Posts Tagged ‘marriage’

Short Fiction – CLIMAX – REUNION OF THE EXES – A Passionate Ex Sex Love and Lust Urban Adult Story

October 25, 2012

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: CLIMAX – REUNION OF THE EXES – A Passionate Ex Sex Love and Lust Urban Adult Story.

Click the link above and read the original story in my creative writing journal.

The story is also posted below for your convenience:

CLIMAX – REUNION OF THE EXES – A Passionate Ex Sex Love and Lust Urban Adult Story

Link to the Original Blog Post:
http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2012/10/climax-reunion-of-exes-passionate-ex.html

Short Fiction by Vikram Karve
CLIMAX – REUNION OF THE EXES
 
From My Creative Writing Archives:
An Urban Adult Story (for a change)
Dear Reader: I wrote the story below titled REUNION as my entry for the Urban Stories Competition 2011. It is a story for Urban Adults. The stories were required to be set in an Urban backdrop in contemporary India.
Sadly, this story did not win a prize. I wonder why?
But that does not matter. This story still remains one of my favourites. 
So I am posting this story, once more, for you to read…
CLIMAX
REUNION of the EXES
Fiction Short Story
By
VIKRAM KARVE
The woman gradually came into consciousness from her drunken stupor. Her head throbbed with pain, her eyes ached, her throat felt dry, her tongue tasted bitter – it was a terrible hangover.
Streaks of diffused sunlight filtered in through the curtains of the solitary window. The woman opened her eyes but everything looked blurred. Slowly things began to come into focus. She wondered where she was – the strange room, the unfamiliar bed, scary unknown surroundings – she felt a tremor of trepidation. 
She decided to get up, go to the window, open the curtains, look outside and try to see where she was. But the moment she tried to get up, the blanket covering her body fell off and the woman realized that she was naked, stark naked.
She felt a shiver up her spine, then suddenly she was overcome by a nauseating stomach-churning fear that made her throw up, vomiting copiously all over the place, the bed, her body, and she retched again and again till there was nothing left inside her, and then she collapsed on the bed and passed out.
When the woman came back into consciousness again, she felt a cold wet towel on her forehead. She opened her eyes. A fresh new blanket covered her body. Someone had tried to clean up, even wiped her body clean, but there were still traces of her vomit here and there, her skin felt sticky and the place reeked with a disgusting stench.
“Feeling okay?” a male voice said from behind.
She recognized the voice at once and suddenly felt goose bumps all over her naked body inside the blanket.
“My clothes? What happened to my clothes?” the woman asked the man.
“I took them off,” the man said, matter-of-factly.
“You took my clothes off? How dare you? You get out of here. What are you doing here?” asked the woman.
“This is my room and that is my bed you’re lying down on,” the man answered.
“Your room?”
“You don’t remember anything, do you?”
“What happened?”
“I flew in from Singapore and checked in last evening. Then I had a shower and went down to pub for a drink and I was shocked to see you there – you were horribly drunk, downing tequila shot after shot, and making out with that lecherous firangi.”
“Making out? Lecherous firangi?
“I beat the shit out of him and threw him out.”
“You beat him up? Are you crazy? He is our most important client – he has come all the way here from America to see our Pune centre.”
“Important client, my foot – that doesn’t give him the right to get you drunk, out of your senses, and then take advantage of you. The bugger was trying to take you up to his room and screw you.”
“Maybe I wanted to be taken advantage of. Maybe I wanted him to screw me.” 
“You filthy drunken whore. I saved you. You should be grateful to me. If your husband found out…”
“Suppose I say my husband knows…”
“Bloody hell? Offshoring and Outsourcing – what a laugh!”
“What do you mean…?”
“An IT Czar offshoring his own wife for getting outsourcing business. You dumped me for that unscrupulous pimp?”
“You mind your tongue and just get out of here. I don’t want to talk to you. Let me wash up and change. Where is my bag, my things? I have to catch the 11 o’clock flight to Delhi. Our client is coming with me on the flight. I’ll have to apologize to him for all that happened.”
“He’s gone. I made sure he left. You know what time it is? It is one o’clock in the afternoon.”
“Oh, My God. I’ve missed my flight. How could he go away just like that without me?”
“That horny bastard was looking for you. The bugger had even found his way here. He wanted to take you along with him to the airport to catch your flight.”
“He saw me here?”
“No chance. I didn’t let him enter the room. I told him to vamoose, to disappear, and warned him never to contact you again.”
“Shit.”
“It’s not shit, it’s puke, your stinking vomit. I never knew you could be so disgusting. You puked all over your clothes. That is why I took them off and washed them. I have hung them in the bathroom – they must be dry by now. Don’t worry. I’ve checked you out of your room and had your things brought up – there’s your bag, near the closet. I checked out your bag, found your ticket, cancelled your 11 o’clock flight. I have now booked you on the evening flight to Delhi. Now go in and clean yourself up. I’ll go down and wait for you in the lobby. We’ll have a good lunch in the restaurant – you need to eat. And there’s some chilled Bloody Mary in the flask – drink it – it will cure your hangover.”
“Thanks,” the woman said.
The man walked out of the room, closed the door. The woman got up from the bed and ran naked into the bathroom.
Later, they both sat in the restaurant, enjoying a leisurely lunch in silence. The woman was feeling better now.
The man broke the silence, “I never expected to meet you here. I thought you were living in America after dumping me and marrying that wily bastard.”
“Please don’t start again. You tell me about yourself. You married?”
“No. Once bitten, twice shy.”
“And your work?”
“Well, I did this and that, and then took up a teaching assignment in Singapore. I’ve settled there now. I have come to Pune for a seminar and to deliver some lectures. And you? I have totally lost track of you, after that IT Czar lured you from me and took you away to the US of A.”
“We still have our main operations there, but we’ve expanded our business to India too – offshoring, outsourcing, ITES, all sorts of IT services – we’ve three centres here – at Gurgaon, Delhi and Pune – now-a-days I spend most of my time in Gurgaon.”
“And your husband?”
“He lives in the US – looks after the business out there.”
“Oh. Long distance marriage, eh? No wonder.”
“No wonder, what?”
“That you’re so sex starved – getting drunk and seducing firangis at your husband’s behest. Your guy can’t get it up, is it? No wonder you were so tight.”
“Tight? What are you saying?”
“I did it.”
“You did it?”
“Yes. I did it. Last night. With you. But you were so dead drunk, I doubt you even felt anything.”
“You bastard! You screwed me? I suspected as much when I was bathing, but I never imagined you would stoop so low and take advantage of me.”
“But you said you wanted to be taken advantage of.”
“I want to go,” the woman said sobbing, breaking down into tears.
“Cool down. Don’t make a spectacle of yourself again. I am sorry, but you were looking so attractive, so sexy, so desirable, that I remembered our days together and could not control myself,” the man said. He rose from his seat and spoke to the woman, “Come, I’ll take you to the washroom. You compose yourself. Then we’ll sit in the lounge and have some coffee.”
Later they sat in the poolside lounge and sipped hot coffee. It was winter; the late afternoon sun and slight breeze were quite comforting.
“I am sorry, very, very sorry,” the man said, “I shouldn’t have done it. I should have let you carry on with that firangi. Then all this would not have happened.”
“It’s okay. What’s done is done. At least it shows you still care for me.”
The man was taken aback by the woman’s words and he felt good.
“I always cared for you. I miss you terribly. We shouldn’t have divorced. We were too immature, too hot-headed; we could have patiently worked out our differences. Sometimes I think I am responsible for driving you into his arms,” the man said.
“No. It was my fault. I was too gullible and he was too smooth. He cleverly drove a wedge into our relationship, and I fell for it,” the woman said.
“I wish I could turn the clock back,” the man said.
“Me too.”
“We really had some good times together.”
“Yes. I can never forget those carefree days.”
“Let’s do one thing.”
“What?”
“It’s four now, your flight is at eight, airport check-in at seven, we’ve got three hours to kill – let’s go to Camp and loaf around Main Street, Marzorin, Monafood, Budhani’s, Kayani, Manneys, Needlewoman, the Bhelpuri stall – let’s see if all our old haunts are still there. If you want we’ll do some window shopping in the new Malls, wherever you want – and then I’ll drop you off at the airport.”
“No. Let’s go up to your room and do it,” the woman said.
“Do it?”
“Yes, let’s do it.”
“Do what?”
“What you did to me last night.”
“No.”
“Yes. Come. Let’s do it. This time, let’s do it like we used to do it.” 
“No social graces?”
“No social graces,” she smiled at their naughty private joke, “Yes, no social graces. Let’s go at each other like wild animals,” she tempted him with that tantalizing reckless look in her eyes.
He could feel the want churning inside him like fire.
“Okay,” he said, “let’s do it.”
They did it.
They went up to the room. Then, uninhibited, unrestrained, they let their carnal desires run amok with wild abandon and they did it.
They made love with wild passionate frenzy, demanding more and more of each other, resonating with peaks of sensual pleasure, till they were engulfed by the glow of ecstasy, the ultimate climax, and then they lay exhausted, their fires satiated, their limbs entangled, their bodies overcome by that unique soothing calm which is a consequence of fulfilled lovemaking.
VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2012
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
 

Did you like reading this story? 
I am sure you will like all the 27 stories in my recently published book of short stories COCKTAIL
To order your COCKTAIL please click any of the links below:
http://www.flipkart.com/cocktail-vikram-karve-short-stories-book-8191091844?affid=nme
http://www.indiaplaza.in/cocktail-vikram-karve/books/9788191091847.htm
http://www.apkpublishers.com/books/short-stories/cocktail-by-vikram-karve.html
COCKTAIL ebook
If you prefer reading ebooks on Kindle or your ebook reader, please order Cocktail E-book by clicking the links below:
AMAZON
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005MGERZ6
SMASHWORDS
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/87925

Foodie Book:  Appetite for a Stroll
http://www.flipkart.com/appetite-stroll-vikram-karve/8190690094-gw23f9mr2o

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 short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a large number of fiction short stories, creative non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories and self help in magazines and published a large number of professional research papers in journals and edited in-house journals 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
Professional Profile Vikram Karve: http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
Vikram Karve Facebook Page:  https://www.facebook.com/vikramkarve
Vikram Karve Creative Writing Blog: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm
Email: vikramkarve@sify.com

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
  
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From Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve – THE GIRL WHO DUMPED ME – A Love Story

May 11, 2012

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: THE GIRL WHO DUMPED ME – A Love Story.

Click the link above to read the story in my journal

HOW TO REMAIN HAPPILY MARRIED FOREVER – the story of a Much-Married Couple

March 20, 2012

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: HOW TO REMAIN HAPPILY MARRIED FOREVER – the story of a Much-Married Couple.

Click the link above and read the story

SAPIENCE – My Favourite Short Stories Revisited Part 25

January 10, 2012

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: SAPIENCE – My Favourite Short Stories Revisited Part 25.

Click the link above to read one of my earliest short stories SAPIENCE


MY FAVOURITE SHORT STORIES PART 50 – LOVE and ROMANCE

September 30, 2011

MY FAVOURITE SHORT STORIES PART 50 – LOVE and ROMANCE.

Click the link above and read on my creative writing blog

BEST OF BOTH WORLDS – A Story of Non Resident Indian (NRI) Diaspora

September 29, 2011

BEST OF BOTH WORLDS
A Short Story
By
VIKRAM KARVE

I have noticed one thing. In the colony where I live in Pune almost everyone’s children have migrated to the USA to realize the American Dream (That’s why Computer Science, Software Engineering and IT is so popular – it is the easiest way to go abroad). But one thing is very funny about this Indian (Puneri) diaspora. In their professional lives and careers they quickly adopt “modern” western American values but in their personal lives they still cling on to traditional Indian values. This story explores this dichotomy…

A middle aged woman watches the sun set from the balcony of her tenth floor flat of one of those ubiquitous residential “townships” rapidly sprawling and proliferating around the once remote suburb of Aundh on the outskirts of the once beautiful and picturesque city of Pune in western India.

The doorbell rings. It’s her husband back home from work.

He’s tired and aching all over after the long bone-rattling, back-breaking and lung-choking commute on the terrible roads and in the polluted atmosphere.

“Good news,” his wife says exuberantly, giving him his customary cup of tea.

“What?” the husband asks nonchalantly, carefully pouring the precise amount of tea from the cup into the saucer and lifting the saucer to his lips to enjoy his tea in his usual habitual manner.

“Our daughter Nalini is pregnant,” the wife exults.

“At long last – I thought she didn’t have time for mundane things like procreation –  I am so glad she found time from her busy schedule,” the husband comments acerbically and noisily sips his tea in his customary acerbic style.

“Don’t be sarcastic. She’s a career woman. Aren’t you happy…?”

“Of course I’m happy. I’m 56 now – it’s high time I became a grandfather.”

“I’ll have to go…”

“Where…?”

“For her delivery.”

“To Seattle…?”

“Yes. Her due date is sometime in December. I better go as early as possible, maybe in October. Poor thing, it’s her first child. You better get the visas and all ready well in time. Nalini wants me to stay for at least three-four months after her delivery.”

“Three-four months after her delivery…? So you’ll be away for more than six months…?”

“Yes. I’m her mother and I have to be there to help her. Poor thing. It’s her first delivery. And that too in America… poor thing…”

“Poor thing…? Who asked her to go there…? And what about me…?”

“You also come and help out.”

“I won’t get six months’ leave.”

“Come for a month. To see the baby. In December or January…”

“I’ll see. But I don’t like it there. It’s too boring. And in December it will be freezing cold.”

“Then stay here.”

“I wish we hadn’t shifted from Sadashiv Peth.”

“Why…? Isn’t this lovely apartment better than those two horrible rented rooms we had…? And it’s all thanks to Nalini.”

“I know… I know… Don’t rub it in. But sometimes I wish we hadn’t pushed her into Computers and IT. We should have let her study arts, history, literature – whatever she wanted to.”

“And it would have been difficult to find a decent boy for her and she would be languishing like an ordinary housewife with no future… slogging away throughout her life like me.”

“And we would be still staying in the heart of the city and not in the wilderness out here… and you wouldn’t have to go all the way to America for her delivery…!”

“Don’t change the topic….” the wife says.

“I am not changing the topic,” says the husband firmly. “You are not going for Nalini’s delivery to America. Let them, she and her husband, manage on her own.”

“But why shouldn’t I go…? She is sending the ticket.”

“It’s not a question of money. The fact is I don’t want to stay all alone at this age. It is difficult. And here, in this godforsaken township full of snobs, I don’t even have any friends.”

“Try to understand. I have to be there. It’s her first delivery.”

“Tell me one thing.”

“What…?”

“Don’t the women out there have babies…?”

“Yes. So…?”

“And do they always have their mothers around pampering them during their pregnancies and deliveries…? And then mollycoddling their babies for the next few months, maybe even a year…?”

“I don’t know,” she said evading an answer, “for them it’s different.”

“Different…?”

“Our girls are najuk.”

“Najuk…?”

“Delicate…. fragile.”

“Nonsense. They are as tough as any one else. It’s all in the mind. It’s only our mindset that’s different.”

“What do you mean…?”

“Thousands of women who have migrated from all over the world are delivering babies out there every day, but it’s only our girls who can’t do without their mothers around, is it…?”

“Don’t argue with me. It’s our culture… our tradition. A daughter’s first delivery is her mother’s responsibility.”

“Culture…? Tradition…? What nonsense…? It’s not culture… it’s attitude…! Our people may have physically migrated to the modern world, but their mental make-up hasn’t changed, isn’t it…?”

“Please stop your lecturing. I’m fed up of hearing…” the wife pleads.

The husband continues as if he hasn’t heard her: “What they require is attitudinal change and to stop their double standards. Nonsense… Nobody forced them to go to America… They went there on their own and it’s high time they adopt the American way of life instead of clinging on to roots and values they themselves have cast off…”

“Please. Please. Please. Enough… I beg of you. Don’t argue. Just let me go.”

“No. You can’t go. I can’t stay alone for six months. Why should I…?”

“Try to understand. I’ve told you a hundred times. It’s our only daughter’s first delivery. I have to be there.”

“Okay. Tell her to come here.”

“Here…?”

“Yes. Here. To Pune. We’ll do her delivery right here in Pune. We’ll go to the best maternity hospital and then you can keep her here as long as you want. She’ll be comfortable, the weather will be good and you can pamper your darling daughter and her baby to your heart’s content.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘No’…? You went to your mother’s place for your deliveries isn’t it…? And you came back after the babies were more than three months old.”

“That was different. I wasn’t working.”

“Oh. It’s about her job is it…? I’m sure they have maternity leave out there. She can take a break. Come here to India. Have her baby. And if she wants to go back early we’ll look after the kid for a couple of months and then I’ll take leave and we’ll both go and drop the baby there.”

The wife says nothing.

“Give me the phone. I’ll ring her up and tell her to come here as early as possible. I’ll convince her she will be more comfortable here,” the husband says.

“I’ve already spoken to her and tried to convince her exactly what you suggested,” the wife says.

“And…?”

“She wants the baby to be born there. It’s something about citizenship.”

“So that’s the point…” the husband says, “She wants the best of both worlds, isn’t it…?”

VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2011
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?
This is a story from my recently published anthology of Short Fiction COCKTAIL and I am sure you will like all the 27 stories in COCKTAIL
To order your COCKTAIL please click any of the links below:
http://www.flipkart.com/cocktail-vikram-karve-short-stories-book-8191091844?affid=nme
http://www.indiaplaza.in/cocktail-vikram-karve/books/9788191091847.htm
http://www.apkpublishers.com/books/short-stories/cocktail-by-vikram-karve.html
COCKTAIL ebook
If you prefer reading ebooks on Kindle or your ebook reader, please order Cocktail E-book by clicking the links below:
AMAZON
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005MGERZ6
SMASHWORDS
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/87925

Foodie Book:  Appetite for a Stroll
If your are a Foodie you will like my book of Food Adventures APPETITE FOR A STROLL. Do order a copy from FLIPKART:
http://www.flipkart.com/appetite-stroll-vikram-karve/8190690094-gw23f9mr2o

About Vikram Karve

A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and is currently working on his novel and a book of vignettes and short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories, creative non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories and self help in magazines and published a large number of professional research papers in journals and edited in-house journals for many years, before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 14 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram 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
Professional Profile Vikram Karve: http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
Vikram Karve Facebook Page:  https://www.facebook.com/vikramkarve
Vikram Karve Creative Writing Blog: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm
Email: vikramkarve@sify.com
vikramkarve@gmail.com

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

COCKTAIL – MY FAVOURITE SHORT STORIES Part 36

September 5, 2011

 

COCKTAIL.

Please click on the title COCKTAIL above and read the story in my Creative Writing Blog.

This is the story selected for the title of my short stories book COCKTAIL.
Did you like this story?
I am sure you will like the stories in my recently published book COCKTAIL comprising twenty seven short stories about relationships. To order the book please click the links below:

http://www.flipkart.com/cocktail-vikram-karve-short-stories-book-8191091844?affid=nme


About Vikram Karve

A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU 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 he is currently working on his novel. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and creative non-fiction articles in magazines and journals for many years before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 14 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram 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
Professional Profile Vikram Karve: http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
Vikram Karve Facebook Page https://www.facebook.com/vikramkarve
Vikram Karve Creative Writing Blog: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm
Email: vikramkarve@sify.com    

 

MARRIAGE A LA MODE – MY FAVOURITE SHORT STORIES Part 31

August 29, 2011

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: MARRIAGE A LA MODE – MY FAVOURITE SHORT STORIES Part 31.

Click the link above and read in my creative writing journal

Regards

Vikram Karve

KETTI – a travel romance by Vikram Karve

May 28, 2011

KETTI.

KETTI
Short Fiction – A Travel Tale
By
VIKRAM KARVE

From my Creative Writing Archives:

 
Short Fiction – A Simple Love Story I wrote sometime in the 1990s …
Winter.

Early morning.

Chill in the air.


I stand alone on the metre gauge side of the lonely island platform of Mettupalaiyam Railway Station and stare at the peaks of the Blue Mountains (the Nilgiris) silhouetted in a veil of mist in the distance.

Nothing much has changed here since the last time I came here on my way to Ooty.

It was almost 30 years ago and even now the place, the things, the people – everything looks the same – as if frozen in time.

But for me there is a world of difference.

Then I was a young bride, full of inchoate zest, in the company of my handsome husband, eagerly looking forward to the romantic journey on the toy train of the Nilgiri Mountain Railway on my way to our honeymoon at Ooty.  

Then, on my way to my honeymoon, the place felt so exciting. 

Now it feels so gloomy.

Strange. 

But true. 

What’s outside just doesn’t matter; it is what is inside that matters.


I try not to reminisce.

Remembering good times when I am in misery causes me unimaginable agony.


I look at my watch.

7.30 A.M.

The small blue toy train pushed by its hissing steam engine comes on the platform.

Dot on time.

As it was then.


The same chill in the air. The same February morning – the 14th of February – Valentine’s Day. 

Then I had the loving warmth of my husband’s arm around me.

Now I feel the bitter cold penetrating within me.


I drag my feet across the platform towards the mountain train – then they called it The Blue Mountain Express – now I don’t know.

Scared, anxious, fear in my stomach, I experience a strange uneasiness, a sense of foreboding, a feeling of ominous helplessness – wondering what my new life would have in store for me.

I sit alone in the First Class compartment right in front of the train and wait for the train to start – the train which is going to take me to the point to no return.

I wish that all this is just a dream.

But I know it is not.


And suddenly, Avinash enters.

We stare at each other in disbelief.

Time stands still.


There is silence, a grotesque silence, till Avinash speaks, “Roopa! What are you doing here?”

I do not answer.

Because I cannot answer.

I am struck dumb, swept by a wave of melancholic despair.

My vocal cords numbed by emotional pain.


I look ineffectually and forlornly at Avinash and I realize that there is no greater pain than to remember happier times when in distress.  

“You look good when you get emotional,” Avinash says sitting opposite me.

In the vulnerable emotional state that I am in, I know that I will have a breakdown if I continue sitting with Avinash.

I want to get out, run away; but suddenly, the train moves.

I am trapped.

So I decide to put on a brave front, and say to Avinash, “Coming from Chennai?”


“Yes,” he says, “I’d gone for some work there.”

“You stay here? In Ooty?” I ask with a tremor of trepidation for I do not want to run into Avinash again and again; and let him know that I had made a big mistake by not marrying him – that I had made the wrong choice by dumping him, the man I loved, in search of a “better” life.

“I stay near Kotagiri,” Avinash says.

“Kotagiri?” I ask relieved.

“Yes, I own a tea-estate there.”

“You own a tea estate?”

“Yes. I am a planter.”

Now I really regret my blunder 30 years ago. Indeed I had made the wrong choice.

“Your family – wife, children?” I probe, curious.

“I didn’t marry,” he says curtly. “There’s no family; only me. A confirmed bachelor – just me – I live all by myself.”

“Oh, Avinash. You should have got married. Why didn’t you?”

“It is strange that you should be asking me why I did not marry,” he says.

 “Oh my God! Because of me?” 
 
Avinash changes the subject and says, “I’ll be getting off at Coonoor. My jeep will pick me up.”

He pauses, then asks me, “And you, Roopa? Going to Ooty? At the height of winter! To freeze over there?”


“No,” I say, “I am going to Ketti.”

“Ketti ?” he asks with derisive surprise.

“Yes. What’s wrong with going to Ketti?” I protest.

“There are only two places you can go to in Ketti – The boarding school and the old-age home. And the school is closed in December,” Avinash says nonchalantly, looking out of the window.

I say nothing.

Because I cannot say anything.

So I suffer his words in silence.


“Unless of course you own a bungalow there!” he says sarcastically turning towards me and mocking me once again.

The cat is out of the bag.

I cannot describe the sense of humiliation I feel sitting there with Avinash.

The tables seem to have turned.

Or have they?


There are only the two of us in the tiny compartment.

As the train begins to climb up the hills it began to get windy and Avinash closes the windows.


The smallness of the compartment forces us into a strange sort of intimacy.

I remember the lovely moments with Avinash.


A woman’s first love always has an enduring place in her heart.

“I am sorry if I hurt you,” Avinash says, “but the bitterness just came out.”

We talk.

Avinash is easy to talk to and I am astonished how effortlessly my words come tumbling out. 


I tell him everything. Yes, I tell him everything – the entire story of my life.

How I had struggled, sacrificed, planned and taken every care.

But still, everything had gone wrong.


Widowed at 28.

Abandoned by my only son at 52.

Banished to an old-age home. So that “they” could sell off our house and emigrate abroad.

“They” – yes, “they” – those two who ruined my life, betrayed my trust – my only son who I doted upon and lived for and that scheming wife of his. 


“I have lost everything,” I cry, unable to control my self. “Avinash, I have lost everything.”

“No, Roopa,” Avinash says. “You haven’t lost everything. You have got me! I’ve got you. We’ve got each other.”

Avinash takes me in his comforting arms. 

Cuddled in his arms, I experience the same feeling, the same zest, the same warmth, the same lovely emotion, the same love, that I felt thirty years ago, yes, thirty years ago, as a newly-wed on my first romantic journey, on this same mountain toy train, on my way to my first honeymoon, into the lovely blue mountains. 


VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2011
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?

I am sure you will like the stories in my recently published book COCKTAIL comprising twenty seven short stories about relationships.  

 

 

 

Do try out this delicious, heady and excitingCOCKTAIL. 

 

To know more please click the links below:
Cheers

About Vikram Karve

A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU 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. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and creative non-fiction articles in magazines and journals for many years before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 14 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram 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
Professional Profile Vikram Karve: http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
Vikram Karve Facebook Page https://www.facebook.com/vikramkarve
Vikram Karve Creative Writing Blog: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm

Email: vikramkarve@sify.com          

Fiction Short Stories Book

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

 

 

RENDEZVOUS AT CAFE NAAZ

May 13, 2011

RENDEZVOUS AT CAFE NAAZ.

RENDEZVOUS AT CAFE NAAZ 
Fiction Short Story – Detective Fiction 
By 
VIKRAM KARVE

From my Creative Writing Archives: 

For a change, here is a Detective Story I wrote recently. Old timers in Mumbai will surely remember the inimitable Cafe Naaz near Hanging Gardens on Malabar Hill overlooking Marine Drive. Sitting at Naaz Restaurant you got the best view of Mumbai. Well Cafe Naaz is no longer there, but memories remain!

A detective always remembers his first case. 

Let me tell you about mine.

This happened long back – more than thirty years ago – in the 1970s – when Pune was a salubrious pensioners’ paradise – a cosy laid back friendly town where everybody knew everybody. 
 
And let me tell you – at the time of this story – I was not even a full fledged detective – but I was just a rookie part-time amateur self-styled sleuth – studying in college – skylarking in my spare time as a private detective – masquerading as a Private Investigator for my uncle who ran a private detective agency.

Dear Reader, please remember that way back then, in good old days of the 1970s, there were no cell-phones, no PCs, no mobile cameras, handy cams or digital cameras, no modern technology gadgets, not even things like email and the internet that you take for granted today and the only method of investigation was the tried and tested good old physical surveillance where one spent hours and hours patiently shadowing and tailing your target.
 
“A woman wants her husband watched,” my uncle said giving me a slip of paper with a name and the room number of a well-known hotel in Pune.
 
“That’s all…?” I asked.

“He is a businessman from Mumbai…drives down to Pune very often…at least once a week…sometimes twice…ostensibly in connection with business…but she suspects there is some hanky-panky going on…”

One week later, waiting for the client to arrive at our planned rendezvous, I sat on the balcony of Café Naaz in the Hanging Gardens atop Malabar Hill sipping a cup of delicious Chai and enjoying the breathtaking view of the inimitable Mumbai sunset as the Arabian Sea devoured the orange sun followed by spectacular view of the Queen’s Necklace as the lights lit up Marine Drive.

She arrived on the dot at seven and sat opposite me.

I looked at my client.  She was a Beauty, a real beauty, 35… maybe 40… must have been a stunner in her college days…I tried not to stare at her.
  
“Okay…Tell me…” she said, getting to the point straightaway.
 
I started reading from my pocket-book, “Thursday morning at ten fifteen he left his hotel room…deposited key at reception telling them that he was going for work would return in the evening…started to drive down in his car towards Deccan…picked up a female who seemed to be waiting for him…she sat next to him…and as they drove off away from the city into the countryside they seemed to be getting amorous…lovey-dovey, you know, a bit of kissing, cuddling…”

“No…No…skip the details…just tell me…is he or isn’t he…?” she interrupted me. 
  
She seemed to be in a hurry. Maybe she was not comfortable being seen sitting with me over here and wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

“I think he is having an affair,” I said.
  
“You think he is having an affair?” 

“Yes. I am pretty sure he is having an affair.”

“How can you be so sure…?”

“Well we look for three things.


“Three things?
  
“Yes, the three key ingredients required to have a affair – Time, Inclination, Opportunity.”

“Time … Inclination … Opportunity…” she repeated looking quite perplexed.
 
“Well they certainly had the Time … they spent the whole day together in seclusion … and they certainly had the Opportunity … behind the privacy of closed doors in that lonely discreet motel hidden in the back of beyond … and as far as the Inclination part is concerned … well, the way they were behaving with each other … well, I have no doubt about it….”

A smile broke out on her face. 

I was flabbergasted. Now tell me dear reader – what would your reaction be if you came to know that your spouse was having an affair? Would you just smile? 

Suddenly I remembered what my uncle had told me, so I asked the woman, “Do you wish to increase coverage?” 

“Coverage?” 

“Yes, full coverage – Photographs, hotel receipts, documentary evidence, round the clock surveillance, explicit details, everything, no holds barred, the full works…” I elaborated. Of course all this detailed investigation would be personally handled in a professional manner by my experienced uncle and his agency. I was very keen that this woman ask us to do a comprehensive investigation. My uncle would be pleased with me and maybe he’d take me along and for me it would be a great learning experience.
  
“I don’t think so,” the woman said.
 
“No?” I said perplexed, “but you will require all this as evidence to establish that your husband is committing adultery.”
 
“Husband? Who said that man is my husband?” she said grinning like a Cheshire cat.
 
“You said so – to the head of the detective agency.”
 
“No, I did not tell your boss that the man was my husband – I never said that he was my husband. I just gave him the name of a man and told him that I wanted that man followed.
  
“But we assumed…”
  
“A good detective shouldn’t assume things, isn’t it…?
 
“But then why did you want that man followed…?” I asked curious.
  
“Well that’s my private matter,” she said, “but since you are such a cute boy and I like you, I will tell you. It is like this – One day, fifteen years ago, the day I completed my graduation, my parents showed me two photographs. The first photo was of the man you were following and the second photo was of the man who is now my husband.”

The woman paused for a moment, had a sip of water, and continued, “My parents told me to choose one, and I made my choice, but ever since then, during all these years of my married life, I was always tormented by the thought that I had made the wrong choice. But now, thanks to you, I know I made the right choice.”
 
She took out an envelope from her purse and gave it to me. “Here is your fee, and I have put in a little bonus for you for doing such an excellent job, she said. 

The woman patted my hand, then she got up and walked away into the enveloping darkness.
  
I opened the envelope and saw that the “little bonus” was much more than the fee – in fact, the bonus for me was more than double the fee for the entire investigation. 

I wondered whether she had two envelopes in her purse, one for each eventuality.

So my first case was over. 

I never forgot the cardinal lesson I learnt from this case. 

Since then, I never assume anything or presume anything – I never take anything for granted. Before I start a new investigation, the first thing I do is to carry out a background check of my client. Maybe that’s why I am such a successful detective.

So if you are thinking of hiring me, remember that the first thing I will do is to check you out.


VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2011
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?
I am sure you will like the 27 stories in COCKTAIL
To order your COCKTAIL please click any of the links below:

About Vikram Karve 

A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures(2008) and is currently working on his novel and a book of vignettes and short fiction. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories, creative non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories and self help in magazines and published a large number of professional research papers in journals and edited in-house journals for many years, before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 14 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram 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
Professional Profile Vikram Karve: http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
Vikram Karve Facebook Page:  https://www.facebook.com/vikramkarve
Vikram Karve Creative Writing Blog: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm
Email: vikramkarve@sify.com          
Fiction Short Stories Book

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
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