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Subrat SaurabhAuthor of Kuch Woh PalBorn and brought up in the coastal town of Kannur in the Malabar region of Kerala, the author migrated to Delhi after her marriage in 1978, where she worked in the Ministry of Railways for twenty-five years before retiring voluntarily in the year 2006. She is also one of the Founding members of the Saksham Charitable Trust, which has been running an informal school in Nithari Village, Noida since 2003. The school caters to the education of immigrant children. She has now settled in Bengaluru, in the role of a grandmother.Read More...
Born and brought up in the coastal town of Kannur in the Malabar region of Kerala, the author migrated to Delhi after her marriage in 1978, where she worked in the Ministry of Railways for twenty-five years before retiring voluntarily in the year 2006. She is also one of the Founding members of the Saksham Charitable Trust, which has been running an informal school in Nithari Village, Noida since 2003. The school caters to the education of immigrant children.
She has now settled in Bengaluru, in the role of a grandmother.
Read Less...Achievements
This collection is a random selection of my musings at different stages of my life. They do have a tendency to dwell on the same strain of thoughts and may come across as repetitive. I am sharing them because of this notion that the thoughts and feelings expressed in these lines are not exclusively my own and would be the same for many others who may find some happiness in finding resonance while reading them. I stake no claims to any kind of extraordinariness
This collection is a random selection of my musings at different stages of my life. They do have a tendency to dwell on the same strain of thoughts and may come across as repetitive. I am sharing them because of this notion that the thoughts and feelings expressed in these lines are not exclusively my own and would be the same for many others who may find some happiness in finding resonance while reading them. I stake no claims to any kind of extraordinariness to the content or form. But they are genuine and hopefully will touch a chord somewhere.
The sea sang lullabies to them at night in the small coastal town of Malabar, where memories of men in boats carrying merchandise from Arab lands had been permanently inscribed into the sands and infused into the blood of their ancestors. The briny breeze sang ballads to them during the day in a dialect of their own.
The winnowing waves tossed the lives of Fouziya, Aminu and Nabisa, here and there, sometimes on the swirl of a rising cusp, sometimes at t
The sea sang lullabies to them at night in the small coastal town of Malabar, where memories of men in boats carrying merchandise from Arab lands had been permanently inscribed into the sands and infused into the blood of their ancestors. The briny breeze sang ballads to them during the day in a dialect of their own.
The winnowing waves tossed the lives of Fouziya, Aminu and Nabisa, here and there, sometimes on the swirl of a rising cusp, sometimes at the mercy of the receding sands.
Far from those shores, in a village in the North, where the loo winds doused their dreams with dust and the mustard fields stretched as yellow quilts in the Winter, Anita and Pyaari knit their own tales through the seasons.
And, destiny decided that their paths should cross.
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