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Wednesday, July 6, 2011
THE SOLUTION
THE SOLUTION
“I don’t know how I am going to solve this problem,” Anil said.
THE SOLUTION
Fiction Short Story
By
VIKRAM KARVE
“I don’t know how I am going to solve this problem,” Anil said.
Yes, Anil indeed had a big problem on his hands. The problem was his old father. His father had dementia and it was getting worse day by day.
“At first it was okay. We could manage somehow. He used to forget, talk incoherently, have mood swings, get disoriented a bit, needed help doing things – we all tried our best to look after him, my wife, my two kids, all of us did all we could. But now it is becoming impossible,” Anil said.
“I know,” I said, “it must be very difficult for all of you, especially your wife.”
“All these years she really cared for him with love and devotion as if he were her own father. She tolerated his idiosyncrasies, looked after his every need, she has to bathe him, dress him, feed him, even take him to the toilet. Even when he got aggressive with her, she managed to calm him down. But after this morning’s incident she has given me the ultimatum.”
Let me tell you what had happened that morning.
I had gone to Pune Railway Station to receive my daughter who was arriving from Delhi by Duronto Express when I spotted Anil’s father wandering aimlessly on the platform from where the Deccan Queen to Mumbai was about to leave. Suddenly he started walking towards the AC Coach and was about to board the train when I stopped him, caught hold of his hand and pulled him aside. He did not recognize me. He tried to pull his hand free and when I tightened my grip he gestured towards the train and started muttering at me incoherently: “Mumbai … Duty … Mumbai … Duty …” and suddenly he got aggressive and tried to violently break free so I raised an alarm and with the help of some people we overpowered him and then he collapsed and started weeping like a child.
I called up Anil who rushed to the station and we had to literally carry him to the car. Suddenly his condition worsened and it looked like he was having a seizure so we rushed him to hospital where they admitted the old man into the ICU to keep him under observation.
We sat outside the ICU. I felt sad for Anil and his father. Anil and I were “Railway Children” who had grown up together in those typical Railway Townships which adorn big railway junctions all over India
Soon our wives, a few colleagues and friends arrive and we stand in balcony outside the ICU of the hospital brainstorming to find a solution to the problem.
“I cannot handle him anymore,” Anil’s wife says, “ever since he got this dementia, the last few years have been hell for me. Anil goes out to work, the children go to school, but I have to live with him all the time. I have to do everything, suffer his tantrums, even clean his shit, and now he does this – just runs away from home and gets lost. I can’t take it anymore – I will go crazy.”
“She needs a break,” my wife says to Anil, “why don’t you send him to your sister’s place for a few days?”
“His sister?” Anil’s wife says mockingly, “as long as her father was fine she was the doting daughter ensuring that she got her share in his property. Now that he is sick, she is shirking her responsibility and has washed her hands off him. The last time she visited us I asked her to take her father to her house in Mumbai for a few days so that we could get some respite and do you know what her husband said? He said that he didn’t want an insane man in his house as it would affect his children. So I asked him: what about our children? And Anil’s sister just kept quiet. After that they haven’t shown up. I hate her. All she does is call up once in a while and then tell the whole world how concerned she is.”
“That’s really very sad but even today it is the sons who are expected to look after their parents, especially the eldest son” someone says, and asks Anil, “You have a brother?”
“He is abroad, in America
“That’s the best thing to do. Escape abroad to a good life in America
“Longevity is increasing and these old people are becoming a big problem. In our colony almost everyone’s kids are in America
“Don’t worry, Sir. At least your father is not as bad as my neighbour. The poor man’s brain cells are dying and he is lying like a vegetable for the last six months with tubes inserted to feed him and take his stuff out,” the recently joined software engineer tries to console Anil thinking that if she tells Anil of someone with a greater misfortune maybe he will feel some consolation but unfortunately it has the opposite effect and Anil asks her, “Did he have dementia? Will my father also become a vegetable?”
“No, nothing of that sort will happen. Your Dad will be okay,” I say putting my hand on Anil’s shoulder.
“But we can’t keep your father at home in this condition. I cannot bear it any longer. I will just collapse one day. And now he has started getting aggressive. I am scared. ” Anil’s wife says.
“Why can’t we keep in hospital?” my wife asks.
“We can’t keep him in this hospital forever,” I say.
“Not this hospital.”
“Then which hospital?”
“An institution. Where they can treat his mental problems.”
“A mental hospital? You want me to put my father into a lunatic asylum?” Anil says getting angry, “My father is not a lunatic, he has not gone mad. Poor fellow has just got dementia for which there is no cure.”
“Cool down Anil,” I say, “she didn’t mean to hurt you.”
My wife says sorry to Anil and we sit quietly till the Intensivist calls us and says, “He has stabilized now. All parameters are okay. We will move him to a special room later at night and keep him under observation. You can go home and relax now. We will look after him. You can take him home tomorrow morning.”
“You all go home,” Anil says, “I will stay with him in hospital and bring him home in the morning.”
“No,” Anil’s wife says, “I don’t want him to come home. You arrange something…”
The Intensivist looks at her quite perplexed, so I gesture to him that all is well and say to Anil, “Okay, you stay here and we will all go home and think of some solution.”
On our way home we pick up Anil’s kids and take all of them to our place. Anil’s wife sleeps in our bedroom with my wife, all the kids sleep in their room and I lie down on the sofa trying to think of a solution to Anil’s problem.
The ring of my mobile jolts me out my sleep. It is Anil. His voice sounds strange, shaky, and he cries incoherently, “The problem has been solved…the problem has been solved… my father is dead…while they were shifting him from the ICU to the ward, he got violent, the stretcher tumbled, he fell on head, broke his neck and died on the spot.”
“Oh My God,” I say, but I can still hear Anil sobbing, “Poor man. He must have heard us. So he solved the problem, his problem, our problem, everyone’s problem…” and then I can hear Anil breaking down into tears.
VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2011
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
Did you like this story?
I am sure you will like the stories in my recently published book COCKTAIL comprising twenty seven short stories about relationships. To know more please click the links below:
Do try out this delicious, heady and exciting COCKTAIL
Cheers
About Vikram Karve
A creative person with a zest for life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School Pune, Vikram has published two books: COCKTAIL a collection of fiction short stories about relationships (2011) and APPETITE FOR A STROLL a book of Foodie Adventures(2008) and is currently working on his novel. An avid blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories and creative non-fiction articles in magazines and journals for many years before the advent of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for almost 14 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to creative writing. Vikram lives in Pune India
Fiction Short Stories Book
Foodie Book: Appetite for a Stroll
http://www.flipkart.com/appetite-stroll-vikram-karve/8190690094-gw23f9mr2o © vikram karve., all rights reserved.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
LEARNING FROM TEACHING STORIES
TEACHING STORIES
By
VIKRAM KARVE
Once upon a time, long long ago, an old wise man walked past a shipyard. Seeing a fire, which he had not expected to be associated with the sea, he asked a workman why they had lit a fire.
“We make tar,” said the workman, “and cover the cracks in the underside of the boat. That makes the vessel go faster.”
The wise man went straight home and made a bonfire. Then he tied up his dog and melted some tar in a pan. As soon as he brought the smoking hot tar near the underside of the mortified animal, the dog broke loose and ran like the wind.
“It works all right!” observed the wise old man.
Don’t we see it happening all around – trying to apply the right solutions to the wrong problems (or maybe the wrong solutions to the right problems?).
This is a Teaching Story. Teaching stories have a special quality – if read in a certain kind of way they enlighten you.
There are three ways to read teaching stories:-
· Read the story once. Then move on to another. This manner of reading will give you entertainment – maybe produce a laugh, like jokes do.
· Read the story twice. Reflect on it. Apply it to your life. You will feel enriched.
· Read the story again, after you have reflected on it. Carry the story around in your mind all day and allow its fragrance, its melody to haunt you. Create a silence within you and let the story reveal to you its inner depth and meaning. Let it speak to your heart, not to your brain. This will give you a feel for the mystical and you will develop the art of tasting and feeling the inner meaning of such stories to the point that they transform you.
Teaching stories relate events that are funny, foolish, bemusing, even apparently stupid. But they usually have deeper meanings. A good teaching story has several levels of meaning and interpretation and offer us opportunities to think in new ways. At first you may just have a good laugh but as you think and reflect, the significance becomes more and more profound.
Each story veils its knowledge and as you ruminate, the walls of its outer meanings crumble away and the beauty of the previously invisible inner wisdom is revealed, and you begin to identify yourself in the story, and to acknowledge that you too could be as foolish or as lacking in discernment as the characters in these classic tales.
From time to time, I will try to regale and illuminate you with a few of my favorite Teaching Stories in my blog. And we shall have an enlightened laugh together!
VIKRAM KARVE
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
STORYTELLING and LEARNING
STORYTELLING and LEARNING
TEACHING STORIES
By
VIKRAM KARVE
Once upon a time, long long ago, an old wise man walked past a shipyard. Seeing a fire, which he had not expected to be associated with the sea, he asked a workman why they had lit a fire.
“We make tar,” said the workman, “and cover the cracks in the underside of the boat. That makes the vessel go faster.”
The wise man went straight home and made a bonfire. Then he tied up his dog and melted some tar in a pan. As soon as he brought the smoking hot tar near the underside of the mortified animal, the dog broke loose and ran like the wind.
“It works all right!” observed the wise old man.
Don’t we see it happening all around – trying to apply the right solutions to the wrong problems (or maybe the wrong solutions to the right problems?).
This is a Teaching Story. Teaching stories have a special quality – if read in a certain kind of way they enlighten you.
There are three ways to read teaching stories:-
· Read the story once. Then move on to another. This manner of reading will give you entertainment – maybe produce a laugh, like jokes do.
· Read the story twice. Reflect on it. Apply it to your life. You will feel enriched.
· Read the story again, after you have reflected on it. Carry the story around in your mind all day and allow its fragrance, its melody to haunt you. Create a silence within you and let the story reveal to you its inner depth and meaning. Let it speak to your heart, not to your brain. This will give you a feel for the mystical and you will develop the art of tasting and feeling the inner meaning of such stories to the point that they transform you.
Teaching stories relate events that are funny, foolish, bemusing, even apparently stupid. But they usually have deeper meanings. A good teaching story has several levels of meaning and interpretation and offer us opportunities to think in new ways. At first you may just have a good laugh but as you think and reflect, the significance becomes more and more profound.
Each story veils its knowledge and as you ruminate, the walls of its outer meanings crumble away and the beauty of the previously invisible inner wisdom is revealed, and you begin to identify yourself in the story, and to acknowledge that you too could be as foolish or as lacking in discernment as the characters in these classic tales.
From time to time, I will try to regale and illuminate you with a few of my favorite Teaching Stories in my blog. And we shall have an enlightened laugh together!
VIKRAM KARVE
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
WRITERS BLOCK versus WRITER BLOCKED
WRITERS BLOCK versus WRITER BLOCKED
VIKRAM KARVE
WRITERS BLOCK versus WRITER BLOCKED
I am sure you have heard about the work continuum: JOB – CAREER – CALLING. To this I like to add a fourth stage – METIER. I believe that a person’s work life is defined by four stages: Job – Career – Calling – Metier.
A job is something you do for which you get paid. I got paid for being an Electrical Engineer (or more precisely an Electronics and Communications Engineer). That was my basic job. Your job provides you the instrumental means of fulfilling your financial needs.
During my career in the Navy I did a number of jobs, afloat and ashore (pertaining to Electrical, Electronics, Radar and Communications Engineering). Your career fulfils your needs for achievement and accomplishment. I was in operations, maintenance, production, industrial engineering, projects, design, quality assurance, engineering management, training, teaching assignments, and later, after I obtained management qualifications, I worked as a Human Resource Leader, a Trainer and a Professor.
I enjoyed most of the varied jobs I did during the course of my career, but the job I enjoyed most was Teaching and Training – yes, I had discovered my “calling” or vocation, so I spent many years as a teacher and an trainer.
To summarize:
A job is something you are paid for doing.
A career is a line of work.
When you find your work intrinsically fulfilling and you are not doing it to achieve something else, you have discovered your calling.
Since my student days I have always loved to read and write. Throughout my career I always seized the opportunity to do “literary” tasks like writing articles, participating in seminars and literary/intellectual events, editing and producing in-house journals etc. Soon I started writing short fiction stories, many of which were published and appreciated. I realized that I was passionate about writing and had discovered my true metier – creative writing.
I, therefore, “retired” to pursue my metier full-time, with total dedication, complete vigour and focused efforts, without the distractions of a “job” or “career”. Now-a-days, I am a wannabe writer, who nobody takes seriously. For the last few months I am writing my first novel – the first draft, the second…
The life of a budding creative writer is a solitary and lonely one. Everyone thinks I am wasting my time and I am making a big mistake turning down lucrative job offers. They don’t realize that I have found my “metier” and do not want to do a “job”. Most people don’t understand me and it is quite frustrating.
Recently my mother had a serious accident, underwent surgeries and had to spend over three weeks in hospital. Me (and my wife) spent the entire three weeks looking after my mother full-time. Others came and went, because they had “jobs” to do whereas I was “unemployed”. Even now, my bedridden mother wants us (my wife and I) to stay with her full-time till she recovers (which may take a few months). When I suggest that my sister can share the duties, my mother retorts: “How can she leave her husband for so long and come here? He has important work and a “job” to do!”
For others, like my cousins who run a business, time is money – so how can they afford to leave their business and come here for even a day!
In my case, it just does not matter. I don’t have a job to do or a career to pursue.
Never mind that my writing schedule has gone haywire and my train of thoughts is disrupted. Everyone thinks creative writing is a trivial pastime, a frivolous hobby, and it just doesn’t matter if I don’t write for a few weeks. No one takes me seriously. Suppose I were doing a “job” then everyone’s attitude towards me would have been different.
Earlier, I had experienced a phenomenon called “Writer’s Block” – now I feel like a “Writer Blocked”.
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
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