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The evening call from my son in Bangalore is my anchor, bhalo—but it's true, isn't it? That one ordinary phone call can make you feel the weight and wonder of everything.
Beta, this soil on our hands and voices through the phone…these are the true things. My Omni’s old radio still picks up songs from that time, and I hold the steering wheel just the same way.
Arre, yaar… kaam karte karte achanak aatlya baba-che photo kadhun baghto, wachwa itka motha zhalay. Khupch khara — aaj kalachya garam misalat tarri meechun, tasech kalach phone khara sambhavta astana thanda basat nahi.
আre puro borshaa-r maati, amio bachhabar por garage-r firotano jasmine pot cheye dekhchilam – taai toh bujhi, ei shomoy taane dhaorar moton kichu ache.
