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Sankhajit Bhattacharjee Poem 292

Scientific Research Fellow in University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee


She listened to the singer-

'Jeena Yahan Marna Yahan'-

everyday. He stayed next door.

Her husband suspected, beaten her to death.

She was telling repeatedly,

'I lost my father. He loved this song'.

I never know how law answered

but the singer stopped singing forever.

Misunderstanding is like new moon.

It disappears for a night from the sky.

It returns again. But here the moon's return

was marked by lunar eclipse.

© 2021 Sankhajit Bhattacharjee

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