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Nov 12, 2024
The tomb of my ancestor Indubitably yells When we mop the epitaph And retrospect the past To commemorate the day Trimming the shrubs and Applying colour on it For the present day only. Then we consign to oblivion And disremember for a year. Even our future generations Obliterate forever after us. But, again we retrospect When we take pilgrimage We carry the disunity of relics To hurl at the holy dip Lest the soul may get salvation.
Image © Dillip Kumar Das
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