My brother's blood-drenched February 21st.
But we do not only mourn. We proclaim .
“They wanted to take our words,” Abbu-mamma said, his voice trembling slightly. “They said our songs, our poems, and the way we said ‘Maa’ were not allowed in the halls of power. But how can you tell a bird not to sing its own song?” Bijoy Ekushe
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