Me and my nose By R.Krishnamurthy
Suddenly I became ill
My nose blew like a whistle
Then it began to run like a river
I thought I also got fever
Sitting in her room on Christmas eve By R.Krishnamurthy
Sitting in her room on Christmas eve
It was her first ever to be alone without a relative
A spinster she was, a school teacher
Then there was a knock on the door
You need not become a mother if you don’t want to
Girls suddenly become women after marriage and women suddenly become the best mothers after they have a kid or two. How is this transition possible overnight?
A memory of Gandipeta By R.Krishnamurthy
How sweet used to be the water
How fresh it was even in summer
It would stir your appetite like a tonic
You wouldn’t have to visit a clinic
Banana By R.Krishnamurthy
Banana is a poor man’s fruit
It is his breakfast or supper
A desert after lunch like a sweet
Available in summer and winter
My lover’s wedding card by R.Krishnamurthy
How you liked me I don’t know
Being poor, there was nothing to show
I didn’t try to steal your heart
It’s beyond me to play a trick of that sort