Bhai Phonta, Brother's Paste

on the eve of the Bhai Phonta,
O brother,
Wherever be you, your sister remembers you,
Feels sad,
You forget not to see her,
Your lone expecting sisiter,
o brother,
Lies she standing by the door
And waiting for your arrival,
With a dish
Full of sweets, lamp-light and God's things,
A red paste to be spotted on the forehead,
A sweetmeat to be put into the mouth,
O brother!

by Bijay Kant Dubey

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