Skip to main content

Your thoughts

The world may bloom in colors bright and rare,

But without your soul, there’s nothing but the air.

Though laughter rings and golden lights may shine,

Existence fades if your hand isn't mine.

Come back to ruin me, to break what’s left apart,

And plant your thorns within my hollow heart.

I crave the sting, I beg for one more scar,

To feel your touch, no matter who you are.

For in my sight, your phantom beauty stays,

A lovely grief that haunts my lonely days.

Though joy may dance and beauty may remain,

Without your soul, the world is only pain.

In every crowd, in every hollow space,

These maddened eyes are searching for your trace.

They wander wild, they seek what isn’t there,

Chasing a ghost through cold and bitter air.

My pulse goes on, a rhythm sharp and thin,

But where is the life that used to beat within?

My heart still thuds, a heavy, leaden beat,

But "Life" has walked away on silent feet.

The world is draped in gold and velvet light,

Yet I am drowning in a timeless night.

The party glows, the wine is pouring free,

But if you’re gone—there’s nothing left of me.

-Jairam Kshirasagar 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

List of Punishments-- Garuda Purana

List of Punishments-- Garuda Purana Garuda Purana Wrong doings Punishment given in Naraka Thamisra Stealing other's property including wife, children and belongings Thrashing with the weapon, gada Andhathamisra Post marital cheating between husband and wife Unconscious circulation in abyss Rourava Destroying, spiliting other's family and their belongings Spanking the Life organs with trident by Yama kinkaras Maharourava Brutally destroying other's property and family for the sake of acquisition A wild animal, Guru, tortures them in various forms Kumbipaka Destroying innocent lives for food Roasting in hot oil tank by yama kinkaras Kalasuthira Torturing and putting elders & parents in starvation Same set of treatment...

Fire Snow

Some say that love is born of fire, A frantic flame that feeds on breath, To satisfy a wild desire And lead a soul to golden death. I’ve tasted such a burning brand, It seared within my heart and mind; A drought upon a summer land That left a bitter dust behind. But I have known a different cold— Not like the hate that freezes deep, But like the hemlock, dark and old, Where winter crows their vigils keep. For when the fire begins to wane And leaves me heavy with my rue, A dust of snow, like falling rain, Descends to make the spirit new. A sudden brush against the sleeve, A quiet word, a cooling touch; Small graces help the heart believe That passion does not owe us much. For love is neither ice nor flame, But how the white drifts drench the red; It gives the day a gentler name And saves the path that we must tread. -Jairam Kshirasagar

Chapter 1 - How I Taught My Grandmother to Read by Sudha Murthy

The following is purely my own personal notes and for students' understanding.  -Jairam Kshirasagar  1. Author Introduction: Sudha Murthy Born: 1950 in Karnataka. Profession: A prolific writer, social worker, and Chairperson of the Infosys Foundation. Style: She writes in very simple language about real-life experiences, human values, and the lives of ordinary people. 2. Chapter Analysis The story is a touching memoir about a 12-year-old girl who becomes a teacher to her 62-year-old grandmother. It highlights the importance of education and proves that "for learning, there is no age bar." 3. Simplified Summary (Points) The Setting: A small village in North Karnataka. The transport system was slow, and newspapers arrived late. The Serial: A popular story called Kashi Yatre by Triveni was published weekly in the magazine Karmaveera. Grandmother’s Interest: The grandmother, Krishtakka, was illiterate but loved the story because she identified with the protagonist who wanted ...