Romance Story : Woman at the Book Fair

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There is a saying:

“The best kind of friendship is one where two people love the same books”

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WOMAN AT THE BOOK FAIR

Story by Vikram Karve

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MUMBAI

Circa — January 2003

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I reached my home opposite the Oval — after work — as usual — at 5 PM in the evening.

I was opening the door to my house — when my neighbour opened his door — and — he said he wanted to speak to me.

“Sure…” I said — and — I invited him to come in.

I closed the door — I asked him to sit on the sofa — and — I sat opposite him.

“Anything urgent…?” I asked him.

“Who was that woman with you last evening…?” my neighbour asked me.

“Woman…?” I said — confused.

“I saw both of you entering the building at 7 PM and I saw her leaving alone at around 9 PM…” he said.

“Oh — her…? I met her at the book fair…?” I said to him.

“Book Fair…?” he asked me — with a clueless look.

“Don’t you know…? The “Strand Book Fair” — it’s held every year in January near Churchgate…” I said to him.

“I was asking you about the woman who with you in your house last evening…” he said — with a questioning look.

“I told you — I met her at the Book Fair…” I said to him.

“And — you brought her home — you spent two hours with her all alone — just the two of you…” he said — in a suspicious tone of voice.

“What are you trying to imply…?” I asked him — a bit miffed.

“You wife is away — and you are having a “good time” with other women…” he said — his voice full of sarcasm.

“Well — if browsing books together is your interpretation of a “good time” — we certainly were having a “good time” together…” I said to him.

“Browsing Books…? Who are you trying to fool…? You and that “dubious” female — you spend two hours shacked up together in your house — and you are making up all sorts of stories to cover up your hanky-panky…? Do you think I am a dimwit…?” he said — in a jeering tone of voice.

“What nonsense are you talking…? Dubious Female…? She is a respectable person — a decent lady…” I said to him.

My neighbour smiled — a derisive smile — and spoke in a sarcastic tone.

“Respectable…? Decent…? Are you sure…?” he asked me.

“Of course — she is a book lover — she has been coming to the book fair for the last 3 days — we were browsing similar books — literature, fiction, short stories — so — we got talking — I told her about my book collection — she wanted to see it — so — I invited her home to see my books…” I said — truthfully.

“Are you telling me that she was looking at your books for over 2 hours last evening…?” he asked me.

“Yes — we browsed books together — she showed interest in short fiction — so — I told her about my favourite short stories — we discussed literature — that’s all…” I said — trying to convince him.

“You pick up a woman at the book fair — you bring her home — you spend two hours with her in private — do you even know who the woman is…?” my neighbour asked me.

“She is a counsellor…” I said to him.

“Counsellor…!!!” my neighbour exclaimed — with a laugh.

“Yes — she told me she is a personal counsellor and therapist — in fact — she told me she had an appointment at 9 PM nearby…” I said to him.

“Appointment…? At 9 PM at night…?” he said — looking incredulous.

“Yes — she told me she does private therapy at home for some special patients…” I said — telling him what the woman had told me.

“Private Therapy…? At Home…? Special Patients…?” he said breaking into a laugh, “instead of making up tall stories — why don’t you admit the truth — that you picked up this woman — brought her home — and you fucked her…”

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Till now — I had been tolerating his nonsense because he was my neighbour — and — my wife and his wife were close friends — but now — he was getting on my nerves — so — I decided to end the conversation.

“I think you should go now…” I said to him, “I have to go for my evening walk on Marine Drive…”

“And — I am sure you are going to visit the Book Fair — on your way back…” he said sarcastically.

“Yes — I may browse books…” I said to him.

“And you will pick up that female and bring her over here for a special therapy session in your bedroom…” he said with a sneer — and then — he said to me with a wicked smile, “but — hats off to you — I never imagined you could pick up females at a Book Fair…!!!”

“Please go…” I said angrily.

“I will go — but — before I go — let me tell you — this book-lover woman friend of yours — she not a counsellor or therapist — and she is certainly not a “respectable” lady — she is a “dirty” woman…” he said — with disdain.

“Dirty Woman…?” I said — with a questioning look.

“She is a woman of “ill repute” — do you understand…?” he said — in a firm voice.

“She is a woman of “ill repute” …? What do you mean by that…?” I asked him

“Don’t act dumb — she is a woman of “easy virtue” — but — since you will feign ignorance — I will put it more bluntly — that woman is a “call girl” — an “escort” — a bloody “whore” — do you understand…?” he said — contemptuously.

“That’s not possible…” I said, “I found her to be a decent woman — quite well-read, erudite and refined…”

“That I will concede…” he said, “she is a refined and polished “hooker” — a high class “prostitute” — I wonder how you could afford her…”

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I couldn’t believe what my neighbour was saying — also — I was feeling uncomfortable with the conversation — so — I decided to get rid of my neighbour.

“Please go now — I don’t want to discuss all this…” I said to my neighbour.

“I hope you are not bringing her home for a “therapy” session this evening…” he said — sarcastically.

“Of course, I am going to bring her home…” I said to my neighbour, “we are going to meet at the book fair at 6 PM — and then — I will bring her home — I have already decided the short fiction anthology I want to tell her about — and she has to return the book she borrowed yesterday and take this one…” I said to him.

“She won’t be coming…” my neighbour said.

“What do you mean “she won’t be coming” …?” I asked him.

“I meant “she won’t be coming to meet you today” …” my neighbour said — unequivocally.

“Well — let me tell you that I am sure she is going to come to meet me — she promised me that she would return my book today — when I told her that I normally don’t lend my books because people forget to return them — she said she would 100% meet me at the book fair at 6PM — and then she would come home to browse my books — return my book — and maybe — borrow a new one …” I said to my neighbour.

“You seem to be so sure of her…? Do you even know her name…?” he asked me.

“Nisha…” I said, “she told me her name is Nisha…”

My neighbour gave me a sardonic smile.

“Nisha…? This is the first time I am hearing this. As far as I know — her name is Rita — but even that may be a fake name — I wonder how many names she has — one for each client — perhaps…” he said to me.

I looked at him — a bit befuddled — wondering what to say.

But — before I could speak — he started talking.

“I warned her not to come here again — or to meet you again…” he said.

“What…? You told her not to meet me…? Why…?” I asked him — feeling miffed.

“For your sake…” he said.

“For my sake — what do you mean…?” I asked him — curious.

“You are a married man — with a nice wife and grown-up children. Is it proper of you to indulge in hanky-panky with such wanton women…? Why do you want to ruin everything due to your peccadillos with such sleazy women…?” he said.

“Hanky-Panky…? Peccadillos…?” I said — peeved.

“Don’t worry — I won’t tell anyone about your fucking her in your house yesterday evening — after all — you are my neighbour — our wives are close friends — I am your well-wisher — so — I will overlook your one indiscretion yesterday — but — I don’t want you getting entangled with that filthy whore…” he said, “that’s why I called her last night and told her not to meet you…”

I looked at him — wondering how my neighbour had that woman’s number — so — I questioned him about it.

“You called her…? You have her number…? How do you know her…? You called her a filthy whore — you say she is a woman of ill-repute — a sleazy woman — how do you so much about her…?” I asked him.

“Don’t delve too much…” he said.

“Ah — so you are jealous — and possessive — tell me — are you having an affair with her…?” I asked him.

“Don’t talk nonsense…” he said angrily, “I have nothing to do with her — our company hires her once in a while — to service some of our top clients and business associates — and officials who we have to please…”

“And — how are you involved in all this…?” I asked him.

“Well — in our business — we have to do all sorts of things…” he said — nonchalantly.

“So — that’s the job you do — pimping…!!! It is disgusting…!!!” I said to him, “under your high-sounding title — all you are is a bloody pimp…”

“Be careful what you say…” he said — in a threatening tone.

“I thought you were a respectable man — but you are worse than a prostitute — you are a slimy pimp — that’s what you are…” I said to him in a most disparaging tone of voice.

“How dare you compare me with than dirty woman…?” he said — giving me an accusing look.

I looked at him — and — I gave him a piece of my mind.

I said in a stern voice to my neighbour:

“You keep calling her a “dirty” woman…?

Well — even if — as you say — she is a “dirty woman” — her thoughts are certainly much “cleaner” than yours.

You put on an act of being a “clean man” — but you have a “dirty mind” — you masquerade as a moral puritan — but your mind is full of lecherous thoughts.

We were browsing books together — but you were fantasizing that we were fucking each other — weren’t you…?

You are a disgusting man with a perverted mind — don’t you talk to me ever again…”

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After admonishing him — I gripped his hand — I literally forced him out of my house — and — I closed the door.

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That evening — I waited for Nisha at the Book Fair.

But — she didn’t come.

I couldn’t call her as I didn’t have her number.

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Of course — after my tiff with my nasty neighbour in the evening — there was no question of asking him for her number.

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I wish I had asked Nisha for her number the previous evening — but — she had left in a hurry — and — she hadn’t given me her number — nor — had she asked for mine.

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I waited for Nisha till the closing time of the Book Fair — hoping against hope that Nisha would come.

But — she didn’t come

So — at night — I came home — disappointed.

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It was the end of a short and sweet friendship — all because of my nasty neighbour.

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Next evening — a courier arrived — a packet.

I opened the packet.

It was the book she had borrowed — and inserted inside — there was a note written in cursive feminine handwriting.

I read the note:

“You must have come to know about me from your neighbour.

It is true — but — with you — I wanted a nice clean relationship — a friendship based on books — but — sadly — that was not to be.

And yes — I told you my name is “Nisha”.

Yes — Nisha is my real name — you are one of the few persons who knows my real name.

Thank you for lending me your book.

I felt good when you lent me the book — though you said that you normally don’t lend your books.

I really wish we could become “bookish friends” — but it is not destined.

It was so nice talking to you.

Wish you All the Best in your life.

Good Bye Forever.

Your Bookish Friend, Nisha…”

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EPILOGUE

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A few months later — I saw Nisha in the lobby of a posh hotel — where my wife and I had gone for dinner.

I looked yearningly at Nisha — wondering if I should say “Hello” to her.

Nisha glanced at me — no trace of recognition — and — she looked away.

My wife seemed to have noticed everything.

She pressed my hand and smiled at me.

“Is that the same woman you had told me about — the woman you met at the Book Fair…?” my wife asked me — as we walked towards the restaurant.

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VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve
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© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

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.com/2023/05/short-fiction-woman-at-book-fair.html

This story is also posted in my writing blog at URLs: https://karve.wordpress.com/2023/05/06/woman-at-the-book-fair/ and https://karve.wordpress.com/2024/04/01/romance-woman-at-the-book-fair/ etc.

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

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