a beautiful woman often has a tragic life.

Does tragedy always come from being a great beauty?

I don’t know whether this is universally true, but certainly, I have had a very tragic life. But I will not tell you too much about it right now and spoil my mood.  

Now I will look into the mirror and admire myself, my exquisite body.

Not many women close to forty can stand in front of a mirror with so much pride and assurance. A woman in full bloom. I admire my perfect body; almost fall in love with my own body. Like Narcissus.

Suddenly I experience a tremor of anxiety as I see the first signs of the process of ageing. Infinitesimal. Almost indiscernible. But indisputable.

Two minute furrows on my forehead, the slight coarsening of the skin below the eyes, the almost unnoticeable heaviness of the abdomen with its suggestion of fold….

I can easily cover them up. With make-up. And the right dress. But for how long can I wear a mask?

Time is running out for me. Sameer could be my last chance. I’m already regretting that I had put the matter so lightly the last time we had met, and before that. Tonight is my probably my last chance. I have to go in for the kill.

Love Trap. 

What a phrase to use!

But that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I am going to ensnare Sameer in my Love Trap and move in for the kill. Like a predator.

For the first time in my life I would use my beauty to my advantage, not to be taken advantage of – like it happened all these years.

I was just 19, a fresh graduate wondering what to do in life, when my elder sister Nisha died in childbirth, leaving behind a newborn girl and a young heartbroken husband, Ashok.

We, my mother and I, went to stay with Ashok in Mumbai to nurse the baby girl and after a few months we named her Smita – as she was a cheerful smiling baby.

From time to time, especially on weekends, my father, who was still working at that time, would come over from Pune, and I could see that he was getting quite irritable having to stay separated from his long-married wife though he didn’t say it in so many words.

One day Ashok proposed to me. Actually he asked my mother for my hand in marriage.

My mother was overjoyed. She put lovingly her hand on my arm, looked into my eyes and said, “Ashok loves you and wants to marry you. He’s still young, only 27. He needs a wife. And Smita needs a mother.”

“Yes, Smita needs a mother,” I said, tightly holding the baby wondering what would happen to the hapless baby if Ashok remarried someone else, who would be a stepmother to Smita and maybe she may have antagonistic feelings towards her.

My mother spoke to my father. He agreed. To him it seemed quite a logical thing to do and maybe he was relieved that his much-married wife would be coming back to live with him.

So I got married to Ashok and I put on hold all my immediate dreams of higher studies and a career.

How should I describe my marriage?

No expectations, no disappointments, no role-ambiguity, a cordial relationship, a happy family, a blissful marriage – at least from the outside.

Children? Our children, i.e. Ashok’s and mine. It just didn’t happen. With Nisha’s death, a little something in him had died. He must have loved her very much, intensely.

I accepted the situation with grace and tried to focus on being a good wife and a doting mother. As Smita grew older, Ashok encouraged me to study, do an MBA, and start a career.

Ashok was married to his job. Things were fine, till one evening Ashok came home and broke the news that he had been passed over for promotion.

Ashok was shattered. He had worked sincerely, slogged hard, and given his life for his career. He had remained loyal to his company without getting loyalty in return. 

He felt terribly betrayed. 

For Ashok, after Nisha had gone, his career meant everything, and he just couldn't take it, being sidelined in his career, having to work under his erstwhile juniors.

He just could not cope with this setback, so he tried to find solace in alcohol.

Within months he slipped into the abyss of alcoholism.

From a workaholic he became an alcoholic.

Day by day he became more and more bitter and cynical.

And then one day my world disintegrated.

Ashok died in a car accident, driving home drunk.

I wish he had died in some better way.

So after eight years of marriage I found myself at the age of 27 with an 8 year old Smita, the light of my life. I was single, but not helpless as I was doing quite well in my career as a bank executive.

And now, Smita is 20, already working in my bank, and doing her MBA in the evenings. She is earning while she is learning, and I am so proud of her.

And then I fell in love, for the first time in my life. 

Let me tell you about it.

I still remember the day Sameer breezed into my office announcing that he would be working with me. “Hi, Nalini, I am Sameer, your new Deputy,” he announced superciliously, sitting down and lighting a cigarette.

“Put off that cigarette!” I shouted, “And don’t you dare come into my office unless I call you.

“Hey, Sweetie, you look red hot sexy when you are angry. My wife is going to be real jealous when I tell her how stunning my boss is,” he laughed mischievously.

“She won’t, when you tell her that your boss is a thirty five year old widow with college going daughter,” I retorted in anger and stormed out of my office to protest against his appointment for which I had not been consulted.

“Sameer is a genius,” my boss said, “the directors head-hunted him and managed to lure him over from our biggest rival with great difficulty. He’s going to rejuvenate your department…”

I got the message. This new man was a threat, and if I wasn’t careful it wouldn’t be surprising if he leap-frogged over me or even ease me out.

“I am sorry Ma’am, I didn’t know the culture was so formal out here,” Sameer was contrite when I returned, “I’ll maintain decorum in future.”

“It’s okay,” I said, and began to tell him about our work.

Sameer was extremely intelligent, knowledgeable, supportive, open, sincere, affable and great to work with, but initially I kept my distance, treated him with forced geniality, tinged with wariness.

Gradually I got to know more about him, his personal life.

We became close friends only during his painful divorce, the seeds of which seemed to have been sown much earlier and maybe that was the reason why he had relocated to Mumbai, to separate from his wife who stayed on in Delhi. 

During those depressing days I often lent him my shoulder to cry on.

It was inevitable that we fell in love. 

We were lonely buddies with a thirst for life, soul-mates, attracted to each other, office-spouses who now needed to become real spouses.

Normally a man is supposed to make the first move, and I waited for Sameer to propose, but maybe he was shy, being seven years my junior. 

But I had waited long enough.

Maybe he too had waited long enough.

And, I shuddered to think - suppose I lost him - Oh My God - it would be so terrible - I was already thirty nine - Sameer was my last chance - he was my only love.

Soon my daughter Smita would get married and go away too and I would be all alone.

I did not want to live the rest of my life like a loveless lonely maid, a forlorn spinster with nothing to look forward to on life.

Yes, time was running out for me. Sameer was my last chance. I had to act fast. Yes, I had to do talk to him today.  

I looked at the wall-clock.

7:30. 

Sameer would he here any time now to take me out for dinner.

Normally we take Smita out with us too, but tonight I had insisted that only the two of us, Sameer and me, would go, and surprisingly Smita did not protest.

I put on the final touches of make-up, then generously dabbed on my favourite perfume.

The door-bell rang. 

“Mummy, Sameer is here,” I heard Smita yelling.

I gave myself a final look in the mirror. I looked really gorgeous. Yes, I looked truly stunning, dressed to kill. I couldn’t have titivated better than this.

“Wow!” Smita said with delightful surprise in her eyes, “You look dashing!”

Sameer looked at me mesmerized. I could see that he was attracted to me.

He desperately tried to stop his eyes from roaming all over my body, especially to those places where it would be considered naughty.

“Hey, what’s with you two? Aren’t you going to go out fast and let me enjoy my TV and popcorn?” Smita teased.

Soon we were driving on Marine Drive towards our favourite restaurant, the best place for an unhurried romantic dinner.

“It’s a beautiful evening. Let’s sit by the sea,” Sameer said spontaneously, slowing down the car.

“I’d love to,” I said.

We sat close to each other on the parapet, facing the placid waters of the Arabian Sea, the lights of the ships in the distance, the twinkling stars in the clear sky above us, the sea breeze blowing in our faces, pure and refreshing.

“I want to say something…” Sameer hesitated.

“Say it!” I urged him.

“I wanted to ask…” he faltered.

“Ask. Please ask me,” I beseeched him.

Sameer looked at me, into my eyes, and said, “I want ask your permission to marry Smita. We love each other. We want to get married. I told her to tell you but Smita said I must ask you. She’ll do as you say…I promise I’ll keep her happy…”

Sameer kept on speaking.

I could see his lips moving but I could not hear his words. 

I kept staring at him, my mind blank, as if I was a living corpse, a Zombie.

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2013

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 and blogger. 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 an anthology of short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and 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  and academic research papers in journals and edited in-house journals and magazines for many years, before the advent of blogging. Vikram 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 and blogging. Vikram Karve 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
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Email: vikramwamankarve@gmail.com

      

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