Ranjit Kulkarni's Blog, page 26

Patience and Time Horizon

“Most people cannot not eat this chocolate muffin, if left with it alone and hungry,” Jigneshbhai said staring at the three muffins that the waiter got with our coffee the other day.

Swami also stared at them first and then glared at Jigneshbhai, who was still staring at the muffins. Then Swami picked up one of them and biting into it, he said, “But why do you want to not eat? We have come here for it.”

“See there you go,” Jigneshbhai laughed.

Picking up his coffee, he added, “But what if you are offered one additional free muffin tomorrow, when you pay for this one and don’t eat it today?”

Swami chomped a mouthful and said, “Oh, so like that marshmallow experiment?”

Jigneshbhai sipped into his coffee some more. “Yeah somewhat. But here you pay for it.”

“Hmm, interesting,” Swami said taking another bite.

It was clear to me that Swami wasn’t going to wait for tomorrow’s free muffin even if Jigneshbhai offered it. In any case, half of today’s muffin was already in his mouth, on the way to the stomach. The other half was waiting for its turn.

“Most of us will bite into today’s muffin,” Jigneshbhai remarked. Swami and I nodded in agreement. We promptly did what Jigneshbhai said most of us will do.

After finishing the muffin in a few bites and pushing it down with a few gulps of coffee, Swami had the grin of a child struck with a rare brain wave.

“But now that I have eaten one, if you make that offer now with the next one, maybe I will be able to resist,” he said.

Jigneshbhai had a smile on his muffin, err face. He had not touched his muffin yet. “You said it,” he said. “To resist today’s muffin, one shouldn’t be too hungry for it,” he added.

Swami and I looked at each other. We weren’t hungry for another muffin so could have taken up the free muffin offer now. But Swami still had doubts.

“What if you run away with my payment for today’s muffin?” he asked with eyebrows raised. “In that case, I lose today’s muffin and my payment. And don’t get tomorrow’s muffin too.”

I thought Swami had a point. And Jigneshbhai had a nod of agreement too.

“That’s the second condition. You should trust me and be sure that I will get you your free muffin tomorrow,” he said. “Only then will you not eat your muffin today, isn’t it?” he added.

“Yes,” Swami replied in a flash. “Otherwise there’s no point. Might as well eat it now.”

“Well, true. But if you find someone who you trust or think will get you your free muffin tomorrow, it might be worth the wait,” Jigneshbhai insisted.

“Well, true. But if you don’t find someone like that, it is better to eat your muffin today,” Swami said. “A muffin in hand is worth two in the bush,” he added and gulped another bite.

Both Jigneshbhai and Swami sounded logical to me, for a change. But it still wasn’t clear what I should do. Was it worth not eating your muffin today? Or was it better to eat it now? Like always, both my friends Jigneshbhai and Swami had valid points and I was convinced of both points of view and nodded.

It was then that the wealthy old man dropped in from the neighbouring table. He had been listening to our conversation.

He resolved my quandary when he said, “Don’t eat all your muffins today. Keep some for tomorrow, so that you get your free muffins. Then, when tomorrow comes, you can have your muffin and eat it too.”

***

Melange: A Medley of Short Stories

Just a note to let you know that my latest book “Melange: A Medley of Short Stories” is now available. It is an Omnibus of Forty Seven Stories across the four collections that I have written in 2021 and contains a wide variety of tales.

It is available on Amazon in Kindle format and on Pothi in Print (Paperback). Hope you check out the book and tell others who you think might be interested if you like it. See the links below:

Amazon.in (Kindle Edition)

Pothi.com (Print Paperback Format)

A brief description of the book and what kind of stories to expect inside follows (from the book cover).

Book Description:

Is there life beyond this world? Is the mind of man reliable? Who said love was simple and uncomplicated? Have you wondered what goes on behind the lives of the common people we know but never notice?

If these questions intrigue you, you will find Melange: A Medley of Short Stories interesting.

This book is an Omnibus of four books of short stories by the author:

Immortal and Other StoriesMind Game and Other StoriesTough Love and Other StoriesPeople We Know and Other Stories

This book contains forty-seven short stories spread across a range of themes. Some will make you wonder if the soul of loved ones comes back and stays in our memories. Others will show you that the mind of man is both his friend and his enemy. A few will take you along in myriad directions that love can take. Many will take you into the lives of common people with uncommon stories.

In this book, you will find stories like these:

Can memories be erased? What if there really was a Memory Doctor?Why is a leopard in the city talking to a man and vice versa in A Second Chance?A policeman after an encounter with a criminal plays a Mind Game in one story, and in another finds his honesty being questioned in A Small HaulA young woman finds that memories of past love haunt her in The Evening Train.A mother and son talk in Wake-Up Alarm and battle in A Bad BargainA young boy Aryan who comes uninvited to my house. What is it that he wants to say?A security guard who children playfully call Helmet Uncle has a long-lost story to hide under his helmet.What happens when a hitman who wants to give it all up is given The Last Job?Read about these.. and many more.

With stories ranging from immortality of life to the treacherous rides of the mind, from the expressions of love to the complications of human beings, Melange is a voluminous medley of diverse stories that will entertain and provoke thought.

***

My Mom’s Carcass: Short Story

Me and my brother have no idea what hit her. We didn’t see it, we only heard it. Her last cry.

She helped us cross the road. We thought she was behind us when we reached the median. We thought we were tottering along in front of her. She always told us that the road in the vicinity of our house was dangerous.

We don’t know what happened. A big speeding thing hit her. Out of the blue, we heard her piercing cry. It gave us the shivers. When I turned back, all I could see was my mom’s carcass.

A pulpy mess crushed, a red lump of flesh by the roadside. The middle of her body gorged out by the impact. Her legs lying haphazard. Her black eyes popping from her face. They looked at me and my brother as if she still had some life. As if she was still looking over us.

My brother and I didn’t know what to do. We whimpered for help, we cried, we yelped out as loud as we could, but no one stopped. We couldn’t get close to her carcass from the median. Big speeding things were all around us. Those who rode them won’t see us. Mom told us that we were too small. She always covered us from the back. So that they could see her, at least. They didn’t.

No one stopped for a long time. We stared at her carcass from the median. After some time, the crows came. They pecked at her flesh by their beaks. I glared at their black squint eyes. We tried to shoo them away. It was my mother’s carcass, I yelled aloud at them. But our voices were too weak. We were too small. They weren’t afraid of us.

A few more scavengers flew in. They started having a feast of sorts. My brother and I howled and cried but to no avail. It was fruitless. Some scavengers thrust their beaks in my mom’s carcass to tear off another strip of her flesh.

The crows cawed, and the scavengers poked. It was endless. Merciless. We cried. Helpless.

Then a big speeding thing slowed down. It honked. It made such a big noise that the crows and the scavengers looked up. A man got off from the big speeding thing. He shooed them away.

They pulled up a big piece of flesh, held it in their beaks, and flew away. A small piece of flesh fell from the beak of one of the scavengers. It fell on the glass windshield of his big speeding thing. A few drops of blood spilled on it. Some more pieces of her insides fell from another scavenger’s beak. One fell on another big speeding thing that had stopped behind the first one. And another.

There was a row of them. All the men got off their big speeding things. I could see the irritation from the scowl on their faces. They didn’t like it. They assembled near my mom’s carcass. They saw it with disgust on their face. Their hands held their kerchiefs over their noses.

Some of them went away to a roadside shop to have sweets and snacks. The sweet shop owner came out and saw my mom’s carcass. He was not pleased with it. He called someone.

Someone came to clean the big speeding things of the men first. Then another big speeding thing came after a while. It stopped near her. Two men got a shovel and dumped her inside. We ran out of the shrub where we were hiding. I tried to hang on to the big speeding thing which carried her. My brother too ran with me. But our legs were too tiny. It sped away.

We could not even say goodbye. Big speeding things and their drivers haunt us to this day.

***

This story was first published in The Indian Periodical in their January 23rd issue. You may also read it on their website at this link.

Inner Peace

A friend of mine who was a CEO of a big company told me the other day that he was leaving his job. I thought he must be becoming the CEO of another, bigger company, but he told me that was not why he was leaving it. I asked him why, and he told me that it was because he wanted inner peace.

“I am going to take classes for increasing my self-awareness and to re-establish my core being, so that it dwells in the present and leads to inner peace,” he said when he called me.

I was busy finding my peace in a chocolate sundae when his statement shook me up.

“I see, which classes are you going to join?” I asked him, assuming that he must have done his research and chalked out plans, given that he was CEO. I was right, but only partially.

“Well, I am evaluating a few options,” he said. “Based on their value proposition, I will decide the one that is the best strategic fitment to my long-term goals.”

I tried to delve a bit deeper on what his goals were, and he had an answer ready.

“Well, I have set aside a year of my life for this project,” he said. “The goal is to centre oneself for optimal productivity and performance. Once I figure this out, we will see where it leads.”

“I see, sounds good,” I said and quickly finished the last bit of my muffin. I felt like having another one but resisted the temptation.

A few weeks later he called me again. He told me that he had shortlisted four of the best available options in the global wellness market. He wasn’t able to decide between the alternatives.

It included one ten-day wellness retreat, another proposed a 4 AM class for a month, a third one had some meditation rounds, while the fourth one had everything bundled around mantra sessions.

“They are all quite hectic,” he said, and I agreed. The quest for inner peace shouldn’t lead to inconvenience. Life, after all, is short.

“I have set up meetings with all of them next week for a deeper dive,” he said.

“Really?” I wondered if that was actually true. “And have they agreed?” I asked.

“I have got confirmation from all of them,” he explained. “Join me for it, I will send you the details,” he added before hanging up.

On the day of the presentations, I felt that rather than formals, maybe I should wear a kurta pyjama for the meetings. When I turned up wearing those, my friend was happy that we were aligned.

“This is wonderful. With your inputs, we are going to decide today,” he said.

But each presentation that I sat through that day convinced me that every method was the best before the next one came up. My friend asked me for my views, and while I didn’t think I did much, he seemed happy with what he got. Maybe my past career as a consultant helped.

A few days back I got a message from him. It said that he had called off his one-year project for self-awareness and inner peace. He had taken up a job as CEO of another company. He has asked me to join him. But now, after getting that message, I have lost all my inner peace. I think I will take one of those classes to get it back.

***

News Report

There was a news report about the release of my four anthologies from last year (2021) that got coverage last month. I am reproducing it below for your reading.

***

Four Anthologies of author Ranjit Kulkarni’s short stories released

The set of four small, quick read books, a consolidated anthology of Ranjit Kulkarni’s work last year, is a perfect gift to all the ardent readers and lovers of the author’s entertaining and enlightening writing.

5th February 2022, Bengaluru, India: A new set of four anthologies, “Immortal”, “People We Know”, “Tough Love” and “Mind Game” released over the past four months brings together some of the most compelling and thought-provoking stories by author Ranjit Kulkarni. These books contain close to fifty short stories covering a range of topics from the undying spirit to undying love, and character sketches to psychological thrillers.

Dedicating the books in equal part to his mother, his family and his readers, the author Ranjit Kulkarni said, “The short story really is like a small package of bundled, focused emotion, a glimpse into a character’s life through a small window of events. What I have tried in these anthologies is to capture the layers of stories beneath the characters and events. That is what inspired me to tell their tale.”

Readers who had read an advance copy had different reactions to the anthologies.

“Stirring in its portrayal of our acute desires, Immortal and Other Stories is a brilliant collection that leaves the reader with pondering thoughts and delves deep into our psyche.,” says Rain n Books, a book reviewer.

“How easily does he weave some amazingly deep, some amazingly suspenseful, some amazingly unexpected stories of people who are part of our everyday lives.,” says another avid reader about ‘People We Know’.

The four anthologies, priced from Rs.130 to Rs.170 are available in Paperback at Pothi.com. The Kindle versions all priced at Rs.99 are available on Amazon.in.

For additional information or media inquiries, visit www.ranjitkulkarni.com

About the Author: Ranjit Kulkarni is a writer of short stories, articles, and novels. His work has appeared in many journals and magazines. More details about his work can be accessed at https://www.ranjitkulkarni.com. He lives in Bangalore India.

***

Reunion: Short Story

He had expected chants of “Rango, Rango,” reverberate the auditorium. Sarang Gore walked up to the dais to receive the distinguished alumnus award. But all he heard, instead, was pin-drop, eerie silence. Their reunion had less than ten people, all in their fifties, from the class of thirty. Sarang Gore was the most successful alumnus by far that the institute had produced.

Sarang had got a call from his long-lost friend Atul Choudhary a month back. It was with an invitation to grace the occasion.

“I am aware that a person like you, Rango, will not have time for such functions. But as a fellow alumnus I am requesting only two hours of your time,” Chow, as they called Choudhary, had requested.

Rango hadn’t kept in touch with anyone since he left college thirty years back. Rango didn’t stay in touch with people who didn’t serve his business interests. He had earlier stayed in touch when he worked in the corporate sector for fifteen years. But all he had got was frustration, despite a fast track career. The ambitious Sarang Gore had started his engineering company fifteen years back. His growth since then had been meteoric, to say the least. He was in a different orbit now. Staying in touch with the past was impossible. It was also unnecessary. In some cases, it was even risky and dangerous.

In any case, he thought most of his classmates were dull, middle-class, contented people. He believed they had nothing much to look forward to. He thought that a wretched, normal existence was their destiny. His mind had only disdain for such pathetic people with a contented mindset. He believed such a mindset didn’t lead to any achievements in life. In all honesty, he felt he didn’t have much in common with them, and he didn’t have much to do with them.

“I will tell my assistant to find a slot. She will get back to you,” he told Chow, not saying no outright. Over the years, he had learnt how to say no without saying it on the face. He used to be blunt when younger, but not anymore. He had realised that no one likes a cutthroat, loudmouth achiever. No one is ready to listen to his stories of how he bribes buyers and kills competition. No one likes him talking about suppressing employees and flaunting wealth. Though he continued living his life in the same manner, he had stopped talking about it.

After a few days, Chow had called back.

“Sir, I would request your august presence again,” he had said, with a changed tone this time. “The function would be incomplete without you,” he added. This time it sounded more like how Rango liked it. Give me respect, something inside him called out all the time, and respect is what he demanded. He was a respectable man. He was an achiever par excellence. He deserved the royal treatment like a king after thirty years of superlative achievements, he felt. He had earned it, dammit.

“Ok Chow. Only because of you, I will come. I will ask my assistant to make adjustments in my schedule,” Rango said.

He had learnt to navigate the world of these stupid middle-class people now. It was a useful skill after he had managed to master the world of business. They were two different worlds, he knew. Money and influence is all that mattered in the world of business. Respect and integrity is what mattered in the world of middle class, good for nothing people. Rango had left one world to set up house in the other. Now he had learnt to straddle both.

“Thank you, Sir. We have a special felicitation planned only for you at the reunion,” Chow informed Rango. “You are the pride of not only the batch. You are the most accomplished alumni produced by the institute, Sir.. So we have a special award only for you, constituted for the first time in the history of the institute.”

That was music to Rango’s ears. It seemed like things were now falling in place to his liking. No point in taking these kind of awards if others get them too. Rango knew he was one of a kind. So if this is a special award only for me then I should consider it, he thought.

This distinguished alumnus special award was, even so, another trophy though. He knew it didn’t matter much for his business. It didn’t mean anything to Rango. But deep within, he felt it might add some brownie points to his improving image. He had been trying to soften his ruthless image over the past few years.

“Ok fine. I will make it,” Sarang Gore confirmed. “But keep it to under two hours.”

He had plans of taking his company public soon. So, he had started attending such decent, goody-goody, useless functions. He needed a soft image as an acceptable leader of a growing company. Attending such events seemed to work.

If he cut a moderate cheque for some stupid cause to commemorate the occasion, it worked even better. He had donated to flood victims and orphanages with that goal.

***

Before landing for the brief reunion event, he had already instructed his PR team. They were to send some media persons to this, otherwise, useless event. No one would have covered it, if not for Sarang Gore’s attendance. He also instructed them that he wanted to read words like humble, down to earth in the local media tomorrow. And not to forget philanthropic. Throw some nice change and everyone talked good about you. It was a price worth paying, Rango had discovered. And what could be more noble than a donation to repay the debts of the alma mater at a reunion?

“I would like to make an announcement,” Chow said from the dais. Rango took his seat and Chow continued. “Our esteemed alumnus – successful industrialist Sarang Gore, has donated one million dollars. The institute is grateful for this noble gesture.”

With folded hands, Rango stood up in a show of humility in front of the cameras. There were only a couple of them there though, while Rango had expected more. He noted it and decided within to take his PR team to task once he gets back. Why wasn’t there more media?

“This is my small contribution to an institution that has given me so much. I can never hope to repay my debts in full,” he said to the two journalists after the felicitation.

In reality, it was actually true that he hardly repaid his debts in full. His business raised large loans from small cooperative banks for executing government contracts. He bagged these contracts by bribing politicians. These politicians sat on the boards of those cooperative banks. It was much easier to bribe the bankers too, than to pay the loans back. And if someone filed a legal case, it was easy to bribe the judges.

It was a modus operandi that he had championed in his early years. He had mastered it now in the decade and a half of running his own company. It worked very well. So much so that his defaults now hurt the bank more than him. Those timid bankers approached him again for more loans so that he repays the earlier one. He was a shrewd man who knew that the size of the loan determined if the borrower or the lender was in trouble.

He knew that the worlds was full of such idiots, you only had to find the right one. It was not restricted to bankers. He had found such idiots, who had no idea how the world of business runs, at every step. He had found them in people working with him as vendors. The large number of employees working for him were avid examples of such idiots. There were many idiots working against him as competitors too. Sarang Gore had found, utilised, and disposed of many such idiots.

One of those idiots was the main organiser of this reunion. He had understood Rango’s methods as part of his job. He was his old classmate Atul Choudhary or Chow. He was a banker. Or let’s say, a former banker. Before he lost his job disgraced, purportedly, by his board. But, for all practical purposes, the person behind it was Sarang Gore.

Around ten years back, unknown to Rango, Chow had granted a loan to Sarang Gore’s company. It was for executing a government contract he had bagged. He wasn’t quite aware of Rango’s methods and intentions then. He had done his diligence but trusted his batchmate. It had been a downward spiral since then. His efforts for recovery had failed miserably. Sarang Gore had not even given Chow and his team a single appointment.

Chow decided to file a legal case against Gore’s company on behalf of his bank. That’s when he got instructions from his board to grant further loans and withdraw the case. Chow had rejected both these requests and that was the start of his troubles.

Chow rejected the board’s requests. The bank’s board instituted an enquiry to determine how a loan was given to Rango’s company. That too, without adequate due diligence and why it was not recovered. The tables had turned. Chow was the scapegoat. The enquiry found him guilty of wrongful lending. It accused Chow of using coercive tactics for recovery. The enquiry committee and the court convicted Chow. He lost his job and received a sentence of seven years in prison.

Sarang Gore hadn’t even turned back and seen what happened. He had no inkling of who he had trampled upon. Elephants can’t keep track of all the ants they step on, Rango always believed in his march to glory.

Rango’s company got another loan from the same lender, eventually. His company also won the case. Rango’s photographs with visionary political leaders became larger.

Rango now found Chow glaring at him from the dais. Rango became uncomfortable and turned his attention to others on the dais. When Rango looked beyond Chow, he saw a few more idiots that seemed familiar. He looked closer.

Next to Chow on the dais was Malpani. He had been Rango’s business competitor almost a decade back. Rango had beaten him in six project tenders by bribing the buyers. After that he didn’t know what happened to Malpani. Rango had presumed he had gone out of business. Rango remembered bragging about how he had stifled his foremost competitor. He attributed his wins to smart strategy and timely tactics. Some institute even asked him to share best practices on pursuing market leadership. He had not heard about Malpani again. But what was Malpani doing here next to Chow, Rango asked himself. He was not an alumnus as far as Rango knew, or was he?

On the seat next to Malpani, he saw the familiar face of Sudhir Lele. Lele had been his CEO, though Rango called him his chief servant. Rango had high hopes from him when he had hired him. He felt this man had ambition. He thought this man had guts and the gumption to do whatever it takes and will turn out to be a good ally. But alas, he turned out to be a damp squib.

Rango realised in a couple of years that Lele was a bloated employee in businessman clothes. He gave excuses of integrity for not reaching business targets. When it mattered, Lele chickened out.

Rango had, a few years ago, made up his mind to bag some important contracts. He had finalised funding arrangements with the local corporators. He had decided to compensate them with political donations. Lele had, then, questioned it and shown his feet of clay. Rango had fired him in a fit of anger threatening that he will make sure Lele has no future in the industry. God knows what happened to Lele after that.

Why was Lele sitting here with Chow and Malpani? What was he doing here, Rango wondered? He definitely wasn’t an alumnus, or was he? Rango, for a moment, wondered if Lele had joined Malpani. Was he trying to revive his bankrupt business? He made a mental note of it to work on later.

Rango turned his attention elsewhere. He peeped into the audience but saw no one. He looked again at the audience. Was there really no one there? Why waste my time when there’s no audience? Rango got irate.

Then from the corner of his eye, he noticed Kamlesh Bhai seated there. Kamlesh Rathod was a supplier to Rango in his early days. The idiot had stupid, small dreams like buying a small house and a car. He had no risk-taking ability.

He refused to add capacity to his small unit by taking a simple bank loan that Rango wanted him to. The raw material that Kamlesh supplied was critical. Rango remembered starving him of payments. So much so, that he finally begged of Rango to buy him out, which Rango did at a dirt-cheap price. Kamlesh had walked out and Rango never looked back at him again.

Till today when he saw him again. What was he doing at the reunion Rango wondered? Kamlesh was an uneducated villager who had a small workshop. He definitely wasn’t an alumnus, or was he?

Rango wanted to give Chow a piece of his mind for calling all these irrelevant, useless idiots. They had nothing to do with the institute here. What a bloody waste of time? he cursed himself. Even the journalists, he now remembered, were some stupid Page 3 types. He had reprimanded them many years back for meddling in his company affairs. This was a big let-down.

He looked at the dais again. He saw Chow smiling at him. Next to Chow, Malpani had a faint expression of satisfaction. And next to Malpani, Sudhir Lele was laughing his way to glory. In the audience, Kamlesh broke into a chuckle. The journalists had stopped clicking and were giggling.

Rango didn’t want to spend any more time here with these idiots. He decided to get out of there in a hurry.

But he was unable to move from his chair. It seemed like he was stuck there. No amount of effort seemed to help.

This reunion was a mistake, he told himself. I need to make a move, he decided. He looked at Chow, Malpani, Lele and Kamlesh again. Even they didn’t move.

Chow had died unable to bear his disgrace after spending five years in prison. Malpani had gone bankrupt, before he committed suicide three years back. Sudhir Lele had jumped off his 27th floor residential apartment a year after Rango fired him. Kamlesh had gone back to his village with his family and died after living in poverty for seven years.

This was a different kind of reunion. It was a reunion from which Rango had no escape.

***

This story was first published in the Kathmandu Tribune on May 20, 2021. You may also read it here.

Writing a Bestseller

The other day when we met over coffee, Swami was in a bad mood, which isn’t surprising. But what was surprising is that he was in a bad mood because of me.

“You will never write a bestseller,” he said. “You write stories and articles and novels, that’s the problem. No one pays for stories.”

His assessment of my writing career wasn’t all that inaccurate.

“You must write something that people will pay for,” Swami added.

Jigneshbhai had a faint smile on his lips and looked up to us.

“What is it that people will pay for?” he asked.

“You are a businessman, you should know,” Swami said, breaking into a wide grin. “But I have some ideas. I have studied the bestseller lists of the past.”

He looked at me. I knew he had found a target for his ideas. Jigneshbhai was always interested in business ideas.

“And what have you found?”

“It is easy to come up with a bestseller. We have to find a problem in a niche that people are interested in,” he started. Both Jigneshbhai and I had raised our eyebrows.

“And the problem that they are most interested in is money,” Swami said. His enthusiasm for the project was evident. “So I have decided that our first bestseller will be on money.”

Jigneshbhai and I looked at each other. Swami explained the details.

“Look – Jigneshbhai knows how to make money. And you know how to write,” he explained each of our roles.

“And what will you do?” Jigneshbhai asked, not wanting to be tasked with all the work.

“Well, I will… manage the project. What about publicity, reviews, social media, and PR? There is a lot of work in a bestseller other than just ideas and writing,” Swami said.

Jigneshbhai and I looked at each other – he with his usual cynical eye and I with my blank worries. Swami had done a lot of homework on the subject.

“So I guess we are all set now!” he continued and asked us for a high-five which both of us reluctantly gave. “I have also come up with a title,” he added.

This got both me and Jigneshbhai interested.

“What is it?” both of us asked in unison.

“21 Steps to Money Nirvana: Jigneshbhai teaches Swami,” he said excitedly. He then looked at our blank faces. He did not find the same excitement. Rather he found a lot of trepidation.

“Come on guys, be a bit more enthusiastic,” Swami said this time pumping his fist. “We are going to do this. Let’s come up with an outline. We need to come up with the structure for our bestseller. 21 Steps means there have to be 21 chapters. I have studied the structure of the bestsellers.”

Swami was in a different orbit.

“I need to leave now, but next week when we meet, I want you guys ready with the chapter names of these 21 Steps to Money Nirvana,” Swami said. Then like a project manager, he left us twiddling our thumbs.

Jigneshbhai and I looked at each other and thought now that we were together, let us come up with something.

The problem is that it has been two hours since Swami left. The wealthy old man who was at the adjoining table listening to our conversation joined us too, after Swami left. But even with all the wealthy man’s experience and brains of Jigneshbhai, all we could come up with was earn well, save well, and invest well.

I don’t know how we will come up with a bestseller with just these three steps to Money Nirvana. Jigneshbhai told me that I better get back to writing stories. I nodded in agreement. I told him that I  will keep writing till Swami comes up with his new formula for my bestseller. Jigneshbhai laughed aloud, and this time, even the wealthy man had a smile on his face.

***

Some Updates

It has been a washout February as far as writing is concerned for me. I haven’t got a word on paper (or on MS Word, actually) in this entire month, all of it due to what I would like to blame on writer’s block, but in reality, is a curious mix of laziness and distractions. I am hoping to get back on track in the month of March . Some things still got done, so I am writing this post with a bunch of updates.

Redesigned Website: I managed to get my website redesigned. I felt the earlier one was over two years old, and while the look was nice, I wanted a way to put my books upfront. Besides, when I designed the earlier one, it was with Jigneshbhai and Swami articles in mind and a bunch of non-fiction ideas. But over the past couple of years, it turned out that I ended up writing more stories and novellas – all of it fiction and very little non-fiction. So I wanted the website to reflect that while still keeping the colours intact. Besides, I had also built an online store on my website for readers to buy my books. I realised that it was too much of a hassle to keep it running and update it constantly. Amazon is good enough. So I got rid of that too from my website. So the redesigned website is now ready. Take a look at the same URL – ranjitkulkarni.com.

Change in Frequency of Blog Posts: I am not sure if you noticed but I have reduced the frequency of blog posts. I have stopped posting weekly and now intend to post twice a month – every alternate week. This is mainly because I noticed that posting something every week on the blog was getting on my mind and occupying it, and affecting my actual writing. What works on blogs isn’t necessarily good writing, and I didn’t want the need to blog every week to affect my more serious writing – stories and novellas. I still enjoy blogging, so I decided to reduce the frequency. Moreover, I realised that posting stories on the blog made them ineligible for publication elsewhere, as most journals treat them as already published. Hence, going forward, the blog posts will have only stories published elsewhere and updates or articles, alternating every week, for the rest of this year.

Stories Published: A few of my short stories (some very short – called flash fiction) got published in some literary journals over the past couple of months. I will post the stories later to the blog, but for now, you may read them at the links of the journals. Here is the list:

Indian Periodical published the voice of the voiceless My Mom’s Carcass

Grey Thoughts Writer’s Club published the tale of a wronged soul Bloody Justice

Ariel Chart published the story of mixed feelings The Young Man

Literary Yard published the touching flash fiction story Open House

Potato Soup Journal published the tale of moral remorse The Coach

Upcoming Book: I have written a bunch of stories in December and January around the theme of travel, inspired by some of the characters I met and experiences I had during my road trips to Gujarat and the Northeast during the months of October and December. Some more story ideas are still in my notes and I should hopefully convert them into full fledged stories in March. If things go as per plan, editing should happen in April and, after formatting and book cover design, I should be in a position to release a collection of travel-themed stories by end of May. I haven’t decided a title yet, but it will be a travel-themed book of stories – that is certain.

So those are the quick updates from my end from January and February. I hope to provide updates more frequently during this year – perhaps every second month or when I have something to report. Do take a look at the website and the stories. Thanks for reading!

Zero: Short Story

Why did God give the human species the intelligence to invent the mobile phone? Sitting alone in a plush restaurant in despair, young Rakesh Oswal threw his phone away. Even in the AC of the restaurant, his forehead had a few drops of sweat. Lots of questions filled his tormented head. In a moment, he glanced at his phone ringing again and neglected the call again.

“It’s Atharva again,” he muttered to himself while signalling to the waiter to get a glass of fresh lime with soda. “Salted, with lots of ice,” he added.

“How could this happen?” Rakesh strained his head. “I have never made such mistakes before,” he thought to himself.

He started thinking hard, back in time. It was last Friday when his friend and client, Atharva Dhamdhere, had called him. Atharva had placed an order to short sell 2 lots of Excellence Industries. Rakesh had asked his staff clerk Srini to place the order on Atharva’s account. There were small trading losses by end of the day. But Rakesh had carried forward the position over the weekend. The small losses on Friday would be more than made up by the large gains on Monday. So he thought.

But the stock went up, and went up in a big way, on Monday. Rakesh finally covered Atharva’s position on Monday afternoon after the losses piled up. He stared at the screen in horror, shocked to discover that it was not 2 lots but 20 lots that were short sold. Excellence Industries was up 24% since Friday. His friend and client, Atharva Dhamdhere, was staring at, nay he had suffered, a huge loss.

“How the hell did this happen?” Rakesh muttered to himself, sipping the water. “What face will I show to Atharva now? You are in deep trouble Mr Rakesh Oswal,” he said under his breath.

“And why the hell is this fresh lime soda taking so long?” He shrieked at the waiter standing beside his table. He banged his fist with clenched teeth on the table. He wiped the sweat that had trickled down from his forehead on to his brow.

There was no surprise then that Atharva Dhamdhere was calling him incessantly. Since yesterday evening, he pushed Rakesh to return the money lost on a bet gone awfully wrong. And that too, ten times at that. The phone rang again. It was Atharva Dhamdhere again. This time his broker and friend Rakesh Oswal didn’t have a choice but to answer the call.

“What the hell have you been smoking Rakesh? I told you to short 2 lots and you shorted 20 lots? Do you know what that means now? And the stock gas gone up 24%!! Do you have any freaking idea how much the bloody hell I am screwed?” the agitated voice of Atharva Dhamdhere on the other side asked.

“Yes, it’s a major oversight, Atharva,” Rakesh shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Oversight? You call this oversight? 20 lots instead of 2? On a stock that goes up 24%? This is a monumental blunder, Rakesh,” Atharva yelled. “So what if I have given you a power of attorney to operate my trading account? It doesn’t mean you can do anything you wish with my money,” he yelled.

“No Atharva, I didn’t do it..,”

“What do you mean you didn’t do it? My order and trade book shows it loud and clear. It’s there in black and white..”

“I mean Atharva, I didn’t do it on purpose. It was an oversight.”

“An oversight? What the hell? Instead of 1 lakh, you have debited 10 lakhs from my account now. How can you penalise me for losses that happened due to your mistake? Bloody hell, you better pay up for this Rakesh….”

“Atharva, but I have to pay the exchange after the trade squares off. The rules and regulations say that. Atharva, I had no choice. They would have locked my terminal.”

“Well you can put all that square off rules nonsense up your round… whatever …,” Atharva held himself back in words, but not in emotions. “Look Rakesh. I am telling you once and for all. Do whatever you want. You pay from your money. I want my money back. Don’t use my money for your trades…”

“Well, Atharva.. it’s not like that.. it’s a genuine mistake.. I need to talk to my staff..”

“What do you mean, Well Atharva? And you talk to your staff or whoever else you want. You used my money for your trades.”

“Oh… No! Atharva.. We can recover the losses in the future..”

“What Oh No Atharva? You did. And don’t talk of recovery in future trades. I am not falling for any of your false promises.”

“I meant No, Atharva. Not Oh, and then No Atharva. We will find a way out of this.”

“Keep all this Oh and No nonsense with you Rakesh. Look Rakesh, I am telling you one last time. Give me my money back and that’s final. Else I will register a police case. I will not rest till I drag you to court. I will not care about our relationship.” And Atharva Dhamdhere slammed the phone down.

Rakesh Oswal felt the tremors of that fiery wrath pierce his ears and the heat of the anger burn his face. His brief but successful trading business and its reputation were at stake. Atharva had trusted him. He was one of his batch toppers in their course on finance. Rakesh felt he had betrayed Atharva. Atharva had been a success at everything he had pursued. He had never failed so bad at something as he had today. And Rakesh had a hand in it. No wonder he was fuming. This was new, uncharted territory for Atharva Dhamdhere.

For my business, I may have to pay up Atharva the ten lakhs. But that’s too much, Rakesh thought. Should I tell Atharva to share the losses once he cools down? Rakesh reasoned. Five lakhs each sounded okay. But Atharva will not agree, another side of Rakesh contemplated. I will tell him that I will not charge him anything till I make up the remaining five lakhs in future trades. Rakesh consoled himself. Atharva may agree to this, he is doing well in his career. He can afford to give me some time, and the five lakhs, Rakesh reflected. He didn’t know what to do, as all types of cogitations enveloped his being.

“Sir, your fresh lime soda and ice,” the waiter said. He broke the train of introspection of Rakesh Oswal. “Anything else, Sir?” He added in a cheerful tone.

Why is this guy so happy when I am in dire gloom, Rakesh pondered. He clenched his teeth and gave him a stern glare.

“Any problem, Sir?” asked the waiter.

“That’s none of your business,” was Rakesh’s curt reply.

“No problem Sir,” the waiter said and tottered away with a jaunty step. Rakesh Oswal was not an arrogant man. But a sudden, unexpected dose of misfortune can shake even the politest of people. Rakesh realised his error and called the waiter back.

“Get me another one of these,” he ordered. And then he added, “And don’t you mind my volatile mood today. I am going through a bad patch.”

The waiter broke into another smile.

“No worries Sir, I can understand Sir. I am sorry for being cheerful Sir. I am in a good mood,” he told Rakesh.

When one is in a bad state of mind, the good state of mind of another person can pull your mind away from your own gloom. The same happened with Rakesh Oswal, though only for a few brief minutes before it turned sour again.

“Oh well, then cheer me up,” he said. “What’s the reason for your cheer?”

“Well Sir, I made an unexpected gain yesterday,” the waiter explained.

“Hmmm, a sudden pay-out from the restaurant owner?” Rakesh asked.

“No Sir, an unexpected windfall from the stock market. Do you keep track of it, Sir?” The waiter asked, in all innocence.

Rakesh Oswal shifted in his seat and the temporary cheer on his face disappeared. The dark gloom made its presence felt again.

“Yes I do. I own a stock trading firm,” he said.

“Oh great Sir. Then you would know Sir. I bought a few shares of Excellence Industries on Friday and it went up 24% on Monday. I gained 24000 rupees in one day, Sir,” the waiter grinned. He conveyed the reason for his happiness with the widest smile that Rakesh Oswal had seen so far.

Rakesh gazed into blank space. He didn’t know whether what he felt currently was a wave of anger, a tinge of envy or a tsunami of sheer desperation. If left alone, a wise and optimistic man like Rakesh Oswal finds a way to get out of his gloom. What makes it tough even for such a balanced man to get out of that melancholy is another man’s merriment. What makes it improbable is if the reason for the other man’s gaiety is the same as the reason for his doom and gloom.

Rakesh Oswal, expert trader that he was, had always known that trading is a zero-sum game. But, in all earnestness, he felt that he didn’t need a reminder of that fact right now through this experience. And that too from someone who, in his mind, was a measly waiter. He stood up in a jerk from his seat. 

“Cancel the second fresh lime soda order. Take this and keep the change,” he slapped a five hundred rupee note on the table and started to walk away.

“Sir but it’s only 120 for one fresh lime soda,” The waiter shouted aloud.

“Why don’t you have the second one on my behalf? It’s on me. It is your lucky day. And keep the change, I said,” Oswal shouted back as he walked out.

He got into his car and drove away. Drops of sweat fell from his brow on to the seat now, inside the AC cabin of his car. He muttered under a heavy breath, “Where the heck has this dimwit clerk, Srini disappeared?”

The waiter pocketed the change and gulped the fresh lime soda. He peeped out to check that the car had left. Then he jumped what seemed like twelve inches off the ground in joy. He pumped both his fists and raised his arms above his head and shoulders in triumph. He twisted his waist and danced. Now he had no reason to hold back his joy.

The other waiters looked at him in awe. The owner signalled him to stay silent. But none of it deterred him. The smile on his face was the widest he had experienced since his childhood.

Everyone called him a zero because he amounted to nothing in school and college. His father always compared him to his more academic and accomplished college mates. “Be like Atharva Dhamdhere, study well, learn from his discipline,” he told him. Not that he didn’t try. “But couldn’t they understand that everyone has limitations? Not everyone loves studies,” he mused within.

Everyone said he was a general good-for-nothing. “Because I fail at everything, you can’t call me zero,” the waiter told himself.

But that was all in the past. This was not the time to think of it. This was the time to celebrate the present. The gain of 24000 he had made on his trade was the first time he had done anything worthwhile.

But that was not the real reason for his unbridled joy.

The real reason was the loss of ten lakhs that he had caused to the hero. When he saw the client’s name that day for the trade that his boss Rakesh Oswal asked him to enter, his eyes popped open. This guy, he remembered, was the hero to his zero. The hero Atharva Dhamdhere who always upstaged him ever since his childhood. The hero due to whom he got the name zero.

“Now he will know what a useless, dimwit clerk can do. Now he will know what a zero can do. Only one extra zero will bring your world down,” he had thought then. To his good luck, nobody had noticed it. Now he broke into a loud and hearty guffaw. It was time to celebrate.

He removed the false wig, moustache, and beard. He threw out the rented waiter uniform he had worn. He stepped out of the restaurant. The good-for-nothing clerk turned waiter breathed a fresh gulp of free air. Srini smiled in the satisfaction that, finally, a zero amounted to something.

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This story was first published in Literary Yard. You may also read it here.

Blogger Review

This week I complete one year of weekly posts on the blog. I am happy to note and report that a Dehradun-based book blogger sent me this review of my book of short stories “Kaleidoscope”.

At the risk of blowing my own trumpet, I am enclosing it below.

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7 Reasons to Read Kaleidoscope by Ranjit Kulkarni

For me, a collection of short stories is always a delight. I love the diversity and the chance to meet a set of unfamiliar characters in different settings and circumstances. Recently, I came across a collection that instantly became my favorite because it was based around my favourite theme ‘society and its unspoken voice’. Well, that’s not the only reason that I read it thrice in a month. There is more to share about the book altogether.

Language:

This is my third Ranjit Kulkarni book. Earlier I read two novels based on funny characters. His narration and pros may look lucid but it has healing and stress-buster powers. Whenever I read this author either his blog or books, I feel as I met someone who has been writing for ages. He writes well. His stories are meaningful and straight from the vault of our society. They show us what is going on around us and how do we respond to all that. 

Climax:

Often paranormal or horror short stories throw us into unexpected loops, however this collection is famous for simple, yet unexpected endings. There are 18 stories and each story has its own unique twist ending. You may be expecting a simple ending but things turn out very differently. I admit that to understand the last part of some stories, I read those stories quite a few times. I feel because of the great climaxes the stories are captivating to readers.

Length of the Book:

Yes, this matters. I specially avoid books like ‘The Complete Works of this and that Great Writer’. Sorry, I am not doing any research. I love to read books that are easy to finish. This book contains 18 stories and yet the author managed to finish all in just 250+ pages…great work!

Pace:

The pace of the book is related with the length of the book. As I said in the above point, 250 pages, now you can imagine that the pace of the book was brilliant. No particular story looked too short or too lengthy…they just suited my mood.

Realism:

You believe it or not, short stories are more inclined towards realism. They originate from trifle experiences or observances an author makes in his life. This collection has a simple stories but their credibility is rock solid…you cannot doubt their veracity, the way they unfold in the end make it all worth.

Experience:

While reading this collection, I personally gathered the pattern of life that goes in most of the urban cities for common or middle-class, as I saw that many stories are placed against the urban background.

Insight into Relationships:

From the blurb I picked up mind games and tricks, yes human relationship is the most consistent theme in the collection. How do human relationships come under the mettle of test is depicted quite well in many stories. If you read this book, you will get a chance to peep inside factors that make or break the spectrum of relationships.

I know there could be more points that we can discuss about this book, but for me the mentioned ones mattered most. Read this book for sheer delightful experience and share your thoughts on the same. Happy reading!!

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Thanks a lot, Books Fond! You made my week. -Ranjit Kulkarni