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Subrat SaurabhAuthor of Kuch Woh PalStill, somber, idle, staying afloat; these few words describe him the best. Staying secluded in solitude is what he desires. And being left alone lets him function at his best, carving poetries out of a muddled heart that lacks magical prowess; insignificant thoughts are his friends; slightest insecurities are his duvet in cold and a fear mongering mind, his support system. But often you might find him taking walks along the numerous lakes brimming in his hometown - Kolkata, dwelling as an ordinary, satisfying his wanderlust to observe, think and repair. Do give him a read to put on the peevisRead More...
Still, somber, idle, staying afloat; these few words describe him the best. Staying secluded in solitude is what he desires. And being left alone lets him function at his best, carving poetries out of a muddled heart that lacks magical prowess; insignificant thoughts are his friends; slightest insecurities are his duvet in cold and a fear mongering mind, his support system. But often you might find him taking walks along the numerous lakes brimming in his hometown - Kolkata, dwelling as an ordinary, satisfying his wanderlust to observe, think and repair. Do give him a read to put on the peevish pair of spectacles he wears to see a whimsical world full of thoughts, desire, collectibles and love.
Read Less...Achievements
Like a sheath of mildew on old rotten fruits, poetry lies disguised as thoughts in some corner. The author’s humble intention is to slightly highlight the corners of his heart; the tumultuous and agonizing yet somber and soothing years of those silly little transgressions wrapped inside the quilt of teens. Not a child but not an adult either. Somewhere in the middle juggling goals and purposes amidst seeking love and peace. Suppressing cravings all the time
Like a sheath of mildew on old rotten fruits, poetry lies disguised as thoughts in some corner. The author’s humble intention is to slightly highlight the corners of his heart; the tumultuous and agonizing yet somber and soothing years of those silly little transgressions wrapped inside the quilt of teens. Not a child but not an adult either. Somewhere in the middle juggling goals and purposes amidst seeking love and peace. Suppressing cravings all the time yet falling for them. Seeking reunion with a lost love over a bittersweet cup of coffee and mutilating aged wounds of guilt, melancholy, and loss. Little did we know as kids that life would come at such a juncture; speechless and silent but shivering violently with wrath. Silly humanimals we are. Some of our incidents are carved in the author’s WordPress blog. Others have found their place as inscribed here – on pale tawny yellow pages, hovering above lost identity finding new words to explain things that are unexplainable. The author hopes you find your lost memories in it.
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