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DON’T CALL ME AUNTY – Fiction Short Story

December 17, 2009

DON’T CALL ME AUNTY
Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE 

 

“Wake up, I am sending you on a mission,” my father said, shaking me off my bed.

“Mission!” I jumped out of bed and got ready in a jiffy.

My father is a detective and, once in a while, he sends me on undercover assignments.

My father is all I have got in this world after God took my mother away.

“Surveillance?” I ask, as we stand discreetly at the bus stop outside Taraporewala Aquarium on Marine Drive.

“Yes. A simple tail-chase. Look to your right; keep your eyes focused on the gate of the working women’s hostel. A woman will come out soon. Follow her, shadow her, like a tail, but very discreetly, and the moment you lose her, ring me up on your mobile.”

Suddenly, a tall woman wearing a bright yellow dress appeared at the gate. My father gave me a nudge, and then he disappeared.

The woman walked towards Charni Road Station, crossed the over-bridge to platform No.2, and waited for the train to Churchgate.

She got into the ladies compartment and I followed her in, for though I am a boy, I’m still below twelve.

She sat down and I observed her, unseen, standing in the crowd. She must have been around 25, maybe 30, and with her smooth fair creamy complexion she looked really smashing in the bright yellow dress.

What I liked about her the most was her huge strikingly expressive dancing eyes.

At Churchgate, she leisurely strolled down the platform, whilst everyone else rushed by.

She browsed at Wheeler’s bookstall, and then stopped at Tibbs, bought a Frankie, and walked towards the underground exit. I too love frankies, so I quickly bought one too, and followed her, careful not to be seen.

We both walked, me behind her, munching away, straight down the road towards Nariman Point, till she stopped at the Inox Multiplex.

Shit! I hoped she wouldn’t go for an Adults movie, but luckily she bought a ticket for ‘Paa’ and I followed her in.

I really enjoyed the rest of my mission.

She was quite a fun person, and spent the day thoroughly enjoying herself, seeing the sights, browsing books, window shopping, street food, eating things I love to eat, doing the things I like to do.

It was smooth sailing, till suddenly she stepped into a beauty parlour.

Now I needed backup, so I called up my father.

But he told me to abort the mission and to meet him at our usual favourite place in the vicinity – Stadium next to Churchgate station.

“Abort the mission?” I protested.

“Yes,” my Dad ordered, “and come fast to Churchgate…The usual place…I’ll tell you the reason when you get here…”

We chose an inconspicuous table in the middle of the restaurant and sat facing the entrance.

I told him everything.

He listened intently.

Suddenly I saw the woman in yellow standing bold as brass at the entrance of the restaurant looking directly at us.

I felt a tremor of trepidation, the ground slipped beneath my feet.

And when I saw her coming directly towards our table, I tried to hide in my chair and wished the earth would swallow me up.

My father smiled at the woman, “Hello, Nanda.”

I was stunned.

‘Hello Nanda?’ This was too much!

I looked at my father, puzzled by his behaviour.

First he sends me after her on a tail-chase, shadowing her all day, and now ‘Hello Nanda’!

The lady in the yellow dress with the dancing eyes sat down, looked at me curiously.

“You’ve met, haven’t you?” father asked.  

“No, she said.”

“No? You’re sure? Try to think. You must have seen him somewhere before.”

“I’m sure I have not seen him before. I never forget a face. This is the first time I am seeing him. He’s cute,” she said, looking at me tenderly.

My father winked at me in appreciation.

But who was this woman, I wondered, so I asked my father, “Who is this aunty?”

It was the lovely woman in the bright yellow dress who looked lovingly at me with her dancing eyes and answered, “Don’t call me aunty. I am going to be your new mother.”

VIKRAM KARVE

 

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. 

vikramkarve@sify.com

 

http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve

 

 

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

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SMART BOY – Are Children Innocent Victims of Divorce

December 16, 2009

Dear Reader, have you read my fiction short story I posted recently on my Sulekha Creative Writing Blog titled A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A DIVORCED MAN

To read it just click on the title above or on the link below and after you have read it remember to come back here:

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2009/12/a-day-in-the-life-of-a-divorced-man.htm

Now this story highlighted the negative effects of divorce, especially in the context of children, who are supposed to be innocent victims in divorce situations for no fault of their own. It was quite a depressing open-ended story and some readers wanted a happy conclusion to that story.

Well, I did try, but could not conjure up a proper believable “happy ending” to A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A DIVORCED MAN so in order to counterbalance the situation here is a “happy ending” divorce story where the child is certainly not an “innocent victim” of a divorce situation!

Read on and tell me if you liked this story:

SMART BOY


Short Fiction – An Intriguing Conversation – A Slice of Life Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

I am going to tell you about a very intriguing conversation I had with a naughty boy while travelling from Mumbai to Pune on the Deccan Queen last evening.

I find a smart boy sitting on my window seat talking to a handsome man sitting on the seat beside him.

“Excuse me,” I say to the man, “this is the ladies’ compartment…”

Before the man can answer, the boy says, “I’m only seven…below 12…I can travel…”

“Don’t be rude, Rohan,” the man admonishes the boy, and then he rises from the seat, moves into the aisle, making way for me, and says, “Sorry, Ma’am, I am getting off, I just came to see off my son…is it okay if he sits in the window seat…”

“It is okay,” I say and sit down next to the boy, on the seat by the aisle.

“Actually I was waiting for you to come,” the man says.

“Me?” I ask, flabbergasted.

“My son…he’s travelling alone…”

“I always travel alone…” the boy interjects.

“Of course, you are a big boy now aren’t you?” the father says lovingly to his son, then turns towards me and says, “His mother will come to receive him in Pune…I’ve SMSed the coach and seat number to her…and Rohan’s got his cell-phone too…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your son and deliver him safely to his mother,” I assure the man.

“Thanks,” the man says to me, then turns to his son and says affectionately, “Give me a call when you reach…and come next weekend…”

“Of course I’ll be here on Saturday morning…you be here to get me off the Deccan Queen…I’ve got three days holidays…we’ll go off somewhere on an adventure trip…”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll do the bookings…” the man’s words are suddenly interrupted by the guard’s whistle and the train starts moving.

“Bye, Papa,” the boy jumps across me, hugs his father who bends down, kisses his son on the cheek, disengages and quickly moves to the exit, turning once to wave out to his son. The train gradually picks up speed.

Rohan sits down in his seat, takes out his fancy mobile phone, and a pair of earplugs.

My curiosity gets the better of my discretion and I ask the boy, “That’s a real good mobile phone.”

“Yes. It’s cool…the latest…it’s got everything…touch screen…music…internet…”

“Your father gave it to you?”

“Yes. Papa gets me the best…”

“And your mother…”

“Oh, Mama is too good…she loves me so much…takes so much care of me… lets me do whatever I want…oh…before you ask I should tell you…Papa and Mama are divorced…”

“Oh dear, I am so sorry…”

“No. No. It’s okay…I am happy they are divorced…”

“You are happy your parents are divorced?” I ask totally astonished, incredulous.

“Yes…for me it is better this way…you know my Mama and Papa now have to share me…they’ve divided me between them…during the week I stay with Mama in Pune…and I spend the weekends with Papa in Mumbai…”

“But wasn’t it better when you all lived together as one family?”

“It was terrible…when we lived together they were just not bothered about me….Mama and Papa were so busy with their office and work and parties and travelling and everything…they just had no time for me…and whatever little time we were together they kept fighting…”

“And now?”

“After they split my life is just too good…!” the boy says.

“Too good…?” I interrupt, taken aback.

“Yes…after their divorce my life has become real good…I like it this way…now they care for me so much…they never scold me now like they used to before…now both my Mama and Papa pamper me so much…just imagine…I had two birthday parties this year…one by Mama at Pune and one by Papa in Mumbai…”

“Really? You had two birthday parties?”

Yes…an now they let me do whatever I want…give me so much time…and presents…they give me whatever I want…they even give me whatever I don’t want…”

“Whatever you don’t want…?”

“Now see, Papa has given me this fantastic mobile phone…now Mama will give me even a better one…or maybe some other groovy stuff…it’s like my Mama and Papa are in competition to make me happy…”

“That’s good…you are really lucky…”

“Oh, yes. I am very lucky…but it is funny isn’t it…?

“Funny? What?”

“About my Papa and Mama…when they were together they neglected me…and now they when live separated, they pamper me so much…so it is better isn’t it…that they are divorced… at least for me…”

I am still trying to analyze the uncanny truth in the young boy’s topsy-turvy logic.

You neglect your kids when you are married together and you spoil them to glory when you are separated divorced…and I thought children were “innocent victims” in divorce situations!

Smart Boy!

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.


http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com


http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve


Appetite for a Stroll


A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A DIVORCED MAN


http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2009/12/a-day-in-the-life-of-a-divorced-man.htm

vikramkarve@sify.com

Gift of Insults – Food for Thought

November 6, 2009

THE GIFT OF INSULTS

 

Ancient Wisdom

 

An Inspirational Story

 

By

 

VIKRAM KARVE

 

 

 

Now-a-days many persons, especially young people, are very touchy and hypersensitive to what others say.

 

Here is one of my favorite stories to mull over.

 

 

There was once a great warrior. His reputation extended far and wide throughout the land and many students gathered to study under him. Though quite old, he still adept at martial arts and, despite his age, the legend was that he could defeat any adversary.

 

One afternoon, a young warrior, known for his complete lack of scruples, arrived in the village.

 

The young warrior had never lost a fight.

 

Along with his strength, he had an uncanny ability to spot and exploit any weakness in an opponent. He would wait for his opponent to make the first move, thus revealing a weakness, and then would strike with merciless force and lightning speed. No one had ever lasted with him in a match beyond the first move.  

 

The young warrior had heard of the old master’s reputation was determined to be the first man to defeat the till then invincible great master.
The brash young warrior challenged the old master to a fight. Much against the advice of his concerned students, the old master gladly accepted the young warrior’s challenge.

 

All villagers eagerly gathered in the village square to witness the bout.

 

As the two squared off for battle, the young warrior began to hurl insults at the old master. The young warrior threw dirt and spat in the master’s face and tried his utmost to goad and incite the master to make the first move.

 

But the old warrior merely stood there motionless and calm.

 

For hours the young warrior provoked the master. He verbally abused the master with every curse and insult known to mankind and even insulted the master’s ancestors, but the old man kept smiling and remained impassive.

 

Finally, as the sun started setting, the young warrior started feeling exhausted and humiliated. Gradually comprehension dawned on the young warrior and he knew that he was defeated so he bowed before the master and feeling shamed he left the village.

 

Disappointed that the master had received so many insults and provocations, the students gathered around the old master and questioned him, “How could you bear such indignity?  Why didn’t you use your sword and fight the insolent youth? It would have been better if you lost the fight instead of displaying such cowardice in front of us all?”

 

“If someone comes to you with a gift, and you do not accept it, to whom does the gift belong?” asked the master.

 

“To the giver, the one who tried to give the gift,” replied one of his students.

 

“The same goes for envy, anger and insults,” said the master, “If you do not accept the gift of insults, they continue to belong to the one who deliver them!”

 

 

Dear Reader, I am sure you have read this famous story before. Now let us apply it in our daily life.

 

 

VIKRAM KARVE

vikramkarve@sify.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

 

 

 

THE MARRIED WOMAN AND THE YOUNG DETECTIVE

September 27, 2009

THE MARRIED WOMAN AND THE YOUNG DETECTIVE

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

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 everyone knew everyone.

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 atop Malabar Hill sipping a cup of delicious Chai and enjoying the breathtaking 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…?”

“Yes…I am pretty sure…”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well we look for three things – the three key ingredients which are required to have an affair – TIME, INCLINATION and 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…I have no doubt about it….”

A smile broke out on her face.

I was flabbergasted – now tell me dear reader – what would be your reaction 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…?”

“Photographs…receipts…documentary evidence…round the clock surveillance…full details….” I elaborated.

Of course all this would be handled in a professional manner by my experienced uncle and his agency…maybe he’d take me along as a 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 he is my husband…?” she said grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“You said so…to the head of the detective agency…”

“No, I didn’t….I just told him that I wanted a 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 I like you, I’ll 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…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 since then…during all these years of my married life… I was always tormented by the thought that I had made the wrong choice….now…thanks to you… I know I made the right choice!”

She took out an envelope from her purse and gave it to me. “Your fee…and there is a bonus for you too for doing such a good job…” she said and then she got up and walked away into the enveloping darkness.

Later when I opened the envelope and saw that the “bonus” was more than the fee, I wondered whether she had two envelopes in her purse, one for each eventuality.

I never forgot the cardinal lesson I learnt from this case – I never assume anything…and now…before I start a new investigation…the first thing I do is to carry out a background check of the client.

THE MARRIED WOMAN AND THE YOUNG DETECTIVE

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.


http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

vikramkarve@sify.com

A DIVORCE STORY – MAN WOMAN and CHILD

September 14, 2009

MAN WOMAN and CHILD
[Fiction Short Story]

by

VIKRAM KARVE

“She can take the flat, but I want custody of my son,” the man says emphatically to the marriage counselor in the family court.

“No way,” shouts the woman, “he can keep his flat, his money, everything. I don’t want anything from him. I just want my son.”

The marriage counselor looks at the eight-year-old boy and asks him lovingly, “Dear boy, tell me, what do you want?”

“I want both of them,” the boy says.

“Both of them?” the counselor asks looking a bit puzzled.

“Yes,” the boy says emphatically, “I want both my mummy and my daddy.”

“I think you both should give it a last try, at least for your child’s sake,” the counselor says to the man and the woman.

“No. I’ve had enough. It’s over. We can’t stay with this man!” the woman says.

“We?” the man asks incredulously, “What do you mean ‘we’…Well you are most welcome to go wherever you want, but my son is staying with me. I am his father!”

“And I am his mother!” the woman pleads anxiously to the man, “Listen, I don’t want anything from you – maintenance, alimony, nothing! Just give me my son. I can’t live without him!”

“He’s my son too. I love him and I can’t live without him too!” the man says.

“See,” the counselor appeals to the man and the woman, “You both love your son so much. I still think you should try to reconcile.”

“No. I want out,” the woman says.

“Me too!” the man says.

“Okay, let’s go in,” the counselor says, shrugging her shoulders, “Since you two have agreed on everything else, the judge will probably ask you the same things I asked you, he will talk to the child, and then, considering the child’s age, let him stay with his mother and grant the father visiting rights.”

“This whole system is biased in favor of women! I can look after my son much better than her,” the man says angrily.

“My foot!” the woman says, “You’ll ruin his life. It is better he remains away from your influence!”

“Please don’t fight inside,” the counselor advises, “You want an amicable mutual consent separation, isn’t it?”

And so, the man and the woman separate, a step towards the death of their relationship.

Since their son is a small boy he goes with his mother.

After the six month long separation period is over, the man and woman assemble in the family court for their divorce.

“I want to tell you something,” the woman says to the man.

“What?” the man asks.

“Well I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’ve been seeing someone.”

“And you want to get married to him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s great. Go ahead. Good Luck to you!” the man says, “and who is the lucky guy?”

“Oh yes, he is indeed a lucky guy – He’s a childhood friend. Now he lives in the States and is here on a vacation.”

“So you’re off to the States?”

“Yes. Once all this divorce business is through.”

“Good for you.”

“It’s about our son…” the woman says awkwardly.

“What?” the man asks suspiciously.

“I want to leave him with you. As a gesture of goodwill, let’s say as a parting gift.”

“Goodwill? Parting Gift?” the man asks dumbfounded.

“We thought we should begin life afresh, without the baggage of the past.”

“You call our son the baggage of the past? How dare you? He is your son!” the man says angrily.

“And he is your son too!” the woman says, “He needs a father, especially now.”

“You’ve told the boy?”

“No,” the woman answers.

The man says nothing.

There is silence.

And then the man hesitantly says to the woman, “A friend of mine has just moved in with me. Actually she’s more than a friend. She’s going to live in with me for some time, to get to know each other better, and then we’ll decide. I don’t think it’s the right time for the boy to stay with me. I think you better keep our son with you – as goodwill, a parting gift, from me!”

Strange are the ways of life.

First the parents fought bitterly for his custody and now no one, not his mother nor his father, wants to keep him any longer.

And so the man and the woman each find their new life-partners and live “happily ever after” and their darling son is packed off to boarding school.

Sad, isn’t it, when children become hapless innocent victims of broken marriages.

MAN WOMAN and CHILD

[Fiction Short Story]

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

vikramkarve@sify.com

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