A Nostalgic Girl Remembers

SHERRY GOES TO THE BEAUTY PARLOUR

On Sunday morning Sherry had a delighful treat. Sherry visited a "beauty parlour" for the first time. Actually Sherry is so beautiful that she doesn't need to go to a parlour, but we decided to pamper her and took Sherry for a luxurious bath and grooming at Pooja's Pet Salon on Karve Road in Pune. Since it was her first time, and parents were not allowed inside, at first Sherry was quite apprehensive but then she seemed to be enjoying the bathing and grooming and make over and came out very smelling very nice, scrubbed and moisturized, looking clean and cuddly, smiling and wagging her tail cheerfuly and looking cute and happy with a lovely ribbon tied around her neck.

Normally we bathe and groom Sherry at home and since this was her first time in a pet salon, we wanted to take pictures of Sherry having her makeover but they did not allow it, so here is a piece by Sherry herself where she tells you some of her childhood memories, she tells you about the glorious days she enjoyed full of fun and frolic - her first year in that cozy bungalow near Aundh on the dense foliage on the other side of the Mula River and then her delighful days in the verdant hills of Girinagar in her lovely house with a huge compound lots of trees with the giant Sinhagad Fort looking down as a sentinel and the soothing waters of the Khadakvasla lake below.

My Name is Sherry

Childhood Memories of a Doberman X Girl

By

Sherry Karve

Hi Dear Human Friends. 
Bow Wow.
Please have a look at some of my pictures.

   
                  Posing with my Dad

     

                   Sherry Relaxing

             Sherry Dancing

By the way, I am a writer too.
Here is my first piece of writing which I wrote when I was only seven months old. Now I am ... well never ask a girl's age ...

Sherry Karve Profile Picture

Do tell me if you like my story and pictures. If you do then I'll post some more about my delightful life.

All Attention

Relaxing on the lush green lawn of my bungalow

My name is Sherry. Sherry Karve. I am a naughty young girl, I’m over seven months old and I live with my family in a lovely spacious bungalow surrounded by plenty of greenery. 

Baby Sherry cuddled up on her brother's lap

I wake up early in the morning, jump off my sofa, go to my father’s bed, rub my cold wet nose against his hand and give him a loving lick with my warm soft tongue.

He grunts and growls and opens his sleepy eyes, and the moment he sees me his face lights up and he lovingly caresses me and says, “Good Morning, Sherry.” The he gets up from bed and opens the main door to let me jump out into the garden. First I do my ‘little job’ at my favorite place near the mango tree. Then I generally dig with my paws in the soft morning mud and sniff around with my keen beautiful black nose to find out if there are any new morning smells, not forgetting to run and welcome the milkman the moment he comes on his cycle.

When I return I find that my father is back in his bed and my mother is up and about. She pats and cuddles me and goes about her business making tea in the kitchen while I loiter around the house.

She surreptitiously sneaks to the bedroom and slyly hands over a tidbit to my half-sleeping father under the blanket when she thinks I am not looking. I pretend not to notice, as I do not want to spoil their fun. Earlier, when I was small and impatient, I used to snuffle out the tidbit from my father’s hand, but this spoilt his fun and he became grumpy. Now that I am a mature young girl well experienced in the ways of the human world and I have realized that it is better to act dumb and let these humans think they are smarter than me. So I go outside, sit down and put on a look of anticipation towards the gate and pretend not to notice my mother hiding and peeping through the corner of the window and giggling to herself.

                            Hey, Look at the eerie glow in my eyes ... Scary Sherry

The moment the newspaperman comes on his cycle and shouts ‘paper’, I rush to the gate and fetch the newspaper in my mouth, gripping it just right between my teeth, and hold it up to my horizontal father, who gets up, takes the paper from me and gives me the dog-biscuit he’s been hiding in his hand, as my mother, who has rushed behind me, watches me with loving pride in her eyes. 

Getting the Newspaper for my Dad

My brother and my sister, who till now were fast asleep in the other room, call out my name – “Sherry! Sherry!” – and as I dart between their beds wagging my tail, they both hug and cuddle me all over saying, “Good Morning, Sherry. Sherry is a good girl!”   Everyone is cheerful and happy and my day has begun!

 

I love my family, even though they are humans; and I love my house, my surroundings, the place I stay, the life I live – but before I tell you all that, let me tell you where I came from.

Posing with my Dad with a bit of my camera shy Mummy in the background

My ‘birth-mother’ is a ferocious Doberman who lives in a bungalow in Kothrud in Pune and my ‘dog-father’ is unknown, though they suspect it may be the Mudhol Hound next door, yes, from the sleek way I look and my temperament  it is most likely the same Mudhol Caravan Hound who lurks in the neighbourhood. For making my registration papers the vet wanted proof, so in the column against Breed he wrote ‘Doberman X’.

 

I was a sickly weakling, hardly a month old, the only girl, last of the litter of eleven, and the owners were wondering what to do with me. Nine of my handsome brothers had already been selected and taken away, and the owners wanted to keep the tenth, the most beautiful and healthy of them all. They had kept me all alone separated from my ferocious Doberman mother who was growling menacingly in a cage nearby. No one wanted me and I could hear people whispering how ugly and weak I was and I wondered what fate lay in store for me. It hurt to be unwanted and when I heard people talking about sending me away to a farmhouse, or ‘dispose’ me of, I felt terrified and shivered with fright as I wondered what was going to be my destiny.

One evening a few people came over and a gentle woman with kindness in her eyes looked at me, and on the spur of the moment lovingly picked me up, and the way she tenderly snuggled me I felt true love for the first time. This was my new mother. She took me securely and lovingly in her soft hands, got into a car and they all drove across Pune, past Aundh, across the river, till we reached a bungalow. The kind woman was wondering what her husband’s reaction would be. It was dark. I was scared and cuddled up snugly my mother’s arms to feel safer. 

Baba singing lullaby to Baby Sherry

Suddenly I found a tough-looking bearded man staring at me. Shivering with fear I looked back at him in terror as he extended his hands towards me. But the moment he held me in his large cozy hands, caressed me lovingly, and put his finger tenderly in my mouth, I felt protected, loved, safe and secure.

 

This was my new father and he had already decided my name – Sherry – the same name of his earlier canine ‘daughter’. By the way ‘Sherry’ means ‘beloved’ – not the wine drink you are thinking about...!

 

“She was destined to come here,” my mother said.

 

“Yes,” my father said feeding me warm milk.

 

Baby Sherry

My Daddy and Mummy made a nice warm bed for me in a basket and put it below theirs. And as I drifted into sleep, they both fondled me with their hands. I felt so wonderful and happy for the first time in my life. I had found my true home and my family.

Sherry sleeping peacefully in her Den

I am feeling quite sleepy now so I’ll end here and have a nap in my den.

If you want to know more about me, my delightfully mischievous life, and the naughty things I do, please let me know and I’ll tell you all about it...!                           

VIKRAM KARVE 

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2010
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
 

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.   

VIKRAM KARVE educated at IIT Delhi, ITBHU Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale, and Bishop's School Pune, is an Electronics and Communications Engineer by profession, a Human Resource Manager and Trainer by occupation, a Teacher by vocation, a Creative Writer by inclination and a Foodie by passion. 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. He has written a foodie book Appetite For A Stroll and a book of fiction short stories COCKTAIL which is being published soon and is currently busy writing his first novel. Vikram lives in Pune with his family and pet Doberman girl Sherry, with whom he takes long walks thinking creative thoughts.
 

Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.com
Professional Profile of Vikram Karve: http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve

Creative Writing by Vikram Karve: http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/posts.htm

Email: vikramkarve@sify.com
 

Foodie Book: Appetite for a Stroll 
http://books.sulekha.com/book/appetite-for-a-stroll/default.htm

http://www.flipkart.com/appetite-stroll-vikram-karve/8190690094-gw23f9mr2o

http://shopping.sify.com/appetiteforastroll-vikram-karve/books/9788190690096.htm

Short Stories Book: Cocktail
 

Cocktail - Short Stories about Relationships :  
 

http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?pages#!/pages/Cocktail-by-Vikram-Karve-APK-Publishers/177873552253247

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Greed, Love, Lust

GREED AND LUST

[A Teaching Story from the Panchatantra]

By

VIKRAM KARVE


There was an old man, a good natured simple farmer, who had a young wife.

The young wife was not satisfied with her aged simpleton husband, neglected her household work, and always yearned for the company of young handsome men.

One day, a smart young good-looking man saw her and seeing that she was alone went to her and said, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world and I am the most eligible bachelor. I have fallen in love with you the moment I saw you. Please give me the pleasure of your company.”

Delighted, the woman said to the young Casanova, “Listen my dear, my husband has a lot of wealth. He is old and of no use to me. I will take out all the money and jewellery and let us elope to some other town and live there happily ever after.”

The con-man was very happy and asked her to bring all her wealth to the mango orchard near the river at midnight where he would be waiting for her.

“We will both disappear in the darkness and head for the next town,” he told assured her.
The lusty woman waited till it was dark and when her husband fell asleep she stole all the money, jewellery and gold, packed it in a bag and left the house at midnight to meet the trickster at a place he had indicated. The trickster took the bag full of money and gold from her on the pretext that he would carry it and walked towards the river.

The smart young handsome man looked at the woman and thought, “What is the point of wasting my whole life with this woman? She seems a bit older than me too and soon may turn into a shrew. Also if she couldn’t be loyal to her husband she may ditch me too for someone else. It is better I dump her but take her money and jewellery with me.”

With these thoughts in mind he told the woman, “Look, my dear, it is very difficult to cross the river. I will first swim with the money bag to the other side of the river and keeping it there I will come back and carry you on my back.”

She readily agreed and gave the bag to her new found lover.

He asked her to take off her clothes too and give them to him to carry across the river as he felt her clothes would hinder swimming. She took off all her clothes and gave them to the man who swam across the river the money-bag and her clothes.

Covering her naked body with her hands, the woman began waiting restlessly for her lover to return.

Just then a jackal with a piece of meat in his mouth happened to pass by. The jackal saw that big juicy fish had been washed ashore by a wave and desperate to catch it the jackal ran towards the fish and in the process he dropped the meat piece from his mouth.

But suddenly another big wave took the fish back into the water.

Disappointed, the jackal went back to pick up the piece of meat, but meanwhile a crow dived down fast and took the meat piece away before the jackal could reach it.

The woman laughed at the greedy jackal who had lost the both the fish and also the piece of meat.

Hurt by the woman’s behaviour, the jackal said, “Don’t laugh you stupid woman. I lost a piece of meat due to my greed but you have lost everything – your husband, your lover and your wealth – due to your lust.”

Tell me, Dear Reader, what is the moral of this story?

THE NIGHT TRAIN AT DEOLI AND OTHER STORIES

THE NIGHT TRAIN AT DEOLI

My Favourite Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE


I love reading short stories. You can read a short story in one sitting and it immediately fills you with an exquisite sense of satisfaction.

I love writing short stories too, and I am sure you have read many of my short stories in my blog.

Dear Reader, let me tell you about my all time favourite short story – The Night Train at Deoli by Ruskin Bond.

The Night Train at Deoli is a beautiful story of unrequited love.

Each one of us has experienced this wonderfully painful emotion of unrequited love.

Dear Reader, I am sure you too have experienced the delightful heart-ache of longing, yearning – an alluring attraction for someone who is out of reach – a one way love – a love unreciprocated.

Well I am quite familiar with the delicate tenderness of unrequited love; in fact, my life story is a story of unrequited loves.

The Night Train at Deoli is narrated in first person by a college boy who travels by the night train from Delhi to Dehra Dun every year to spend his summer vacations at his grandmother’s place. On its journey up the hills of the terai, early in the morning, the train stops at Deoli, a lonely station in the wilderness... “Why it stopped at Deoli. I don’t know. Nothing ever happened. Nobody got off the train and nobody got in…and then the bell would sound, the guard would blow his whistle, and presently Deoli would be left behind and forgotten” – isn’t the description brilliant, so breathtaking in its simplicity.

On one such journey the boy sees a girl at Deoli, selling baskets, and is smitten by her… “I sat up awake for the rest of the journey. I could not rid my mind of the picture of the girl’s face and her dark, smouldering eyes”.

He looks out for her on his return journey and is thrilled when he sees her… “I felt an unexpected thrill when I saw her…I sprang off the foot-board and waved to her. When she saw me, she smiled. She was pleased that I remembered her. I was pleased that she remembered me. We were both pleased, and it was almost like a meeting of old friends”…superb writing, isn’t it…simply superb.

It is time for the train to leave, and for the lovers to part… “I felt the impulse to put her on the train there and then…I caught her hand and held it… ‘I have to go to Delhi,’ I said…she nodded, ‘I do not have to go anywhere.’…the guard blew his whistle…and how I hated the guard for doing that…”

Beautifully poignant, marvellously written, touches the very fragile chords of your heart, isn’t it?
I will not tell you the rest of this story, but I can assure you, that if you are a lover at heart, you will be touched with compassion for the protagonist and as the story elevates you to the romantic mood you will relate your very own tale of unrequited love.

Though The Night Train at Deoli is my all time favourite, I like many stories in this anthology, especially, The Woman on Platform 8, His Neighbour’s Wife and Death of a Familiar.

If you are a lover of the fiction short story I am sure you have this delightful book; if you don’t, do get a copy for your bookcase to delve into whenever you are in a blue mood nostalgically yearning for your unrequited love.


[The Night Train at Deoli and other Stories by Ruskin Bond – Book Review by Vikram Karve]

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© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Some More Teaching Stories

Here are some more teaching stories.

I am sure you have read the earlier one’s – if you haven’t, dear Reader, just click the link below – and after you’ve read them remember to come back here –

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/06/teaching-stories.htm


Teaching stories have a special quality. If read in a certain kind of way they produce spiritual growth. 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 a joke.

• Read the story twice. Reflect on it. Apply it to your life. That will give you a taste of theology.

• 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.

Read on, Dear Reader, and transform yourself:


BEAUTY


Nasrudin bought an old haunted house [a “Bhoot Bangla”] at a desolate place in a nearby hill-station.

From time to time he would suddenly pack his bags, leave the city, and go away to his house in the hill station, disappearing for days, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months. And just as suddenly as he used to disappear, he used to unpredictably return back to the city, suddenly, without any warning or notice.

When asked the reason for his erratic and whimsical behaviour, Nasrudin explained:

“I have kept a caretaker woman up there in the hills to look after my house. She is the ugliest woman - horrible, repulsive, hideous, nauseating. Just one look at her and one feels like vomiting.

When I go to live there, at first she looks horrible. But slowly, slowly, after a few lonely days, she is not so horrible. Then after some more desolate forlorn days, she doesn’t seem that undesirable. And as more and more time passes in lonesome seclusion, a day comes when I start seeing some beauty in her.

The day I start seeing beauty in that horrid woman I escape from the hill-station, because that means enough is enough – I have lived away from the real world for too long - now even this horrible revolting woman has started looking beautiful! I may even fall in love with this ghastly ugly repugnant woman - that's dangerous.

So I pack up my things and rush back to the city.”



RECIPE


One day Mulla Nasrudin went to the fish market and bought a fine Pomfret fish.

On the way home he met a friend who gave him a special recipe for cooking the Pomfret fish.

Nasrudin was very happy, and his mouth watered as in his mind’s eye he was already relishing the delicious dish of Pomfret fish he was going to enjoy for dinner.

While he was daydreaming, a large crow suddenly swooped down from the sky and stole the fish from his hands and flew off with the Pomfret fish.

“You thief! “Mulla Nasrudin angrily shouted at the crow, “You have stolen my fish. But you won’t enjoy it – I have got the recipe!”



LOGIC


Visiting a new place, Mulla Nasrudin was walking on the road and a vicious looking dog barked at him and began menacingly running towards him.

Mulla Nasrudin quickly bent down to pick up a mile-stone fixed on the side of the road divider to throw at the animal. He could not lift it, for the stone was cemented firmly to the earth.

“What a strange place this is! What crazy logic?" Nasrudin exclaimed. "They tie up the stones and let the dogs go free."

And then he sped off!

VIKRAM KARVE

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/

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

vikramkarve@sify.com

vikramkarve@hotmail.com