The bursting of the chapatti is continuously bleeding from the hands,
The eyes of the all have been lost in the blaze.
The nokshi handkerchief in his hand is virgin,
The handkerchief that crores the heart of the canker
It seems to me that life is sitting in broken hands with a broken glass,
No days, months, years!
For the last 12 years, he was waiting for his birthday,
Excavated the great ocean of love, and kept it long in 1 era!
How much more
In the morning, the news came, dear dear, Pran is now in love with others.
She does not love him anymore,
Do not remember him anymore.
The unexpected love ended,
Who will hear the cry of the bloody heart! Who will see?
For whom so many are deaf and blind, why the rest?