06.02.2026
A: After all this time, I would have a story of you.
S: Why? You wish one that has been suffocated to speak?
A: Perhaps I prefer the rasp of an unquiet voice.
S: What would you have? Comedy? Tragedy?
A: Whatever you will give will be of suffering.
S: You cannot predict genius. However much you think you can. The styles of The Tiger are audacious. None can match this excellence and therefore none can expect.
A: You think of yourself as the master of the story?
S: This is the age of The Tiger. If there is a period now in letters, it is mine.
A: What is it in your words that allures?
S: Magic. And madness. The words of the brave and the storm of freedom. That which passes understanding. The voice of a god.
A: Ego untrammeled.
S: Once, there was a dispute between the king and the queen. It was a dispute about love, the thing itself.
A: A lover’s quarrel? A triviality.
S: It was a war of fire and ice. The kingdom watched with widened eyes and beating hearts. It was a war of silence in mouths and of countless letters. It was war to the death.
A: Who won? The king or the queen?
S: I have piqued your interest at last? The war drags on. There are those that swear the queen is the victor. There are those that proclaim the king. The king’s bravery knows no bounds. The queen’s stillness in battle is unparalleled.
A: What is the complication?
S: It is the war of this time. The war of love which devastates this world. Love is the mystery of this existence. Who can tell who is the winner in love? Some say that the king lost and the queen lost. There was no winner.
A: But then, you are called after Krishna, the god of love. Are you not the master of loving? Are you not the winner in this game of love? Come, ego, speak!
S: This game is beautiful. This game is deadly. Krishna smiles. What is behind the smile of a god? The worshipper basks in the love of this smile. It is the veil and it is the face, beautiful like the moon.
diary of a lone man 