MARRIAGE COCKTAIL

A Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

The moment she saw us, tears welled up in her eyes – there is nothing more shameful for a young bride than to see her husband helplessly drunk, staggering disgracefully in other woman’s arms.

I felt sorry for her.

It is true – to be married to a drunkard is the crown of all misery.

I lay him on the sofa, took off his shoes, put a pillow under his head – she, his wife, did not move but remained frozen with a look of anxious trepidation on her face.

The man who was dead drunk, Arun, lay in stupor, oblivious to the world.

It was only as I began to leave that his wife, Sadhana, rushed into my arms and broke down.

“He will be okay,” I hugged her warmly and comforted her.

“I want to die! I want to die!” she began screaming hysterically, “Why is this happening to me?”

I sat her down, gave her a glass of cold water from the fridge, and said, “Sadhana, you just go to sleep now. Arun will be absolutely well in the morning. You don’t say anything to him – just ignore him – let him go to office. Then I will come here and we will talk.”

“You will come?” she pleaded.

“Yes, I will come in the morning and everything will be okay,” I calmed her.

I drove home late at night, lay alone in my lonely bed, commiserating, unable to sleep, wondering what to do.

I knew I had to do something, for I loved Arun dearly.

Hey, don’t get me wrong. It’s not what you’re thinking.

Tell me, can a woman love a man without ever having made love to him? Can a woman love a man without falling in love with him?

Of course she can – you can take my word for it – like I loved Arun.

Maybe it was our mutual chemistry or I don’t know what, but we certainly shared fantastic vibes, and we did love each other – Platonic, Ethereal, buddy-love – call it what you like.

Arun was my colleague and developing feelings of fondness for someone who you are in close proximity with for more than least ten hours every day is very natural – but he was much more than my “work spouse” – he was my soul mate.

Arun was my classmate from our student days in the States and I was not only his constant companion at work and socially, but also his closest confidante.

In such cases it is a thin line between friendship and having an affair, but we never crossed that line.

There were no secrets between us except the time he suddenly went to his hometown in the interiors of the mofussil and dutifully got married to the girl his parents had chosen for him.

Then he rang me up in the office, told me the news without much ado, and peremptorily commanded me to get his flat ready and come to the Mumbai Central Railway Station to receive him and his newly wedded wife.

I liked Arun’s wife Sadhana too.

She was a plump, graceful girl with a very pretty face and a sincere friendly smile which radiated a charming innocence.

She readily accepted me as a friend with honesty and openness, and generously understood my relationship with Arun without a trace of suspicion, envy or rancour.

I could not bear to see the poor innocent girl suffer like this.

Tomorrow I would talk to her, counsel her, and talk to Arun, and find a solution, make them more compatible, so that they could be happy, have a fun marriage.

But first let me tell you how it all started.

Arun loved his drink.

In fact, he loved his drink a bit too much.

I think he had an innate propensity for alcohol.

I noticed this and told him once or twice and then let it go as it was early days and maybe he was just enjoying himself, and I too didn’t quite mind sharing a spot of cheer in his affable company.

Maybe his parents knew this, his penchant for the bottle, and, maybe they thought that marriage was the panacea, and then they saw Sadhana, and said to themselves: “She is a very good girl, from a cultured family, excellent upbringing – I am sure she will bring improve him with her love and he will mend his ways after marriage. She’ll take care of him. Bring him around.”

It’s true; many people do seem to think the marriage is the easiest solution to many ills, like alcoholism, and everything will suddenly be happy ever after.

Sadhana’s marriage was a social triumph for her parents. She was an ordinary looking small town girl studying in college and it was almost a miracle, a stroke of good fortune, that the elders of the best known family in the town had come all the way their modest house, the girl’s parents, to ask for her hand in marriage to their son – a well-educated foreign returned top management executive. 

It was a grand wedding; but I have heard somewhere that, sometimes, a grand wedding results in a disastrous marriage.

At first Arun too was quite happy at his newly acquired simple naïve “provincial” wife who he thought would be unquestioningly obedient and acquiesce to his every whim and fancy.

Sadhana turned out exactly as he expected – a nurturing, caring, loving wife who did exactly what he wanted, pampered him to glory and unquestioningly submitted to all his demands, except one – she did not allow even a drop of alcohol in their house. In this she did not yield.

On her first day she cleaned out his well stocked bar, simply throwing all the bottles of expensive booze down the garbage chute.

Arun tried to reason with her, explained the ways of cosmopolitan culture, but Sadhana stuck to her guns, defiant.

And when all of us at the office suddenly landed up for impromptu dinner with the big boss presenting Arun a bottle of his favourite Single Malt, Sadhana promptly drained the precious whisky down the sink saying, “This daru is evil stuff,” and then served us a delicious spur-of-the-moment meal.

This was the last straw!

I noticed Arun seethe in silence feeling totally humiliated in front of his colleagues, his juniors, his friends, and me, but he did not say anything.

He reacted the next day – from that day onwards he started drinking with vengeance.

Arun started drinking at the club bar on his way home from work every night.

At first I would give him company, but soon I stopped accompanying him, as his drinking grew from bad to worse and his behaviour would often become nasty after a few drinks.

And now this – a call at midnight from the club secretary that my colleague and friend Arun had passed out stone drunk in the bar and would I please take him away as they had to close up.

Next morning, I left the office around ten thirty, telling Arun that I was not feeling well and went straight to his house.

Sadhana was waiting for me.

“Shall we have tea?” she asked.

“No. Let’s go to the club,” I hustled her out of the house and bundled her into my car overruling her protests, “We can be more discreet there,” I said hinting at the servants, but I had other plans.

It was early, the club was empty.

I chose a lonely inconspicuous table and ordered a Pina Colada Cocktail for myself and a Soft Drink for Sadhana.

“You’ve got to help him,” I said to Sadhana, coming straightaway to the point, not giving her a chance to start her sob story.

“Help him? Of course I want to help him. But how?”

“You adapt a bit, and he too will change and get better.”

“Adapt? What should I do?”

“Give him company.”

“What?”

“Be his friend. Spend your evenings with him.”

“But he goes to the club every evening.”

“Go to the club with him, sit with him, meet his friends, chat, talk to him, and make friends with him. He will feel good. In fact, I would suggest that you join him in a drink once in a while and have a little fun.”

“What?” Sadhana said flabbergasted, “You want me to drink liquor? In my home I have not even seen a drop of alcohol…”

“Relax, Sadhana, don’t be so dogmatic,” I took her hands in mine and calmed her down, “You are in a different society now. There is no harm in having a small cocktail, or some wine – now-a-days everyone does – even I do.”

“No. No…”

“Here, sip this,” I said giving her my glass of the lip-smacking sweet creamy Pina Colada.

“No. No. I can’t have this bitter strong stuff,” she protested.

“Try it, just once,” I insisted, almost forced her, and she took a tiny sip.

“It’s sweet and delicious isn’t it? Now if you have a little bit for Arun’s sake, he will start enjoying your company. Arun needs companionship. Tell me Sadhana, isn’t it better he has a drink with you than his hard drinking friends – that he rather spends his time in your company than with his good-for-nothing friends who are out to ruin him?”

Sadhana gave me a hesitant look, but did not say anything.

But I could sense her desperation deep within that would make her try out anything, any remedy, any cure.

I looked into her eyes and said, “The trick is to wean him away from hard drinking to social drinking. That’s what will happen once he starts enjoying your company. I am telling you again. Be his friend. Spend your evenings with him. Go to the club, sit with him, have a drink. Arun will feel good. He will start liking you. Now drinking is his priority – soon you will be his priority.”

“I don’t know…” Sadhana faltered.

“Trust me. Try it. It will make life easier for both of you. Stop trying to control him.  It will never work. I know Arun well. If you nag him you will drive him away from you. Confrontations, threats, arguments – with these he will only get worse. Come on, Sadhana, for Arun’s sake, for your sake, give it a try, I am sure he will respond positively.”

Sadhana looked anxiously at me, nervous, unsure, yet desperate.

I stood up walked to her and gave her a loving hug, “You two are newly married. I want you to be able to laugh, relax, have fun and enjoy life to its fullest!”

She hugged me in return.

“Promise me you’ll give it a try,” I said.

“I will try my best,” she promised.

It worked.

Arun sobered down.

And though he did enjoy his drinks – I never saw him drunk again.

The metamorphosis in Sadhana was truly fascinating.

The way she had transformed herself from a conservative Small Town Girl from the heart of the mofussil into a chic crème-de-la-crème socialite was remarkable, almost unbelievable. I would often see her sipping exotic colourful cocktails rubbing shoulders with the cream of society.

There was a time when Arun was ashamed of showing off his wife; now his heart swelled with pride and admiration as everyone noticed and praised her. They were the toast of society; the crowning glory was when they were crowned the “Made for Each Other Couple” at the New Year Eve Ball at the club.

Their marriage started rocking.

In fact their marriage rocked so much that soon comprehension dawned on me that there cannot be three persons in a marriage and I gracefully withdrew from their lives, changed my job, relocated and, yes, believe it or not, I got married to a nice young man and commenced a blissful married life of my own.

Of course, Arun and Sadhana attended my marriage, and at my wedding reception Sadhana seemed to be in a vivaciously celebratory mood, swinging brightly and dancing wildly, downing glass after glass of Champagne.

My new husband and I honeymooned on a luxury cruise liner, sailing to exotic locales – a wedding gift from Arun and Sadhana.

At first we kept in touch, but with the passage of time, as I settled comfortably in the cocoon of wedded bliss, the communication became less and less, and when we relocated abroad to the States we lost touch altogether.

It was three years before I visited Mumbai again, and the first thing I did after depositing my baggage in the hotel was to head towards Arun’s flat on Marine Drive.

It was early and I wanted to catch him home before he left for work.

Arun and Sadhana were not at home. “Saheb and Memsaheb have gone to the Ashram,” the servants said.

“Ashram?” I said surprised, and asked whether they could give me his mobile number.

They did, and I rang up Arun on his cell phone, “Hey, Arun, what are you two doing in an Ashram – given up the material world and taken up the spiritual path?”

“No. No. It’s not that. This is not really the type of Ashram you are thinking; it’s a nature cure clinic,” Arun said.

“Nature Cure Clinic?”

“Not exactly, you can say it’s a de-addiction centre, a sort of rehab.”

“Rehab? You promised me Arun, you promised me that you’d cut down your drinking…for her sake…poor thing…I hate you Arun…”

“Stop it!” Arun interrupted angrily, “It’s not me. I’ve given up drinking. It’s Sadhana – she’s become an alcoholic.’

“What?” I said, stunned.

“Yes. My wife has become an alcoholic. Thanks to you and your stupid advice. And now will you please leave us alone?” Arun said angrily and disconnected.

I cannot begin to describe the emotion I felt at that moment, but one thing is sure: I have never ever felt so terribly guilty in my life, before or since, till this very day.

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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Sitting with my laptop after a very very long day…& when I say this you know I’m not speaking of extending the hours…wish I could do that though…ok, that was crap…now I begin…

Today I had an interview at IIT Bombay for the KVPY Fellowship, 2009. The much awaited day had ultimately passed and left tremendous amount for me to chew upon…

Let me start from scratch since my blog hasn’t been so lucky yet to have a post on it.

What is KVPY? For those who are in the dark regarding this question or want to know more, please click on the following link… http://sreyasi09.wordpress.com/2009/12/01/what-is-kvpy/ I hope I’ll be able to satisfy you.

Next comes my inspiration…the kind of lazy and bland person I am (my hostel mates will know I’m not lying here), it was quite a pain in the back to get me started…and only one person could make that happen…it took a constant effort on his side…it was like my wake-up-call sang kvpy…a tug at my sleeve-I turned to look and something in my brain said kvpy….after a hard day at college when I voluntarily used to open My Movies folder, my laptop glared back at me and shouted KVPY!!! I’m not meaning to say he was with me 24X7…but he made me work…a reminder now and then, and “Did you sit with it? SIT NOW!!”…“What topic are you working on?”….“Hmm, not bad, but I like the other one better…”…“My intuition says that you’ll get through the first round of selections…”……………..and see I really was! Thanks a ton Deepan…

Second was Prof. Dr. S. K. Ghoshal, H.O.D., I.T., BCET, Durgapur (that’s my college), who was a tremendous support system, a fatherly figure, and a great guide, without whom the project would have not been possible.

So here I was at IIT Bombay to attend the interview which was the second and final round of the selection procedure. Results will be declared in about 2 months from today.

If you want to know what I have to say about the KVPY interview pattern and procedure, you have to navigate to the following link…(http://sreyasi09.wordpress.com/2009/12/02/kvpy-interview/)because I don’t want to make a post very tiresome for my readers by making it roll for millions of lines…

But here (http://sreyasi09.wordpress.com/2009/12/02/a-day-worth-remembering/) I want to share my wonderful experience at IIT Bombay…the time I spend outside the interview room. Do visit the post friends…

Yea, as you must have guessed from the title of this post, what follows is kinda a story, but a real one! What else could be a better way to get started with the blog!

Third year! Intern fight! fight fight fight!
Especially if you are trying one in foreign univ, all the funny things that one ends up doing, right from BCCing the mails to “Dear Sir/Madam, I am interested in ‘your’ field of interest.”

Okay, so, luckily I got to watch one such intern fight very closely, owing to the fact, one, he stays in the neighboring room, second, his passwords are public property. So, let me introduce you to Gaurav (Name changed to protect the identity till Valfi ), ‘THE ghati’. Number of ‘hours’ this person spends in the hostel in a semester are probably even lesser than the number of ‘days’ any other ghati would be in the hostel in a semester. and hence, in general, no fundae of hostel life or what people are up to or anything equivalent.

On one fine day in September,  this person realizes that Germany is the country he always wanted to be in and decides to SPAM to any extent to bag an intern in Germany. His love towards Germany was so great, that he was even ready to accept a boot-polish intern or a waiter intern! Yes, he said so, this despo! Intelligent sources have confirmed that such an affection towards Germany was actually attributed to its neighbors like Amsterdam.

Here is a glimpse of number of funny things he did,

1. Made a database of more than 100 professors and didn’t mail even a single till November.

Reason: “Waiting for Diwali, planning to send senti mails and Diwali wishes to Indian profs. They get nostalgic, I get intern! Also thinking to write things like, Sir, I’ll bring  papad, pickle for you.  My mom makes delicious laddus and chakali too.” 

2. Mails included text, “Sir, I am from a poor country, please give me funding!”
I mean what’s that!

3. Put a Read receipt to each and every mail he sent.
Already, these profs don’t open mails with ‘internship’  in the subject. I don’t know why the hell, they’ll proceed to read the mail if prompted like, “The sender wishes to confirm that you’ve read the mail, do you wish to send the receipt and continue?”!

4. When it came to issue of funding, he pointed to DAAD, as though, in a style, “My Da(a)d’s gonna pay me!”.
Well, I’ve observed, almost everybody looks at it the same way these days and end up accepting any crap university.

5. and then after such loads of spam, there he received the much awaited first non-trivial reply!
Prof had said, “We accept internships for minimum of 4 months. Hence No.”
As far as my spamming expertise goes this is merely a  softer version of straightaway saying No.

The great Gaurav’s first reply to this was fairly genuine,
“Sir, I won’t be able to come for 4 months, since my vacation is only for 3 months. Sir, I assure you I will work very hard, to complete the work in 3 months. Please take me.”
Prof again replies saying No.

The great Gaurav is now infinte despo and replies,
“Sir, if you wish I will bring another person with me! We’ll both work and finish of the work in 2 months. This way your work is getting done and that too very early. Since, you are not funding, I guess number of people should not be an issue for you as such.” 

and this is not all,
meanwhile he caught another despo friend of his,
and told him that this way he could give him intern,
but on a condition, “See. One has to fight real hard to get an intern. Because of me, you’re getting it without any fight. So, I fought for intern. You’ll fight in intern! I will just rest and roam around the whole of Europe.” 

Yeah, human brain is this marvelous!
I don’t know what the prof thought, but ran away and never replied back.

6. Then next was the height!
One night before the endsem! 2 AM . All tired of mugging for the next paper!
I randomly open Gaurav’s GPO (my favorite pass-time to open others’ accounts ) , to find a mail from some new German!!

Mail had said, ” Hey, I have a lots of lots of data on ECGs, charts of more than 2000 heart patient. So, I can create any number of projects for you. If you wish, I can even give you projects even when you go back to your country. I will arrange for an apartment for you near my hospital. I have been to India 3 years ago and India is a damn good country. Awaiting your reply, Dr. so and so, MD” 

Shocked. All people mugging in the room threw the books away, started looking at each other in a shock.
First, “Awaiting your reply”? I guess, this is something which we write in our mails to profs! 
Second, Doctor, MD, heart patients, hospital, ECGs, what’s going on? This guy is in electrical and why the hell applying to the profs in med school. Weird! Real weird!
Google searched the prof! Found his homepage! He was indeed an MD and visiting prof in some univ. Still weird!
Then we realized his homepage was in German and a hopeless person like Gaurav would never do so much work to translate his page and find out what field the person works in. This was a new kind of SPAM. Email-id spam! You give me email-id I’ll spam, I don’t care whose it is!
We did check in sent mails, yea, it was indeed “I am interested in ‘your’ research”.
Second thought, isn’t the prof also too weird not to check that the person is from Electrical and not bio or med. Is he in so much love with India?
-:Laughter in that room for half an hour:-

and all this, Mr. Gaurav hadn’t checked that mail. We waited till next day, for him to do that and surprisingly he was very happy. As expected, he didn’t know whom he had applied to. He was like, ” Even if he takes me as a ward-boy, that’s fine! Afterall, he’s giving me Germany!!”  Now, what to call this, this is something beyond just being Intern-Despo. Height!

Luckily though, everything turned out to be sane. Doc gave him some elec-related project.

7. Now begins the DAAD funding fight.
To start of with right from filling up the form, Gaurav pained people with questions like what is my academic title, is it Dr. or Prof. or so on. Also, he did ask what’s his name, whether it is ABC or BAC or CAB or so on.
This is exactly what I don’t like about JEE, it admits useless people, who cannot even independently answer such stupid questions.

8. Yeah, now came the Reco.
Mr. Gaurav intelligently chooses to go to the most sadist prof of the department!!
Prof was incidentally setting our endsem paper for next day, throws him out for half an hour.
But the despo Gaurav returns,
Prof: “If I give you reco, it’ll hurt your chances of getting a scholarship and it won’t hurt me. So, my sincere advice to you is not to reco from me.”!! 
and last was the punch line, ” Do you still want it?”. Gaurav ran out of the office for his life.

9. Finally, the application is ready, but just 2 days before the deadline, with endsems still not ended.
Mr. Gaurav takes another great decision, “I don’t trust courier services. I am going to Delhi myself and I will go by train”!!
I mean, what’s that? There are courier services which make sure that the parcel flies before next afternoon! and this person going to Delhi himself, that too by train and that too by 4.30pm train, while his endsem ends at 5.30pm. What a master-plan! 
Finally he got a warning from his home that he is not going anywhere and everything went in a sane manner.

So, Yeah, that brings me to today! He just couriered everything yesterday night. I am sure Mr. Gaurav will continue doing such insane things, giving me stories to write. He’s currently hooked on to daydreaming  nurses in his prof’s hospital!

and of course, he was just one such sample, the internship desperation makes people really weird and it’s indeed fun most of the times! On a more mature note, it’s Good, Bad and Ugly too.

ચેતન ભગત… કદાચ નામ સાંભળેલું છે એવું લાગે નહીં? જે લોકો વાંચનનો શોખ ધરાવે છે એમના માટે આ નામ નવું નહીં જ હોય. ચેતન ભગત એક ભારતીય લેખક છે અને અત્યાર સુધી એમણે ચાર બુક લખી છે અને ચારે ચાર બુક ચાર્ટ ટોપર્સ છે. હમણાં હું સિંગાપોરમાં એકલો જ હતો એટલે મને મારા વાંચનના પ્રેમને ઉજાગર કરવાની ઇચ્છા થઇ. મારું નસીબ સારુ છે કે વૈવિધ્ય સભર વાંચન માટે સિંગાપોરમાં નેશનલ લાયબ્રેરી ઘરની પાસે જ છે. શું વાંચવું એ એક પ્રશ્ન હતો? પછી નક્કી કર્યું કે કોઇ ભારતીય લેખકની નોવેલ કે ફિક્શન બુક વાંચવી. લાયબ્રેરીમાં શોધતા શોધતા મારી નજર ચેતન ભગતની “One night @call centre” બુક પર પડી. આ બુક વિશે મેં પહેલા વખાણ સાંભળ્યા હતા એટલે થયું ચલો આ બુક વાંચીએ.

ઘરે આવી રાત્રે બુક હાથમાં લીધી. પ્રસ્તાવના વાંચી અને લાગ્યું કે બુકમાં દમ છે. રાત્રે 10 વાગ્યે મેં આ બુક વાંચવાની શરૂઆત કરી અને 12:30 ક્યાં વાગી ગયા ખબર જ ના પડી. બીજા દિવસે ઓફિસ જવાનું હતું તો પણ બુક મૂકવાનું મન ના થયું. બીજા દિવસે ઓફિસેથી પાછા આવીને બીજા બધાં કામ બાજુએ મૂકીને બુક હાથમાં લીધી અને રાતના એક વાગ્યા સુધી (ખાધા વગર) વાંચીને આખી બુક પૂરી કરી દીધી. પહેલી વખત મારી જીંદગીમાં મેં કોઇ બુકને આ રીતે passionate થઇને વાંચી. કદાચ આ જાદૂ હતો ચેતન ભગતની લેખનીનો. “One night @call centre” વાર્તા છે કોલ સેન્ટરમાં કામ કરતા પાંચ પાત્રો વિશે (જેમાં બે યુવાન અને ત્રણ યુવતીઓ છે). દરેક પાત્રના જીવનમાં પોતાના પ્રોબ્લેમ છે. Life sucks આ કોમન ફિલીંગ દરેક પાત્રમાં છે. એક જ રાત્રિમાં વણાયેલી આ કથામાં આ પાંચે પાત્રો જ્યારે મુસીબતમાં હોય છે ત્યારે તેમના પર ભગવાનનો ફોન આવે છે અને જીવન જીવવાની સાચી રાહ બતાવે છે. જો કે આ બુક કોઇ સલાહ આપતી (આમ કરો, તેમ કરો) બુક નથી. શહેરી જીવન જીવતા આજની આધૂનિક પેઢીના યુવાનો કેવી અટવાયેલી મનોદશામાં જીવે છે અને એમની જીંદગીને કઇ રીતે માર્ગદર્શન આપી શકાય એ આ બુકની USP છે. ટૂંકમાં કહીએ તો લેખકે આ બુક થકી એક જ સંદેશો યુવાનોને આપવાનો પ્રયત્ન કર્યો છે કે

Be confident and don’t ever let the losers feeling sink into you.

ચેતન ભગતની લેખન શૈલી અદ્દ્ભૂત છે. ચેતન ભગતનું અંગ્રેજી લખાણ એકદમ સરળ છે અને કટાક્ષ કરવાની શૈલી અદ્દ્ભૂત છે. જ્યારે બુક હું વાંચતો હતો ત્યારે હું બુકના પાંચે પાચ પાત્રોને visualize કરી શકતો હતો જે લેખકની  ઉપલબ્ધિ જ કહેવાય. મને વાંચતી વખતે એમ જ લાગતું હતું કે આ પાત્રોને મારી જીંદગીમાં મેં ક્યારે જોયા છે, અનૂભવ્યા છે. પાત્રોની જીંદગીની સમસ્યાઓમાં મેં મારા જીવનમાં ક્યારેક અનૂભવેલી સમસ્યાઓ દેખાતી હતી. એકંદરે એકદમ પૈસા વસૂલ બુક અને must must must વાંચવા જેવી બુક. One night @call centre” વાંચી લીધી હવે શું? હું એટલો પ્રભાવિત થઇ ગયો કે નક્કી કરી નાંખ્યું કે બસ હવે ચેતન ભગતે જેટલી પણ બુક લખી છે એ બધી વાંચી લેવી. કર્યા વેબ પર ખાંખાખોળા અને શોધી કાઢ્યું કે ભગતભાઇએ ચાર બુક લખી છે. સિંગાપોર લાયબ્રેરીમાં જોયું કે આમાંથી કેટલી બુક છે મળે એમ છે લાયબ્રેરીમાં. ઘર પાસેની લાયબ્રેરીમાં કોઇ બુક હતી નહીં એટલે સિટીમાં ગયો અને સિટી લાયબ્રેરીમાંથી બીજી બુક હું લેતો આવ્યો “Five point someone”.

આ બુક ચેતન ભગત દ્વારા લખાયેલી પહેલી બુક છે. ઘરે આવીને એક બ્રેક સાથે ખાલી 8 કલાકમાં હું આખી બુક વાંચી ગયો. કોઇ બુક કે લેખક માટે આટલી દિવાનગી મેં આજ સુધી નથી અનૂભવી. "Five point someone” એ વાર્તા છે IIT માં અભ્યાસ કરવા આવેલ ત્રણ મિત્રોની, IIT ની જીંદગી વિશે, યુવાન દિલોના અરમાનો વિશે, ભણી ભણીને કંટાળેલા યુવાનો વિશેની. પ્રથમ બુક લખતા કોઇ પણ લેખક આવું અદ્દ્ભૂત લખી શકે એ મારા માટે માનવું મૂશ્કેલ છે. મને મારી કોલેજ લાઇફ અને મિત્રો યાદ આવી ગઇ. રાયન, હરી અને આલોકના પાત્રોમાં પણ ક્યાંક ને ક્યાંક હું મારી જાતને જોઇ શકતો હતો.

(ડિસેમ્બરમાં આમીરખાનની આવી રહેલી મૂવી "3 Idiots” આ બુક પર આધારિત છે. )

બુક વાંચીને મારા મગજમાં દોસ્તી અને મહોબ્બત વિશેનું આ ગીત મગજમાં રમતું થઇ ગયું. કે કે દ્વારા ગવાયેલું આ ગીત અદ્દ્ભૂત છે.

હજી બે બુક ચેતન ભગતની વાંચવાની બાકી છે કારણ કે આ બન્ને બુક સિંગાપોર લાયબ્રેરીમાં હાજર નથી. મારો એક મિત્ર અત્યારે સિંગાપોરથી ઇન્ડિયા ગયો છે એના જોડે આ બન્ને બુકો મેં મંગાવી લીધી છે. હવે આવતા અઠવાડિયા સુધી રાહ જોવાની રહી. ચેતન ભગતનો મારે એક વાત માટે આભાર માનવો રહ્યો કે એમની બુકોના લીધે હું ફરીથી વાંચતો થઇ ગયો અને એ પણ ગાંડાની જેમ

જ્યાં સુધી ચેતન ભગતની બુક ના આવે ત્યાં સુધી હું અત્યારે વાંચી રહ્યો છું "The white tiger” by Arvind Adiga. આ બુક ને બુકર પ્રાઇઝ મળ્યું છે. પૂરી બુક વાંચ્યા પછી કેવી લાગી બુક એ વિશે નોંધ કરીશ. 

(ઇમેજ : ચેતન ભગતની વેબ સાઇટ પરથી)

The most important thing for understanding the number system is to learn the tables and divisibility tests of the first 20….no no….ummm….may be first 30 numbers. Is that too harsh? Okay, then maybe we should settle at 25. Arre itna to karna hi padega….CAT exam hai yaar….kuch to karlo…….1000 Rs diye hain.

Now the only thing I am doing for the QA part is – reading the divisibility tests of as much numbers as I can [of course < 25]. For the VA – I am planning to revise Word Power Made Easy which I have had done two times in the past. As for the DI – God Bless Me!

The probability of me getting into an IIM is similar to that of a pig flying in the sky. For the nerds, it doesn’t really mean that I am a pig and I will fly if I get into an IIM. I think I wanted to take a chance though I always detested the IIM’s since I spend the summers of 2008 at IIMA. I know I’ll score badly but still wanted to watch myself out. It’s time we must wake up from the deep slumber at IIT and try getting a feel of remorseless competition outside. May it act as a blow to the abnormally expanded pride of any IITian.

Of course I remain your regular bumpkin man – and I don’t suck 

SUPER MOM

Superwoman, everyone said.

Super Competent, her appreciative employers said.

Super Reliable, her impressed clients said.

Super Talented, her professional peers said.

Super Boss, her devoted subordinates said.

Super Bitch, her jealous frustrated passed over colleagues said.

Super Shrewd, her business rivals said.

Super Fit, her fitness freak buddies at her gym said.

Super Sexy, her admirers said.

Super Lover, her lovers said.

Super Achiever, her teachers and professors said.

Super Parent, her children’s teachers said.

Super Friend, all her acquaintances said.

Super Daughter, her parents and in-laws said.

Super Wife, her husband said.

Super Mom, her children said, but secretly they wished she stayed home like their granny who was always there for them.

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.

R9WPUP5YBJXY

FIVE POINT SOMEONE

Well in the starting of the book itself it  is written, this book is not about getting into IIT or what you do in IIT….. but only things which you are not supposed to do in IIT.

Its autobiographical and is self narrative with a tone of an natural IITan. It is basicly about three escentric guys who are natrually to be when u are in IIT. But a bit more than the other book worms. The three guys are Hari , Rayan , and Alok.

Hari is balanced normal guy who does not know what exactly is life but looks into what the others say. He listens to whatever Ryan says… who is a very optimistic person whi has decided to enjoy life to the fullest. He has rich parents who do not care about him but send him dollars instead of love and affection. To talk of Alok he is a poor guy who has to earn for his parents. So three different characters.

The best thing is they come  through many hair raising incidents and still manage to pass through the IIT with placements.

I love this book because i read this book when i was in 12th and a time when we have to decide where we have to join after 12 th. It gave me a idea of how college life would be in engineering, the love and affection of room mates. Hmm basicly one of the best books written by an Indian author… I love this book……

LIFESTYLE MANAGEMENT

Are You a Victim of Hurry Sickness

By

VIKRAM KARVE

A central element of lifestyle management is the skill to creatively balance achievement and work success with leisure activities, family life and social involvements.

Another critical aspect is the ability to feel comfortable at work and at home and to enjoy the experience of whatever is being done at that moment.

But nowadays, most of us are obsessed with getting results or completing one’s task. When task completion becomes more important than enjoying and understanding the work or activity one is doing at the given moment, a sure victim of “hurry sickness” is born.

The resultant constant sense of urgency is the trap of hurry sickness. One rushes to “get things done” to the point where it becomes an obsession.

Breaking this syndrome requires that you learn to enjoy experiences for the pleasure they give. When you gain pleasure from an experience, there is no need to get things done painstakingly.

Enjoy experiences, not rewards, and things will get done automatically without any constant stressful sense of urgency.

As defined from a psychological perspective, Hurry Sickness is:

“A pervasive and progressively urgent need to complete task in order to obtain rewards at completion without regard for other aspects of the work experience and by using maladaptive time strategies.”

They key causal factor in hurry sickness is the progressive need for task completion.

Enjoying what you are doing is neglected with a morbid urge to getting it done as quickly as possible, no matter what the activity.

The obsessive need for task completion extends to non-work involvements and activities like eating, playing, romance, making love, sex, leisure, having fun, loafing, taking a stroll, recreation, entertainment, leisure, sports, pastimes, hobbies, holidaying, exercising, lazing around, dozing, enjoying music, cooking, gardening, meditating, enjoying “doing nothing” and delightful timepass, what you consider “wasting your time” with your family, wife, kids, pet dog, friends…

This attitude of Hurry Sickness interferes with the enjoyment of these activities and experiences because of the persistent inclination to hurry up and finish it off.

Getting things done has become such a strong need because the payoffs or rewards for completion have assumed primary importance.

Your work experience has taught you that rewards always come at the end of the activity after you have put forth great effort to achieve a goal. You do not realize that happiness is not a destination but the manner of traveling.

Not only do you feel a sense of personal satisfaction from your achievements, but tangible rewards, such as promotion, cash incentives, awards, and advancements are given to you as well. With time, these rewards have become clearly linked with your self-esteem.

Each time you “succeed”, your ego, your inner self, sends a message to you which says, “You have done well. You are a commendable person because you succeeded again.” Your need for this kind of reassurance has become stronger than you would care to admit.

Time-Urgency quickly becomes a strong internal driving force towards task completion. Your life becomes a frenzy of completing one task after another. You are obsessed with time and wasting any of it becomes almost a mortal sin.

You strive to maximize your productivity by using time ever more efficiently, but you also have a sense that you are controlled by time and you don’t like it. Time is both your challenge and your enemy. A telling sign of hurry sickness is that even while relaxing, you are constantly fighting time-urgency and this that causes you unrest and never allows you to totally “switch off”.

Another way to seek to increase your output is to adopt maladaptive time-strategies. These questionable tactics do help you get more done over the short run, but you pay a heavy emotional price.

You now do everything faster, you have learned to “multitask” or “double up,” to do two or more things at once, and you are constantly preparing for what is coming next before you are finished what you are doing now.

The insidious trap is that you get something done quickly even when there is no reason to get anything done at all.

You hurry when there is no need to hurry – even when you have all the time in the world.

Because of your emphasis on task completion, you focus on finishing without regard for other holistic aspects of the experience.

In short, you have lost the ability to enjoy yourself while doing anything because of your incessant drive to get to the finish line.

Because you are afflicted by Hurry Sickness, you have lost the ability to emotionally rejuvenate yourself. Chronic fatigue and pessimism are symptoms of this malady.

SIGNS AND SIGNALS OF HURRY SICKNESS

Here are some behavioral signs, symptoms and signals that indicate hurry sickness:

1. Eating.

You now eat in the office while continuing to work or you just skip meals altogether. You multitask while eating. At home, you eat fast, gulp your food, finish meals well ahead of everyone else and eat in bigger bites without savoring the taste of food. Sharing pleasantries at the table is minimal because you cannot sit long enough. Ask yourself – are you eating mindfully and relishing every morsel of your food?

2. Sex.

Relaxed romantic sex and unhurried love-making is but a pleasant memory. The frequency has reduced and even when you do indulge in sex, it is a quick encounter and you are off to sleep or on to some other more “important” or “urgent” activity. Sex is less spontaneous and more mechanical these days. Love-making has become another hurry-up-and-get-it-done-with activity. Worse, you often indulge in “faking it” in order to get it over with in a hurry so you can quickly get on with the more “important” and “productive” things in life – your “high priority” activities!

3. Communications.

Your communication patterns now focus squarely on the negative. Feedback to others emphasizes mistakes and failings and you rarely compliment or offer sincere support to anyone these days. You don’t take the time any more for pleasant chat with family and colleagues. You have stopped listening. You make demands instead of working cooperatively with others or team-building. And hey, are you on your cell-phone most of the time?

4. Leisure.

You put aside less time for relaxation and you enjoy it less when you actually try to relax. Time-off is now more of a hassle than it is worth. When you sit still, you feel uncomfortable almost immediately. You have lost the ability to “do nothing” – it’s difficult for you to loosen up and enjoy an idle hour relaxing, doing nothing. Ask yourself why you work – reflect, contemplate, think about the fundamental reason why you work and realization will dawn upon you that the primary reason you work is to be able to enjoy your leisure, so why aren’t you taking a vacation every day and learning how to enjoy your leisure with full awareness?

5. Family.

Family members now “report” events to you, but you share little of yourself with them. You and your spouse argue more than you talk. The satisfactions of family life have diminished in quality and quantity. Your impatience is just as strong at home as in the office.

HOW TO CURE HURRY SICKNESS

Because you have hurry sickness, your initial tendency is to effect and expedite your “cure” in a hurry too.

But this hurry-up-and-get-it-done attitude may actually sabotage your recovery. What is required is patience, perspective and the ability to deal with setbacks in healthier ways.

It is easy to blame hurry sickness on the pressures of your job, the stress of daily living and what you have to do to survive in the fast paced world of today and on the insensitivity of the complex modern world. While each of these perceptions has a grain of truth in it, the fact remains that most of the responsibility for hurry sickness lies within you.

Your drive to get ahead is the real root of the problem and the fact is that you have lost all sense of perspective. Until you accept personal responsibility for your present state, you will not be in a position to confront and reverse the real mischief, damage and harm caused by hurry sickness.

Remember the well-known story of the hare and the tortoise.

Decelerate your life a bit, slow down, walk leisurely instead of driving and do not carry or switch off your cell-phone where you can, don’t multitask, do one thing at a time with full awareness and mindfulness and learn to enjoy the experience of whatever you are doing.

Do you believe in multitasking?

Are you a victim of Hurry Sickness?

Why don’t you rid yourself of this malady and enhance your quality of life?

Sure, you can get rid of Hurry Sickness!

Just stop multitasking and focus on whatever you are doing at the present moment.

Remember: HURRY BURRY SPOILS THE CURRY.

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://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

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

http://www.ryze.com/go/karve

I AM FEELING GOOD

Short Fiction   -   Pure Romance   -   A Love Story

By 

VIKRAM KARVE

Dear Reader, it is a cold morning and during my morning walk this story, one of my earliest writings, suddenly came to my mind and then perambulated in me. It made me feel good. I am sure it will make you feel good too!

I felt good.

My eyes feasted on the snow-clad Himalayan Mountain peaks painted honey-gold by the first rays of sunlight.

Behind me, deep down, was the resplendent Doon valley.

I breathed in slowly, mouth and nose together, relishing the pure, cold, nourishing mountain air.

I felt on top of the world, literally and figuratively, as I stood high in the middle of nowhere on a refreshingly cold bright morning, undecided what I was going to do, or where I was going to go.

What greater freedom than not having anything to do or anywhere to go!

I felt I was flying like a bird in the sky, with no one to take my freedom away.

“Something exciting is going to happen today,” said a tingling sensation within me, as if I were on the top of a high roller-coaster ready to plunge into unknown depths.

Suddenly, at the spur of the moment I decided to visit Victor, and with a spring in my step started walking towards Landour.

“Who’s Piyu ?” I asked Victor, picking up and opening the book lying on the bedside table.

“Piyu?” Victor said, his voice feigning ignorance but his eyes gave him away.

“Yes. Piyu! It’s written here in this book…‘ To my darling Victor, with fond memories of those wonderful moments at Port Blair. Love Piyu ‘… And Wow! Look at the lovely cursive feminine handwriting. So delicate. If her handwriting is so beautiful, she must be really gorgeous. A real beauty! Tell me. Who is she?” I asked teasingly.

“Shalini, you shouldn’t pry into others’ private matters,” Victor said.

“Private ? This is no personal dairy. It’s ‘Selected Stories of Anton Chekhov’. I’m taking it to read.”

“No,” Victor shouted and started to move his wheelchair towards me.

I know I had touched a raw nerve.

“I’m sorry,” I said and gave him the book.

He opened it and stared at Piyu’s handwriting.

“I thought there were no secrets between us,” I said.

“There aren’t,” he said.

“Except Piyu?”

“Please Shalu…….”

“You want to tell me about her?”

“Okay,” Victor said. And then he told me. About Piyu. And him. And their days in Port Blair. Maybe not everything. But whatever he wanted to tell me, he told me.

“Piyu ? A funny name?” I said.

“That’s what I called her. Like you call me Victor.”

I left it at that and said, “Now there are no secrets between us?”

“No! Now there are no secrets between us!” Victor said and gave me the book, “Read it, Shalu. There’s a story called ‘The Darling’. You’re just like the heroine. Always trying to mother me.”

“That’s because you are a naughty boy,” I teased.

“Naughty boy? I’m almost an old man. You should play with girls of your own age.”

“Play? You think I’m a small kid to play Barbie Doll? And you’re not that old either. You are just thirty.”

“I am twice your age.”

“Girls mature faster,” I said. “And your mental age is the same as mine.”

“Come on. You’re just a kid compared to me. I am a man of the world with a lot of experiences.”

“Like Piyu ………” I bit my tongue and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Piyu is a closed chapter,” Victor said.

“I’ve forgotten her,” I said “Piyu will never come between us again.”

“Promise?”

“I Promise.”

“Shalu, why don’t you come to meet me more often?” Victor asked.

“I don’t want to disturb you too much,” I replied.

“Disturb me?” he smiled. “It is impossible to disturb me. You see, I never do anything. Every day is a holiday for me, from morning to night, from the moment I get up to the moment I sleep, there is nothing to do, nothing to look forward to…”

“Don’t speak like that,” I said.

“Okay. But please come more often, Shalu. You make me feel good.”

“You too make me feel good!” I said.

It was true.

Talking to someone who needs comforting seems to make one’s own troubles go away.

“I’ll come on Wednesday. We’ve got a holiday,” I said.

“Promise?”

“Yes. We’ll discuss Anton Chekhov,” I said holding up the book.

“The Darling?”

“The Darling!” I said.

“Okay. Bye. Take care,” he said and lovingly looked at me as I began to walk away.

Victor had come into my life on a cold and rainy evening just a few months back.

I had slipped and fractured my leg playing basketball. It was a simple fracture.

Victor was convalescing from a severe injury to both his legs. His was a complex case, and for months he was confined to a wheelchair not knowing whether or when he would be able to walk again.

Actually, his name wasn’t Victor – he was Vivek – but everyone called him Victor, so I too started calling him Victor.

At first I called him Victor uncle. But as our friendship grew, somewhere on the way, the ‘uncle’ dropped. And now there were no secrets between us.

On Tuesday evening I rushed to see Victor bunking the self-study period.

“A clandestine visit,” I joked.

“Better be careful, Shalu. If your warden finds out, she may think something.”

“Let her,” I said, “I came to tell you I won’t be coming tomorrow.”

“Oh, no! I was looking forward to discussing Anton Chekhov with you.”

“Daddy is coming to Dehradun for some urgent work. He wants me to meet him at the station. He rang up the Principal for permission.”

“That’s great. I’m dying to meet your Dad. Make sure you bring him up here to Mussoorie.”

“I’ll try,” I said.

“You must. I want to ask him for your hand,” he said, tongue-in-cheek.

“How cute,” I said coyly.

“I’ll miss you,” he said.

“Take care.”

“You too take care. Okay Bye,” I said and rushed back to my hostel.

On Wednesday morning I left Mussoorie at six by the first bus and reached Dehradun railway station just in time for the express from Delhi which steamed in at eight.

Daddy was the first to get down from the AC coach and the moment he saw me his face lit up and he gave me a tight warm hug and smothered my cheeks with kisses.

“Please Papa,” I said embarrassed, “People are looking.”

“I feel so good when I see you, Shalu,” he said.

Papa kept the bag he was holding next to me and said, “Look after this. I’ll get the rest of the luggage.”

He beckoned to a porter and went back into the coach.

“Rest of the luggage?” I wondered.

Normally Papa travelled light, with just one bag.”

Soon there were three bags, a basket and a tall young woman with a small child in her arms standing beside Papa.

“Shalu, this is Ms. Bhattacharya. We travelled together from Delhi,” Papa introduced the woman, who smiled a sweet hello, and we began following the porter to the exit.

I looked at the woman through the corner of my eye. She was a real beauty, fair, with a skin like smooth cream. She looked straight ahead, as if looking at a distant object, and walked on expressionless.

But I noticed the way my Papa stole glances at her when he thought I wasn’t looking and I knew that she was much more than a mere fellow passenger.

I felt a tingle of excitement. Something was brewing. Maybe Papa was falling in love. Ten years after mummy had gone.

My father walked with a spring in his step, pulling his stomach in and thrusting his chest out.

“You seem very happy, Papa,” I said mischievously.

“Yes. Yes.” he said, “I’m so happy to see you, Shalu. You look so good.”

He opened the door of the taxi and looked at her, trying to mask the undisguised love in his eyes. It seemed a desperate case of thunderbolt.

I decided to have a bit of fun, quickly got in the car, and said, “Thanks, Papa, for treating me like a lady.”

Then I looked at the woman and said, “Bye Auntie.”

“Auntie is coming with us,” Papa said, “Shalu, you sit in front.”

“It’s okay, I’ll sit in front,” Ms. Bhattacharya said.

“There’s place for all of us at the back,” I said. “We can keep the basket in front next to the driver.”

I shifted, she sat next to me with the baby on her lap, Papa next to her on the other side and we drove in silence through Palton Bazar towards Rajpur road.

I kept quiet, waiting for Papa to tell me everything, but he too remained silent, probably because of the driver.

He got off outside an office. “You two can go to the guest house and freshen up. I’ll join you after finishing my work.

We sat alone at the breakfast table. The baby was sleeping inside. I looked at Ms. Bhattacharya. She looked so elegant yet youthful.

Late twenties? Maybe! Or maybe a bit younger.

I was dying to ask her everything, wondering what to say, when she looked into my eyes and spoke softly, “Shalu, I want to be your mother.”

I was touched by the way she phrased it.

I can’t begin to describe the emotions I felt, but instinctively I blurted out, “Why didn’t Papa tell me?”

She touched my hand and said, “He felt shy, embarrassed. You know how he is. He wanted me to tell you. And leave the decision to you.” She paused, and said; “I know it’s difficult for you. I promise we’ll do what you want. But try to understand. Your Papa feels very lonely.”

“And you?” I asked.

“I am lonely too,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

Suddenly she started to cry into her handkerchief, “I’m sorry,” she said, got up, and went into her room.

I sat confused.

She had been so calm and composed. And suddenly she broke down.

Had I said something wrong?

Maybe I was too young to understand. All I wanted was that Papa should be happy, everyone should be happy; even she should be happy.

Ms. Bhattacharya came out of the room. She had washed up, done up her face and looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, that I instantly felt like hugging her.

Something inside told me that she would make Papa very happy. And me too!

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that sometimes you wait for a moment and when it comes you don’t know what to do with it.”

 “I like you,” I said. “I know you’ll make Papa happy. Only I wish Papa had told me. Shall I call you mummy?”

She smiled, “Come on Shalini. Be my friend. Call me Priya.”

“Okay,” I held out my hand, “Priya, let’s be friends. And you call me Shalu.”

“Shalu, actually even I wanted your Papa to tell you,” she said.

“He must’ve been embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?”

“To tell me that he’s fallen in love at his age.”

“He’s only 43.”

“And you, Priya?”

“28. Oh come on, I shouldn’t be telling you my age.”

“You look 25,” I said.

She blushed. The baby cried. She went inside.

I went into my room and lay on the bed. What a day! I just couldn’t wait to tell Victor all this. He’d die laughing. Maybe I should marry him. We are so happy together. If Papa can marry Priya, why can’t I marry Victor?

They – 43 and 28 – Adult Love!

We – 15 and 30 – Puppy Love?

It’s not fair, isn’t it?

I drifted into sleep.

When I woke up, Papa was sitting beside me on the bed.

“It’s past one,” he said. “Let’s go for lunch.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Papa?” I asked.

His cheeks, his ears became red. He avoided my eyes.

“I guessed it the moment I saw you two at the station,” I said.

“You’ve really grown up, Shalu,” Papa said. “I’m so happy you have accepted her and your little brother.”

“Brother?” I said dumbstruck, and slowly comprehension dawned on me. I closed my eyes. All sorts of thoughts entered my brains. And suddenly everything was clear. “Oh yes. My little brother.”

Lunch passed off in a trance and soon we were on our way to Mussoorie. I’d wanted to go alone by bus, but Papa wouldn’t hear of it. He had work at the site office near Mussoorie and Priya wanted to see my school. She hadn’t been to Mussoorie before.

It was almost five when Papa got off at the site office and we were cruising on the Mall on the way to my school. Priya was looking out of the window as if searching for something. Suddenly she asked the driver to stop.

“I have to get something. Please look after the baby for a moment,” she said.

I took the baby in my lap and saw her enter Hackman’s, the biggest departmental store in Mussoorie.

She returned fast. “A small gift for you, Shalu” she said giving me a gift-wrapped packet and an envelope containing a greeting card.

I opened the envelope. It was a ‘Thank-you’ card.

She had written a message on the inside of the card:  “…To my darling daughter and friend, Shalini…”

I kept on starting at the beautiful handwriting, unable to read further.

Instantly, I recognized the same unique familiar lovely cursive handwriting, so feminine, so delicate.

Tremors started reverberating in my stomach, like a roller coaster. My pulse was racing. The car negotiated the steep road past Picture Palace up the winding slopes of Landour.

“Priya, look,” I said pointing out of the car window, “that’s the oldest building in Mussoorie. It’s called Mullingar. Isn’t it just like the Cellular Jail?”

“Yes,” she said.

“You’ve seen Cellular Jail?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said. “Many times.”

“You’ve been to Port Blair?” I persisted.

“Yes. I’ve lived there. It’s a lovely place,” she said.

“How lucky,” I said. “I’ve only seen pictures of Cellular Jail.”

Silence. Pregnant silence.

Then I spoke, looking at her child seated on her lap, “Baby. He’s so cute. How old is he?”

“Six months,” she said.

“You haven’t named him?

“Oh yes,” she said, “we call him Baby, his real name is Vivek.”

“Vivek?”

“Yes. Vivek ,” she said “It’s a nice name, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I answered.

I patted the driver on the shoulder and said, “Seedha Le Chalo. Jaldi. Drive fast. To Landour Hospital.”

“Hospital?” Priya asked flabbergasted.

“I want you to meet someone,” I said.

The car stopped outside the hospital. “Come,” I said, and Priya holding her baby in her arms followed me towards the door of Victor’s room.

I opened the door and said, “Come Piyu. Go right in. Your Victor is waiting for you, for both of you.”

I didn’t wait to see the expression on her face.

I quickly turned and ran to the car and shouted to the driver, “Driver – jaldi karo. Be quick. Take me to the site office. Fast.”

As the car descended down the steep slopes of Landour, past Char-Dukan, towards Picture Palace at the end of the Mall, I took out Anton Chekhov’s book from my purse.

I’ll have plenty of time to read it now.

Maybe I’ll keep it as a souvenir to remember Victor.

I opened the book, read on the first page: “To my darling Victor…Love. Piyu.”

I took out my cell-phone and sent an SMS to Victor: “Happy Reunion!”

Then I turned the page and began reading Anton Chekhov’s enthralling short story ‘The Darling.’

As I write this I am feeling good.

Yes, I am feeling good.

Don’t ask me why.

Happiness goes when you speak of it.

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

http://books.sulekha.com/book/appetite-for-a-stroll/default.htm

vikramkarve@sify.com

CHENNAI: Four years after the Indian Institute of Technology (IIT) Madras Growth Fund was set up to raise contributions from the alumni for implementing a host of infrastructure projects on the campus, the IIT Madras director M S Ananth is once again knocking on the doors of the global alumni to raise an ambitious Rs 100 crore for the IIT Madras Golden Jubilee Fund.

With government funding being inadequate, the IIT is in need of massive financial resources to initiate infrastructural development and fund research scholars in a big way.

Using technology to reach out to the alumni spread across continents, Ananth has in a videographed appeal posted on the internet urged them to make a large contribution and make a significant difference to their alma mater.

“Nearly 15% of the space at the IIT Madras Research Park (which is likely to be inaugurated this year) has been set out for incubation. The support infrastructure for setting up the incubation will cost Rs 45-50 crore. We welcome alumni contributions towards this,” Ananth has said in the appeal ahead of the Golden Jubilee Alumni Day celebrations slated for December 26. The IIT Madras Research Park is the largest initiative ever taken by any of the IITs.

Another novel proposal for which the IIT is seeking a contribution of up to Rs 10 crore from the alumni is the institution of a Students Travel Grant Programme. “Currently our students travel (abroad) under exchange programmes. But there is no fund to support their travel. We want the alumni to support this,” he urged. Under the programme financial assistance will be provided to students and faculty members for travelling to participate in international technical conferences and workshops.

The IIT Madras is also tapping funds for its Green Campus Initiative’ under which it will focus on conserving energy consumption and making the campus sustainable.

With the student population increasing on the campus consequent to the creation of additional seats in the open quota to match the OBC seats, the institute is also hard-pressed to expand recreation facilities and increase the seating capacity in the auditorium. Plans are on the anvil to build a “very large auditorium to accommodate 1000 students, which can be split into four parts using partitions that are sound proof,” Ananth said.

Studying the subject I so despise,

I fail to comprehend your subject choice…

Once in a while you hear a song that makes you nostalgic. Well this one does. Took me back to the inter hostel singing competitions. Don’t know where this song will be inserted in the movie. I would like it to be a stage performance by the college band.  Let me live, at least for a moment. This is to the society which takes the childhood away.

सारी उम्र हम,
मर मर के जी लिए,
एक पल तो अब हमें,
जीने दो…जीने दो – ३

Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Na Na

Give Me Some Sunshine,
Give Me Some Rain,
Give Me Another Chance,
I Wanna Grow Up Once Again.  – 2

कन्धों को किताबों के बोझ ने झुकाया,
रिश्वत देना तो खुद पापा ने सिखाया,
99% Marks लाओगे तो घड़ी वरना छड़ी,

लिख लिख कर पड़ा हथेली पर,
Alpha, Beta, Gamma का छाला,
Concentrated H₂SO₄ ने पूरा,
पूरा बचपन जला डाला,

बचपन तो गया,
जवानी भी गयी,
एक पल तो अब हमें,
जीने दो जीने  दो – २

सारी उम्र हम,
मर मर के जी लिए,
एक पल तो अब हमें,
जीने दो…जीने दो,

Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Na Na

Give Me Some Sunshine,
Give Me Some Rain,
Give Me Another Chance,
I Wanna Grow Up Once Again.  – 2

Na Na Na Na
Na Na Na Na Na Na

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Techfest is the annual science and technology festival of IIT Bombay. It is the largest of its kind in Asia. In an endeavor to promote Science and Technology in India they had started an initiative named Nexus in 2006. Under this initiative they conduct events in different regions of the country. This year Nexus will be held at 5 centers in India.

Northern Region : NSIT Delhi
Southern Region : NIT Calicut
Eastern Region : NIT Rourkela
Western Region : IIT Bombay
Central Region : MITM Indore

The competition this year is based on wireless communication between robots. It is an extremely fascinating field with a number of applications. IIT Bombay’s Techfest will conduct this competition there and invite the top 3 teams to IIT Bombay to participate alongside winners from other centers in another competition named A.N.T.Z. The winners of A.N.T.Z will get to represent India in the Techfest World Challenge where in participants from our International Nexus centers would come. The international Nexus centers are at Australia, Thailand and Srilanka.

Wishing good luck to the Techfest team. For more information contact:

Hitesh Lalwani
Manager, Events
Techfest (2009-10)
IIT Bombay
+91 99679 30312
www.techfest.org

Download the Press Release here.

]]> http://achalkothari.wordpress.com/2009/11/13/my-goal-in-life/ Fri, 13 Nov 2009 09:38:14 +0000 Achal Kothari http://achalkothari.wordpress.com/2009/11/13/my-goal-in-life/

Each day when I get up, I should be better than what I was before. I should remind myself to be more knowledgeable, more patient, more mature, more confident, more efficient, more aware, and closer to myself. And this really works as I am experiencing it from past 3 days. I have done things I never thought I would be doing in my life. I met people with confidence and enthusiasm, learned a lot from them, came up with new ideas, executed them well and worked with full effciency. And I did a workshop today.Yes I was actually speaking, full credits for the idea and presentation that were prepared by Kunal, but I really pulled it off well.

This proved another point:

Always trust people. And when you have trusted them, never loose hope on them. Always give them chances. One two three and more. Keep giving them chances, they will eventually respond and will make you proud. And rightly said by someone, I dont remember though:

If people do not perform as per the expectation, you have not given them enough chances.

And here are more words of wisdom from my side, ” It might not be my victory when people around me win, but is definitely my defeat if they loose.”

Achal Kothari

Sept 21, 2010

It’s been a long break from blogging. I haven’t been all that busy to tell you the truth. It’s just that the urge to put my thoughts together was missing of late. In fact I was afraid to.

We encounter various circumstances in life. Some of them were never even wished for. Things move and we suddenly find ourselves trying hard to row against the tide of this rapid change. Not everyone is apt enough to handle it. Initially we try and ignore things, up to the point that they are right into our faces. Whereby we experience an outburst followed by rescinding into a shell.

I am sure everyone has faced such times in their life. At least I have.  They used to be frequent during college when the process of learning about life probably started. Before was just a mad race to the top whence there was no time to stop and think. I have faced it again during my newly started professional life. However I find it a bit different this time. Specially in terms of rebound time.

College life, that too in an IIT, gives you full control over your public appearances. You can forego classes for some time before being missed. You need to write the exams though. One could easily lock himself up in the room, coming out when and where he wants to. This aids the recovery process. One needs some time alone to come to grasp with his own insecurities and internal emotional churnings.

What happens during the professional life is that one has to go to office daily, no choice there. He has to meet people daily. One couldn’t possibly get the long away time to reflect on oneself and hence the rebound takes longer.

Now after a few weeks I feel at peace with myself al over again. As per the reasons to the dull phase, when the initial excitement of a new city, a new job, dies down, the reality of accepting it as our own, a routine strikes us. We need some time to settle down. These are the common symptoms among the migrant workers such as me who are born in one place, study elsewhere and work some where else. Here I would like to mention the city of Mumbai. The accepting cosmopolitan nature of this city has helped me a lot in adjusting to the new surroundings. It grows on you slowly. Give it some time and you will fall in love with it. I feel me again, till the next bout of course.

‘There is something about rains’ was the beginning of my last post and here I am writing about rains again barely after 3 days. So certainly there is something about rains and one can never have enough of it. And considering the rains in past few days in Chennai the rains also not seem to have enough of it. And when it comes to having fun, the Gangasters also can never have enough. The guys are always ready to have their share of fun and always have it, no matter what the situation is. So there it was raining from past 3 days, the quadrangle had become a pool of water, and a weekend. When most of the guys would think and say that it was a perfect moment to lie around lazily in your rooms watching movies and sitcoms. The Gangasters seem to have a different idea. They were out there in the muddy pool with rains over their heads and playing wildly their own version of the game of rugby. And the guys who led the clan were the first years, the freshers. It was nice to see the first years enjoying to the core, without caring about the dirty water or the cold. And as it is, the fun/enjoyment was contagious. It soon attracted the fourth years who despite their CAT/end sems/ Placements preparation without caring about anything,  just jumped in. And then what followed for the next 3 hours was the holy war in the Holy Hostel of IITM between the juniors and the seniors and an action packed, wild, rugged, and off course filled with fun  game of rugby. And the fun kept on increasing over time and so did the rains. It never stopped raining in those 3 hours and the downpour only seemed to increase, adding more water to the pool and enjoyment in our hearts. Everyone was soaked in the rain of joy and each one wanted to freeze the moment. So almost half of the hostel was down there and the other half was watching from there wings and clicking pics. And no matter how much I write here, I would never be able to express what each one of us had witnessed and felt.

Suicide is one of those agendas which are bounded by the limitless controversies and arguments over a wide array of people. I think a person has an absolute right over his/her life. What I want to put under careful scrutiny are the reasons for claiming your own life.

I want to take an example of one of my close associates who shot himself on the morning of 6^th Nov ‘09 at his hometown. He was one of the three secretaries working under me so I am in a position to say that I had a fairly good opinion from the past 4 months of working with him. When it comes to the suicidal cases at IIT, everybody is more and more curious to know about the academic life of the victim. I know of him as a quiet person though the word studious may sound unjustified because what I have heard from his friends is that he lost the track of studies during this semester. So, he was just a second year student with not a very bad CGPA. By saying this, I also mean that the academics could have been easily managed with time. But in this case there was something else apart from the banality associated with the phrase of “stressful academic life”.

In conversation with Dean, Student Affairs, I came to know that the boy had developed an infatuation for a senior girl student in his very first year of coming to IIT. The girl however tried her best to handle the matter in the most mature fashion. She never gave him any kind of hope and instead she always talked to him by calling him a kid. On the other hand, he didn’t sound like an extremely desperate boy seeking some relationship with a girl who is 5 years elder to him and they both had agreed to a friendly relationship after exchanging a bunch of sober mails. It looked like as if each time he wanted to say something but there was an invisible barrier to each of those thoughts. The barrier was made up by the society, parents, and peers and last but not the least by the very tag of “friendship” with that girl.

In my view, these thoughts are the most powerful of them and they have the tendency to trigger your opinions in a larger philosophical sense. One feels bounded by an extreme situation where unscrambling is difficult because one is forced to make a choice between two equally unfavorable options of life & death of which the latter appears to be more favorable. The words like “meaninglessness of life” and “disenchantment” in his suicide note have precise and logical relevance to the above mentioned philosophy.

One more contributing factor possibly was a recent untimely death of his cousin brother who died of cancer a few months back. He clearly mentions in his suicide note that “Life moved on after the death of his brother, and so will it move after his own death”. Can we really expect such a philosophy from an 18 year old? Probably yes, because the human mind is by far the most complex thing that exists in this world. Even the mother didn’t know a night before that his son was actually asking for a gun to kill himself the next morning. The father would have been equally shocked because he didn’t smell anything about a suicide while discussing the India-Australia match with him over a phone a night before. The sister didn’t know that his brother was going to shoot himself in the bathroom after touching her feet early morning and saying “Aap hi to kehti ho, ki ache logon ke pairon ko haath lagana chahiye”. Phew, how tactically he fooled everybody by his outwardly calmness and tension-free conduct!

So did life really look like an illusion to him and was he trying to look beyond those illusions? The questions & answers remain debatable as I said in the very start that this whole concept of suicides is bounded by the limitless controversies and arguments over a wide array of people.

Tired of hearing the words “Peace dot Life at Civil Engineering”? Tired of hearing about the struggling Civil Engineering industry and that Civil Engineering jobs are few and far? In light of that, I thought I would use a little history and some selective information to brighten up your few minutes.

Artifacts from the past such as Pyramids of Egypt, the Greek City-State, the temples of biblical times, the aqueducts of the Romans, and the palaces of the ancient Chinese reveal a history of inventive genius and persistent experimentation of our antecedents. Roman roads and bridges were products of military engineering, but the pavements of McAdam and the bridges of Perronet were the work of the civil engineer. The rootages of civil engineering as a separate field may be seen in the foundation of the Bridge and Highway Corps in France in 1716, out of which in 1747 grew the National School of Bridges and Highways. Its teachers wrote books that became standard works on the mechanics of materials, machines, and hydraulics, and leading British engineers learned French to read them.

As design and calculation replaced rule of thumb and empirical formulas, and as expert knowledge was codified and formulated, the nonmilitary engineer moved to the front of the stage. Talented, if often self-taught, craftsmen, stonemasons, millwrights, toolmakers, and instrument makers became civil engineers. John Smeaton, the first man to call himself a civil engineer, began as an instrument maker. By the mid-19th century there were civil engineering societies in many European countries and the United States, and the following century produced similar institutions in almost every country in the world. As technology and civilization unfolded, areas of civil engineering developed, gradually forming the diverse specialties that exist today under the umbrella of the profession. Some of the essential ones being structural engineering, geotechnical engineering, transportation engineering, water resource engineering & environmental engineering.

The canals of the 18th century and the railways of the 19th, lent a powerful impetus to the Industrial Revolution by providing bulk transport with speed and economy. By the end of the 19th century, however, steel was beginning to replace cast iron as well as wrought iron, and reinforced concrete was being introduced. The development of steel and concrete as building materials had the effect of placing design more in the hands of the civil engineer than the architect. Chicago’s now demolished ten-storey steel-framed Home Insurance Building built in as early as 1885 is considered as the “first skyscraper”.

With the Second Industrial Revolution in the early 20th century, elevators and cranes made high rise buildings as the imposing edifices of civil engineering. At the same time, the automobile outgrowth necessitated the usage of modern asphalt and concrete pavements thus leading to the demand of present day networks of paved highways. The 25 longest suspension bridges in the world, with spans exceeding 700m, were all designed and built in the 20^th century. In water-supply and sewage-disposal works, civil engineering achieved some monumental successes, especially in the design of dams, which improved considerably in the period. The mid-twentieth century was marked by the increasing complexity in environmental problems, which led to an infusion of engineers outside civil engineering. So, the environmental engineering is a synthesis of various disciplines, but the environmental “civil” engineers focus primarily on hydrology, water resources management and water treatment plant design.

Today, concrete is used more than any other man-made material in the world. As of 2006, about 7.5 cubic kilometers of concrete was being made each year—more than one cubic meter for every person on Earth. The present day civil engineer has blown-up the range of diverse specialties which demand the state of being cognitively skillful. Today, we have an even larger transportation field—e.g., traffic studies, design of systems for road, rail, and air, and construction including pavements, embankments, bridges, and tunnels. The Middle East has become a playground of skyscrapers with towers exceeding one kilometer in height, such as Nakheel Tower being built in Dubai. These distinctively super tall towers are different from what have been normally identified as skyscrapers, as they create exceptional challenges and, arguably, represent a new paradigm of civil engineering. The exploitation of oil fields and the discoveries of natural gas in significant quantities have initiated a radical change in gas production which in turn utilize the expertise of civil engineers for topographical mapping, planning and environmental impact assessment. The rapid rise in demand for electric power has added, among others, a whole new field of designing and constructing nuclear power stations. Talking of the transportation sector, space explorations are may be the final frontier, and civil engineers would probably design habitats for humans in space as well as pilot space vehicles. Imagine projects as diverse as The Eden Project, Beijing Olympics Stadium, Dubai’s Palm Islands, or Bandra – Worli Sea Link and you will begin to understand the diversity of activity and skills that a civil engineer can become involved in.

We people at IIT Bombay try to learn the technical proficiencies of various disciplines by going to the irksome lectures and lab sessions. There surely is a reason behind why we learn and what we learn at these lectures. We can’t expect ourselves to solve the much more complex problems at field, if we can’t solve the simpler ones at our classrooms. At the construction site you need to reinforce all the theoretical concepts learned at these lectures along with your practical experiences. A popular misconception is that civil engineering is far from the exciting frontiers in mathematics and computer science. In reality, much of what is now computer science was driven by civil engineering, where structural and network analysis problems required parallel computations and development of advanced algorithms.

Civil Engineers are needed now and will continue to be needed in the future to provide structures and environmental living systems everywhere that people may choose to live. It is undoubtedly the route to a profession which stocks a real stake in development of tomorrow’s world.

Hi all,

I’m in campus, and suddenly wanted to listen to Garaj Baras by Rahat Fatah Ali Khan and Junoon and went to youtube. This is what I get!

:D

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Oh, well I certainly agree with youtube!

(In case you’re not able to read, it says “Sorry for the interruption. We have been receiving a large volume of requests from your network. To continue with your YouTube experience, please enter the verification code below”)

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Here’s the song that I wanted to listen to:

Garaj Baras, part of a Coke Studio episode

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Many episodes of Coke Studio have good music. Worth exploring!

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karthrags