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lumpen proletariat.
It was not the best of times. Young people were seething with rage. There was scarcity everywhere. No one was calm these days. What if his son fell in with such people?
Bhagoban was no actor. He did not know how to present a lie in the form of a truth. All that he had said had come from his heart, a blazing and determined vow. Leave alone mere mortals, even mountains part when faced with such an iron will.
Birer e raktosrot, matar e osrudhara Er joto mulyo shey ki dhorar dhuloy hobe hara?
The hero’s blood, the mother’s precious tears Will they all go dry in the dust at our feet?
On the road to dawn I hear a voice
Do not fear, oh, do not fear There are some who’ll give their entire lives Death is not a word they will hear
He tells himself what he used to tell the prisoners who walked free when he was on duty at the gate. ‘Don’t do anything that will bring you back here.’
