A Short Story
by
VIKRAM KARVE Original Post Link on my Academic and Creative Writing Journal
http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2013/01/the-pen-is-mightier-than-sword.html THE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD
Creative Writing by Vikram Karve from Pune India – Anthology of Short Stories
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Click the link above to read one of my earliest short stories SAPIENCE
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Click the link below and read the story and the recipe in my journal
http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2011/11/food-sex-perception-food-for-thought.html
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Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: Rest in Peace – RIP..
Click the link above and REST IN PEACE
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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.
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Please click on the title COCKTAIL above and read the story in my Creative Writing Blog.
http://www.flipkart.com/cocktail-vikram-karve-short-stories-book-8191091844?affid=nme
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Click the link above and read in my creative writing journal
Regards
Vikram Karve
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AM I A VICTIM OF DEEMED CORRUPTION.
Click the link above and read on my creative writing blog.
The article is posted below too:
AM I A VICTIM OF DEEMED CORRUPTION ?
This morning while discussing recent events pertaining to Anna Hazare’s Anti-Corruption Movement, the Lokpal Bill and current events, someone mentioned the term “Deemed Corruption”. He said that if a government servant delays the work of a citizen beyond a reasonable time then that government servant will be deemed to be corrupt and it will be a case of deemed corruption. After hearing this, I thought of a recent problem which is happening to me and I wonder whether I am unwittingly a victim of deemed corruption.
When I was in the navy we were required to be prompt in the performance of our duties, but unfortunately the same promptness was not shown towards us by various civilian “babus” especially those in accounts offices. And now, for no fault of mine, I am facing a problem after my retirement too, owing to the indifferent attitude of the lower bureaucracy. I retired almost one year ago but even till today a part of my retirement benefits have been withheld because of gross inefficiency on the part of a nameless faceless clerk. Let me tell you about it.
Our Accounts Office withheld a substantial amount from my retirement benefits for adjustments towards house rent since my original rent bills were not received by them from the MES (Military Engineering Service) from the year 2008 onwards despite reminders. (I had no role to play in this – the MES is required to directly send the bills to our Accounts Office promptly in a time bound manner). Of course, my pay office had been deducting provisional house rent every month from my salary but they said they had to reconcile with the original rent bills, adjust plus or minus, get it audited, and only then could they release the money due to me.
I occupied those government quarters in 2008 and vacated them in 2010. Monthly provisional rent has been regularly recovered from me. The biggest joke is that the MES has issued me a Final Clearance Certificate and a Final No Demand Certificate when I vacated the house. These certificates have been sent to the Accounts Office. But all this is of no use as they want the original rent bills from the MES and there is nothing I can do about it except write reminders and wait patiently.
Someone told me that as per norms the MES is required to send rent bills to the accounts office every quarter (within three months) but in this case the work has been delayed by almost four years by some clerk in the MES and I am the loser for no fault of mine. There is no effective grievance redressal machinery to whom I can complain. All that is happening is that there is ever-increasing correspondence as letters and reminders are being exchanged between various agencies but nothing seems to move the mighty clerks of the MES.
I wonder whether this inordinate delay is due to inefficiency or is it a case of deemed corruption?
Is it possible that my work is being purposely delayed because I did not pay the required “mamool” or speed money? Frankly I don’t know whether I have to pay a bribe to the MES clerks in order to get this routine work done – I have never done so before and I am not going to do so now.
This case shows that how the clerks of the lower bureaucracy are supreme. They have no accountability and seem to be invulnerable. No one is held responsible for such delays and for non-performance of their duties. I am sure many such cases of “deemed corruption” are happening everywhere and common citizens are suffering for no fault of theirs as their work is inordinately delayed by lower bureaucracy.
Anna Hazare is right. Whereas Grand Corruption and Multi-Crore Scams grab the headlines and this may be important at the macro level as it affects the nation, at the micro level, it is petty corruption by the lower bureaucracy which is troubling the common citizen. It will be a great relief to the common man if the chronic problem of omnipresent all-pervading petty corruption can be addressed effectively.
I wish the government enacts a strong and effective Lokpal Bill which brings the lower bureaucracy under its purview, specifies a time bound Citizens Charter, implements and puts in place an effective, prompt, easy to use, e-governance style IT Based online Grievance Redressal Mechanism and, most importantly, incorporates the concept of deemed corruption and stipulates severe punishment and heavy penalties for those indulging in deemed corruption and harassing the common citizen. This will surely help alleviate the distress caused to the common citizen.
PS – As far as my case is concerned, I don’t know what to do. Any suggestions on how to solve my problem?
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click the title above to read this love story on my creative writing blog
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From my Creative Writing Archives:
Early morning.
Chill in the air.
But true.
What’s outside just doesn’t matter; it is what is inside that matters.
Remembering good times when I am in misery causes me unimaginable agony.
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.
Now I feel the bitter cold penetrating within me.
But I know it is not.
Time stands still.
Because I cannot answer.
I am struck dumb, swept by a wave of melancholic despair.
My vocal cords numbed by emotional pain.
I am trapped.
So I decide to put on a brave front, and say to Avinash, “Coming from Chennai?”
He pauses, then asks me, “And you, Roopa? Going to Ooty? At the height of winter! To freeze over there?”
Because I cannot say anything.
So I suffer his words in silence.
I cannot describe the sense of humiliation I feel sitting there with Avinash.
The tables seem to have turned.
Or have they?
As the train begins to climb up the hills it began to get windy and Avinash closes the windows.
I remember the lovely moments with Avinash.
Avinash is easy to talk to and I am astonished how effortlessly my words come tumbling out.
But still, everything had gone wrong.
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.
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