Sunday, May 21, 2023

Short Fiction Story : Parenting

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Short Fiction

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PARENTING

Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

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PART 1 

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She comes out of the College Principal’s Office – she goes to her best friend’s room – and – she tells her friend the exciting news.

“It’s a chance of a lifetime – don’t refuse…” her friend says.

“But – what about my daughter – I can’t take her with me…?” she says.

“Your daughter Nisha – she can stay at your husband’s place…” her friend says.

“My husband’s place…? Why should Nisha stay at my husband’s place…?” she says – taken aback by her friend’s suggestion.

“Where else can she stay for 6 months…? There is no place in the hostel – there is a huge waiting list – and – I don’t think she can manage living all alone in your flat – besides  - it may not be safe for a young girl to live all alone too – you know how the environment is nowadays…” her friend says, “I would have kept her with me – but I live in a huge joint family – you know my situation – so – I think keeping Nisha with your husband seems the only option…”

“But – will my husband look after her for six months…?” she says – looking skeptical.

“Why not…? He is her father…” her friend says.

“But – he doesn’t know anything about her – he hasn’t met Nisha for 5 years…” she says.

“That’s because you didn’t allow him to meet her – your husband has visitation rights – but you told him that you didn’t want him to meet your daughter…” her friend says, “I am surprised how he agreed…?”

“That’s because I gave up everything – no alimony – no maintenance – no child support – I didn’t take a single rupee from him – not even my share in the house – nothing – absolutely nothing – when I walked out – I took nothing from him – I just wanted my daughter for myself – that’s all…” she said.

“It must have been painful for him – for a father to be separated from his daughter who he loved so much…” her friend says, “anyway – forget about the past – you call him and ask him…”

“Right now…? You want me to call him right now…?” she says to her friend – feeling a bit uneasy.

“You told me that the Principal wants your consent by closing hours today – so – it is better you call your husband immediately and settle your daughter’s issue…” her friend says, “you have your husband’s number – don’t you…?”

“I don’t know…” she says.

“What…? You don’t know…? Don’t you ever call your husband…?” her friend says.

“I called him around 3 years ago regarding some banking issue – I haven’t spoken to him after that…” she says.

“Look in your contacts…” her friend says, “otherwise – we can find out from somewhere…”

She looks in her contact list on her smartphone – and – she finds her husband’s number.

“It’s there – should I call him now…?” she asks her friend.

“Yes – call him right now – if you want – I’ll leave you alone…” her friend says.

“No. No. I want you to stay here…” she says – and – she calls her husband.

She hears her husband’s voice on the phone.

“Is everything okay…?” her husband asks her – he is surprised that she has suddenly called him out of the blue – and that too – after 3 years.

“Yes – all is well – how are you…?” she asks her husband.

“I am fine…” her husband says, “is there anything I can do for you…?”

“Actually – yes – I called you because I wanted your help…” she says to her husband.

“You want my help…? How much…? I will transfer it today – is it the same account…?” her husband asks.

“No. No…” she interrupts her husband, “I don’t want your money – I want to you to look after Nisha…”

“You want me to look after Nisha…?” her husband says, surprised and a bit confused.

“Yes – can you keep her with you for 6 months…?” she says to her husband.

“Six Months…?” her husband says, flabbergasted.

Her husband is baffled – because – when they split – she didn’t want him to meet their daughter – she said that she didn’t want their daughter to come under his influence – he had meekly accepted – after “hints” and “subtle threats” were given to him by her lawyer – so – for 5 years – he had not met his daughter Nisha – and now – she wanted him to look after Nisha for 6 months – it is all very confusing to him.

His thoughts are interrupted by his wife’s voice.

“I have been selected for a “Faculty Exchange Program” – I am going to New Zealand to teach at a prestigious university over there for one semester – I can’t take Nisha with me – besides – she can’t miss her college for 6 months – so – I thought it was best if she could stay with you…” she says.

“Can’t you make some other arrangements…? Maybe – in a hostel – or – you can hire a full-time maid…” he says.

“There is no time for all that – there is no place in the hostel – and – I don’t want her living all alone in the flat – it’s not safe – Nisha is still a teenager – she’s just 19 – please let her stay with you – after all – you are her father…” she says.

“Okay…” he says, “let me ask Monika…”

“Monika…? Who is Monika…?” she asks – surprised.

“She has moved in with me – we are living together…” he says.

“A woman has moved in with you…? Living together…? I didn’t know all this…” she says in a scandalized tone.

“You haven’t spoken to me for 3 years – you are happy with your career and life – you have moved on in life – and you don’t seem to be interested in us getting back together – well – I have to move on in life too – isn’t it…?” he says.

She remains silent – trying to digest the fact that her husband is living with another woman.

Then – she remembers her urgency – she has to confirm her consent to the Principal before closing time today – she has a just few hours.

So – she pleads with her husband.

“About Nisha staying with you – please tell me as quickly as possible – I will wait for your call – I have to give my consent immediately – before closing hours today – and please say “Yes” and let Nisha stay with you for 6 months – this is a life changing career opportunity for me…” she says – with desperation in her voice, “if you want – I can come there and speak to Monika – there is very little time – I am in a hurry – I have to tell the Principal today itself…”

Her husband senses her desperation.

So – he decides to say “Yes”.

“Okay – yes – Nisha can stay with us for 6 months – you can give your consent right now to your College Principal…” he says.

“But – you were going to ask Monika…?” she says – a bit wary.

“I don’t want to disturb her at work – but – you don’t worry about all that – I’ll tell her in the evening – Nisha can stay with us…” he says.

“Thank you so much…” she says to her husband – she says – feeling relieved.

Then – she hears her husband’s voice on the phone.

“I hope Nisha has no issues staying over here…” he says.

“No. No. I will convince her – she has no choice – Nisha will stay with you – she is a good girl – she will behave herself – she will be no trouble at all…” she says.

“You go ahead and give your consent – and – let me know when you are going to New Zealand…” he says.

“Yes. Yes. I will go right now to the Principal and give my consent – I think I’ll have to leave next week – they said they would fast track the visa etc. – I will call you once my travel plans are finalized…” she says.

“Keep me updated…” he says.

“Yes – and – thank you so much…” she says.

“It’s okay – she is my daughter too…” he says.

After the call is disconnected – she puts the smartphone on the table – and – she smiles at her friend.

“He agreed…” she says to her friend.

“I heard…” her friend says.

“There is a woman who has moved in with him – some Monika…” she says to her friend.

“I heard…” her friend says.

“I’ll go to the Principal’s Office and give my consent…” she says.

“Aren’t you going to tell Nisha…?” her friend asks.

“I’ll tell her later…” she says.

“I think it’s better you tell her now before you give your consent – you never know how teenagers will react…” her friend says.

“Okay – I’ll speak to her at lunchtime…” she says.

“No. You better speak to Nisha right now. I will bring her from the classroom. You sit here and rehearse what you are going to say to her…” her friend says.

Ten minutes later – her friend arrives with Nisha.

“Congratulations…” her daughter Nisha says to her – and she hugs her lovingly.

“You told her…?” she questions her friend.

“Yes – and – I told her about the other thing too…” her friend says.

“Don’t worry, Mamma – I will stay with Papa…” Nisha says to her.

She feels relieved.

She thought it would be so difficult to convince Nisha to stay at her father’s place – especially as he has a new partner now.

But – Nisha seems to have agreed so easily.

She wonders how her friend managed to convince Nisha so easily.

She feels grateful to her friend.

Then – she wishes she could have told her daughter herself.

While she is experiencing these conflicting emotions – she hears her friend’s voice.

“Come on – go to the Principal’s Office and give your consent – then – there will have to do the paperwork for your visa etc.

________

In the evening – her husband and Monika come to her flat.

She looks at her husband’s live-in partner Monika.

Monika looks ordinary – very ordinary – a podgy unpretentious looking homely woman – in short – she is a “Plain Jane”.

She feels disappointed – her husband could have chosen someone much better than this pedestrian woman.

The woman smiles at her – and speaks very politely.

She wonders if it is genuine or just fake courtesy.

Her thoughts are interrupted by her husband’s voice.

“Call Nisha…” he says, “I want to see her – and I want to her to meet Monika…”

“Yes…” she says to her husband – and she calls Nisha from inside.

She wonders how her daughter will react – meeting her father after five years – and – if Nisha will accept Monika – her father’s girlfriend.

She observes that the three of them – her daughter – her husband – and her husband’s girlfriend – they are decorous to each other – cordial – but not very friendly.

A daughter meeting her father after five years – it may take some time for the ice to melt.

But it seems Nisha has accepted the situation.

They talk about Nisha’s college – her routine – and – her husband and Monika says that they will be most happy to have Nisha stay with them.

One week later – she is on her way to New Zealand – with Nisha settled in her husband’s house.

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PART 2

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SIX MONTHS LATER

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She arrives from New Zealand six months later – her flight arrived in the wee hours of the morning – she takes the Airport cab from Mumbai reaches Pune – she asks the driver to drive via her husband’s house – so – she can pick up her daughter Nisha and take her home.

It’s 8 AM in the morning when she reaches her husband’s house.

Her husband, his girlfriend Monika and her daughter Nisha are having breakfast.

“Come on, Nisha – finish your breakfast quickly and go get your bag – the taxi is waiting outside…” she says to her daughter Nisha.

“I am not coming with you…” Nisha says.

“What do you mean “I am not coming with you”…? I had told you to pack your bags and be ready – and I will be picking you up in the morning on my way home…” she says to her daughter.

“I have decided to stay here…” Nisha says.

“You have decided to stay here…? What nonsense are you talking…?” she shouts at her daughter Nisha – then – she gives her husband a questioning look and asks him, “what is all this…?”

Before her husband can answer – Nisha interrupts.

“You don’t ask him…” her daughter Nisha says to her, “it is my decision…”

“When did you decide…? I have been talking to you every day from New Zealand – you never told me anything…” she says to her daughter.

“I knew you would be very busy focusing on your work – so – I didn’t want to upset you…” her daughter Nisha says.

“You can’t decide these things – I am your mother – you will have to come with me – get your things quickly – the taxi is waiting…” she says to her daughter – emphatically.

“I am not coming with you – I am staying here…” her daughter says – unequivocally.

“You have to come with me – you have no choice…” she shouts at her daughter.

“I am an adult now – you can’t dictate terms to me any longer – I will decide for myself – and – I have made my choice – I want to live with my father…” Nisha says.

“But why…?” she asks her daughter.

“I like it here – my father is such a nice person – and Monika is so friendly – she is not a control freak – like you…” Nisha says.

“Control Freak…? I love you so much – I have given you the best of everything – I look after you so well – and you are calling me a “control freak”…?” she says angrily to her daughter.

“You are so domineering – living with you – I felt suffocated. Here – with Papa and Monika – I feel free…” Nisha says.

She trembles with anger on hearing her daughter’s words and raises her hand to slap her daughter – when she hears her husband’s voice.

“Cool down – you go home now and settle down – we will talk later…” her husband says.

“No – I am taking my daughter with me right now…” she says assertively.

But her daughter Monika is defiant.

“I am not coming with you – I told you I want to stay here – and we are getting late – I have to go to college – and – they have to go to work – to their offices – you please go…” her daughter Nisha says firmly – and she goes inside.

She feels faint – the ground slipping below her feet – and – she senses her husband’s hand on her arm – supporting her.

“You go home and relax – we’ll sort this out later…” her husband says.

She observes Monika looking into her coffee mug – sipping coffee – as if she hasn’t seen anything – or heard anything.

She feels shattered – overcome by a sense of defeat – as her husband guides her out of the house towards the waiting taxi.

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PART 3

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A FEW HOURS LATER

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She and her best friend – they sit on a bench in a secluded place in the expansive university garden – and they have a discussion – about her daughter, her husband, her marriage.

“Nisha called me a “control freak”…” she says to her friend.

“It’s okay – you were too attached to her – you tried to monopolize her – let her be – she is at a difficult age – and she is an adult now…” her friend says.

“Monopolize…? I love her so much – I wanted her to do well in life – and – as a single parent – I had to be careful – so – I was a bit strict – that’s all…” she says.

“A child needs the love of both parents – you deprived her of that – I feel you hastily walked out of your marriage – you could have been less rigid…” her friend says.

“So – you are blaming me for everything – you are saying it is my fault that my marriage broke up…” she says – feeling hurt.

“Please try to understand me correctly – I am not saying it is your fault that you and your husband split up – but then – you could have been a bit accommodating – isn’t it…?” her friends says.

“I could have been “accommodating” …? What do you mean…?” she asks her friend.

“He told me you were too dominating – you always imposed your will on him – and – he said he felt suffocated in the marriage…” her friend says.

“My husband told you…? When did he tell you all this…?” she asks – irked.

“After you two split – I met him once at the airport – he seemed relieved that you had walked out on him…” her friend says.

“You met my husband behind my back…? And – you didn’t bother to tell me…?” she says – upset and extremely annoyed with her friend.

“Was there any point…? You are so headstrong…” her friend says.

“Headstrong…? How dare you call me headstrong…? Just because I am gracious to you – that doesn’t give you the license to say anything you want about me, make nasty comments and cast aspersions about my personal life…” she shouts angrily at her friend, “Who the hell do you think you are…? I will not tolerate such slander from lowlifes like you – do you understand…?”

Her friend seems taken aback and hurt by this outburst.

“I am sorry – I will not talk to you again…” her friend says – and – her friend gets up and walks away.

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She sits on the bench in the garden – all alone.

Her husband is gone – her daughter is gone – her best friend is gone.

She has no one now.

Never before has she felt so lonely – so alone.

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EPILOGUE

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While she sits in the park – feeling depressed and lonely – her friend calls up Monika.

“You did well…” she says to Monika, “Nisha seems very happy with you…”

“Yes…” Monika says, “how is her mother…?”

“She is fretting and fuming all alone – you don’t worry about her…” the friend says to Monika, “now that you have her daughter Nisha on your side – you can go ahead with your plans – I think he will agree…”

“Yes – I will try to convince him – thank you so much – everything is working out so nicely – he loves me so much – and – Nisha is such a friendly girl – she seems to have accepted me. You know – that’s what he was afraid of – what would be his daughter’s reaction if he got remarried…? So now that everything seems okay on that front – hopefully – it will be wedding bells soon…” Monika says.

“Don’t forget to invite me for your wedding…” the friend says.

“Of course – but – you listen – your friend – Nisha’s mother – she shouldn’t know that you and me knew each other – I think we need to keep our friendship under wraps for some time – at least till the wedding…” her friend says to Monika.

“You don’t worry about her – she has broken up with me – and – I am never going to speak to her again…” the friend says.

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VIKRAM KARVE
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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.

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Saturday, May 6, 2023

Short Fiction : The Woman at the Book Fair

Short Fiction

WOMAN AT THE BOOK FAIR

Story by Vikram Karve

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MUMBAI

Circa – January 2003

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I reached my home opposite the Oval – after work – as usual – at 5 PM in the evening.

I was opening the door to my house – when my neighbour opened his door – and – he said he wanted to speak to me.

“Sure…” I said – and – I invited him to come in.

I closed the door – I asked him to sit on the sofa – and – I sat opposite him.

“Anything urgent…?” I asked him.

“Who was that woman with you last evening…?” my neighbour asked me.

“Woman…?” I said – confused.

“I saw both of you entering the building at 7 PM and I saw her leaving alone at around 9 PM…” he said.

“Oh – her…? I met her at the book fair…?” I said to him.

“Book Fair…?” he asked me – with a clueless look.

“Don’t you know…? The “Strand Book Fair” – it’s held every year in January near Churchgate…” I said to him.

“I was asking you about the woman who with you in your house last evening…” he said – with a questioning look.

“I told you – I met her at the Book Fair…” I said to him.

“And – you brought her home – you spent two hours with her all alone – just the two of you…” he said – in a suspicious tone of voice.

“What are you trying to imply…?” I asked him – a bit miffed.

“You wife is away – and you are having a “good time” with other women…” he said – his voice full of sarcasm.

“Well – if browsing books together is your interpretation of a “good time” – we certainly were having a “good time” together…” I said to him.

“Browsing Books…? Who are you trying to fool…? You and that “dubious” female – you spend two hours shacked up together in your house – and you are making up all sorts of stories to cover up your hanky-panky…? Do you think I am a dimwit…?” he said – in a jeering tone of voice.

“What nonsense are you talking…? Dubious Female…? She is a respectable person – a decent lady…” I said to him.

My neighbour smiled – a derisive smile – and spoke in a sarcastic tone.

“Respectable…? Decent…? Are you sure…?” he asked me.

“Of course – she is a book lover – she has been coming to the book fair for the last 3 days – we were browsing similar books – literature, fiction, short stories – so – we got talking – I told her about my book collection – she wanted to see it – so – I invited her home to see my books…” I said – truthfully.

“Are you telling me that she was looking at your books for over 2 hours last evening…?” he asked me.

“Yes – we browsed books together – she showed interest in short fiction – so – I told her about my favourite short stories – we discussed literature – that’s all…” I said – trying to convince him.

“You pick up a woman at the book fair – you bring her home – you spend two hours with her in private – do you even know who the woman is…?” my neighbour asked me.

“She is a counsellor…” I said to him.

“Counsellor…!!!” my neighbour exclaimed – with a laugh.

“Yes – she told me she is a personal counsellor and therapist – in fact – she told me she had an appointment at 9 PM nearby…” I said to him.

“Appointment…? At 9 PM at night…?” he said – looking incredulous.

“Yes – she told me she does private therapy at home for some special patients…” I said – telling him what the woman had told me.

“Private Therapy…? At Home…? Special Patients…?” he said breaking into a laugh, “instead of making up tall stories – why don’t you admit the truth – that you picked up this woman – brought her home – and you fucked her…”

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Till now – I had been tolerating his nonsense because he was my neighbour – and – my wife and his wife were close friends – but now – he was getting on my nerves – so – I decided to end the conversation.

“I think you should go now…” I said to him, “I have to go for my evening walk on Marine Drive…”

“And – I am sure you are going to visit the Book Fair – on your way back…” he said sarcastically.

“Yes – I may browse books…” I said to him.

“And you will pick up that female and bring her over here for a special therapy session in your bedroom…” he said with a sneer – and then – he said to me with a wicked smile, “but – hats off to you – I never imagined you could pick up females at a Book Fair…!!!”

“Please go…” I said angrily.

“I will go – but – before I go - let me tell you – this book-lover woman friend of yours – she not a counsellor or therapist – and she is certainly not a “respectable” lady – she is a “dirty” woman…” he said – with disdain.

“Dirty Woman…?” I said – with a questioning look.

 “She is a woman of “ill repute” – do you understand…?” he said – in a firm voice.

“She is a woman of “ill repute” …? What do you mean by that…?” I asked him

“Don’t act dumb – she is a woman of “easy virtue” – but – since you will feign ignorance – I will put it more bluntly – that woman is a “call girl” – an “escort” – a bloody “whore” – do you understand…?” he said – contemptuously.

“That’s not possible…” I said, “I found her to be a decent woman – quite well-read, erudite and refined…”

“That I will concede…” he said, “she is a refined and polished “hooker” – a high class “prostitute” – I wonder how you could afford her…”

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I couldn’t believe what my neighbour was saying – also – I was feeling uncomfortable with the conversation – so – I decided to get rid of my neighbour.

“Please go now – I don’t want to discuss all this…” I said to my neighbour.

“I hope you are not bringing her home for a “therapy” session this evening…” he said – sarcastically.

“Of course, I am going to bring her home…” I said to my neighbour, “we are going to meet at the book fair at 6 PM – and then – I will bring her home – I have already decided the short fiction anthology I want to tell her about – and she has to return the book she borrowed yesterday and take this one…” I said to him.

“She won’t be coming…” my neighbour said.

“What do you mean “she won’t be coming” …?” I asked him.

“I meant “she won’t be coming to meet you today” …” my neighbour said – unequivocally.

“Well – let me tell you that I am sure she is going to come to meet me – she promised me that she would return my book today – when I told her that I normally don’t lend my books because people forget to return them – she said she would 100% meet me at the book fair at 6PM – and then she would come home to browse my books – return my book – and maybe – borrow a new one …” I said to my neighbour.

“You seem to be so sure of her…? Do you even know her name…?” he asked me.

“Nisha…” I said, “she told me her name is Nisha…”

My neighbour gave me a sardonic smile.

“Nisha…? This is the first time I am hearing this. As far as I know – her name is Rita – but even that may be a fake name – I wonder how many names she has – one for each client – perhaps…” he said to me.

I looked at him – a bit befuddled – wondering what to say.

But – before I could speak – he started talking.

“I warned her not to come here again – or to meet you again…” he said.

“What…? You told her not to meet me…? Why…?” I asked him – feeling miffed.

“For your sake…” he said.

“For my sake – what do you mean…?” I asked him – curious.

“You are a married man – with a nice wife and grown-up children. Is it proper of you to indulge in hanky-panky with such wanton women…? Why do you want to ruin everything due to your peccadillos with such sleazy women…?” he said.

“Hanky-Panky…? Peccadillos…?” I said – peeved.

“Don’t worry – I won’t tell anyone about your fucking her in your house yesterday evening – after all – you are my neighbour – our wives are close friends – I am your well-wisher – so – I will overlook your one indiscretion yesterday – but – I don’t want you getting entangled with that filthy whore…” he said, “that’s why I called her last night and told her not to meet you…”

I looked at him – wondering how my neighbour had that woman’s number – so – I questioned him about it.

“You called her…? You have her number…? How do you know her…? You called her a filthy whore – you say she is a woman of ill-repute – a sleazy woman – how do you so much about her…?” I asked him.

“Don’t delve too much…” he said.

“Ah – so you are jealous – and possessive – tell me – are you having an affair with her…?” I asked him.

“Don’t talk nonsense…” he said angrily, “I have nothing to do with her – our company hires her once in a while – to service some of our top clients and business associates – and officials who we have to please…”

“And – how are you involved in all this…?” I asked him.

“Well – in our business – we have to do all sorts of things…” he said – nonchalantly.

“So – that’s the job you do – pimping…!!! It is disgusting…!!!” I said to him, “under your high-sounding title – all you are is a bloody pimp…”

“Be careful what you say…” he said – in a threatening tone.

“I thought you were a respectable man – but you are worse than a prostitute – you are a slimy pimp – that’s what you are…” I said to him in a most disparaging tone of voice.

“How dare you compare me with than dirty woman…?” he said – giving me an accusing look.

I looked at him – and – I gave him a piece of my mind.

I said in a stern voice to my neighbour:

“You keep calling her a “dirty” woman…?

Well – even if – as you say – she is a “dirty woman” – her thoughts are certainly much “cleaner” than yours.

You put on an act of being a “clean man” – but you have a “dirty mind” – you masquerade as a moral puritan – but your mind is full of lecherous thoughts.

We were browsing books together – but you were fantasizing that we were fucking each other – weren’t you…?

You are a disgusting man with a perverted mind – don’t you talk to me ever again…”

__________

After admonishing him – I gripped his hand – I literally forced him out of my house – and – I closed the door.

__________

That evening – I waited for Nisha at the Book Fair.

But – she didn’t come.

I couldn’t call her as I didn’t have her number.

__________

Of course – after my tiff with my nasty neighbour in the evening – there was no question of asking him for her number.

__________

I wish I had asked Nisha for her number the previous evening – but – she had left in a hurry – and – she hadn’t given me her number – nor – had she asked for mine.

________

I waited for Nisha till the closing time of the Book Fair – hoping against hope that Nisha would come.

But – she didn’t come

So – at night – I came home – disappointed.

___________

It was the end of a short and sweet friendship – all because of my nasty neighbour.

___________

Next evening – a courier arrived – a packet.

I opened the packet.

It was the book she had borrowed – and inserted inside – there was a note written in cursive feminine handwriting.

I read the note:

“You must have come to know about me from your neighbour.

It is true – but – with you – I wanted a nice clean relationship – a friendship based on books – but – sadly – that was not to be.

And yes – I told you my name is “Nisha”.

Yes – Nisha is my real name – you are one of the few persons who knows my real name.

Thank you for lending me your book.

I felt good when you lent me the book – though you said that you normally don’t lend your books.

I really wish we could become “bookish friends” – but it is not destined.

It was so nice talking to you.

Wish you All the Best in your life.

Good Bye Forever.

Your Bookish Friend, Nisha…”

 

__________

EPILOGUE

__________

 

A few months later – I saw Nisha in the lobby of a posh hotel – where my wife and I had gone for dinner.

I looked yearningly at Nisha – wondering if I should say “Hello” to her.

Nisha glanced at me – no trace of recognition – and – she looked away.

My wife seemed to have noticed everything.

She pressed my hand and smiled at me.

“Is that the same woman you had told me about – the woman you met at the Book Fair…?” my wife asked me – as we walked towards the restaurant.

__________ 


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.


Friday, March 10, 2023

Nisha and Monika

SHORT FICTION

_______

NISHA and MONIKA

Fiction Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

_____

“Are you going to marry me…?” Nisha asked me.

“Of course…” I said to Nisha.

Nisha looked relieved.

She gave me a loving smile.

I was nonplussed.

“Did you call me all the way to your home from office just to ask me this question…? You said it was urgent – so – I left important work and rushed here…” I said to Nisha – feeling a bit exasperated.

“Monika was here a few moments ago…” Nisha said.

“Monika…?” I said – confused.

“Yes – Monika had come to meet me – I called you the moment she left…” Nisha said.

“That’s surprising…” I said, “I thought she was on “sick leave” today…”

“She is “sick” – lovesick…” Nisha said.

“Lovesick…? What do you mean…?” I asked Nisha.

“Monika is in love with you…” Nisha said.

“I know…” I said, “she asked me to marry her…”

“When…?” Nisha asked me.

“Last evening – when I was dropping her home after office…” I said to Nisha.

“She proposed to you last evening…?” Nisha asked me.

“Yes…” I said to Nisha.

“You didn’t tell me when you called last night…” Nisha said.

“What is there to tell…? I told her “NO” – a firm “NO” – that there was no question of my getting married to her – since I was already committed to marry you…” I said to Nisha.

“Oh – that’s why she was talking about love and arranged marriages…” Nisha said.

“What was she saying…?” I asked Nisha.

“Monika said that – with you and me – it was only an “arranged” relationship – whereas – with you and her – it was love – so – I should back off…” Nisha said.

“What nonsense…!!! Everything has been decided – you and me – we are getting married in May – two months from now – my parents have liked you – your parents have liked me – we like each other – we are committed to marry each other…” I was saying – when Nisha interrupted me.

“That was during the arranged marriage interview three months ago…” Nisha said.

“So…? Nothing has changed…” I said, emphatically.

“Monika joined your office…” Nisha said.

“Just two months ago…” I said to her.

“She is head over heels in love with you – she desperately wants to marry you…” Nisha said to me.

“Please stop it…” I said to Nisha.

“Tell me – are you in love with Monika – do you love her more than me – if that is so – I will back off – and you can marry her – I want you to be happy…” Nisha said – with a tinge of sadness in her voice.

I was taken aback by her words – so – I paused for a moment before I spoke to her.

“I don’t love her more than you – in fact – I don’t love her at all…” I said to Nisha – emphatically.

“But – she loves you – Monika really loves you…” Nisha said.

“No – Monika doesn’t love me – if she really loved me – she wouldn’t have come to your house and said what she said to you – it is you who really loves me – if you didn’t love me – you wouldn’t have said what you said to me just now…” I said to Nisha – and I took her in my arms.

__________ 


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.

Sunday, February 26, 2023

A Candid Picture

FICTION STORY

________

THE CANDID PHOTO

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

_______

PUNE

Circa – February 2023

_______

PART 1

_______

FILM FESTIVAL AT A MULTIPLEX CINEMA

PUNE

_______

“The photo you asked me to click yesterday morning – the one where you pose next to the Film Festival Poster – I saw it on Instagram…” the girl said to me.

“Oh Yes – I have uploaded that photo everywhere – on Facebook – on Twitter – on Instagram – even on LinkedIn – I must say you clicked a good photo – I look so impressive standing next to the Film Festival Poster…” I said to her – pompously

“Shall I say something…?” the girl said – a bit hesitant.

“Of course – please feel free to speak…” I said to her.

“Well – I feel the photo looks contrived…” she said – candidly.

“Contrived…?” I asked her.

“In fact – all your photos look contrived – your standard pose – your typical pokerfaced smile – it all looks fake and artificial – you are an influencer with huge following – you must post candid photos…” she said to me – matter-of-factly.

“Candid Photos…?” I said – confused.

“I have clicked a candid photo of you just a few moments ago…” she said with a naughty smile.

“You clicked a photo of me…? You didn’t even tell me…” I said to her – feeling a bit anxious.

“If I told you – and you knew I was clicking your photo – then it wouldn’t be a candid photo at all – there would be no naturalness and spontaneity – as you would be self-conscious if you knew that you are being photographed…” she said to me, “a candid photo is one where you aren’t aware that you are being photographed – so that your expressions are captured true to life…”

“Candid…? True to Life…?” I said – a bit confused.

She smiled at me and spoke in an assuring tone of voice.

“Don’t worry – the photo has come out very well – it’s a lovely candid picture…” she said.

“Show me…” I said to her – curious – and eager to see my candid photo.

“Tell me your WhatsApp Number – I will send the photo to you…” she said.

I told her my WhatsApp Number.

She sent the “candid photo” to me.

I looked at the photo on my smartphone.

It was a lovely picture – my profile had come out very well – I looked good – with a very natural and genuine expression – as I looked slightly upwards at the film festival banner which had been captured beautifully.

And – the candid picture had captured the panoramic scene so beautifully – the young couple standing ahead of me in the queue – they looked so lifelike and natural – engrossed in conversation with each other – it all looked so authentic and realistic – the candid photo was indeed a masterpiece.

“It is a lovely photo…” I said to the girl, “thank you so much…”

“You are welcome…” she said with a smile, “this is the type of photo you must post on your social media – instead of your usual posed appearance with your fake smile…”

“Yes – Yes…” I said excitedly, “I’ll post this picture straightaway…”

As an influencer – I believe that posts must be uploaded in real-time or near real-time with proper location and appropriate tags – this adds to their spontaneity and authenticity.

I posted the candid photo on Instagram – with a caption “Yours Truly at the Film Festival” – and since all my social media is connected – the candid photo was instantly shared and posted on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr etc. – and I posted the “candid photo” once again on Twitter – with a bit of description of the film festival with appropriate hashtags – and tagging some of my friends too.

________

“I have posted the photo…” I said to the girl.

“Yes…” she said – looking at her smartphone, “I have liked it on Instagram – I’ll retweet it on Twitter too…”

________

Suddenly – the queue started moving – the door to Auditorium must have opened.

Someone standing behind said to the girl: “Please come in the queue…”

I looked at him and said: “We are together…”

The girl smiled at me.

The least I could do in return for the candid picture was to help her jump the queue.

________

After the movie was over – I invited the girl for a cup of coffee in the food court – as there was around half-an-hour for the next movie I wanted to see in Auditorium 1 – but – she wanted to see another movie in Auditorium 6 which was about to start – so – we parted ways – she went to Auditorium 6 – and – I went down to the food court for a quick snack and cup of coffee.

_________

On my way down to the food court – I looked at my smartphone.

It must have been around 2 hours since I posted the candid photo on social media – and – there were quite a large number of “likes” “comments” “shares” “retweets” etc. on various social media – the candid photo had especially gone viral on Twitter.

That is the power of social media – your posts are instantly seen worldwide – by a large number of people – especially if you are an “influencer” with a widespread following – like me.

An influencer yearns for appreciation – I was really delighted that my candid photo had gone viral and it was liked and appreciated so much on the social media.

_________

PART 2

_________

FOOD COURT OF THE MALL

(IN WHICH THE MULTIPLEX CINEMA IS LOCATED)

_________

I placed my order for a Bun Maska and Chai – sat down at a vacant table – and while I was waiting for my order to be called out – I looked at the “candid photo” on my smartphone.

There were 3 persons in the “candid photo” – me – and the handsome couple – a young man and a woman – and – of course – the film festival banner in the background.

It all looked so natural – my profile as I looked at the poster – and the affectionate expressions on the faces of the man and women – the intimate way in which they were talking – it seemed to me that they were probably husband and wife – or – close friends.

The girl had clicked a really good photograph – so clear and distinct.

And it was truly “candid” – none of us were aware that we were being photographed – that’s why we were looking so natural and spontaneous – oblivious of our surroundings.

_________

Unbeknownst to me – the young couple in the “candid photo” – they were also sitting in the food court – but they were seated in a different section of the huge food court – and – I could not see them – and – neither could they see me.

The couple – the handsome young man and the beautiful woman – they were sitting opposite each other – probably waiting for their food order to be ready.

The woman was looking at her smartphone – scrolling – when her expression changed from a smile to one of disbelief.

“Our photo is on Twitter…” she says to the man, “open your Twitter…”

“I don’t have Twitter…” the man says.

“You are not on Twitter…?” she asks him – a bit surprised.

“No – I avoid all Social Media…” he says to her.

“Are you on WhatsApp…?” she asks him.

“Yes – on the same number I gave you before the movie…” he says to her.

“I am sending you a screenshot of the tweet – just look at the photo…” she says to him.

She sends him the “candid photo” on WhatsApp.

The man looked at the photo appreciatively.

“The photo is really nice – we look so good – I wonder who clicked it – and this bearded guy in the picture – he was standing behind us in the queue – I think…” the man says.

“He is the one who posted this photo on Twitter – here – see his profile picture…” the woman says – and shows the screen of her smartphone to the man.

“How has this photo come on your Twitter…?” the man asks the woman.

“I don’t know – I don’t follow this guy…” the woman says looking curious – and she starts scrolling her Twitter Timeline and Notifications – and suddenly – her expression turns to one of horror.

Someone has posted the photo on our office WhatsApp group – it’s Nisha – that bitch – and she has commented “How to enjoy Sick-Leave” – and put a naughty emoji…” the woman says.

“Sick Leave…?” the man asks the woman.

“I had told my boss that I want sick leave today – now she will come to know – thanks to Nisha and that stupid idiot who posted the picture everywhere…” the woman says – looking worried.

“But – how did Nisha see the picture…?” the man asked the woman.

“That guy is an influencer – he has a huge following on Social Media – Nisha must be following him on Twitter…” the woman says, “I am in deep shit – as it is my boss hates me…”

The man’s smartphone vibrates – he looks at the screen – it is his wife – so – he takes the call.

“Who is that woman with you…?” the man hears his wife screaming from the other end.

“I am at the Film Festival – I told you…” the man tries to say but his wife interrupts.

“I am not asking about the film festival – I am asking you about that woman with you in the photo…” the man’s wife says.

“Which photo…?” the man stammers.

“Don’t try to act dumb – the photo of you and that woman on Twitter…” the man’s wife says.

“I am not on Twitter – you know that I avoid all social media…” the man mumbles, “how did you see the photo…?”

“I am on Twitter…” the man’s wife shouts at him, “Look at your WhatsApp – I am sending you the photo…”

The man disconnects the call and looks at the “candid photo” on WhatsApp.

Then he looks at the woman in front of him and speaks.

“My wife has seen the photo on Twitter…” he says to the woman.

“He has posted it everywhere – the photo is all over social media – the whole world must have seen it by now…” the woman says with an exasperated look.

“What do I do…?” the man asks the woman.

“Just tell your wife that I am your classmate from college – and we met unexpectedly at the Film Festival…” the woman says to the man.

The man’s phone vibrates – it is his wife again.

“Why did you disconnect my call…?” the man’s wife screams.

“I was seeing my WhatsApp…” the man says.

“Who is that woman with you in the photo…?” the man’s wife asks forcefully.

“She is my classmate – we met unexpectedly…” the man is saying when his wife interrupts.

“What is her name…?” the man’s wife asks.

“Menaka…” the man says.

“Ah – Menaka – she looks like one for sure – trying to seduce you…” the man’s wife says sarcastically.

“What are you saying…?” the man says, perturbed.

“Just see the way she is flirting with you – giving you the sultry look…” the man’s wife says.

“What nonsense…? We were just talking…” the man tries to explain to his wife.

“Just Talking…? So intimately…? Standing so close to each other…? With your arm is around her….?” the man’s wife says angrily.

“There was a crowd – so – I was just trying to be protective…” the man says.

“You never put your arm around me so lovingly...” the wife says acerbically, “tell me – are you having an affair with her…?” the man’s wife asks.

“Affair…? I told you – she is just my classmate – I met her after 10 years – I have not seen her since college…” the man says, trying to convince his wife.

For a moment – there is silence – then – the man hears his wife’s voice on the phone.

“You liar and cheat – just look at this comment on your photo tweet – “college sweethearts rekindling the flame of their love” – now I am sure you two are having an affair…” the man’s wife yells.

“It must be some mischievous classmate…” the man says irately, “and that idiot who posted the photo – I will kill him…”

“Oh – you are cheating on me – you are the one at fault – and – you want to shoot the messenger…? In fact – I am grateful to him – it is because he exposed you that I have come to know the truth that you are cheating on me and having an affair with that nympho bitch – I won’t spare you – and as far as that nympho bitch is concerned – I will destroy her totally – finish her off…” the man’s wife says furiously – and she disconnects.

The man looks at the woman in front to him – his classmate Menaka.

She is looking at her smartphone screen.

Suddenly – the expression on her face changes – and she shouts at the man.

“Your wife has gone crazy – she has found out my Twitter handle and she is writing all sorts of filthy comments on that photo tweet – “keep your hands off my husband you nympho bitch” – and she has tagged me – I hope my husband doesn’t see all this…” the woman says, anxiously.

“Husband…? You told me you are divorced…” the man says.

“We are separated – almost divorced – but the alimony and custody cases are in court – and he will use all this against me…” the woman says, nervously.

Then – the woman looks at the man and speaks angrily.

“It’s all your fault – you shouldn’t have waved out to me…” the woman says to the man.

“My fault…? You are the one who wanted to jump the queue so you came and stood next to me…” the man says to the woman.

“I saw you after so many years – so – I came to talk to you – out of courtesy…” the woman says, “we were friends in college – weren’t we…?”

“I wish I had never waved out to you – you are a “Panauti”…” the man says scornfully to the woman.

“Panauti…? How dare you call me a Panauti…?” the woman says angrily to the man.

And they start talking heatedly to each other – a fiery argument – accusations and counter-accusations – blame and counter-blame.

________

While the man and woman were engaged in their intense conversation – unknown to them – I had surreptitiously clicked a “candid photo” of them – hotly engrossed in each other – and the photo had come out so well – their “candid” expressions captured so beautifully – that – I could not resist the temptation to post the photo instantly on Social Media – so – I posted it immediately.

And soon – the “candid photo” of the man and the woman having an impassioned discussion was going viral of Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp – and all Social Media.

_________ 


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.