Posts Tagged ‘MBA’

THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE – Part 1

April 24, 2010

THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE

Short Fiction – A Love Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

PART 1

Do you remember the happiest day of your life…?

I do…!

Here’s how it began…

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

I turned around.

“Mr. Avinash…?” she asked.

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

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

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

I looked at her.

Avinash had been terribly wrong. This was no podgy pedestrian suburban unpretentious behenji. She was a real beauty, chic, smart, a stunner, and I could not take my eyes off her.

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

And suddenly her eyes began to dance, and seeing my frank look of genuine admiration, she gave me smile so captivating that I experienced a delightful twinge in my heart.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes…yes…” I said.

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

Thus began the happiest day of my life. Dear Reader, please permit me to tell you a little bit about how it all started and to tell you this story I am going to transport you backwards into the past, yes, we are going more than 30 years back in time, to the late 1970s, when Pune was a Pensioners’ Paradise.

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

Imagine a Pune without Malls and the Multiplexes, with hardly any traffic on the roads, when the bicycle was the popular mode of travel; the nearest “city” was Mumbai and the best way of getting there was by the railways, by charming trains like the Deccan Queen, enjoying the scenic beauty of the lush green Sahayadri Ghats while savouring the delicious breakfast served by the restaurant car, since there was no expressway and it sometimes took six hours to drive down as the road through the Khandala Ghats was quite treacherous.

Just imagine – there were no mobile cell-phones, no internet, no PCs, no STD [one had to book trunk-calls] and Black and White Television had just arrived and was a novelty.

The main thing was that there was no internet, and hence no email, and one had to write letters and send them via post as there were no courier services either.

And of course, social interaction was face to face, relishing yummy bhel in the numerous picturesque parks, or over tea, in the Amruttulayas, Irani cafes and Kattas, as there was no facebook, no orkut, no chatting, and no blogging, nothing…and by the way, back then, the concept of “cyberspace” did not exist…

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

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

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

Well that was the trend at IITs those days – either you went abroad, to America, to pursue higher studies, or got a good job in the campus interview in a prestigious engineering firm, unless you were one of those few who preferred to be a white-collared manager via the MBA route [way back then there were hardly any management institutes, I think maybe there was just one IIM or maybe two, and FMS at Delhi and a Jamnalal Bajaj at Mumbai].

But the majority of engineers studied engineering to practice engineering, so we were quite happy to hit the shop floor doing hard core engineering.

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

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

Life was good.

It was easy to be happy. Our threshold of happiness was so low that small things made us happy. Like a relaxed chat over a cup of tea.

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

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

When there are two close friends, one assumes the role of a leader and the other a follower. Amongst us, Avinash, a tall, strapping, confident, flamboyant, handsome man endowed with an excellent physique with a dominating personality, was the natural leader.

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

“What…”? I asked.

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

I looked at him, confused.

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

“But why don’t you go…?” I asked.

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

“But you didn’t tell me…” I said.

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

“But how…?” I protested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My mother said her office is in Kalaghoda…so this is the nearest and best place…there they work on Thursdays… only we here have industrial off…so they fixed up tomorrow…as she has to leave for her place in the evening on holiday…don’t argue…just get it over with…after you come back I’ll ring up  my mom tomorrow evening and tell her I didn’t like the girl and the whole thing is a closed chapter…” Avinash said, putting his arm around my shoulder, “aur Shekhar, agar mera Lonavala wali se jugad fit baith gaya to I’ll give you a big treat…”

So, next morning I boarded the Deccan Queen to Mumbai….

To be continued…

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2010

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://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

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


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Mr. and Mrs. X and the Baby

April 23, 2010

Mr. and Mrs. X and the Baby

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

(Dear Readers, this is a fiction short story, purely apocryphal, with a message for young working couples on the threshold of matrimony)

Mr. and Mrs. X desperately wanted to have a baby.

So they tried very hard to have a baby.

Poor Mr. and Mrs. X, they tried and tried, all by themselves, but they couldn’t have a baby.

And as time flew, and the biological clock ticked away, Mr. and Mrs. X became more and more anxious, and so with resolute perseverance, they put everything at stake, made determined efforts, consulted the best doctors in town, spent huge amounts of money on the best and most sophisticated infertility treatments possible, tried all sorts of things, exoteric and esoteric, left no stone unturned, struggled and struggled, with dogged persistence, till, at long last, at the age of 35, Mrs. X conceived, and after a difficult, delicate, grueling, backbreaking, anxious, harrowing  pregnancy, she overcame all sorts of complications, and finally, after enduring for nine long months, successfully delivered a beautiful bonny baby.

Everyone was delighted – the parents, having proved their mettle, the doctors, on the success of their treatment, the grandparents that the family lineage was preserved, the soothsayers, the relatives, the friends – everybody.

Three months later I happened to be in town and decided to visit Mr. and Mrs. X and their bonny baby.

On the way, at the jewellers, I bought a gold ornament as a present for the bonny baby.

I found my way to their classy house in an elite condominium located in the most posh and exclusive neighbourhood of the city.

I felt a tinge of envy thinking about Mr. and Mrs. X, the young IT whiz kids, who could achieve such expensive luxuries and an ostentatious living style so early in life.

The proud grandparents opened the door.

The baby, on her grandmother’s lap, looked cute, very cute and cuddly.

The baby’s parents, the young mother and father, were conspicuous by their absence.

It was late evening and I had expected Mr. and Mrs. X to be at home, doting upon their adorable little baby, so curious I asked, “Where is the young mother?”

“At work,” the grandfather answered.

“Oh… the young mother is already back at work…? So fast…? But I’ll wait for her – she should be back home soon, isn’t it…?” I asked looking at the wall clock.

“No! No! She won’t be coming for at least six months now. She’s gone abroad, to the States, on an important project,” said the proud grandmother, cuddling and mothering the baby.

“And Mr. X, the proud father, he’ll be coming…” I asked.

“He’s in Singapore. He got a fantastic job offer the day the baby was born,” said the grandfather.

“You know, the baby has proved real lucky for them. Her mother got promoted as project leader, a hefty raise and this foreign assignment and her father got this fabulous job offer in Singapore,” said the proud grandmother, cuddling the baby, who suddenly started to cry.

“It’s her feed-time,” the grandmother said, handing over the baby to the grandfather, and she went to the kitchen to warm up the baby’s milk.

“It’s good,” the grandfather said lovingly fondling the bonny baby, “for all these years when they were trying so hard to have this baby, they had put their careers on the back-burner; now that they have got their baby, they can focus on their careers once again.”

The grandmother came out with the milk bottle and began feeding the bonny baby while the doting grandfather lovingly looked on.

I looked at the grandparents – the surrogate parents – and the baby – the light of their lives, their raison d’etre, probably their reason for living and certainly the source of all their present happiness.

As I said earlier, this is a fiction short story, purely apocryphal, with a message for younger readers on the threshold of matrimony.

Any Comments…?

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2010

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://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

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

INFATUATION LOVE and MARRIAGE

April 15, 2010

INFATUATION LOVE and MARRIAGE

Short Fiction – A Love Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

“I want to have a word with you…”

“Later. I’m busy…”

“No. I want to talk to you right now…”

“Not now. Please. We’ll talk at lunch break. I have a deadline to meet…”

“I told you I want to talk to you now. It’s urgent…”

“What’s so urgent…?”

“It’s about Nisha…”

“Nisha…?”

“Just lay off…”

“Lay off…?”

“You took Nisha out to a movie and dinner last evening, didn’t you…?”

“So…?”

“So nothing… You just stop seeing her… I don’t like it…”

“You don’t like it…? Who the hell are you to like it or not…?

“Who the hell am I…? Nisha is my girl…she is mine…We are in love…”

“Love…? Nisha loves you…? Bullshit…! Go and look at your face in the mirror… Is she crazy to love a clot like you…?”

“You just shut up… And just lay off Nisha…I don’t want you too see Nisha or even talk to her ever again…understand…I am warning you…”

“Warning…? Hey Dude… just buzz off…I like Nisha and she likes me and we are seeing each other…It is you who has got to vamoose…Got it…? So just get lost and let me get on with my work…I told you I have a deadline…”

“I’ll break your…”

“Hey, what are you doing…? Just take your hands off me…this is the office…”

“Okay, I’ll meet you in the evening… outside office… and sort you out…”

“Sort me out…? You sissy…I’ll thrash the hell out of you……

Hey, look…Nisha is coming here…”

“Hi guys…I was just coming to meet both of you…and I find you together…what a coincidence…”

“Meet us…?”

“I’ve got some great news…I am getting married…”

“You are getting married…?”

“He lives abroad…works in the states…in Houston…he is a childhood friend…my classmate from school…we had lost touch with each other…he found me on the net on FB a few days ago…we chatted…he proposed this morning…I said yes…”

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2010

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 Mumbai Story

May 20, 2008

Click the link below to read a Mumbai story

 

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/05/a-lazy-hot-afternoon-in-mumbai-a-leisurely-story.htm

 

All the Best

vikram Karve