That grape I never got , yet knew was sweet & never sour

The flower that bloomed in my heart spreading fragrance

A song I heard in a dream , but haunted me while awake

A memory that I try so hard to forget but remains

forever  in consciousness

Those moments I want to hold on to , but they speed away

However much I fill , it empties reflecting my hollow self

It is that small earthen lamp burning silently in front of God…..

By K.H.Srinivasa 

Translation by me , he is my father and this is from his collection ‘Zero outside and Zero inside ‘ He suffered a massive heart attack on 24th February 2017( 3 days ago) being a doctor I was able to see to it  that he was helped with in one hour of the attack , a stent was put in the anterior descending branch of left coronary artery by an excellent cardiologist.  Dad loves life and I have inherited it , it was Mahashivratri. A day of worship to Lord Shiva who conquers death …. I am happy my father is alive and with me….

Missing you like fever

My breathing is strained , bronchi clogged ...a needle in the throat ... fever rises in my blood , eyes burn ..... bones are felt in side the legs.. muscles are sore...head is heavy with your thoughts...back aches of a time when I was fighting invasion.... someone plucked out the pink flowers... Why ? For a God who roams the graveyards , wears ash and conquers death ?  I hear the distant chants your songs.....winter ended last night with your dreams. My body is missing the dream ... wanting more fever ..missing you is better than forgetting .... ah it must be delirium.... lucid intervals....


That emotion can always be reversed ,

He mocked at her

He: You are trying to find a word

That cannot be reversed

To describe a feeling

that is notoriously reversible

Palindrome for love?

Grow up…

Move on….

Ageless love?

She: Of course, Abelard and Heloise.

Heloise actually said

“Let me be your whore”

and he married her….


He: They lived in letters

They loved in letters

Was that love or fantasy?


Their tombs were united

By Miss Bonaparte much later

Professor Higgins is real.

Ego is evidence.


She was furiously indignant

Not every man is

Professor Higgins of Pygmalion..

Bernard Shaw was merely writing a play

It is far from real.

The argument progressed


She: Penelope turned down 108 suitors

Till Odysseus  returned

He: Homer was blind

Another round of applause………



He had no light of his own
He merely reflected the Sun
shining in a foreign country
He was inconsistent , consistently
vanishing at fortnights
He caused no growth except dreams
He was not deferential to a monastery
Nor contemptuous of a whorehouse
Both were free to have dreams
Lovers merely used him for their
pick up lines
Many babies opened their stubborn mouths
to be fed by mothers wanting to
close the doors of a bustling kitchen
We all need an illusion to pass the night
He is the biggest illusion
to all the lonely sleepless eyes