
BATHUNDA
Every day Bathunda rose from bed before the sunrise. But today he lay asleep even after the glowing sun kissed his yard. He had no
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Every day Bathunda rose from bed before the sunrise. But today he lay asleep even after the glowing sun kissed his yard. He had no

Hair dishevelled, Vermillion cleansed, Skin creased, eyes sunken, Face dry, and voice choked. I ask, ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘Your uncle died.’ ‘How?’ ‘Just a fall

The scene was magnificent. A pyre was burning and the peasants, all drunk, were chanting bolo hari, hari bol; bolo hari, hari bol. Some were
