Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve

Saturday, February 2, 2013

INDIAN DERBY - King of Sport and Sport of Kings

KING OF SPORT and SPORT OF KINGS

A PUNTER WALKS DOWN MEMORY LANE

Tomorrow is the first Sunday of February - the date for the Indian Derby 2013

For many years I did not miss my date with the Indian Derby at the premier Mahalakshmi Race Course in Mumbai

Now, I live in Pune and will have to watch the Derby on TV or live on the internet on Sunday afternoon

(I have given links to the live streaming websites below and if you want to watch the Indian Derby on TV, I think they show it on Ten Sports Channel)

You can watch the Indian Derby Live on the RWITC Link for Live Streaming:

http://www.rwitc.com/liverace.php

Till then, do read this account of my most memorable and exciting Indian Derby - the unforgettable race run in 1980

INDIAN DERBY 1980

My Most Memorable Indian Derby - An Unforgettable Race

A PUNTER WALKS DOWN MEMORY LANE

VIKRAM KARVE

It’s been a long time since I visited the race course to watch horse racing, the King of Sport and the Sport of Kings.

But Derby Day is fast approaching and I am quite excited as to who is going to win the greatest classic of the season at the Mahalakshmi Race Course the Indian Derby on Sunday.

I can never forget that exciting afternoon on my very first day at the races, Sunday the 3^rd of February 1980, when I was so lucky to witness the crème de la crème of horse races in India – The Indian Derby, which is run on the first Sunday of February every year since 1943.

I still have vivid memories of that wonderful afternoon, though 33 years have passed since that delightful Derby day.

I lived in Mumbai then and a number of my colleagues were avid punters, as race-goers are called.

The excitement started on Wednesday when the declarations appeared in the newspapers and the conversations were abuzz with heated discussions as to would win the Indian Derby – Aristocrat or Everynsky?

Well, Aristocrat and Everynsky were both favourites to win the Derby and each had their passionate followers.

But there were other good horses in the fray too, notably a horse called Mohawk.

By Friday the papers, both the newspapers and the race tabloids, were full of predictions, speculations and tips.

Both Aristocrat and Everynsky had top following, but Mohawk too was tipped to win by a few tipsters.

Come Saturday evening and we duly picked up our Cole Race Books from a bookstall at Churchgate and my punter friends were in a frenzy, calculating, computing, what they were going to wager – in the Derby, and in the other races too, at the bookmakers and at the tote, for the jackpot, the treble and the tanala.

The topic of conversation during our Sunday morning walk on the Marine Drive was the Indian Derby, with “expert opinions” being freely aired.

After a hearty brunch of Kheema Pav and Chai at our favourite Stadium Restaurant next to Churchgate Railway Station we took off by local train to Mahalakshmi.

We made it a point to purchase “return tickets” in case we had a bad day!

Almost everyone got off at Mahalakshmi and the atmosphere in the race course was electrifying.

The air was festive, like a carnival, with there were so many two-legged birds in the most fashionable dresses and exotic hats that I wondered whether I should focus on the horses or the beauties.

To a novice like me the whole process was mind-boggling.

First to see the horses parade in the paddock.

Then rush to the bookmakers ring, which was surcharged with excitement.

You had to look at the odds, look at your own calculations in your Cole, listen to tips, run once more to the paddock to see the jockeys mount and the horses being led off to the starting dates.

And then you rushed back to the bookmakers betting ring to place your bet.

After that you ran up to get a good seat in the stands to watch the Indian Derby Race.

For me it was fun to watch this spectacle because I was only placing modest bets of five and ten rupees on the tote.

I had decided to just place one bet in the Indian Derby race of a hundred rupees for a win at the bookmakers, though I had not decided on the horse yet.

It was going to be either Aristocrat or Everynsky, whoever offered better odds.

Just before the Indian Derby, as I watched the horses parade in the paddock.

I felt a premonition, a hunch, and following my sixth sense, I placed my win bet on Mohawk.

Most of my punter friends were betting heavily on Everynsky (it seems they had got a last minute “tip”).

But some die-hards were backing Aristocrat.

Aristocrat and Everynsky were the two were the favourites to win, but there was a frenzy of betting on other horses too, especially Mohawk, as the odds fluctuated wildly.

In the betting ring I observed a pretty young lady observing me as I placed my bet and suddenly she asked me, “Who do you like?”

I was about to say “I like You” but I controlled myself and true to racing form I said “I like Mohawk” so the pretty young lady placed her bet on Mohawk too, like I had done.

It was a fantastic race.

All eyes were on Aristocrat, Jagdish astride, who had a stable-mate as pacemaker, and I think it was the famous Vasant Shinde who was riding Everynsky, but Wally Swinburn magnificently steered Mohawk to fantastic victory.

This result caused a stunning upset.

Mohawk had won the race from a fast finishing Everynsky with Aristocrat left far behind out of the reckoning.

My punter colleagues, most of whom had backed Everynsky and a few who had put their money on Aristocrat, were quite dejected.

When they realized that I had bet on Mohawk, they were quite surprised at my good fortune.

As I went to collect my win dividends, I noticed the pretty young girl looking at me and smiling with joy as if we shared some secret.

She was delighted that she had outwitted her dad, a dyed-in-the-wool punter, who had bet on Aristocrat.

She said bye and walked towards the members’ enclosure.

But before she walked away she hoped that I would be coming to races next Sunday and looked forward to some “expert” tips from me.

And that was the beginning of a long and lovely friendship for I was punctually present at the Mahalaxmi Race Course in Mumbai on every Sunday afternoon for the rest of the racing season.

Do you want to know what happened to our beautiful “punters’ romance” – well, that’s another story.

Soon I would have to move out of Mumbai, but whenever I was in Mumbai, I never missed the Indian Derby or any of the other classics.

I have enjoyed the races at the magnificent race course at Kolkata, where lady luck favoured me greatly, at Bangalore, where too I was quite lucky, and at Mysore, the most picturesque race course nestling under the Chamundi Hills, at Ooty, and, of course, at the cute little race course at Pune, my home town.

I witnessed many memorable derby races, at Mumbai and elsewhere, but the most extraordinary Indian Derby I remember was in 2003 when a relatively unknown horse called Noble Eagle who was supposed to be a pacemaker flew off from the starting gates, kept galloping at top speed and won the race start to finish causing the biggest upset ever in the Indian Derby.

Guess what – believe it or not.

The same pretty young lady, who had now metamorphosed into a beautiful woman, thanked me once again for the “tip” and this time her winnings were quite substantial.

I wonder why I liked Noble Eagle.

I looked at the horses parading in the paddock and while they were being led off to the starter gates.

Suddenly it was my sixth sense that made me wager a “place” bet on Noble Eagle.

My beautiful friend, the same pretty young lady - she seemed to have more confidence in me that I myself had in my own punting skills.

She had placed a “win” bet on Noble Eagle at excellent odds and she made a small fortune.

I wish I had been more daring like her.

But sixth sense doesn’t always work, so it is better to follow the conventional way:

1. Study the Cole Race Book and Racing Columns in Newspapers and on the Internet

2. Do your homework

3. Listen to tips and advice

4. Have a look at the horses in the paddock parade

5. Observe the goings-on in the betting rings, especially the movement of the odds

6. Watch the “big guns” and their betting patterns

7. Then make your own judgement and place your bet

That, in a nutshell, is the art of punting.

I used to love going to the races.

There is so much to enjoy – the thrill of punting, the air of excitement, the festive atmosphere, the strong, swift and handsome horses, the beautiful people in their Sunday best and the delicious snacks in between the races.

Is there a reason why you should go for the races?

A quote from my favourite philosophical book The Importance of Living by Lin Yutang probably says it all:

“ If you can spend a perfectly useless afternoon in a perfectly useless manner, you have learned how to live ”

Are you watching The Indian Derby on Sunday afternoon ?

Tell me - who do you think will win the Indian Derby 2013 ?

Come on give us a tip.

Happy Punting!

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.

Did you like this story?

I am sure you will like the 27 short stories from my recently published anthology of Short Fiction COCKTAIL
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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.

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DO YOU WANT A YOUNGER WIFE

DO YOU WANT A YOUNGER WIFE

A Fairy Tale

Retold By

VIKRAM KARVE

Do you wish your wife was younger and more youthful?

So, you want a young wife (or maybe a younger and more youthful husband)?

Then here is a “fairy tale” for you to read:

A married couple in their sixties was celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary in a quiet romantic corner of a restaurant.

(The husband was 65 and the wife was 62 years old)

Suddenly, a beautiful Fairy appeared on their table.

The Fairy said: “You have been such an ideal married couple and you both still love each other so much. I am so happy with you that I have decided to grant you both one wish each.”

The wife asked the fairy her wish: “I want to travel around the world with my darling husband.”

The fairy waved her magic wand and two tickets for a world cruise appeared in her hands.

The fairy then looked at the husband and asked him what was his wish.

The husband thought for a moment and asked the fairy his wish: “My wish is to have a wife 30 years younger than me.”

The wife and the fairy were deeply disappointed.

But then a wish is a wish.

So the fairy waved her magic wand and suddenly the wife became 30 years younger than her husband.

But do you know how the wife became 30 years younger than her husband?

It was because the fairy made the husband become 27 years older.

Yes, from 65 years of age the husband became 92 years old and his wife who was 62 now was 30 years younger than him.

Did you like this fairy tale?

Have a nice weekend with your wife (or husband).

Friday, February 1, 2013

A LOVE STORY - THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE

THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE

My Very Own Love Story

VIKRAM KARVE

Long back, maybe five years ago, I started writing a short story.

I named the story THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE .

I don't know why, but I left this story unfinished.

A few moments ago, while browsing around, I suddenly discovered this unfinished love story and wondered why I did not complete this love story.

So I am going to finish this love story and give it a nice happy feel good ending.

I will do that during this weekend.

Meanwhile, here is my unfinished love story, exactly as I wrote it long back, for you to read

THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE

Part 1

Do you remember the happiest day of your life…?

I do.

Here’s how it began.

“Excuse me,” a feminine voice said from behind me.

I turned around.

“Mr. Avinash…?” she asked.

I stared blankly at the smart young woman, tongue-tied.

“I’m Sheetal…” she said with a lovely smile.

“Oh, Hi…” I stammered, quickly gathering my wits.

I looked at her.

Avinash had been terribly wrong.

This was no plump and podgy pedestrian suburban unpretentious behenji.

She was a real beauty, chic, smart, a stunner, and I could not take my eyes off her.

Her eyes were extremely beautiful – enormous, dark, expressive eyes.

Suddenly her eyes began to dance.

She must have seen the frank look of genuine admiration in my eyes.

And she gave me smile so captivating that I experienced a delightful twinge in my heart.

“You are Mr. Avinash, aren’t you…?” she asked mischievously.

“Yes…” I lied, “How did you recognize me…?”

“You were the only person looking lost and out of place out here…the odd man out…” she laughed vivaciously.

“Oh…” I said unconsciously, mesmerized by her gorgeousness, and by instinct, and almost against my will, I let my eyes linger, travel all over her exquisite body.

“Hey…are you going to stare at me all day or should we grab a bite…I am hungry…” she said playfully.

“Yes…yes…” I said.

“Okay…come…let’s go to Samovar…we can talk there in peace too…” she said, and led me from the art gallery to the restaurant in the veranda.

Thus began the happiest day of my life.

Dear Reader, please permit me to tell you a little bit about how it all started.

And to tell you this story I am going to transport you backwards into the past.

Yes, we are going more than 30 years back in time, to the late 1970s, when Pune was a Pensioners’ Paradise.

Yes, my Dear Reader, Pune, the Queen of the Deccan, in the 1960s and 1970s, with its lovely climate, pure fresh air, lush green environs, salubrious, spacious and friendly laid back atmosphere, was indeed a “paradise” – Pune was indeed the best city to live in.

Imagine a Pune without Malls and the Multiplexes, with hardly any traffic on the roads, when the bicycle was the popular mode of travel.

The nearest “city” was Mumbai and the best way of getting there was by the railways, by charming trains like the Deccan Queen, enjoying the scenic beauty of the lush green Sahayadri Ghats while savouring the delicious breakfast served by the restaurant car, since there was no expressway and it sometimes took six hours to drive down the old Poona Bombay Road as the road through the Khandala Ghats was quite treacherous.

Just imagine – there were no mobile cell-phones, no internet, no PCs, no STD (one had to book trunk-calls and wait for hours for the call to materialise or else make expensive "lightening" calls).

Black and White Television had just arrived.

TV was a novelty which very few people possessed.

So everyone in the neighborhood barged into the homes of those who had TV to see popular programmes like chitrahaar, chayyageet, or a cricket match.

The main thing was that there was no internet, and hence there was no email.

So, one had to write letters and put them in a red post box to send them via post as there were no courier services either.

And of course, social interaction was face to face, relishing yummy bhel in the numerous picturesque parks, or over tea, in the Amruttulayas, Irani cafes and Kattas, as there was no Facebook no Google, no Chatting, no Blogging, no cell phones, no blackberry, no SMS, no MMS, no twitter, nothing.

As I said, way back then, the concepts of “cyberspace” and virtual world and mobile phones just did not exist.

Only the real world existed.

Those days, a B. Tech. from an IIT did not get you a huge pay packet – yes, a degree from an IIT did ensure that you got a good job, but once you were in the job you were on par with the other guys from various Engineering Colleges.

Yes, only boys did engineering then, maybe there were a few girls, the rare exceptions, but I hardly met any of those rare engineering graduate girls pursuing a career as an engineer, maybe most of them got married, or shifted to softer professions.

My IIT Classmate Avinash and I joined a premier engineering company located in the suburbs of Pune.

Well that was the trend at IITs those days – either you went abroad, to America, to pursue higher studies, or got a good job in the campus interview in a prestigious engineering firm, unless you were one of those few who preferred to be a white-collared manager via the MBA route.

Way back then there were hardly any management institutes.

You either joined the solitary IIM at Ahmedabad or you did your MBA from FMS at Delhi or Jamnalal Bajaj at Mumbai.

The majority of engineers studied engineering to practice engineering.

So we were quite happy to hit the shop floor doing hard core engineering.

We worked hard, for six days a week including Sundays, and had our off day on Thursdays – the industrial holiday.

We rented a house near Deccan Gymkhana from where we commuted to work and back by the company bus.

Life was good.

It was easy to be happy.

Our threshold of happiness was so low that small things made us happy.

Yes, simple things like a relaxed chat over a cup of tea made you happy.

I can never forget those happy moments.

Yes, every evening after work, we would get down from the bus, relax over a Bun Maska and Chai at Café Good Luck or Lucky Restaurant, and then walk down to our place on Bhandarkar Road nearby.

One of our most enjoyable highlights was our weekly Thursday visit to Pune Camp – to see the latest Hollywood Movie in royal style relaxing on those unique easy chairs at the inimitable West End Cinema, relishing tasty mouth-watering bites and soothing thirst-quenching sips at the Soda Fountain during the interval, followed by delectable Mutton Samosas, Bun Maska and refreshing Irani style Chai at Naaz, then a leisurely stroll on Main Street (MG Road) and East Street, window-shopping, bird-watching and snacking, sandwiches and cold coffee at Marz-o-rin, maybe a browse at Manney’s bookstore, and then a hearty Chinese meal of Fried Rice and Chop Suey at Kamling or Chung Fa, or a Mughlai repast at Latif, or Punjabi Food at Kwality, Biryani at Dorabjee or George, or Sizzlers at The Place (arguably the first Sizzler Place in India) next to Manney’s.

And at the end we enjoyed a Meetha Masala Pan at George to carry home the lingering flavour and fragrance of the delightful evening.

When there are two close friends, one assumes the role of a leader and the other a follower.

Amongst the two of us, Avinash, a tall, strapping, confident, flamboyant, handsome man endowed with an excellent physique with a dominating personality, was the natural leader.

“Shekhar,” Avinash said to me one Wednesday evening while we were sipping chai at Good Luck cafe in Deccan, “Please Shekhar…I want you to do me a favour…”

“What…”? I asked.

“Go down to Mumbai tomorrow and see a girl in my place…” he said.

"See a girl...?" I looked at him, confused.

“It’s like this yaar…there is some behenji type girl from my place my parents want me to see…she is working in Mumbai…I am least interested… so you go and see her and come back…and I’ll tell my parents I didn’t like her…” he said.

“But why don’t you go and meet her…?” I asked.

“Listen yaar…I’ve managed to patao a solid cheez… I met her during that management seminar I had gone for last week…” he said.

“But you didn’t tell me…” I said.

“Arre Bhai…kuch hone to do…but uske liye you’ll have to help me out…I’ve fixed up a solid date with her tomorrow taking her for a drive on my bike around Lonavala and Khandala…we planned it during the seminar…and suddenly my mom rang up in the office this morning... please yaarShekhar …just go to Mumbai tomorrow and see the girl…” Avinash said.

“But how…?” I protested.

“I have already booked your ticket both ways by Deccan Queen…just go in the morning and come back in the evening…this back-home-type is called Sheetal and she will meet you in the Jehangir Art Gallery at eleven…”

“But how can I masquerade as you…she must be having your photo…I’ll get caught…” I said.

“There is no photo, nothing…she doesn’t know how I look like and I don’t know how she looks like...it all happened so suddenly…just our parents got talking back home last evening and my mother rang up this morning to go and see the girl tomorrow as the girl is going back to her hometown in the mofussil near our place by tomorrow evening’s train…” he said.

“No…No…I am not going…the whole thing is preposterous…I can’t do this…” I protested.

“Yaar please…don’t ditch me…I have already sent her a telegram to meet at 11 AM in Jehangir Art Gallery…” he said.

“I don’t understand all this…” I said.

“My mother said her office is in Kalaghoda…so this is the nearest and best place…there in Mumbai they work on Thursdays… only we here in Pune have industrial off on Thursdays…so they fixed up tomorrow…as she has to leave for her place in the evening on holiday…don’t argue…just get it over with…after you come back I’ll ring up my mom tomorrow evening and tell her I didn’t like the girl and the whole thing is a closed chapter…” Avinash said.

Then he put his arm around my shoulder and pleaded, “Please Shekhar...I have to go for this Lonavala date...it's a solid opportunity...I promise you Shekhar... agar woh pat gayee...if things work out and my Lonavala romance succeeds... I’ll give you a big treat…”

So, for the sake of friendship, early next morning I boarded the Deccan Queen to Mumbai masquerading as Avinash for my rendezvous with Sheetal ...

To be continued in Part 2 of THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE

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.

Did you like this story?

COCKTAIL ebook

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve

Saturday, February 2, 2013

INDIAN DERBY - King of Sport and Sport of Kings

DO YOU WANT A YOUNGER WIFE

Friday, February 1, 2013

A LOVE STORY - THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE

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