Bhaktapur held the first footsteps, narrow streets and open courtyards carrying the rhythm of childhood. Then came Boudha, where the world widened, where colors and voices circled endlessly, and the air felt different.
Somewhere in those years, the beat of b-boy spun into life, movements stitched to pavement, breath tied to rhythm. Hiphop was more than music; it was a language, a pulse discovered in school days that never loosened its grip.
From that rhythm, the writer began to emerge, words falling like verses, shaping themselves from silence into something that demanded to be heard. The struggles did not silence the voice; they carved it sharper. The highs and lows became not obstacles, but fuel, the greatest inspiration hidden within the very weight of living.
From NEPAL🇳🇵 to the WORLD 🌍.
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