GIRINAGAR

GIRINAGAR 

Pristine Paradise in Pune

Tell me, which is the most beautiful, most pristine, most unpolluted and most verdant place in Pune?

I’ll tell you – it’s a lovely place called “Girinagar”.

Pune has changed – for the worse.

The pleasant, salubrious, tranquil, stress-free, easygoing, cozy, affable Pune I once lived in no longer exists. Yes, the Pune I once lived in no longer exists...!!!

Every nook and corner of Pune has suffered the ravages of “modernization”.

Except one place – Girinagar. Yes, there still exists a pristine paradise in Pune - Girinagar.

With the mighty Sinhagad Fort towering as a Sentinel, Girinagar is a fascinating place located on the slopes of the hills adjoining the cool blue Khadakvasla Lake.

The view from the Girinagar ridge is amazing.

You can see backwaters of Panshet and Varasgaon dams in the distance, and close by down below the serene expanse of the Khadakvasla Lake held back by the mighty dam.

The metamorphosis at sunset is enthralling.

The dance of colours, on the waters of the lake, from yellow to orange to crimson to blue to grey and then a still darkness – I have not seen a more magnificent sunset view anywhere else.

In the mornings as you climb up the hills cleansing, refreshing, revitalizing and invigorating your lungs with the clean unpolluted pure fresh air, you look in the distance and see the heavy layer of smog settling down over the city of Pune, and you know how lucky you are to live in this paradise called Girinagar...!

And now the monsoons have arrived and it has started raining.

The sensuous mist envelops all around, everything is a soothing green, and the place is simply magnificent!

Truly a "pristine paradise" in Pune...!

 

VIKRAM KARVE 

vikramkarve@sify.com

Art of Canine Communication

How I Taught My Dog Sherry the Human Language

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Part 1: Donkey Language


Before I tell you how I taught my pet dog Sherry the human language here is an apocryphal story:

A wise man, a renowned teacher, once publicly vowed that he would eradicate illiteracy and teach everyone to read.

Some mischievous boys brought a donkey to the teacher and asked him if he could teach the donkey to read.

The wise teacher stunned the students by taking up the challenge and said, “Give me the donkey for a month and I will teach it to read.”

The teacher went home and began to train his donkey to read. At first he put the donkey into the stable and gave him no food for some days. Then he found a thick book and put some hay between the pages. In the beginning the teacher turned the pages and gave the donkey the hay between the pages.

After a while the donkey learnt to turn the pages with his tongue to find and eat the feed by itself. Each time when the donkey finished the book and found no more feed between the pages it would bray: “Eee aah, Eee aah!”

Three days before the one month period was over the teacher stopped feeding the donkey till the poor donkey after fasting for three days without a morsel of food was voraciously hungry.

On the fateful day when the whole school assembled to see the miracle of the donkey reading, the wise teacher brought the ravenously hungry donkey onto the stage. He asked for a big book and put it in front of the donkey.

The hungry donkey turned the first page of the book with its tongue and when it could not find any feed the donkey brayed: “Eee aah, Eee aah!” and turned one more page, and again not finding any hay it cried: “Eee aah, Eee aah!”

The famished donkey kept turning the pages of the book one by one with its tongue and when it could not find any feed between the pages its braying grew louder and louder and soon the hapless donkey was turning the pages and shrieking in a loud voice: “Eee aah, Eee aah!” till it reached a crescendo.

Proud of his achievement the wise teacher said to the gathering: “You all have seen that the donkey has turned the pages of the book and he read it.”

One of the naughty students asked: “But we could not understand anything.”

The wise teacher replied: “Of course you could not understand what the donkey read because it was donkey language. In order to understand it you have to learn donkey language. Come to me for tuition in the evening. I will teach you donkey language.”

[To be continued…]

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

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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?

Dating and Mating

DATING and MATING

[Short Fiction – A Love Story]

By

VIKRAM KARVE



I am busy working in my office on the morning of the First of April when my cell phone rings. It is Sudha, my next door neighbour, so I take the call.

“Vijay, you lucky dog, your life is made,” Sudha says excitedly.

“Lucky Dog? Please, Sudha, I am busy,” I say, a trifle irritated.

“Don’t switch off your cell phone,” Sudha says, “you are going to get a very important phone call.”

“Important call?”

“From the hottest and most eligible woman in town,” Sudha says with exuberance, “She’s fallen head over heels for you, Vijay. She wants to date you.”

“Date me? Who’s this?”

“My boss.”

“Your boss?”

“Come on, Vijay, I told you, didn’t I, about the chic Miss Hoity Toity who joined last week…”

Suddenly it dawns on me and I say to Sudha, “Happy April Fools Day…”

“Hey, seriously, I swear it is not an April Fools’ Day prank. She is really going to ring you up…she desperately wants to meet you…”

“Desperately wants to meet me? I don’t even know her…haven’t even seen her…”

“But she’s seen you…”

“Seen me…where…?”

“Jogging around the Oval Maidan…I think she is stalking you…”

“Stalking me…?”

“She knows everything…your routine…where you stay…that you are my neighbour…so she called me to her office and asked for your mobile number.”

“I’ve told you not to give my number to anyone…”

“I told her…but she said it was very urgent…I think she wants to come over in the evening…”

“This evening…?... I am switching off my mobile…”

“No you don’t…You’ll like her…she is your type…”

“My Type?... What do you mean?...Sudha please…”

“Bye, Vijay…I don’t want to keep your mobile busy…She’ll be calling any time now…Remember, her name is Nisha…All the Best…” Sudha cuts off the phone.

As I wait for the mysterious lady’s call, let me tell you’re a bit about Sudha.

Ever since she dumped me and married that suave, slimy, effeminate, ingratiating sissy Suhas, Sudha probably felt so guilt ridden that she had taken upon herself the responsibility for getting me married.

Sudha was my neighbour, the girl next door; my childhood friend, playmate, classmate, soul-mate, confidante and constant companion. I assumed we would get married but she suddenly fell for Suhas who she met at a training seminar.

I hated Suhas – he was one of those glib, smooth-talking, street-smart, slick characters that adorn the corporate world – a clean-shaven, soft-spoken, genteel, elegantly groomed metrosexual type with an almost feminine voice and carefully cultivated mannerisms as if he had been trained in a finishing school.

At first, I was devastated and could not understand why Sudha had betrayed me, but when Sudha gently explained to me that she always saw me as a friend and never as a husband, I understood and maintained cordial relations with her, though I loathed her husband who had shamelessly moved into her spacious apartment after relocating from Delhi to Mumbai.

Probably Sudha thought I had remained unmarried because of her (which may have been true to an extent) so in order to allay her guilt conscience she kept on setting up dates for me hoping for the best.

The ring of my cell-phone interrupts my train of thoughts.

“Mr. Vijay…?” asks a sweet mellifluous feminine voice.

“Yes,” I say my heartbeat slightly increasing.

“Nisha here,” she says, “Is it a good time to talk.”

“Of course,” I say.

“I want to meet you…Is it okay if I come over to your place this evening…”

My My My! She comes to the point pretty fast isn’t it?

“Today evening…?” I blurt out a bit incredulous.

“It’s a bit urgent,” she says.

“Sure. You are most welcome,” I stammer recovering my wits.

“Six-thirty…before you go for your jog…or later after you return…or maybe we can meet up at the Oval…”

I am truly stunned… this Nisha is indeed stalking me…meet up at the Oval…as brazen as that… I have never experienced such blatant propositioning…Tocsins sound in my brain…

“Mr. Vijay…” I hear Nisha’s soft voice in the cell-phone earpiece.

“Yes, Yes, six-thirty is absolutely fine…I’ll wait for you in my house…you know the place…” I stutter recovering my wits.

“Yes, I know your place,” Nisha says, “I’ll be there at six-thirty,” and she disconnects.

I go home early, shower, deodorize, groom, titivate, put on my best shirt and wait in eager anticipation for this mysterious woman who is coming onto me so heavily.

Precisely at six-fifteen the bell rings.

I open the door.

“Hi, I’m Nisha,” the stunningly attractive woman in front of me says.

Sudha was right…Nisha is certainly very hot… oh yes, Nisha is indeed my type of woman.

“I’m sorry I’m a bit early, but I noticed you were in, saw your car below…”she says.

‘Noticed I was in’… My, My…She knows my car…about my daily jogs on the Oval…my routine…everything…she’s really hot on my trail…isn’t she?

I look at her. She comes closer towards me.

She looks and smells natural. No attempt to camouflage her raw steamy physical self behind a synthetic mask of make-up and artificial deodorants.

Her persona is tantalizingly inviting and temptingly desirable; her tight-fitting pink T-shirt tucked into hip hugging dark blue jeans accentuate the curves of her exquisite body and she radiates a captivating aura, an extraordinary magnetic attraction, I have never experienced before.

I cannot take my eyes off her, her gorgeous face, her beautiful eyes, her lush skin, so I feast my eyes on her, let my eyes travel all over her shapely body.

The frank admiration in my eyes wins a smile. She lets her eyes hold mine.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to come in?” she smiles as if reading my mind.

“Oh, yes, sorry, please come in,” I say, embarrassed at having eyed her so openly.

I guide her to the sofa and sit as near her as politely possible.

We sit on the sofa. She looks terribly attractive, very very desirable.

Our closeness envelops us in a stimulating kind of intimacy.

Overwhelmed by passion I inch towards her.

She too comes closer.

I sense the beginnings of an experience I have dreamt about in my fantasies.

“Actually, I have come for mating,” she says.

“Mating…?” I exclaim instinctively, totally shocked, stunned beyond belief.

I look at her tremendously excited, yet frightened, baffled, perplexed, wondering what to do, how to make my move, as the improbability of the situation makes me slightly incredulous and bewildered

I notice her eyes search the drawing room, then she looks at the bedroom door, and asks, “Where is your daughter?”

“Daughter? I’m not married,” I say, completely taken aback.

“I know,” she says, “I’m talking about your lovely dog…or rather, bitch…” she laughs tongue-in-cheek.

“I’ve locked her inside. She is not very friendly.”

“I know. Hounds do not like strangers…but don’t worry…soon I won’t be a stranger…” Nisha says, gets up and begins walking towards the closed bedroom door.

“Please,” I say anxiously, “Angel is very ferocious and aggressive.”

“Angel…what a lovely name,” Nisha says, “I have been seeing you two jogging and playing at the Oval. That’s why I have come here…to see your beautiful hound Angel…” and then she opens the door.

Angel looks suspiciously as Nisha enters the bedroom and as she extends her hand towards her to pat her on the head, Angel growls at Nisha menacingly, her tail becomes stiff, and the hackles on her back stiffen, since, like most Caravan Hounds, she does not like to be touched or handled by anyone other than me, her master.

“Please…please…” I plead to Nisha, but she moves ahead undaunted and caresses Angel’s neck and suddenly there is a noticeable metamorphosis in the hound’s body language as the dog recognizes the true dog lover. All of a sudden Angel licks Nisha’s hand, wags her tail and jumps lovingly at Nisha who embraces her.

I am really surprised at the way Nisha is hugging and caressing Angel as not even the most ardent of dog lovers would dare to fondle and take liberties with a ferocious Caravan Hound.

“She’s ideal for Bruno. They’ll love each other,” Nisha says cuddling Angel.

“Bruno?”

“My handsome boy… I was desperately looking for a mate for Bruno…and then I saw her…they’re ideally suited…a perfect made for each other couple.”

“You’ve got a hound?”

“A Mudhol.”

“Mudhol?”

“Exactly like her.”

“But Angel is a Caravan Hound.”

“It’s the same…a Caravan Hound is the same as a Mudhol Hound …in fact, the actual name is Mudhol…”

“I don’t think so.”

“Bet?”

“Okay.”

“Dinner at the place of my choice.”

“Done.”

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To my place.”

“To your place?”

“To meet Bruno…doesn’t Angel want to see him?”

“Of course… me too.”

And so, the three of us, Nisha, Angel and I, drove down to Nisha’s home on Malabar Hill. The moment we opened the door Bruno rushed to welcome Nisha…then gave Angel a tentative look…for an instant both the hounds stared menacingly at each other…Bruno gave a low growl…then extended his nose to scent…Angel melted…it was love at first sight.

Nisha won the bet…we surfed the internet…cross checked in libraries…she was right… Mudhol Hound is the same as Caravan Hound…but not the same as a Rampur, Rajapalyam or Chippiparai Hound.

But that’s another story.

Here is what happened to our “Dating and Mating Story”.

As per our bet, I took Nisha out to dinner – a sumptuous Butter Chicken and Tandoori affair at Gaylord’s. And while we were thoroughly enjoying our food, suddenly, out of the blue, Sudha and her husband landed up there, sat on the neighbouring table, and the way Sudha gave me canny looks, I wonder if it was a “contrived” coincidence.

Angel and Bruno had a successful mating and Nisha and Bruno would visit my pregnant girl every day, and then, on D-Day, Nisha stayed through the night to egg on Angel in her whelping.

Angel gave birth to four cute little puppies, and every day the “doggie” parents and “human” grandparents would spend hours doting on the little ones.

Since Nisha and I could not agree as to who should take which puppy we solved the problem by getting married – strictly a marriage of convenience – but Sudha, her aim achieved, tells me that Nisha and I are the most rocking couple madly in love.

And so now we all live together as one big happy family – ours, theirs, mine and hers.



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

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vikramkarve@sify.com

THE SEED OF WISDOM

[A Teaching Story]

By

VIKRAM KARVE

[Dear Reader, do read and reflect on this apocryphal tale, a teaching story I heard long back, from one of my teachers, I think]

Once upon a time there was a childless King who wanted to choose a worthy successor to his throne after he passed away.

He called all the young children in his kingdom to his palace one day and said: “It has come time for me to choose the next King. I have decided to choose one of you as my successor, as my Crown Prince, and groom you to be the King after I am gone.”

The amazed children listened spellbound as the King spoke: “I am going to give each one of you a seed today – Just One Seed. It is a very special seed. I want you all to go home, plant the seed, water it, nurture it, and come back here to me exactly one year from today with the plant you have grown from this one seed. I will then judge the plants that you bring to me and whoever grows the best plant will be the Crown Prince, the next King after me.”

There was one small shy boy who was there that day and he, like the others, received a seed from the King. He went home and excitedly told his mother the whole story. She helped him get a pot and some planting soil, and he planted the seed and watered it regularly and nurtured it carefully. Twice every day, in the morning and in the evening, the small shy boy would water the seed lovingly and watch to see if it had germinated and grown.

After a few days, some of the other children began to talk about their seeds and the lovely plants that were beginning to grow, but the small shy boy kept going home and checking his seed, disappointed that nothing was growing from his seed.

Days passed, then weeks, and months, but still there was no sign of a plant growing from the small shy boy’s seed. But the small boy still kept lovingly watering his seed regularly hoping that it would germinate.

By now the others were talking about their wonderful healthy plants but small shy boy didn't have a plant and he felt like a failure, but he kept persevering and nurturing his seed with love and dedication in the optimistic hope that his seed would someday sprout a plant.

Six months went by and there was still no sign of a plant in the small shy boy’s pot.

Everyone else had exquisite tall plants, but he had nothing. Inwardly he feared that maybe he had killed his seed but the small shy boy didn't say anything to his friends and kept on tenderly watering and nurturing his seed with dogged determination and doting devotion in the fond hope that his seed would grow and blossom into a beautiful plant.

Finally, one year passed, and all the children of the kingdom brought their plants to the King for inspection.

The small shy boy was scared and did not want to take his desolate plant-less pot with just the soil and seed to the King, but his mother encouraged him to go, to take his pot with him, and to be honest about everything.

The small shy boy felt fearful and nervous, but he listened to his mother and took his barren pot to the King.

When the small shy boy arrived at the King’s Palace, he was astonished to see the variety of beautiful and exotic plants grown by all the other children.

Totally crestfallen, the small shy boy put his desolate pot on the floor and everyone jeered in derision and mocked him. A few children felt pity for him and tried to console the small shy boy.
Suddenly the King arrived, looked around the hall appraising the plants and showered words of praise to the gathered children: “It is really amazing – you all have really grown fantastic beautiful plants, trees and flowers. I am truly impressed. Today, one of you is going to be selected as the Crown Prince to be the next King!”

The small shy boy shivered with tremors of trepidation and overcome with shame tried to hide in the back.

The King’s eyes searched all over and suddenly he saw the small shy boy at the back of the hall with his barren pot.

The King ordered his guards to bring him in front of the throne.

The small shy boy was terrified. “When the King sees my pot, how badly I have failed in the task he gave me, he is sure to punish me!”

Seeing how frightened the small shy boy was, the King stepped down from his throne, walked down towards the petrified boy, lovingly put his hand on the small shy boy’s shoulders and announced: “This boy is your new King!”

The small shy boy could not believe his ears – it was unbelievable that the King should select a failure and loser like him who couldn’t even sprout his seed be the Crown Prince.

The King escorted the small shy boy to the throne and said to everyone: “One year ago I gave all of you a seed. I told you to take the seed, plant it, water it, and bring it back to me today. But what you did not know is that I gave you all boiled seeds that would not grow. Except this honest boy, all of you have brought me beautiful plants with exotic flowers and even trees with fruit. When you found out that the seed would not grow, you substituted another seed for the one I gave you. This boy was the only one with the sincerity to nurture the barren seed for one whole year with dedication, hope and perseverance and had the courage and honesty to bring me the desolate pot with my seed in it. Therefore, I select him as my Crown Prince to be the next King!”

Tell me Dear Reader; is this “teaching” story relevant in today’s world?

VIKRAM KARVE

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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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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

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TEACHING STORIES

Teaching Stories

by

VIKRAM KARVE


A wise man told a small boy to get water from the well. “Make sure you don’t break the pot!” he shouted, and then suddenly gave the child a tight slap.

A shocked spectator asked him, “Why did you hit the poor boy who has done nothing wrong?”

“Because, you fool,” said the wise man, “it would be too late to punish him after he broke the pot, wouldn’t it?”



This is a Teaching Story.

Teaching Stories have a special quality – if read in a certain kind of way they enlighten you. Teaching stories are Gems of Wisdom.

There are three ways to read a Teaching Story:

· Read the story once. Then move on to another. This manner of reading will give you entertainment – maybe produce a laugh; like jokes.

· 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 much profound and 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.

In this storytelling blog I will try to regale and illuminate you with such gems of wisdom, some of my favorite Teaching Stories - let us have an enlightened laugh together!


VIKRAM KARVE

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WHAT IS THE MORAL OF THE STORY

What is the Moral of this Story ?

THE GOAT

By

VIKRAM KARVE




I will tell you a story.

You tell me the moral of the story.

Here is the story:

Once there lived a Goat – an ordinary looking goat who lived wild in the mountains.

One day while grazing in the forest, the goat saw a Giraffe, and the goat said to himself, “I wish my neck was as long as the giraffe.”

Lo and Behold! The goat’s neck suddenly became as long as the giraffe’s.

Delighted, that he could now see far and wide, the goat saw an eagle flying high in the sky.

“I wish I had wings like that eagle,” wished the goat; and instantaneously, wings appeared on the goat’s body.

Thrilled, the goat flapped its newly acquired wings, when he suddenly he spotted a tortoise.

The goat admired the beautiful hard shell of the tortoise, and said to himself, “I wish I had a strong hard invincible body like the shell of the tortoise,” and instantly his wish was granted – the goat’s back turned into the shell of a tortoise.

The goat felt ecstatic and impregnable, till he suddenly saw a Cheetah speeding across the horizon running at high speed.

“I wish I had legs like the Cheetah,” the goat wished, and miracle of miracles, the goat’s legs immediately became like the Cheetah.

Now the goat was truly overjoyed, on cloud nine, till he saw the enchanting sight of a beautiful peacock with majestic feathers dancing magnificently.

“I wish I had gorgeous feathers like the peacock,” he wished, and in a jiffy the goat’s wish was granted, and the goat now had dazzling copious plume of colourful feathers.

Adorned with the neck of the giraffe, the wings of the eagle, the shell of the tortoise, the legs of the Cheetah and the feathers of the peacock, the Goat felt jubilant, supreme, regal, on top of the world, and strutted around grandiosely in majestic pride.

A Hunter passing by suddenly saw this unique stunning creature, marvelled for a moment as he couldn’t believe his eyes, he gawked spellbound at the “Goat” for some time, recovered his wits and decided to capture this exotic priceless gem.

So the hunter cast his net, caught the “Goat” and sold this amazing never-seen-before one-of-its-kind exclusive creature at an astronomical price to the zoo.

Large crowds gathered at the zoo, and everyone gaped in awe at this astonishing exotic creature.

The “Goat” spent the rest of its life in captivity, weeping and crying, wondering why even the other goats wandering about freely and unnoticed in the zoo gardens did not recognize him.


I’ve told you the story; now you tell me the moral of the story.


VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2008
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

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