Lovedale

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Here is one of my earliest pieces of short fiction – LOVEDALE – a story from my collection of short stories about relationships COCKTAIL

I wrote this story sometime in the early 1990s – after a visit to Lovedale – around 27 years ago – and it still remains one of my all time favourite stories.

The story is set in the Nilgiris.

On the blue “toy-train” of the Nilgiri Blue Mountain Railway .

Lovedale is a story of Changing Relationships.

Yes, there is a place called Lovedale with a cute little Railway Station which is the highest Railway Station in South India, and maybe in India.

I have lived in Lovedale for 6 years in the 1960s for my schooling in a boarding school and wonder whether Lovedale is still the same quaint little place as it was back then.

As I told you this is a longish story was written be by me long ago, 27 years ago, in old fashioned style – and – Dear Reader – I am sure you will enjoy reading this story and reflect on it too.

Dear Reader:

Read on and tell me if you liked the story.

I look forward to your comments and feedback.

LOVEDALE

Short Fiction – A Love Story By Vikram Karve

(This Story happened around 49 years ago – in 1970)

LOVEDALE

(Love Story by Vikram Karve)

Lovedale.

A quaint little station on the Nilgiri Mountain Railway that runs from Mettupalayam in the plains up the Blue Mountains on a breathtaking journey to beautiful Ooty, the Queen of Hill Stations.

On Lovedale Railway Station there is just one small platform – and on it – towards its southern end – there is a solitary bench.

If you sit on this bench you will see in front of you – beyond the railway track – an undulating valley, covered with eucalyptus trees – and in the distance – the silhouette of a huge structure – which looks like a castle – with an impressive clock-tower.

In this mighty building is located a famous boarding school – one of the best schools in India.

Many such “elite” schools are known more for snob value than academic achievements – but this one is different – it is a prestigious public school famous for its rich heritage and tradition of excellence.

Lovedale – in 1970.

That is all there is in Lovedale – this famous public school, a small tea-estate called Lovedale (from which this place got its name), a tiny post office – and – of course – the lonely railway platform with its solitary bench.

It’s a cold damp depressing winter morning, and since the school is closed for winter, the platform is deserted except for two people – yes, just two persons – a woman and a small girl, shivering in the morning mist, sitting on the solitary bench.

It’s almost 9 o’clock – time for the morning “toy-train” from the plains carrying tourists via Coonoor to Ooty, the “Queen” of hill-stations, just three kilometres ahead – the end of the line.

But this morning the train is late, probably because of the dense fog and the drizzle on the mountain-slopes, and it will be empty – for there are hardly any tourists in this cold and damp winter season.

“I am dying to meet mummy. And this stupid train – it’s always late…” the girl says.

The girl is dressed in her school uniform – gray blazer, thick gray woollen skirt, navy-blue stockings, freshly polished black shoes, her hair tied smartly in two small plaits with black ribbons.

The woman – 55 – maybe 60 – dressed in a white sari with a thick white shawl draped over her shoulder and a white scarf around her head covering her ears – the woman looks lovingly at the girl.

The woman softly takes the girl’s hand in her own – and – she says to the girl:

“It will come. The train will come. Look at the weather. The driver can hardly see in this mist. And it must be raining down there in Ketti valley.”

“I hate this place. It’s so cold and lonely. Everyone has gone home for the winter holidays and we have nowhere to go. Why do we have to spend our holidays here every time…?” the girl says.

“You know we can’t stay with your mummy in the hostel…” the woman says.

“But her training is over now. And she’s become an executive – that’s what she wrote…”

“Yes. Yes. Your mummy is an executive now. After two years of tough training. Very creditable – after all that has happened…” the old woman says.

“She has to take us to Mumbai with her now. We can’t stay here any longer. No more excuses now…”

“Even I don’t want to stay here. It’s cold and I am old. Let your mummy come. This time we’ll tell her to take us all to Mumbai…”

“And we’ll all stay together – like we did before God took Daddy away…”

“Yes. Mummy will go to work. You will go to school. And I will look after the house and all of you. Just like before…”

“Only Daddy won’t be there. Why did God take Daddy away…?” the girl says, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Don’t think those sad things. We cannot change what has happened. You must be brave – like your mummy…” says the old lady putting her hand softly around the girl.

The old lady closes her eyes in sadness.

There is no greater pain than to remember happier times when in distress.

Meanwhile the toy-train is meandering its way laboriously round the steep U-Curve – desperately pushed by a hissing steam engine – as the train leaves Wellington station on its way to Ketti valley.

A man and a woman sit facing each other in the tiny first class compartment.

There is no one else in the compartment.

“You must tell her today…” the man says.

“Yes…” the woman replies softly.

“You should have told her before…” the man says.

“Told her before…? How…? When…?” the woman says.

“You could have written – you could have called her up. I told you so many times…”

“How can I be so cruel…?”

“Cruel…? What’s so cruel about it…?”

“I don’t know how she will react. She loved her father very much…”

“Now she will have to love me. I am her new father now…” the man says.

“Yes – I know…” the woman says, tears welling up in her eyes, “I don’t know how to tell her – I don’t know how she’ll take it. I think we should wait for some time. Baby is very sensitive.”

“Baby…!!! Why do you still call her Baby…? She is a grown up girl now. You must call her by her real name. Damayanti – what a nice name – and you call her Baby…!!!”

“It’s her pet name. Deepak always liked to call her Baby…”

“Well I don’t like it…!!! It’s childish, ridiculous…!!!” the man says firmly, “Anyway, all that we can sort out later. But you tell her about us today. Tell both of them.”

“You want me to tell both of them right now…? My mother-in-law also…? What will she feel…? She will be shocked…!!!” the woman says.

“She will understand. Anyway – she is your ex-mother-in-law now…”

“Poor thing. She will be all alone…”

“Stop saying ‘poor thing’…‘poor thing’. She’ll be okay. She’s got her work to keep her busy…”

“She’s old and weak. I don’t think she’ll be able to do that hostel matron’s job much longer…”

“Let her work till she can. At least it will keep her occupied. Then we’ll see…”

“Can’t we take her with us…?”

“You know it’s not possible…”

“It’s so sad. She was so good to me. Where will she go…? We can’t abandon her just like that…!”

“Abandon…? Nobody is abandoning her. Don’t worry. If she doesn’t want to stay on here in the school in Lovedale – I’ll arrange something – I know an excellent place near Lonavala. She will be very comfortable there – it’s an ideal place for senior citizens like her.”

“You want to me to put her in an Old-Age Home…?”

“Call it what you want – but actually – it’s quite a luxurious place. She’ll be happy there. I’ve already spoken to them. Let her continue here till she can. Then – we’ll shift her there.”

“I can’t be that cruel and heartless to my mother-in-law. She was so loving and good to me – she treated me like her own daughter – she and looked after Baby when we were devastated. And now – how can we discard her when she needs us most…?” the woman says, and starts sobbing.

“Come on, Kavita. Don’t get sentimental,. You have to face the harsh reality. You know we can’t take your mother-in-law with us. And by the way – I told you – she is your ex-mother-in-law now.”

“How can you say that…?”

“Come on, Kavita, don’t get too sentimental…you must begin a new life now…there is no point carrying the baggage of your past…” the man realizes he has said something wrong – and he instantly apologizes, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“You did mean it…!!! That’s why you said it…!!! I hate you – you are so cruel, mean and selfish…” the woman says, turns away from the man and looks out of the window.

They travel in silence – an uneasy disquieting silence.

Suddenly it is dark – as the train enters a tunnel – and as it emerges on the other side – the woman can see the vast lush green Ketti Valley with its undulating mountains in the distance.

“Listen Kavita, I think I’ll also get down with you at Lovedale. I’ll tell them. Explain everything. And get over with it once and for all…” the man says.

“No! No! I don’t even want them to see you. The sudden shock may upset them. I have to do this carefully. Please don’t get down at Lovedale. Go straight to Ooty. I’ll tell them everything – and we’ll do as we decided…”

“I was only trying to help you, Kavita. I want to make things easier for everyone. I want to meet Damayanti. I want to tell her about us. I’m sure she’ll love me and understand everything.”

“No – please. Let me do this. I don’t want Damayanti to see you before I tell her. She’s a very sensitive girl. I don’t know how she’ll react. I’ll have to do it very gently.”

“Okay…” the man says, “Make sure you wind up everything at the school. We have to leave for Mumbai tomorrow. There is so much to be done. We’ve hardly got any time left.”

The steam engine pushing the train huffs and puffs up the slope round the bend under the bridge.

“Lovedale station is coming…” the woman says.

The woman gets up – and she takes out her bag from the shelf.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you to the school…?” asks the man.

“No. Not now. You go ahead to Ooty. I’ll ring you up…” says the woman.

“Okay. But tell them everything. We can’t wait any longer.”

“Just leave everything to me. Don’t make it more difficult.”

They sit in silence – looking out of different windows – waiting for Lovedale railway station to come.

On the solitary bench on the platform at Lovedale Railway Station – the girl – and – her grandmother – both of them wait patiently for the train which will bring their deliverance.

“I hate it over here in boarding school. I hate the cold scary dormitories. At night I miss mummy tucking me in. And every night I count DLFMTC…” the girl says to her grandmother.

“DLFMTC… ?”

“Days Left For Mummy To Come…! Others count DLTGH – Days Left To Go Home…”

“Next time you too …”

“No. No. I am not going to stay here in boarding school. I don’t know why we came here to this horrible place. I hate boarding school. I miss mummy so much. We could have stayed on in Mumbai with her.”

“Now we will be all staying in Mumbai. Your mummy’s training is over. She can hire a house now. Or get a loan. We will try to buy a good house. I’ve saved some money too.”

The lone station-master of the forlorn Lovedale Railway Station strikes the bell outside his office.

The occupants of the solitary bench look towards their left.

There is no one else on the platform.

And suddenly the train emerges from under the bridge – pushed by the hissing steam engine.

Only one person gets down from the train – a beautiful woman, around 30.

The girl runs into her arms.

The old woman walks towards her with a welcoming smile.

The man, sitting in the train, looks furtively, cautious not to be seen.

A whistle – and the train starts and moves out of Lovedale station towards Fern Hill tunnel on its way to Ooty – the end of the line.

That evening the small girl and her granny sit near the fireplace with the girl’s mother eating dinner – and – the woman tells them everything.

Yes – the woman talks to the old woman (her mother-in-law) and the small girl (her daughter) – and – she tells them everything – from the beginning to the end – just as the man had asked her to do.

At 12 Noon the next day – four people wait at Lovedale Railway Station for the train which comes from Ooty and goes down to the plains – the girl, her mother, her grandmother and the man.

The girl presses close to her grandmother – and – she looks at her new “father” with trepidation.

The man gives the girl a smile of forced geniality.

The old woman holds the girl tight to her body – and – she looks at the man with distaste.

The young woman looks with awe – mixed with hope – at her new husband.

They all stand in silence.

No one speaks.

Time stands still.

And suddenly – the train enters.

“I don’t want to go…” the girl cries, clinging to her grandmother.

“Don’t you want to stay with your mummy…? You hate boarding school don’t you…? ” the man says, extending his hand towards the girl.

The girl recoils and says:

“No. No. I like it here. I don’t want to come. I like boarding school. I want to stay here.”

“Come Baby – we have to go…” her mother says, as tears well up in her eyes.

“What about Granny…? How will she stay here all alone…? Mummy – please don’t go. You also stay here. We all will stay here. Let this man go to Mumbai…” the girl pleads to her mother.

“Damayanti – I am your new father…” the man says firmly to the girl.

And then – the man turns to the young woman – and – he says in a commanding voice to her:

“Kavita. Come. The train is going to leave.”

“Go Baby. Be a good girl. I will be okay,” says the old woman, releasing the girl.

As her mother gently holds her arm and guides her towards the train – for the first time in her life – the girl feels that her mother’s hand is like the clasp of an iron gate – like manacles.

“I will come and meet you in Mumbai. I promise…” the grandmother says, fighting back her tears.

But – the girl feels scared – something inside tells her she that may never see her grandmother again.

As the train heads towards the plains – the old woman begins to walk her longest mile – her loneliest mile – into emptiness, a void.

Poor old Lovedale Railway Station.

It wants to cry.

It tries to cry.

But – it cannot even a shed a tear.

For it is not human.

So it suffers its sorrow in inanimate helplessness – powerless – hapless – a silent spectator – and a mute witness.

Yes – Lovedale helplessly watches love being torn apart.

“Love being torn apart at Lovedale” – a pity, isn’t it…?

Yes – a pity – a real pity…!

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve
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Disclaimer:

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.

Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)

Link to my original post in my Blog Academic and Creative Writing Journal Vikram Karve: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/09/lovedale.html

Copyright © Vikram Karve (all rights reserved)

This Story was written by me in 1992 and First Posted Online by me Vikram Karve in the year 2006 in my creative writing blog at url: http://creative.sulekha.com/lovedale-a-short-story-by-vikram-karve_160343_blog and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2011/09/my-favourite-short-stories-part-41.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2012/02/lovedale-my-favourite-short-stories.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2013/07/lovedale-love-story.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2014/11/lovedale-love-story.html

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