HUMOR IN AND OUT OF UNIFORM : humor

HUMOUR IN UNIFORM

HORNY COMMODORE AND NUBILE NYMPH

Link to my original post in my blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve :

http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2014/03/humor-in-uniform-wine-women-and.html

WINE WOMEN and OFFICERS

An Apocryphal Story of a Horny Commodore and a Nubile Nymph

A Spoof

VIKRAM KARVE

Disclaimer:

1. Please read this apocryphal story only if you have a sense of humor. This yarn is a spoof, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.

2. This story is for mature adults only, so if you are a kid, or an overly gender sensitive type, please skip this post.

3. This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:

No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.

PROLOGUE

I am sure you have heard of the three vices: “Wine Women and Horses”

Now here is a story about “Wine Women and Officers”.

(Instead of “horses” we have “officers” – yes, officers in lieu of horses, as they say in the Navy).

The “wine” in the story is not really wine – it is something much stronger – liquor – booze – an alcoholic spirit called RUM.

THE CHARACTERS

There are a few women in the story, but there is only one “main character” – the “heroine” of the story – a beautiful “Nubile Nymph” – let us call her “N”.

The other women in the story are side characters, like “extras” in a movie.

And as far as the male protagonists are concerned – there are four naval officers in the story:

“C” – The Horny Commodore with a Roving Eye who has the hots for “N” (the “Nubile Nymph”)

“A” – The ambitious husband of our “Nubile Nymph” called “N”

“S” – The maverick neighbour of “A” and “N” – to describe “S” in a nutshell – well, let’s say that “S” is more interested in “Wine” rather than “Women”

And, of course, the 4^th protagonist is me – yours truly

Let’s start with “N”

We had nicknamed her “Nubile Nymph”

But in actual fact she was neither “nubile” (she was very much married) nor was she a “nymph” (she was no sex maniac – she was just a tease – she acted seductive and sexy to arouse the Horny Commodore).

Yes, “Nubile Nymph” was a tease – from time to time she gave the Horny Commodore the “come hither look” which got him all excited.

From the moment she had met him, Nubile Nymph “N” had observed that the Horny Commodore “C” had a roving eye.

“N” had instantly noticed that “C” had the “hots” for her.

“N” knew that she was sexually attractive and men were mesmerized by her.

If she wanted, she could have had the Horny Commodore on a platter.

But “N” was least interested in romancing with the Commodore.

“N” was not at all interested in having a full-fledged affair with “C”.

She was interested in her own husband’s career.

“N” knew that in the Navy, a wife’s status depends on her husband’s rank

“N” knew her husband’s limitations.

Her husband “A” was quite a mediocre type as compared to his competitors.

But “N” had neutralized all that by enticing the Horny Commodore “C” by her tantalizing charms.

She teased the Horny Commodore “C”, titivated for him, wearing sexy outfits, gave him impish looks, and flirted with him, just to keep his hopes alive.

“N” had succeeded in doing this for the last one year, and this had earned her husband the best possible thumping performance appraisal ACR from “C”.

Now “N” knew that she had to continue to keep the fires burning in the Horny Commodore’s loins till the Horny Commodore “C” wrote her husband’s next ACR just before the promotion board.

Once her husband was promoted, and they moved on, there would be a new boss who she would have to work on, to mesmerize and bring under her spell.

The Horny Commodore “C” was going crazy.

He had heard wild rumors about wife swapping, swinging and key parties, but all those fantastic orgies lay in his imagination, as in his actual life he had never seen anything like that happening.

But now things seemed to be looking up, and the way “N” was tempting him, his hopes had been kindled.

The Horny Commodore “C” desperately wanted to have a go at the Nubile Nymph “N”, but he did not have the guts to go ahead.

Though in his imagination “C” had wild fantasies about himself rollicking with “N” – in actual life “C” was unable to realize his fantasies with “N” because he was shit scared of his own lawfully wedded wife who was a shrew and a real tough cookie.

The Horny Commodore’s wife knew of her husband’s proclivity for beautiful young women, especially his officers’ wives, and that is why she kept an eagle eye on him – she let his eye rove a bit, but kept him in firm check.

She let him give Nubile Nymph the “glad eye”, she let him flirt with “N”, but otherwise she kept him on a tight leash.

Metaphorically speaking, the Horny Commodore’s situation was akin to a drooling dog desperately yearning for a bitch in heat but unable to go ahead and mount her as he is held back firmly on leash by the master.

I told you about “C” (the Horny Commodore).

I told you about “N” (the Nubile Nymph).

Now let me tell you about “A” – the husband of “N”.

There are two types of ambitious officers in the navy.

Some take their naval careers seriously from the moment they join the navy.

The others, carefree bachelors, suddenly turn ambitious after they get married.

“A” was of the second type.

His wife “N” was the driving force behind him, as far as his career was concerned.

He was quite happy with what “N” was doing.

It was thanks to his wife’s efforts that he had become the Commodore’s blue eyed boy.

“A” knew that his wife “N” would help him reach great heights of success.

THE STORY

Now, that I have told you about the characters, let me begin to tell you the story.

It was a Monday evening, my non-drinking day, and I was walking along the banks of the lake, enjoying the resplendent spectacle of the orange sun being swallowed up by the calm blue waters.

My reverie was disturbed by “A” who suddenly came behind me, almost dashing me with his scooter.

He wanted some training handbook.

“Hey, I am on my evening walk. The book is in my house. I will give it to you tomorrow in office,” I said.

“I want it urgently to prepare for tomorrow – I have a lecture in the morning,” he said, “I had gone to your house, but your wife told me you would be here.”

Irritated, I went with “A” on his scooter to my house.

I asked “A” to wait outside, and went inside, to my study, to get the book he wanted.

I was disappointed to see him sitting in the drawing room – my darling wife had invited him in.

I gave “A” the book he wanted.

Meanwhile, my wife had got him a glass of water, and asked him whether he would like to have a cup of tea.

“A” looked at his watch, looked at me, and said, “Tea? It’s already past sunset – let’s have a drink.”

“It is my non-drinking day,” I said rudely.

“So what?” my wife said, giving me a rude look of disbelief at my bad manners, “You can surely offer your guest a drink.”

I made him a rather stiff drink of Rum.

“How about you?” he asked.

So, just for appearances I poured myself a very mild drink of rum and water – though I enjoyed my drinks, I was not in the mood for drinking on that day, especially in the company of “A”.

I noticed that “A” was drinking quite fast – he had already finished his first drink, so I poured him one more.

“A” gulped down his second drink too – fast – down the hatch.

I poured him one more.

I was amazed at the speed at which “A” was drinking.

“A” was drinking as if it was his last day on earth.

Meanwhile, as was his habit, he had bummed my cigarettes too, lighting up cigarette after cigarette.

“I am enjoying myself,” he slurred, drinking and puffing away, “my wife doesn’t let me smoke, she doesn’t let me drink, she keeps nagging me – now I am really enjoying myself…”

Suddenly, the cigarette dropped from his lips and sweat broke out on his forehead – I knew the signs – “A” was drunk, badly drunk.

I wondered what to do.

But before I could do anything, “A” got up swiftly, staggered out of the house, started his scooter, and drove off.

He was driving his scooter in a meandering fashion, like a sinusoidal wave.

“Go fast,” my wife said, “see that he reaches home safely.”

I took my scooter, started it, and started driving towards his house.

There was no trace of “A” or his scooter.

I heard a voice calling out to me.

It was “S” – who was the next door neighbour of “A”.

“S” was walking on the road, on his way to the officers mess bar, for his daily evening drinking session, when he saw “A” driving his scooter into a ditch.

As far as drinking alcohol was concerned, “S” enjoyed a much better reputation than me.

If I was a “drinker”, then “S” was a “drunkard”.

But right now “S” was dead sober.

I stopped my scooter.

We went down into the ditch and saw that “A” had passed out, dead drunk.

Luckily, he was not injured.

We, “S” and me, hauled up “A” and dragged him up the slope.

“His scooter is still down there,” I said.

“Sir, let the scooter be there – I will send someone to retrieve it in the morning,” “S”said.

“Shall we take him to the MI Room?” I asked.

“S” looked at “A” and said: “He is not hurt much – just a few bruises – let’s take him home – anyway Doc stays in our block – if required, I will call him.”

So, we mounted “A” on my scooter – me in front, “A” in between, and “S” behind holding tightly the limp and lifeless “A”.

It was a most difficult scooter drive – as the dead drunk “A” swung from side to side with “S” desperately clinging on.

Finally, we reached our destination.

It was not even 8 o’clock, and there was quite a big crowd outside the block – a birthday party was just over and lots of children, and their parents, officers, wives, were all standing there, chit chatting, before they went home.

We, “S” and me, lifted the dead drunk “A” on our shoulders, “S” taking the left arm of“A” and the right arm of the inebriated “A” over my shoulders.

Try to picture the scene.

Officers, wives, children, servants – all of them watching us carrying a totally intoxicated dead drunk “A” towards his house.

Suddenly, the Nubile Nymph “N” came out on her first floor balcony.

Obviously, she was shocked to see her husband “A” in this pitiable state, being carried by “S” and me, the two known acknowledged “drunkards” of the place.

Some officers came to help us and we carried “A” up the stairs and we deposited him on his bed.

THE BOTTLE

Next morning, the Horny Commodore “C” called me to his office.

He was furious.

“I know “S” is a bloody drunkard, but I didn’t expect you to do this,” he shouted.

“Sir, please listen…” I pleaded.

“Why did you force drinks on “A” and get him drunk? Do you know how upset his wife is? She was so distressed that she rang me up at night and I rushed to her place. You buggers had got “A” so badly drunk that he was puking all over the place and I had to call the doctor. I am very disappointed with you – and as far as “S” is concerned…”

“Sir, “S” wasn’t even there. It was “A” who came to my house. It was “A” who asked me for a drink and then got drunk – in fact, it was my non-drinking day – you can ask my wife – and then when “A” fell off the scooter, it was “S” who helped him out, Sir, it is “A” who is the real culprit – not “S” or me.”

“Don’t give me bullshit,” the Horny Commodore shouted, “I know buggers like you and your game – get a husband drunk and …”

“Sir, please don’t insinuate …” I interrupted angrily.

Seeing my tone, “C” held his tongue.

“And by the way, your blue eyed boy “A” is not a baby who can be forced to drink by thrusting a nipple into his mouth…” I said, and I left his office without saluting.

That evening, “S” and I sat in the bar and laughed at the whole episode.

It was “A” who had behaved like a jackass – and it was we, “S” and me, who got a bad name.

EPILOGUE

Out of the three of us, “A”, “S” and me, who do you think was most successful in his naval career?

You guessed right.

While “S” and I fell by the wayside, it was “A” who reached high rank.

VIKRAM KARVE

Disclaimer:

All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:

VIZAG MEMORIES – RUM EVENINGS IN NAVAL PARK

A Tall Story

VIKRAM KARVE

Link to my original post in my blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve : http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2014/04/humor-in-and-out-of-uniform-vizag.html

RUM EVENINGS IN VIZAG

25 years ago, in the latter part of the 1980’s, during my Vizag tenure, I lived in 17 Naval Park.

It was a well located lovely old-style house, on the ground floor, with a small lawn in front and kitchen garden at the rear.

We were mix of occupants in the 6 houses of the 3 storey building, and in the similar block of 6 houses opposite – 12 of us with varying ranks ranging from Lieutenant Commander to Commodore and from diverse ships and shore establishments (we called the common area between the two blocks “Nukkad” and would have frequent “pot luck” get-togethers there).

Those days there was “load shedding” (planned electricity power cuts) every evening from 7 to 9 (1900 – 2100 hrs in Naval Parlance).

I believe in the saying: “If life gives you a lemon – make lemonade”.

So I turned the “load shedding” into an “opportunity”.

The sun sets early on the eastern seaboard, so I would be back from my walk/swim at 1830 and would put out a table and chairs on the lawn with a bottle of Rum, 2 jugs of cold water, 6 stainless steel glasses, a packet of cigarettes, and “small eats”.

I would pour a drink of rum-pani and the moment the lights went out, I would start drinking.

At 9 PM (2100 hrs) when the lights came on, I would stop drinking and move in to watch TV and have dinner.

I was never alone – anyone and everyone was cordially invited to share my booze – and many joined in for a drink – my friends from the “Nukkad”, or even passersby, walking around to pass time during the load shedding.

That was the reason for the 6 stainless steel glasses – which were safer in the dark too, especially for us “drunkards” groping about in the dark.

(Though otherwise I am a “thrift and frugality” type, my friends will vouch for my generosity with booze – liquor was always flowing freely in my house, and all were welcome to join in).

My “next door neighbor” was an officer posted on a survey ship.

The officer had gone on a long sailing and his parents had come over for “nanny duties” to look after the officer’s small children since the officer’s wife worked as a manager in a bank in Visakhapatnam and she had long working hours.

The officer had two small children who were looked after full-time by the grandmother – and the old man (grandfather) felt lonely without his wife in his native place and so he too had come over to Vizag to be with her.

One evening, I noticed the old man looking at me intently as I made arrangements for the evening’s drinking session.

I observed the yearning in his eyes as he looked at the bottle of Rum, so I called him over, “Sir, why don’t you join me for a drink?”

The old man readily accepted my invitation – and he accepted an offer of a cigarette too – and soon we were drinking and smoking and talking.

Within minutes, two officers from the “Nukkad” had joined us – and one of them had even brought a huge bowl of “Chicken 65” to go along with the drinks.

After some time, stimulated by the alcohol in his system, the old man started talking uninhibitedly, “I used to be a forest officer – I love my drinks and food – and look how my children turned out to be – I put both my sons in the defence services – and both turned out to be non-drinkers and non-smokers – it is a bloody disgrace – and this one in the navy – he is so bloody henpecked – as it is there is no booze in the house, and his wife has banned non-veg too – the other day I got a bottle of beer and some mutton and my daughter-in-law made a big hungama – I am really enjoying drinking with you all – and this chicken is delicious – I am having it after a long time…”

“Sir, don’t worry – you are always welcome to join us in the evenings,” I said to the old man.

We drank, we smoked, we nibbled the small eats, and we talked.

The old man was a natural raconteur and regaled us with yarns of his forest officer days – his adventures, and the shikar and barbeque parties they had.

When you are enjoying yourself, time passes fast, and suddenly the lights came on – it was 9 pm.

I poured the last round of drinks, to kill the bottle.

I noticed that the old man was in high spirits and swayed a bit as he walked home and I felt good doing my bit to make the old man happy.

On the next day too, the old man joined us promptly at 7 in the evening for our drinking session.

There was a bigger crowd, 5 of us from the “Nukkad” and the old man, and people had brought assorted snacks as small eats.

The old man was in full form and we were enjoying his tall stories.

The old man told us about the bungalow he had built back home and invited all of us to visit him there and promised us booze and barbeque.

“Hey, let’s have tomorrow evening’s session on my ship,” the officer who was commanding a ship said, “I will tell the cook to prepare some good chicken and mutton dishes – and some fish and prawns for small eats – Sir, I hope you like fish…” he asked the old man.

“Of course, I love fish – I like anything non-veg – chicken, mutton, fish, anything…” the old man said.

That evening, watching the old man swaying happily on his way home, I realized that he was in even higher spirits than the previous evening.

Next day, when I came home in the afternoon for my lunch break, my wife said: “Mrs“X” was here this morning on her way to work.”

(You guessed right – Mrs “X” was my next door neighbour’s wife – the bank manager – the old man’s daughter-in-law).

“So, why was she here?” I asked.

“She told me that you were spoiling her father-in-law,” my wife said.

“Spoiling her father-in-law? What nonsense? The old man is double my age. How the hell can I spoil him?” I said.

My wife looked at me and said: “Mrs “X” was very rude. She said that you were already a drunkard, a kabaabi and sharaabi. And now you were making her father-in-law a drunkard. She has asked me to tell you not to call her father-in-law for drinks…”

VIKRAM KARVE

Disclaimer:

All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

HUMOR IN AND OUT OF UNIFORM

Thursday, April 10, 2014

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Sunday, April 6, 2014

Humor in Uniform - RUM EVENINGS IN VIZAG