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Subrat SaurabhAuthor of Kuch Woh PalShivani Singh was born and brought up in Rudrapur (Nainital). She is currently studying in the 10th grade at Mayo College Girls’ School. She is fourteen years old and is passionate about instrumental music. She plays the guitar, drums, piano, and the violin. Recently she started singing and doing song covers too, for which she runs an Instagram public account called ‘beats.byshivani’. Poetry and music help her feel more confident and express herself better. In 2019, she was awarded the young ‘VidyaBhushan ‘award with a gold medal by the AkhilBhartiya SocietyRead More...
Shivani Singh was born and brought up in Rudrapur (Nainital). She is currently studying in the 10th grade at Mayo College Girls’ School. She is fourteen years old and is passionate about instrumental music. She plays the guitar, drums, piano, and the violin. Recently she started singing and doing song covers too, for which she runs an Instagram public account called ‘beats.byshivani’. Poetry and music help her feel more confident and express herself better.
In 2019, she was awarded the young ‘VidyaBhushan ‘award with a gold medal by the AkhilBhartiya Society for the best essay at an all India level. She is planning to take up sciences in 11th and aims to be an Architect. On 29th December, 2019, she sat for a FITJEE exam and in 2018 she also sat for the PSAT exam. She had given trinities for western music in guitar and drums till grade five. She has also achieved a Prabhakar for Hindustani classical music, in the category of violin last year. She is an ambitious writer and hopes that all the readers seek interest in her first book.
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A codger once spoke of his hardships, so did the lonely urchin. A quitter once cried out her fears and so did the woman who was trafficked. A pauper once reached out for the stars, so did his sons. Where are these voices, those cries, those fears, those screams?
People say they fade away with the dark times; people say they are somewhere lurking around their memories; people say they live in the minds of change; people say they are lost in dead ey
A codger once spoke of his hardships, so did the lonely urchin. A quitter once cried out her fears and so did the woman who was trafficked. A pauper once reached out for the stars, so did his sons. Where are these voices, those cries, those fears, those screams?
People say they fade away with the dark times; people say they are somewhere lurking around their memories; people say they live in the minds of change; people say they are lost in dead eyes. People say a lot of things but I say that they are all preserved in this book of the Divine Reality.
Frozen memories on paper,
Entrapped teardrops in the words,
Where do our fears go?
How do our flaws grow?
We keep coming back for more,
But why does the evil inside cuts up all our hopes?
The mask which hides our imperfections,
Take it off and set yourself free,
Free to absorb these worldly conceptions,
These conceptions are beyond your fantasies,
These conceptions are beyond your ambiguity,
Beyond the suburbs of your soul,
Beyond your preserved dignity,
What comes there?
I guess it is the Divine Reality
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